So anyone with even a little money to spare would not have ended up in a third-class carriage.
What had this child come here to steal?
Cui Jiuyang could not help being a little curious.
The child moved quietly through the carriage, taking his steps very slowly and trying not to make a sound.
Suddenly, he paused.
He glanced warily ahead and behind, then quickly turned his head, his gaze settling precisely on a man slumped in his seat with his head against the cold window.
The man looked to be in his forties or fifties, with a dark complexion and his hands clasped tightly across his chest. His hands were as rough as old bark, covered in cracks of varying depths and thick calluses. One look was enough to tell that he was a laborer accustomed to hard physical work.
But the laborer sat by the window, with two other people between him and the aisle.
Both were leaning against their seats, asleep with their heads drooping, and probably would not stir anytime soon.
The carriage was cramped to begin with, and seating space was limited. The three men filled the bench, leaving almost no gaps.
The boy looked again and again, his brows knitting slightly, but could find no space through which to reach the laborer on the inside.
He was in no hurry. He simply plopped down in the aisle with his back to the row of seats, then deliberately knocked his head against the backrest.
With a soft thud, the boy banged his head hard against the backrest, then let out a perfectly timed little cry. "Ow."
There was considerable skill in how he made that sound. It was not loud, but just loud enough for the man seated beside him to hear clearly.
At the