Wen Jiaojiao found Wen Zhaoye's bankbook in the suitcase. Lying on the bed, she stared at the string of numbers on the bankbook, her mind in turmoil.

After a long pause, she closed her bankbook wearily and sighed:

"They trusted me so much, and then they ran off with my money. I'll feel guilty for the rest of my life. And if I'm unlucky enough to run into them someday, I might not even have a second half of my life."

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door: "Knock knock~"

Wen Jiaojiao shuddered, fearing that the human traffickers had come to retaliate. Her breathing trembled, and she didn't dare to make a sound, quietly waiting for any movement outside the door.

One second

Two seconds,

Three seconds later

A voice came from outside the door:

"Young lady, it's time to renew your room fee."

Wen Jiaojiao breathed a sigh of relief and said, "I'll go down and hand it in later."

The footsteps outside the door grew fainter and fainter. Wen Jiaojiao looked at the bankbook in her hand, feeling that it wasn't safe to just put it in her suitcase like Wen Zhaoye had done.

After thinking for a moment, she silently took out Wen Zhaoye's underwear, wrapped it around the bankbook, and stuffed it back to the bottom.

"That's safer. I've only ever heard of perverts stealing women's underwear, never men's. Now even a thief would be worried."

Wen Jiaojiao closed her suitcase and went to the hotel front desk to pay the deposit.

A plump, dark-skinned woman carrying two baskets of eggs walked in through the door. She spoke with a friendly tone:

"Hey, young lady, could you help me carry this to the front? My hand was injured before, and it really hurts a lot to carry this far."

Wen Jiaojiao sized her up, unable to discern whether she was good or bad, but the human trafficking incident had made her somewhat paranoid, so she refused:

"I'm sorry, I have a limp, so it's not very convenient for me."

The woman's face froze. Just as she was about to speak, she saw Wen Jiaojiao mimicking a little rascal's walk... limping back to the room.

She frowned slightly: "..." Could the information be wrong? Who would dare to buy such a lame person? He can't work, and if you let him have children, it might even be hereditary.

The young woman changing shifts at the front desk frowned even more deeply:

Could it be that the problem with his brain has transferred to his legs?