Being a kindergarten teacher is truly a great identity.
I sold her granddaughter, and she actually apologized to me.
Yes, you *should* apologize to me—why was your child a granddaughter?
That cost me a lot of money.
Besides… it’s not really my fault.
If you weren’t so poor, I would’ve treated you well.
“Auntie, you don’t need to apologize to her,” Chen Ting said, pulling the old woman aside. “Let me take you to the police. You can tell them everything.”
She gave me a meaningful look. “Say whatever you need to say. Sooner or later, we’ll catch the bad guys.”
They turned and walked into the police station. I didn’t have the patience to stick around.
I went home, lay on my bed, and counted the money.
Three thousand yuan—not much, but enough to buy myself some new essence cream and eye serum.
I’ve been so angry lately—I really need to take care of my skin.
I scrolled through my phone, planning to scope out a few more targets in my free time. So I searched online for the most profitable industries in society today.
A fresh term caught my eye.
**”Psychological Counselor.”**
The internet raved about how lucrative counseling was—top-tier professionals charged thousands per hour.
Quickly, I hatched a plan. I found a counseling studio nearby and zeroed in on a young, promising male counselor. I added his contact and started flirting with him.
True to his profession, he was an excellent conversationalist. Talking to him was effortless.
I told him I’d been criticized for neglecting my child, and he eagerly invited me for a free consultation.
Why so generous?
Oh, right—he’d seen the suggestive photos on my social media.
But that was exactly what I wanted.
Three nights later, while finalizing our meeting for the next day, a sudden, urgent knock at the door startled me.
“Who is it?”
**BANG BANG BANG!**
“Who’s there?”
No answer. My heart pounded.
**BANG BANG BANG!**
“I’m calling the police!”
“Call the police my ass—it’s me!” Brother Qu’s low voice growled from outside. “Open the damn door!”
A chill ran down my spine.
What was *he* doing here?
Didn’t he know the cops were after him?
After a moment’s hesitation, I slowly opened the door.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Inside.”
He shoved past me into the room.
“Brother Qu…” I tried to sound firm. “Do you realize how dangerous things are right now? If you want to get caught, fine, but *I* don’t. That girl—”
Before I could finish, he tossed an envelope at me.
Inside were two stacks of cash—about twenty thousand yuan.
“Xiao Ran, I found a good buyer. Their village is loaded, and they need kids. Interested in one last job?”
I could hardly believe it. This time, I’d get over twenty grand.
“One last job…?” I hesitated. “Brother Qu, do you *know* how risky this is?”
“Final one.” He lit a cigarette. “Fifty thousand. Then we’re done.”
I wanted to refuse on principle, but *fifty thousand* sounded too sweet.
“Sixty,” I countered. “I’ll pick a smart little boy—buyers will love him.”
“Don’t push it.” He flicked ash onto the floor, his gaze icy. “Fifty. Take it or leave it.”
I swallowed hard under his glare. “Sixty. Not a penny less.”
“You bitch…” He clenched his teeth. “You *want* to die?”
I forced a smile. “Brother Qu, the police are desperate for evidence. You wouldn’t want me to *report* you, would you?”
“We’re in this together.” His voice darkened. “If you rat me out, you’re going down too.”
“I was *coerced*,” I said sweetly. “I couldn’t fight you off, so I had no choice.”
“You—” He glared, then exhaled sharply. “Fine. Sixty.”
“I want the money *before* I hand over the kid,” I said.
“You think this is a fucking charity?” He snorted. “We pay *after* the goods are sold. No money upfront.”
“That’s not my problem.” I shook my head. “I deliver the kid, my job’s done.”
Brother Qu stubbed out his cigarette, heaved his bulky frame up, and yanked my shirt up.
“Xiao Ran,” he muttered, “your arrogance will kill you.”
I didn’t resist—just pulled my shirt off entirely.
“Brother Qu,” I murmured, sliding a hand down his pants, “a beautiful woman is like poison. And you’re already addicted, aren’t you?”
He smirked.
…
The next morning, Brother Qu left before dawn, and I headed to work as usual.
I’d decided—after this job, I was leaving.
Anywhere would do. With eighty grand, I could glam up and snag a bigger fish.
Now that I had capital, I could finally enter high society.
At dismissal, I volunteered to escort a child home again—this time, Chen Moran.
Easy target. Rumor had it his mom was hospitalized with a brain condition, and his dad was too swamped to care.
But Chen Ting flat-out refused. She was convinced I was tied to traffickers.
“Chen Ting, think about it,” I said sweetly. “Even if I *were* involved, would I strike again so soon?”
She frowned. “Still no. Call his parents to pick him up.”
“Fine, fine…”
I was *so* clever.
I’d anticipated this.
I pulled up “Chen Moran’s Dad” in my contacts, showed her, and dialed.
Brother Qu answered.
“Hello, is this Chen Moran’s father?”
A pause. “…Yeah?”
“Could you come pick him up after school? I’ll meet you at the gate.”
“Got it.” His voice was gruff.
“Give me the phone,” Chen Ting demanded.
I handed it over.
“Hello, sir,” she said. “You’re Chen Moran’s father?”
“Yeah.”
“Please be punctual. There have been kidnappers near the school.” She rattled off a cop’s number. “If you can’t make it, call this officer—he’ll escort your son home.”
“Understood.”
After hanging up, Chen Ting turned to me. “Xiao Ran, the police *will* be watching the gates. Try anything, and I’ll make sure you pay.”
“Relax,” I smiled. “I told you—I’m not involved.”
I was *ditching* Brother Qu. Why would I work with him now?
At dismissal, I held Chen Moran’s hand at the gate, waiting.
I’d instructed Brother Qu—when he snatched the kid, he’d toss me the cash, and I’d stay clean.
But something felt off. Too many eyes on me.
Were they jealous?
I gazed at the distant Three Pagodas of Chongsheng Temple and made a silent wish:
*Bless me, Bodhisattva. Let me prosper forever.*
One last job, then a date with that counselor. Today was *golden*.
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