"I’ll take both of them. Eight hundred total. You selling or not?"
Elaine Mercer was jolted awake by that voice.
Her whole body was burning, like she’d been tossed onto a stove. Her head spun so hard it felt ready to split.
Her eyelids were heavy as stone, impossible to lift, but her ears still worked just fine.
It was that trafficker from the next village, the one everybody called Scarface.
Right after that, a woman spoke.
"Only eight hundred? Sure, the older one comes with a kid, but look at her face."
"And that figure, that appearance... send her into the mountains and let her be a shared wife for those brothers, she’d be top-tier goods."
"Those old bachelors would definitely pay more."
It was her stepmother, Gloria Whitfield.
The second Elaine heard the words "shared wife," her chest clenched so hard it felt like a hand was crushing her heart alive.
She shuddered on the pile of rotten hay in the cowshed.
Too vicious.
Gloria Whitfield wasn’t just trying to cut off her way out. She was trying to ruin her whole life.
Elaine fought to open her eyes. In front of her was a battered wooden door, with dim lamplight leaking through the cracks.
Outside, rain came down in sheets. It hammered the roof of the shed with a loud, chaotic rattle, like the whole thing might cave in any second.
She turned her head and looked at the tiny figure curled up in her arms.
Her Ningning. Lily Mercer.
Only three and a half years old.
The child was pitifully thin. A loose, badly fitting floral cotton jacket hung on her small body, something Elaine had resewn from her own old clothes.
The flower-padded jacket was covered in patches. It looked shabby as hell, but to Elaine Mercer, it was the one thing keeping her going.
Lily Mercer slept uneasily, her little lips moving now and then, like she was eating something tasty in her dream.
Elaine’s tears fell all at once.
Four years ago, someone had set her up and pushed her into spending a night with a man she didn’t even know.
She had never gotten a clear look at his face. All she remembered was the military uniform on him, and that his name seemed to be Vincent Holt.
Everything had been such a mess back then. The only thought in her head was to run, fast.
Then she got pregnant with Lily.
She had a child without getting married first. In this village, that was enough to make her the target of endless gossip and side-eyes.
She had endured it for four whole years.
Just so her daughter could get a mouthful of food, she had worked in front of Gloria Whitfield like an ox, day after day, no complaints.
And what did she get in return?
Gloria Whitfield wanted to sell her off into the deep mountains, to be shared and ruined by several men.
And she was even planning to send Lily to an acrobat troupe.
Who around here didn’t know what that troupe was really like?
They called it training, sure, but it was straight-up torture. They starved kids, forced them to jump through rings of fire, and worked them till they were barely human. It was hell on earth.
"The boss of that acrobat troupe already said it. This girl may be skinny, but her frame’s solid, and she’s strong. She’s good stock."
Scarface’s voice drifted in again, clear as day.
"Obviously. This little brat is weirdly strong. Sometimes even I can’t drag her."
Gloria Whitfield spat on the ground, her face full of disgust.
"Alright, enough crap. Eight hundred fifty. That’s the price."
"I’m telling you, if my man finds out about this, I won’t see a single cent of that money."
"Move it. Tonight, while the rain’s coming down hard, take them away."
Elaine Mercer’s fingers clamped down on the straw mat beneath her.
Her nails were almost splitting.
No.
This could not happen. No way.
If she died, fine. Whatever.
But Lily could not, absolutely could not, fall into the hands of those animals.
She had to run.
But right now, her whole body was limp and useless. Just sitting up took everything she had.
The fever had burned through her until every bone in her body ached.
From outside came the sound of money being counted.
"Tsk. These bills are kinda damp."
"It’s pouring out there, obviously. What, you don’t want wet money? Then give it back."
"Want it, want it. How could I not want it?"
Gloria Whitfield laughed, greedy as hell.
"Alright then. I’ll go get the cart. Rain’s way too heavy, road’s a mess. I’ll come back in half an hour to haul them off."
Scarface left.
His footsteps slapped through the mud and rainwater, pat, pat, pat.
Each sound felt like it was stomping straight on Elaine Mercer’s heart.
Then the door creaked open with a long "eee-ah."