Chapter 13: Wearing a Lace Camisole Nightgown

It had to be said, a good night's sleep truly depended on the comfort of the bed.

Qian Lai was jolted awake by the piercing cry of a young child. Glancing at her watch, she was startled to see it was already ten at night.

Before she could fully regain her senses, a dazzling flash of golden light swept past her eyes. When she opened them again, she found herself inexplicably thrown by the space right outside the door of Huari’s compartment.

At that moment, Qiao Mouting was anxiously holding a wailing Wenquan, seeking Huari’s help. “Comrade, I’m terribly sorry. May I ask… um… do you know where the lady comrade we had lunch with went? I searched the whole train and couldn’t find her...”

Only then did he realize he didn’t even know her name.

“You mean…” Huari almost slipped up, but quickly remembered Qian Lai’s instructions and stopped herself in time. “I don’t know either. Is there something urgent?”

“This child started crying terribly all of a sudden. Neither the train attendants nor the older ladies could calm him down. He seemed to really like that comrade, so I was hoping she might be able to help.”

“Give the child to me.”

The two of them turned at the sound. Qiao Mouting took one glance and, as if shocked by electricity, immediately turned away.

Huari stared straight at Qian Lai’s chest, grinning mischievously.

Qian Lai looked down and, oh my god, the space hadn’t even given her time to change clothes—she was still in her lacy camisole nightdress.

Hastily, she clutched the front of her dress. “I'm sorry, I came in a hurry and forgot…”

Huari quickly wrapped her own shirt around Qian Lai’s shoulders, and blushing, Qian Lai took Wenquan in her arms.

Luckily, the other young people in the compartment were next door playing cards at the moment; only Huari and the woman on the opposite middle bunk remained.

Wenquan sobbed fiercely as Qian Lai gently patted his back in comfort.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

Tears still streamed from Wenquan’s obsidian-like eyes, brimming with a thousand unspoken words.

“There, there… don’t cry, darling. Auntie’s here.”

She began gently rocking Wenquan, soothing him to sleep. “Good baby, don’t make a fuss. The night is dark, time to sleep…”

Qian Lai had never cared for a child before; she was just rocking him gently by instinct.

When she looked up, she jumped in fright. “Oh my goodness!”

The woman in the opposite middle bunk had somehow sat up, staring at them expressionlessly.

Qian Lai hurriedly lowered her head. That gaze was far too unsettling—empty, devoid of emotion, yet brimming with judgment and doubt.

The little one in her arms, hearing her lullaby, murmured, “Auntie, Wenquan dreamed of Mommy.”

Wenquan spoke timidly.

“Mommy…” The child’s lips trembled, as if overcome with sorrow. He buried his face in her arms, clinging tightly to her neck with his small hands.

Qiao Mouting stood outside the compartment, peering through the crack in the door, just able to glimpse this tender scene.

Never did he imagine that, for the first time in his life, he would actually feel jealous of a two-year-old.

All Wenquan had to do was cry, and she would come to him—how enviable.

The fleeting image of the girl in nothing but a skimpy nightdress, when he turned around earlier, was likely to haunt him for life.

The milky-white camisole barely reached the curves of her chest, the delicate skin clearly visible, her chest rising and falling softly.

Her long hair, let down, had lost the innocent, carefree look of daylight and now seemed imbued with a seductive allure.

What drew him most was the line of her collarbone, where a single vermilion beauty spot made her both alluring and mysterious.

There was indeed something mysterious about her, endlessly piquing his curiosity.

It was said that once curiosity entered a relationship between a man and a woman, it became a trap from which one could never escape.

Unaware, Qiao Mouting found himself already ensnared.

He strode to the end of the carriage, not daring to spy any longer, not even to linger at the door.

Yet outside the window, as darkness pressed in, those vivid, tantalizing images kept replaying in his mind.

Damn it!

…

Qiao Mouting replayed the night’s events in his mind.

Wenquan had always been well-behaved—never had anything like this happened before.

At dinner, Wenquan had stared fixedly at the little boy at the next table, gulping down milk. Qiao Mouting had laughed, calling him a greedy little cat.

Nearly three years old, and still craving milk.

Now it was clear—the child had been watching the boy’s mother feed him milk.

He missed his own mother.

He hadn’t understood at all, and guilt gnawed at him.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning tore through the night sky, followed by thunder rolling overhead. Torrential rain instantly shrouded the world in mist.

The vast wilderness outside the train, which only moments ago had been lit with distant pinpricks of light, now vanished into pitch-blackness.

The train, pressing on through the dark, felt like a dragon lost amid the cliffs of confusion.

The atmosphere grew suddenly tense and ominous.

“What are you doing?!”

A shrill scream shattered Qiao Mouting’s reverie.

A figure darted out of the compartment, and in a flash, she was running with the child in her arms straight for the last carriage.

Qian Lai and Huari gave chase, shouting all the while, “She’s taking the child!”

“Put the child down!”

Their sleeping car was the last passenger carriage on the train. Beyond that lay the freight cars.

Normally, the freight cars were kept locked.

But every night at ten-thirty, it was shift change for the attendants.

At that time, both shifts would be organizing the existing storage space to make room for new cargo arriving at the next stop before dawn.

For convenience, the doors were usually left unlocked.

Ordinary passengers would never know this, but unfortunately, this woman wasn’t an ordinary passenger.

She ran with the child like a startled deer fleeing a hunter, mowing down those in her path, so that soon no one dared block her.

They watched as she flung open the door to the freight car and ran straight toward the end of the train, muttering, “Mommy’s here, baby, don’t be afraid. Mommy will kill them all. Mommy will protect you!”

Standing at the far end of the sleeping car, Qiao Mouting heard the commotion and raced forward.

Though fast, he was farthest away, and by the time he caught up, the woman was already at the rear balcony, clutching the child.

Outside, the wind howled and the rain lashed harder than on that infamous night when Yiping begged for money.

Beyond the railing was the track itself—if she so much as lost her grip, both she and Wenquan could tumble from the speeding train at any moment.

The child’s heartbroken cries echoed through the storm.

The woman, wary of the crowd, crooned softly, “Don’t cry, Aqing, Mommy’s here. Aqing, don’t be afraid!”

“Ma’am, it’s pouring and windy out here. Please come inside, or the child will get sick.”

Hearing her words and seeing her behavior, Qian Lai guessed she had suffered some mental shock, mistaking Wenquan for her own child.

To keep Wenquan safe, they couldn’t provoke her directly—only guide and deceive her.

Qiao Mouting tapped Qian Lai’s shoulder, giving her a look—“You draw her attention, I’ll find a way to save the child.”

Qian Lai understood and nodded slightly.

“Go! All of you, leave! You just want to take my Aqing from me.

I’ve searched for nearly ten years, and now I’ve finally found my Aqing.

I won’t let you succeed.

You’re all evil!”

The woman seemed oblivious to the wind and rain, her face twisted into a terrifying grin.