Extra Story of Lu Ruoxi: Thorny Rose - Redemption

The long-distance bus back to Anhe County was like a moving tin can.

The metal exterior burned hot under the autumn sun.

Inside, the cabin was packed with people.

And packed with all kinds of smells.

Sweat, cigarette smoke, the stench of instant noodles, and the sour tang of cheap leather.

All mixed together, suffocating.

Ye Sanqi leaned against the window.

He carried the dust of the construction site on him too.

He didn’t care.

He’d been smelling that scent for half his life.

In his arms, he clutched a canvas bag.

Inside was six months’ worth of wages earned in Jingzhou.

A thick stack of loose bills, bound with a rubber band.

This was his confidence for going home.

And his confidence for facing his wife, Zhang Cuilan.

At the thought of Zhang Cuilan, Ye Sanqi sighed.

He knew she’d complain about the money being too little.

She’d complain about him being away for too long.

But there was no helping it. The family’s expenses all depended on him.

In the cabin, a baby’s cries had been going on for a long time.

The wails were sharp and piercing.

Like a tiny knife scraping against everyone’s eardrums.

Ye Sanqi’s seat was close to the sound.

The cries came from just a few rows ahead.

There sat a young couple.

The man had a buzz cut and a fierce glare.

The woman had dyed yellow hair and a cold expression.

In her arms was a swaddled bundle—the source of the cries.

Ye Sanqi was a rough man.

But even he could tell something was off about this pair.

The baby was crying so hard.

Yet there wasn’t a trace of concern on their faces—only impatience.

The kind of impatience reserved for a troublesome piece of luggage.

Even, it seemed, a hint of disgust.

The man nudged the woman with his elbow.

"Shut it up!" he hissed under his breath, voice venomous.

The woman rolled her eyes.

She tightened her grip on the bundle.

Almost as if she were trying to smother the child.

The baby’s cries weakened, turning into pained whimpers.

Ye Sanqi’s brow furrowed.

He’d seen coworkers on the construction site who were fathers.

When they talked about their kids, their eyes lit up.

Even if the child was fussy, they’d soothe them with a smile.

But these two didn’t seem like parents.

More like prison guards escorting an inmate.

The bus jolted over a bump, and the baby’s whimpers erupted into full-blown screams again.

This time, the man lost his patience.

He snatched the bundle from the woman.

Turning his back to the aisle, he faced the window.

From Ye Sanqi’s angle, he could see the man’s profile.

He watched as the man’s hand moved under the cover of the swaddle.

A pinching motion.

Then, the baby’s cries shot up in pitch—

Before cutting off abruptly, replaced by a chilling, gasping silence.

As if the child had spent its last ounce of strength.

Ye Sanqi’s heart clenched.

Something was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

No parents in the world would act like this.

He thought of his own home.

He and Zhang Cuilan had been married for five years.

They still had no children.

They’d gone to the hospital—turned out, the problem was with Zhang Cuilan.

Ever since then, her smile had vanished.

And their home had lost all its warmth.

More than once, he’d imagined what it would be like to have a child.

If he had one, he’d treasure them like gold.

He’d use his rough hands to build her a swing.

He’d save every apple from the worksite for her to eat.

But now, a child he could only dream of was being treated like this.

Ye Sanqi’s fists clenched unconsciously.

His sun-darkened face twisted with conflict.

He wanted to say something.

But he was a simple man.

He was afraid of trouble.

He’d been taught since childhood: when you’re away from home, avoid unnecessary trouble.

…

Three hours later.

The bus pulled into a highway rest stop.

A shabby, isolated place in the middle of nowhere.

The doors opened, and a gust of dusty wind rushed in.

Everyone exhaled in relief.

Passengers scrambled off—some heading to the restroom, others to buy water or smoke.

The couple with the baby got off too.

But they didn’t go to the restroom or the convenience store.

Instead, they walked straight to the most remote corner of the stop.

Where a few parked trucks stood.

Next to them, a rundown repair shed piled with garbage.

Ye Sanqi stepped off as well.

That uneasy feeling in his gut had only grown stronger.

He pulled a crumpled cigarette pack from his pocket and lit one.

Then, pretending to wander, he slowly made his way toward that corner.

He hid behind one of the trucks.

Peering out with just half his face.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

In the corner, besides the couple, stood three other men.

Men who looked every bit the part of hardened criminals.

They huddled together.

At the center of their exchange—the silent, swaddled baby.

"This the one?"

A man with a scarred face asked.

He reached out, roughly pulling back a corner of the cloth.

Revealing the baby’s tiny, tear-streaked face.

"Yeah. A girl. Healthy," the man holding the baby said, grinning obsequiously.

"Any trouble on the road?" Scarface pressed.

"Nothing we couldn’t handle. Just cried a lot. Annoying as hell."

"Crying’s good. Means it’s got strength. Likely to survive."

Scarface pulled a thick envelope from his pocket.

Tossed it to the man.

"Payment’s done. Now get lost."

The man caught the envelope, quickly thumbing through the cash.

His face lit up with greed.

He stuffed the money into his jacket.

Then, without a second thought, handed over the baby.

Like passing off a piece of used merchandise.

Human traffickers.

The words struck Ye Sanqi’s mind like lightning.

His blood roared in his ears.

He remembered his neighbor back in the village—the one who’d cried herself blind after her child was taken.

He remembered the parents on TV, clutching photos, screaming in agony.

The wages in his bag felt heavy.

But right now, the weight of that baby—traded like goods—was heavier.

So heavy it stole his breath.

So heavy he couldn’t hide anymore.

Reason told him to stay out of it.

These men were dangerous.

He was just one man—no match for them.

He had a family.

If he died, what would Zhang Cuilan do?

But his feet wouldn’t listen.

A fire burned in his chest.

Burning away all his fear and hesitation.

His whole life, he’d never done anything grand.

He was just an ordinary laborer, selling his strength on construction sites.

He was honest. Dependable.

Maybe even a little cowardly.

But today—he refused to be a coward anymore.

He dropped his cigarette.

Stomped it out with his heel.

Then, from behind the truck, he charged.

With every ounce of strength in him, he roared:

"HUMAN TRAFFICKERS! STOP THEM!"

His voice exploded across the empty rest stop.

Every head turned.

The men in the corner froze.

First shock—then panic.

Ye Sanqi didn’t stop.

Like an enraged bull, he barreled forward.

His target was clear.

The infant in the scar-faced man's arms.

Scar-face reacted the fastest.

He cursed under his breath and turned to flee.

Ye Sanqi grabbed his arm.

His hands, calloused from years of hauling bricks and cement, clamped down like iron pincers.

Scar-face winced in pain, his grip loosening.

The swaddled bundle slipped free.

Without a second thought, Ye Sanqi lunged forward.

He threw himself beneath, cushioning the fall with his own body.

The tiny life landed safely in his arms.

The jagged gravel on the ground dug into his back, sharp and unrelenting.

But he paid it no mind.

Chaos erupted.

The couple from earlier shrieked and bolted in opposite directions.

The two other men scattered like startled birds, vanishing behind the trucks.

Scar-face wrenched free from Ye Sanqi’s grasp and fled as well.

They didn’t dare stay.

The label "human traffickers" was a death sentence hanging over their heads.

The service area descended into bedlam.

Shouts rang out.

Bystanders gawked.

But a few kind-hearted strangers rushed forward to help.