My Wife Is A Miracle Doctor In The 80s

Chapter 620



Chapter 620: Chapter 612 He Found Her Chapter 620: Chapter 612 He Found Her The ancients always said that commoners should not contend with officials, and of course, they followed suit.

Certainly, he dared to let these people search their village because he was convinced that they could not find anything.

The women bought by the village had all been informed and hidden away.

Setting other things aside, when it came to hiding things, no one could find what they concealed; even when the enemy troops entered the village, they failed to find a single grain of food or any villagers.

So, hiding a few people now surely wouldn’t trouble them.

The few others exchanged glances, clearly understanding that these people were now like dead pigs not afraid of boiling water – they were sure the people were here.

The human trafficker confessed to everything, insisting the people were here.

They had inquired extensively and were certain of it.

But what could they do if these villagers refused to admit it?

The people here were capable of anything; don’t be fooled by their status as ordinary peasants.

It’s said that in the past few years, none of the girls bought by the village ended up well.

If they couldn’t find anyone, what would happen if the villagers, driven to desperation, lashed out?

The man leading them casually lifted his eyelids, his attractive thin lips tightly pursed, eventually becoming so pinched they seemed airtight.

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“Let’s go,” he said to the people beside him.

They nodded at each other and followed him out.

The village chief watched them leave, his heart almost leaping to his throat.

Only when he could no longer see them did he let out a sigh of relief and hurriedly called for his wife.

“Are the people in those households well hidden?”

The village chief asked his wife, but deep down, he truly regretted buying those three ill-omened beings.

He feared his peaceful village would no longer be the same.

“Don’t worry, they’re all hidden well.”

The village chief’s wife whispered, assuring that she watched them hiding.

Besides, with one woman pregnant, another both foolish and stupid, and one mute, even if they were found, they wouldn’t be able to reveal anything.

Indeed, upon hearing this, the village chief felt less tense, but he still worried.

Of course, now what he hoped most was to send these people away quickly and hope they’d never return.

Meanwhile, the few men began to search for people in the village.

Although the villagers cooperated, their cooperation was of no use in locating anyone.

Their cooperation meant opening their doors and allowing the search, but when asked anything, they played dumb.

The eyes of those conducting the search swept over everyone, and anyone caught in their gaze felt their breathing become momentarily constricted.

Only after the searcher left did their breathing seem to return to normal.

This kind of gaze was terrifying, like that of facing imminent death – a fearful sense permeated with murderous intent.

“Mr.

Gu, we didn’t find anyone.”

After searching many households, they seemed to make no progress.

They had been searching for half a year, and by now, everyone felt that the likelihood of finding this person had all but vanished.

A half-year had passed, everyone had given up, and nobody knew that only Mr.

Gu had persisted, investing all his resources and personal effort without giving up.

What would it matter even if they found her?

By now, she might even have a child.

And those women who were trafficked, no matter their previous professions – students, artists – how many were ever found and returned?

They might locate their bodies, but they could never retrieve their souls.

Their souls had died here, in the hands of the traffickers.

So, human traffickers deserve death.

The man walking ahead had been clenching his lips the whole time, never uttering a single word throughout.

They continued searching house by house, but after scouting half the village, they found no one suspicious.

“There’s absolutely nothing in my house,” Old Madame Song blurted out as the men came in, not knowing if she was inadvertently betraying herself, stubbornly insisting there was no one.

The man first walked into a room and as soon as he lifted the curtain, a pungent smell hit them.

It was like walking into a pigsty, but regrettably, it was not actual pigs that resided there, but people.

“My old man broke his leg half a month ago.”

Old Madame Song followed, hastily explaining, plainly indicating that there were no others in her home – just her crippled husband, herself, an incapable old woman, and a foolish son, who was too bewitched by a fox spirit to stay at home.

She wasn’t afraid to air her dirty laundry; after all, everyone in the village knew.

She felt uncomfortable not speaking up; tired of being the village’s source of annoyance, she finally had a fresh audience for her complaints, not intending to waste the opportunity.

She spoke freely, but her buzzing, fly-like voice was extremely unpleasant to others, especially since her tone was far from melodious, sounding like a beaten, broken drum.

After listening for a while, it made one’s ears ache.

Indeed, a few of the men visibly winced, but the officer in charge seemed unfazed by it all, simply continuing his search from one room to the next.

When they came across a locked room, Old Madame Song immediately became more anxious.

She stepped forward, placing herself in front of the door.

“Comrade, these are all our old belongings.

Look, the lock is even rusted; it’s been locked for years.

We haven’t gone in, fearing the foul odors inside, so perhaps we can skip searching it.”

Old Madame Song’s face was all smiles, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes numerous enough to trap many flies.

Her laugh was clearly infused with other elements: nervousness, bewilderment, fear, and more.

The truth is, you don’t need to work with a variety of criminals to sometimes sense something from a person’s breathing—let alone when someone is so blatantly obstructive and desperately trying to cover up.

Naturally, Old Madame Song’s heart was pounding, her palms sweaty from the tension.


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