I still didn't argue, firstly because I was tired, and secondly because today had been quite enjoyable; I really didn't want to ruin the mood on the way home.

At this moment, a young man sitting on the right side stood up: "You can sit here, I'll switch with you."

She thanked him and conveniently sat to my right.

I continued listening to music.

But the child suddenly started screaming like a monkey.

His body twisted frantically along with the yelling, and his shoes kicked my white pants multiple times.

"I want to watch cartoons."

"I want Peppa Pig."

"Ahhhh."

His voice completely drowned out the volume of my earphones.

I looked at him angrily, but his mouth was still shouting, glaring at me defiantly.

Unable to bear it any longer, I took off my earphones and looked at the woman on my right: "Could you please control him?"

She blinked her false eyelashes that looked like fly legs and gave me a dirty look: "What's wrong with you? Were you born from a rock? Didn't you have a childhood? Why are you picking on a child?"

"If you don't like the noise, buy a business-class seat."

"You wouldn't have these problems if you had just switched seats earlier."

She looked at me contemptuously and snorted coldly.

Then she took out a can of strawberry preserves from her bag: "Here, baby, let's eat some strawberry preserves."

She opened the lid and placed it on the tray table in front of the loud kid.

The brat glanced at the preserves and then looked at me maliciously.

He let out another sharp, ear-piercing scream, and his body movements became even more exaggerated.

It was as if he was possessed, about to launch into the stratosphere.

The passengers in front frequently turned to look but hesitated to say anything.

His foot precisely kicked the can of strawberry preserves.

He had a triumphant smirk on his face.

I couldn't dodge in time, and the strawberry preserves spilled all over my white pants.

I was instantly furious, feeling like stuffing him into the toilet to eat excrement.

He had no intention of apologizing; he just sat there laughing and watching me.

His mother completely ignored it as well.

The passenger in front also got strawberry juice on his shoes and called for a flight attendant to have her warn the parent.

Instead, the flight attendant scowled and said unkindly: "The kid's too young, nothing can be done. It'll be fine when we reach the station."

It'll be fine when we reach the station?

The total journey is three hours, and only half an hour has passed.

I couldn't tolerate it anymore.

Backing down any further, I'd get breast nodules.

I immediately picked up my phone and dialed 110.

"Hello, I need to make a report."

"I am on train G1234. I suspect that the woman seated in 11C of car 4 is a human trafficker."

"The child is crying from hunger, and this woman isn't doing anything about it. She must be a trafficker."

"A mother would never travel without any toys for her child."

I looked at her triumphantly and hung up the phone.

She never expected me to call the police.

As she was still in shock, the train attendant came over with a police officer, both looking serious and asked: "Ma'am, could you tell us who you are to this child?"

"I'm his mother." She glared at me with a stern face.

At this point, I smiled at the child beside me, hugged him, and pinched him hard under his armpit: "Tell the police officer who she is."

The softer my smile, the harder my pinch.

The brat burst into tears.

The crying was even louder than before.

It practically alerted the entire carriage.

"She is my mom."

The police officer's expression became even more serious, with a hint of vigilance.

The passenger in front, who was annoyed by the noise, stared at a computer screen full of code with a weary look, indicating he was likely an overworked coder.

"This woman completely ignores the child, even when he's hungry. This behavior is outrageous and very suspicious. Officer, you should take her away for an investigation immediately; human traffickers are despicable."

Passengers around also started chiming in.

"Yeah, better to catch the wrong person than let the real culprit go."

"I think this woman is very suspicious. She even looks a bit like that infamous kidnapper."

"......"

"Ma'am, please come with us to the front carriage for an investigation. In the meantime, we will take care of the child until things are clarified," the police officer said, remaining distant and wary.

"What? This is my son! Why do I need to be investigated?"

"I have his ID card; how could this be fake?"

The coder in front delivered another blow: "You could steal a child, so why not an ID card too?"

Seeing her uncooperative, the police officer called over two attendants who directly escorted her away.

As she was leaving, she glared at me as if I were her mortal enemy.

If looks could kill, I would have been quartered by now.

The high-speed rail made an unscheduled stop, and the police officer got off the train with the child and the woman.

I thought it was just an unpleasant "chance encounter" and that I'd probably never see this mother and son again.

Unexpectedly, I soon ran into the mother and child again.