After Three Years on the Run with Her Child, the Warlord Came Looking for Her

At three in the morning, the train station looked like a patient on the verge of death. Beneath the dim yellow lights, there was only me and the little furnace burning hot in my arms. Mu Sheng was delirious with fever, his small face flushed red, his breathing rapid and shallow. I pulled his old, stiff cotton coat tighter around him. The coins in my palm dug painfully into my skin, slick with sweat. "M-Mama..." he whimpered like a kitten, curling into my arms. "It's all right, Mu Sheng. Be good. We'll be on the train soon. Once we're aboard, you'll feel better." My voice trembled uncontrollably as I stared at the faint light in the ticket window. Three yuan and fifty cents. It was all the money I had. I had to