My Mom Charges Me Fifty Cents for Water, but the Kidnappers Feed Me for Free. I Choose Them

In the third year after I was abducted, the police took down the trafficking ring.

In the interrogation room, a police officer with red-rimmed eyes asked me:

“Why didn't you run? You had a chance to call for help.”

I stared at him, bewildered.

“Why would I run? I don't have to pay for meals here, or for a bed to sleep in.”

The officer froze.

She didn't know that in the place I called home,

my biological parents had imposed a strict “pay-as-you-go” system on me.

A cup of hot water cost five mao. A meal cost two yuan.

But my older brother could eat and drink for free, and even got rewards.

On my ninth birthday, unable to afford a bowl of longevity noodles, I went with the human trafficker.