The men escorting Song Fan spoke to each other in hushed tones. The crowd dispersed after watching the commotion.
Song Fan sighed in relief. Whether it was organ trafficking or human trafficking, having someone to communicate with meant she had a chance to escape.
The small island was primitive, with uneven, hand-carved steps. As night fell, even Song Fan felt the strain on her body from the exhausting trek.
Just when she thought she couldn't go any further, she heard voices speaking a language she understood. They were handing her over as "cargo."
She was shoved into a small wooden cabin. She could smell the wood and noticed the dust, but at least there was no scent of seawater.
Inside the cabin, no one bothered to remove her hood.
After what felt like hours, Song Fan, who thought she had slept a long time, heard the door open. Someone finally removed her hood.
