Sent to the countryside, I turned the health center into a top-tier hospital.

Chen Ping didn't sleep.

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed, but he wasn't asleep.

I strained my ears, listening to the sounds coming from inside the carriage.

He noticed those three people when they boarded the bus. They didn't buy tickets, went straight to their seats, and their eyes looked strange.

For anyone who has worked in purchasing, reading people's expressions and moods is a fundamental skill.

The three men weren't looking at the seats; they were looking at the pockets, the bags, and the valuables on the passengers.

The person sitting at the very front was a thin man wearing a gray jacket. He glanced around the carriage when he boarded, sat down in the first row, crossed his legs, but kept glancing back.

The guy in the middle was fat and wearing a black T-shirt. As soon as he got on the bus, he walked towards the middle and walked back and forth in the aisle twice, as if he was looking for a seat, but actually he was checking which person was sleeping soundly.

The last one was a short man wearing a baseball cap. As soon as he got on the bus, he squeezed into the last row, sat down, and pulled his cap down to cover half of his face.

There was no communication between the three of them, but Chen Ping could tell that they were working together.

The bus bumped along the mountain road, the sound of the engine drowning out everything else.

The skinny guy moved first. He stood up from the first row and, as he passed by a sleeping old man, his hand touched the old man's pocket. It was so quick that it was almost invisible.

He continued walking forward, reached the middle, then turned back and returned to his seat.

The fat man stood up as he passed by, blocking the passage and the view of others.

Chen Ping opened his eyes, turned his head, and glanced at the old man. His pockets were bulging, and his wallet was still there.

The skinny guy failed, probably because the old man's hand was on his pocket.

The second time, the skinny guy moved again.

This time, he set his sights on a middle-aged woman who was sitting by the window, holding a bag in her arms with the strap wrapped around her wrist.

The skinny man stood next to her for two seconds, didn't make a move, and then left.

It's too tight, making it difficult to work on.

Chen Ping tapped his fingers twice on his knee.

He was wondering whether or not to get involved.

It's not that I'm afraid, it's that I have no evidence.

It doesn't make sense for you to accuse someone of being a thief when they haven't done anything.

Cui Ying was sleeping soundly, her head tilted to the side, resting on his shoulder.

Her hair brushed against his neck, tickling him.

He didn't move, letting her lean against him.

The third time.

The fat man moved.

He walked from the middle to the back, and in the instant he brushed past the baseball cap, his hand, hidden under the cap, reached into a young girl's backpack.

The girl was wearing headphones, had her eyes closed, and felt nothing.

The fat man took a pink wallet out of the girl's bag, stuffed it into his pocket, and turned to walk back.

Chen Ping saw it.

The whole process took less than three seconds, clean and efficient, as if it had been practiced.

He sat up straight, and Cui Ying's head slid off his shoulder. She was awake and rubbed her eyes groggily.

Seeing that Chen Ping's expression was off, I followed his gaze and saw the fat man walking ahead with no expression on his face, as if nothing had happened.

"What's wrong?" Cui Ying asked softly.

"It's nothing," Chen Ping shook his head.

He hasn't figured out what to do yet.

Stand up and shout?

What should you do if a fat guy has a knife on him?

There were two accomplices in the car. What if the three of them hurt the others when they attacked together?

Just then, the driver suddenly slammed on the brakes.

squeak……

The tires screeched as they dragged across the ground, and everyone in the carriage lurched forward.

Someone bumped into the back of the chair in front of them, someone slid off their seat, and something flew out of someone's hand.

Cui Ying also stumbled forward, but Chen Ping caught her.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" The carriage was in complete chaos.

The passengers scrambled to their feet, some cursing the driver, others asking what had happened.

There's a rock ahead.

The driver turned around and said something in a low voice, but Chen Ping noticed that his eyes weren't looking at the road, but at the three people.

The girl whose wallet had been stolen was woken up by the shaking. She instinctively touched her backpack and found the zipper was open.

She paused for a moment, reached in and touched it, and her expression changed.

"My wallet! My wallet is gone!" The girl's voice was shrill and urgent, and the carriage fell silent instantly.

She stood up and searched around the seat, but couldn't find it. She was on the verge of tears: "Who took my wallet? There was money and my ID in it! Give it back!"

The fat man's expression changed slightly, but he quickly recovered.

He sat in the middle seat, legs crossed, looking out the window as if he hadn't heard anything.

The passenger next to the girl helped her search, but they couldn't find it under the seat.

A middle-aged woman spoke up: "I felt something was wrong when those people got on the bus. They got on without buying tickets, and the ticket seller didn't do anything about it."

All eyes turned to the three people.

The skinny man sat in the front row, legs crossed, a cold smile on his lips, looking out the window.

The fat man sat in the middle, turning his face away from everyone.

The baseball cap was tucked into the last row, pulled down even lower.

"Who took my wallet? Give it back!" The girl's voice trembled.

The skinny man turned his head, glanced at her, and laughed: "Little girl, you need evidence to back up your story. Who took your wallet? Did you see them?"

The girl was startled by his gaze and took a step back.

The fat man stood up, patted his trouser leg, and said in a low but firm voice, "Don't spout nonsense here. Who's the thief? You're the thief."

He walked forward, and as he passed the girl, he deliberately bumped into her. The girl was knocked to the side and only managed to stay upright by grabbing the back of the chair.

"You..." The girl's eyes reddened.

The fat man ignored her and continued walking forward. When he reached the driver, his voice turned cold: "Open the door."

The driver didn't move, glanced at him, and then looked ahead.

"I said open the door!"

The fat man raised his voice and reached into his pocket. He didn't take anything out, but everyone understood what he was doing. There was something in his pocket—either a knife or something else.

The driver opened the door.

The fat man got off the bus first, followed by the skinny man, who stood up from the last row and walked quickly forward.

No one in the carriage dared to move.

Several men who had initially wanted to help withdrew when they saw the fat man reaching into his pocket.

With a knife, who isn't afraid?

Chen Ping frowned and tried to get up.

Cui Ying gripped Chen Ping's sleeve tightly.

She looked at Chen Ping, shook her head, and moved her lips but didn't say anything. But Chen Ping understood and told her not to go.

Chen Ping patted the back of her hand, gently pried her hand off her sleeve, and stood up.

Cui Ying tugged at him, but couldn't stop him.

"Master, wait a minute!" Chen Ping shouted.

The three of them stopped in their tracks.

The fat man turned around, looked at Chen Ping, and narrowed his eyes.

"Who are you?" the fat man asked coldly.

Chen Ping didn't answer. He got out of his seat and walked into the aisle.

He walked slowly, his steps were steady, and his expression was calm.

"Leave your wallet, and you can leave." Chen Ping's face left no room for argument.