บท 52: Pulling Strings

The stress mounted with each passing minute, a palpable tension that settled over the occupants of the vehicle like a suffocating shroud. Mrs. Xia's eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, her cheeks glistening with the tracks of silent tears. Xia Xingxing, on the other hand, maintained a stoic facade, but the occasional trembling of her hands betrayed the turmoil raging beneath the surface.

After what felt like an eternity of navigating the labyrinthine streets of Kyoto, Jiang Yukang's voice cut through the heavy silence, his tone measured and calm. "I think we have to go to a police station."

Mrs. Xia nodded, her movements jerky and uncertain. "Yes, yes, let's do that," she murmured, grasping at the glimmer of hope that Jiang Yukang's suggestion offered.