Momo's Gradual Change

C158. Evading Capture.

Chapter 158: Evading Capture

Song Yimo only dared to look back after she’d crossed onto the main road. Her heart almost stopped—those two men she’d seen earlier were running after her.

The crosswalk was too far. She glanced at the child in her arms, eyes shut tight, took a deep breath, and dashed across the road, vaulting over the divider. Just as she made it to the other side, she heard a loud crack. Glancing back, she saw her phone shattered in two, screen-side up and completely broken.

A chill settled in her chest. There was no time to retrieve it. Dodging the oncoming traffic, she hurried to the opposite side of the street.

Ahead, the towering New World Plaza gleamed in the distance.

She sprinted past passersby, her instinct to ask for help nearly overwhelming. But she held firm, pouring all her strength into running. Her brother had told her not to trust anyone—and while she didn’t understand why, she trusted him. He wouldn’t keep her in danger without a good reason.

Her legs felt heavy, like lead, her body drenched in sweat, her face flushed. She was nearing the end of her strength, but she couldn’t stop. She just had to keep running!

Two hundred meters, one hundred, eighty, fifty, ten…

Finally, she stumbled through the mall’s entrance, greeted by a blast of cool air that sent a shiver through her body. She dashed for the nearest escalator, ascending level after level until she reached the fourth floor, where she finally stopped.

The fourth floor was dedicated to children—everything was brightly colored, and kids roamed everywhere.

Blending in here wouldn’t be so hard. But… they would remember her clothes, even if they hadn’t gotten a good look at her face. Changing her outfit was the first thing to do.

There were few adult clothing options on the fourth floor, so she aimed for the section selling matching family outfits. Conveniently, she could dress the child too. Most toddlers looked similar anyway; changing their clothes might make it nearly impossible for anyone to recognize them.

Clothes, clothes.

Song Yimo looked around and ran to the clothing area.

The store was practically empty, just a mom and her child checking out the clothes. A shop assistant walked over, all smiles.

"Feel free to look around. We've got stuff for everyone, even the little ones."

Song Yimo picked up the kid and turned their face towards the store, a gentle giant with a tiny human in his arms.

Spotting a set of blue-and-white sporty clothes, she approached the display. With quick, calm precision, she called over a shop assistant, “Excuse me, my little brother wet his clothes. Could we get a new set quickly?”

This sort of emergency was common here, so the assistant smiled and led her to a changing room as another brought over the selected outfit.

Though her legs felt weak, Song Yimo masked her exhaustion. Only once she was alone in the changing room with the door shut did she collapse onto the seat.

The child in her arms was no longer flushed as red, though a tear escaped now and then as he slumbered, his small face so frail it tugged at her heart.

She touched his forehead. Was it her cold hands, or did he really feel warmer than he should?

Her chest tightened, and she instinctively reached for her phone—only to remember it lay broken on the road. How would her brother find her now?

She pressed her fingers to her temples, willing herself to think. She felt foolish. If her friend Miaomiao had been here, she’d be long gone by now, slipping through the city like a ghost without anyone getting close. But here she was, having to rely on this clumsy, desperate plan just to escape.

Clothes first.

She reminded herself and gingerly removed the child’s wet outfit, dressing him in the new clothes. The boy squirmed, crying out softly as she wrestled with the unfamiliar task. She finally succeeded in dressing him, beads of sweat on her forehead, and swayed him gently until he drifted back to sleep.

She swiftly changed into the matching clothes herself, bundling their old ones into a bag. Then she rummaged through her purse, extracting her wallet and stuffing cash into her pocket. She undid her ponytail, braiding her hair into a simple twist that hung down her chest, completing her disguise.

Satisfied she looked like an entirely different person, she took a deep breath and stepped out, clutching the child.

“Lovely fit! You look fantastic in it!” The assistant’s eyes sparkled with praise.

Song Yimo managed a polite smile. “How much?”

“Today we’re running an 80% off sale. For both sets, it’s 548 yuan.”

Expensive!

She silently thanked her brother for his habit of slipping extra cash into her wallet. Without it, she’d be stuck.

She handed over the money and hesitated before asking, “Excuse me, could I leave my bag here for a bit?”

The assistant gave her a friendly smile, though a hint of reluctance crossed her face. “That’s fine, but we won’t be responsible if anything goes missing.”

“Thank you! There’s nothing valuable in it, just some old clothes. I’ll be back soon.” Song Yimo flashed a grateful smile, reassuring her.

Seeing her good attitude, the shop assistant took the bag with a smile and said, "Okay, come and get it as soon as possible."

"Okay, thank you."

With her face flushed, she left the store, clutching the child who now looked completely different in his new outfit. She blended seamlessly with the other shoppers, strolling through the aisles, even pretending to browse in a few stores, until she finally bought a hat for the child and slipped it onto his head.

Finally, she spotted a juice stand. She hurried over, bought a bottle of water, and found a quiet spot near the children’s play area. She took several deep gulps, her exhaustion catching up to her.

A wail rose from the boy, squirming uncomfortably in her arms. Flustered, she cooed gently, “Shh, don’t cry. Let’s get you some water.”

She held him close, pouring a capful of water and carefully bringing it to his lips. He opened his mouth eagerly, though most of the water spilled down his chin and soaked into his collar.

“Oh dear, poor thing! Such a little one won’t drink like that.” A motherly voice beside her piped up.

Startled, Song Yimo looked up to see a plump, friendly-looking woman with curly hair, holding a child’s backpack and a small shirt. She looked to be a mother herself.

The woman took out a child’s sippy cup, rinsed the straw, then handed it to Song Yimo with a reassuring smile. “Here, give him this. My son’s all grown up now and doesn’t need the straw anymore, but I carry it just in case. It’s clean—I always scald it with hot water.”

Grateful but hesitant, Song Yimo couldn’t refuse such a thoughtful gesture. The child desperately needed water. “Thank you, truly.”

“No need! Is he your little brother?”

Song Yimo lowered her head and brought the straw to the child's mouth. “Mm-hmm,” she nodded, cheeks flushing slightly from the little lie.

The woman didn’t seem to notice. She gave her an approving smile, her attention drawn back to the playground where her own child was playing. “Do you live nearby? Out with your little brother for the day?”