On the train, Wang Jinglin and Rong Xuefeng sat together, their faces filled with complex expressions.
And a trace of confusion.
To this day, they, as a couple, could hardly believe it was true; it was simply too absurd.
How could the children have been switched?
It was unbelievable.
When Wang Xuefeng had opened her eyes back then, the child was already lying beside her—a tiny girl, particularly endearing.
With one look, she had awakened all her maternal love.
And with nearly nineteen years of living together, having just celebrated her eighteenth birthday not long ago, how could this child not be their own?
"Old Wang, do you think this is true?"
"It must be true. If it weren't, the police there wouldn't have made such a call. Besides, there's no use thinking more about it now. Let's discuss this once we arrive!"
Honestly, from the moment he received the call, he firmly believed this was no joke.
