Chapter 8 — 50 Years of Wrongfulness

Her voice trembled, but she said every word through gritted teeth: "Do you think sending me to prison will make her forgive you? Do you think doing these things can make her change her mind? Don't dream!" She was held and pulled half a step out, her heels scraping on the ground making a harsh sound. "During the time you were vague with me, why didn't you think of her? She brought you soup, you pushed it away. When I brought it, you drank without a drop. She sought you out to talk, you felt annoyed. I said a few more words, you sat back to listen. Now you pretend to love her deeply, are you despicable?" Co Lam's throat moved slightly. The tendons in the lower jaw are clearly tense. He didn't turn his head, just raised his chin towards the two policemen: "Take her away, don't let her stay here and make a fuss." The door closed. To Nhu's voice still vaguely echoed through the door for a while, and in the end there was only the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Co Lam stood in the middle of the room, not moving. There was half a glass of water left on the table, and a photo was placed next to them. That's a photo of him and Tham Thanh Tu taken when they graduated from high school. He caressed the photo, his eyes suddenly turned red. In his mind, the past events between him and Tham Thanh Tu suddenly appeared. On dense foggy winter mornings, she always huddled up waiting for him at the hallway door, holding a hot cake in her arms. Seeing him leave, she quietly gave him a portion. One time in high school, he was stopped by several male students in an alley. Originally, he could completely solve it himself, but Tham Thanh Tu suddenly rushed out. She held half the brick in front of him, her hands shaking with tension, but still stubbornly shouted: "Don't touch him!" The group of people saw her as a child and only felt funny. But that night, he climbed out the wall, stopped each person in front of the Internet cafe to deal with them, and coldly warned: "If you see her later, take a detour." During the days of blockade due to the epidemic, he climbed the wall into the quarantine area to look for her. She had a high fever, huddled in the corner of the bed, her lips were dry and cracked. The first thing I said when I saw him was not a complaint but one of impatience: "Why are you here? Get out quickly." Her eyes were red but she didn't avoid the kiss he placed on her forehead. She just closed her eyes and leaned gently on his palm. He didn't dare think anymore. His throat was sorely choked, he raised his hand to press his eyelids, and soon the back of his hand was wet. A few days later, Co Lam lost weight very quickly. People in the factory who met him were stunned. Someone asked him if he was sick, he just waved his hand and said it was okay. The ashtray in the office was so full that he couldn't refill it and only emptied it once. One morning at a meeting, he sat in the chair position and spoke for less than five minutes. The people below discovered that his mouth was still talking about the production plan, but his eyes were looking at the old eucalyptus tree outside the window, absent-minded for half a minute. Saturday morning, the assistant knocked on the office door. Co Lam raised her head from the pile of documents, her eyes were dark, her lips were dry to the point of peeling off a layer of white skin. "Director, I have news from Ms. Tham." The fountain pen in Co Lam's hand fell with a "clack" onto the table. The assistant brought over a photo. In the photo is the scene of a small exchange at the Milan Academy of Design. Tham Thanh Tu stood next to the display platform in the middle of the exhibition room, wearing a dark green overalls, her whole body radiant and confident. He squeezed the photo in his hand, the corner of the photo was pressed into a fold by his thumb. He raised his head, his voice was low and hoarse: "Book a plane ticket for me to Milan, as soon as possible." The morning sunlight in Milan is clearer than Giang Thanh. Looking down from the plane window, the whole city seems to be soaked in a glass of pale yellow carbonated water. The plane landed smoothly. As soon as Tham Thanh Tu stepped out of the compartment, the teacher's phone call came at the right moment. "Coming

Where to go, go straight to San Raffaele Hospital, here I have already arranged everything." Tham Thanh Tu softly thanked her, led her parents straight to the hospital, and smoothly completed all hospitalization procedures. Thanks to the teacher's prior arrangements, her mother's surgery was quickly scheduled. On the day of surgery, Tham Thanh Tu sat on a cold plastic chair in the hallway, her knees tightly closed. Dad was next to her, quietly lighting a cigarette. Just halfway through smoking, the nurse stopped him in French, somewhat confused, and quickly put out the cigarette at his feet. "Dad." She opened her mouth, her voice a bit hoarse. "The doctor said the success rate is very high, don't worry." Dad didn't look at her, just said a heavy "yes", his calloused hand covering the back of her hand. The window at the end of the hallway was open, the wind was blowing in, blowing her sideburns around her ears. She remembered her previous life when her mother passed away, even the last time she didn't get to see her. She closed her eyes, swallowing back the bitterness that had just risen. When the operating room door opened, the chief surgeon took off his mask. "The surgery was very successful." Listening to the doctor's words, her heart finally relaxed. On the third day after surgery, mother could lean on the head of the bed to drink porridge. The hospital room faced south, the sunlight covered half of the bed sheet, mother's face looked much better than before leaving. She put down the bowl of porridge and suddenly spoke: