Chapter 9 — After taking the university entrance exam, I transferred my household registration to my adoptive mother's house

Tien Le Hoa exploded five minutes after the reporters left. To be more precise… Not explosive. It's a collapse. She stood in the middle of the living room, her finger pointing straight at me, her whole body shaking.

"Lam Chu! Are you crazy?! You dare say those words in front of the camera?! Do you want to force this whole family to death?!"

Her voice was so high-pitched that it almost broke. The elegance he tried to maintain throughout the afternoon was completely shattered. The string of pearls shifted to one side of the collarbone in excitement. Makeup was also smudged, eyeliner smudged at the corners of the eyes, looking a bit funny. Lam Kien Quoc stood next to her, his face pale, but his lips pursed tightly without saying a word. He is the type of person who doesn't know how to argue. Not because of cultivation. But because of guilt.

"Do you know how people will look at us when that interview is broadcast?! How do you look at your father?! How do you look at this house?!"

Tien Le Hoa's finger almost poked me in front of my face. Only ten centimeters away. I don't dodge.

"You were born from me! I'm your biological mother! Who the hell is she?! A country woman selling tofu, why is she sitting in my living room getting interviewed?!"

Behind me, Trieu Que Lan bowed her head and did not speak. I heard her breathing. It's a type of deliberate pressure.

“Mrs. Tien Le Hoa.”

I spoke up. The moment I called her "Mrs. Tien"... She was stunned. For the past six years, I've only called her "mom."

“She said she was my biological mother.”

“Biologically… you are.”

“But do you know my homeroom teacher's name?”

She did not answer.

“Do you know during the three years of high school, what time did I wake up and what time did I sleep every day?”

She did not answer.

"Do you know that there's a photo in my math textbook? Do you know who the person in the photo is?"

Tien Le Hoa opened her lips. But couldn't say anything.

“You don't know anything.”

“But Trieu's mother knows.”

"I text her every day. She knows I have an exam today, knows what I ate today, knows if I'm in a good mood."

"She sold tofu alone in a small district. In the winter, her hands were covered in cracks and wounds but she couldn't even bear to go to the hospital."

“But just because I said I wanted to eat dried radishes…”

“The next day she started soaking it.”

“What about you?”

“She was busy going to Taobao to buy dresses for my sister, sign up for programming classes for my younger brother, and buy skin care masks for herself.”

“My scholarship money…”

“Nine thousand six hundred yuan.”

“She took it all.”

“How much did you give me?”

“Not a penny.”

Finally, Tien Le Hoa's finger that was pointing at me also dropped. Her lips trembled. Not out of anger. After reliving everything, she discovered... Every sentence I said was true. Cannot refute. Not even one sentence can be refuted. Finally, Lam Kien Quoc also spoke up. His voice was so low, so hoarse that I had never heard it before.

"Chu Chu, welcoming you back that year... was for your own good. Big cities have better educational resources, key schools—"

I interrupted him.

“I studied with Trieu's mother in elementary school.”

“In fourth grade, I ranked first in the district.”

He immediately fell silent.

“Dad didn't pick me up because he missed me.”

“It's because dad saw my name and achievements in the newspaper and felt like a child This is valuable to take advantage of.”

“It's not my daughter that I picked up.”

“It's a machine that can help dad grow up.”

Lam Kien Quoc's eyes turned red. But I'm not sure if it's guilt... Or the painful feeling of losing face. But I also don't care. I turned to look at my sister, Lam Duyet. She huddled in the corner of the sofa, her phone held in front of her face— Probably watching the real-time response online. When I looked at her, she immediately put the phone behind her back.

“Lin Duyet.”

“You took my suitcase, right?”

She was a bit panicked.

“I… I didn't know you needed to use…”

“It's okay.”

“Give it to me too.”

She was stunned.

“I don't live in this house anymore either.”

My younger brother, Lam Hao, peeked half his head out of the room, still holding the game controller in his hand. This year he is fourteen years old, in eighth grade, and has been pampered since childhood, completely unaware of the undercurrents in this family. It only asks one question:

“Are you really ranked first in the whole province?”

“That's disgusting.”

After speaking, he withdrew his head and continued playing the game. I looked at this house once. On the sofa was Tien Le Hoa, her face pale.