Chapter 5 — Anonymous Drawing

The first semester exams ended one morning in late December, and Tan Viet School held its annual spring fair immediately afterward to celebrate students completing the exams — each class set up a small booth in the school yard, selling homemade snacks to raise funds for the class. Dieu Linh and Khoi Nguyen's class chose to sell mixed rice paper and sugarcane juice, and because they were both skillful, Mr. Khang assigned them to be in charge of decorating the stall.

They set up a hand-painted backdrop of a red-flowered cotton tree, inspired by the tree where they met, and hung a string of flashing lights borrowed from the security guard's house. On the evening of the opening night, when the stalls were all lit up and the schoolyard was bustling with music and laughter, Dieu Linh stood behind the counter scooping sugarcane juice, her sleeves rolled up, while Khoi Nguyen stood next to him, mixing each portion of rice paper according to customer requests.

"You mix rice paper better than me," Dieu Linh teased, glancing over to see him shaking the rice paper evenly in a plastic bag with surprising proficiency.

"Just learned it from some street vendors," Khoi Nguyen replied, not adding that he actually only learned this method from Dieu Linh herself two days ago, when she patiently showed him step by step while preparing the ingredients.

Their booth was much more crowded than expected, to the point that most of the evening the two didn't have time to rest. When the fair ended and the school's loudspeaker announced that the gate would close in thirty minutes, Dieu Linh had the opportunity to sit down on the plastic chair behind the counter and rub her tired wrists.

"Are you tired?" Khoi Nguyen asked, giving her a glass of cold sugarcane juice.

"Tired but happy." She took a sip, looking out at the sparkling schoolyard with lights. "Our class sold the most. Teacher Khang praised us for being good."

"It's all thanks to you," Khoi Nguyen said, sitting down next to her.

At that moment, Ho Khanh Thu ran over from the classroom stall next door, holding a string of cotton candy in his hand, his face cheerful. "Hey you two, you're selling very expensive, the most beautiful booth in this area. And I see you guys standing next to each other all evening, don't you separate for a break?"

"I'm so busy I don't have time to rest," Dieu Linh replied, throwing her best friend a non-threatening glare.

"Yeah, I was just asking." Khanh Thu winked, her voice full of meaning. "If the couple selling mixed rice paper has any feelings, please tell me, I'll go show it to the class over there."

"It's nothing, don't gossip," Dieu Linh blushed and gently pushed her friend away, while Khoi Nguyen just laughed, bending down and pretending to be busy rearranging the stack of plastic cups.

At that moment, a group of students from another class, including Dang Nhat Huy, pulled up to the counter, deliberately interrupted the line of people waiting to buy, loudly ordered food, then laughed loudly, spilling an entire tray of rice paper that had just been mixed to the ground.

"Eh, sorry, my hands were too careless," Nhat Huy said, his voice playful and without any sincerity, looking at the tray of cakes scattered without any intention of cleaning up.

Dieu Linh was about to speak harshly, but Khoi Nguyen gently stepped forward, his voice unusually calm. "It's okay, let me prepare it. Whatever you and Nhat Huy want to eat, wait a moment, we'll mix the new portion right away."

His calm, unflinching attitude made Nhat Huy pause slightly, seemingly surprised because he did not receive the harsh reaction he expected. The surrounding friends also gradually became silent, feeling that Nhat Huy's joke became ungainly before that calmness.

"Well, we'll buy it somewhere else," Nhat Huy grumbled, pulling his friends somewhere else, somewhat disinterested.

Khoi Nguyen bent down to pick up the spilled cake, Dieu Linh sat down to help him, glancing at him with eyes that were both surprised and grateful.

"Why don't you scold him to relieve your anger?" she asked softly.

"Scolding won't solve anything," Khoi Nguyen replied, still quickly gathering the scattered cakes. "Arguing loudly will only ruin our fun evening. Besides, people like Nhat Huy, the more they react, the more they like to tease."

Dieu Linh looked at him, thinking that this was one of the many things she loved about this friend - the way he handled everything calmly, more maturely than a fifteen year old, as if he had been used to having to stay calm in unpleasant situations for a long time. She didn't know, that was the skill he learned from stressful family meetings, from observing his father handling crises at work for many years.

"Thanks to both of you," she corrected, then fell silent for a moment, watching the twinkling lights reflect in the glass of water. "You know, at the beginning of the school year, I never thought I would have a close friend like you. I didn't trust many people, because... well, long story, another time."

"Tell me," Khoi Nguyen said, his eyes sincere. "I want to hear."

Dieu Linh hesitated for a moment, then told him about her father - the person who left her mother and daughter when she was young, followed a different life, and never came back even when she passed the school entrance exam. She talked about the years she was ridiculed by her old friends in middle school for "not having a dad", about how she learned to close herself off, not easily trusting or getting close to anyone, until she met Khoi Nguyen.

"You're the first person I've felt comfortable telling this to," she said, her voice gentle but a little shaky. "Because I know you won't laugh at me, nor will you pity me. You understand, because you're also living far from your family and are as needy as me."

Khoi Nguyen listened to every word, his heart felt heavy with every story she told, not because the story was too tragic, but because he realized that all the trust she was giving him was built on a foundation he knew was not solid - the belief that the two of them were "in the same situation". He wanted to tell the truth, wanted to tell her about the twenty-five-story mansion, about his father, about the real reason he had to live here, but every time he was about to open his mouth, the image of his father's stern face the night before leaving the city appeared, along with the instructions he did not dare to break.

"Thank you for telling me," he said finally, awkwardly holding her hand for the first time in the four months they had known each other. "I will always be here, listening to you, no matter what."

Dieu Linh looked down at their hands, feeling a warmth spreading throughout her body. She didn't say anything, just nodded slightly, leaving her hand in his hand for a moment longer before the loudspeaker sounded, reminding the students to prepare to leave.

On the way home that night, under the yellow streetlight shining down Cay Gon alley, Dieu Linh stopped in front of her house gate, hesitated for a moment, then turned to Khoi Nguyen.

"Hey," she said, "later, when we grow up, if we're still best friends, you promise to always tell me the truth, okay? No matter what."

That question, seemingly just an idle student promise, made Khoi Nguyen speechless for a few seconds. He looked into her clear, trusting eyes, feeling his chest being squeezed by a feeling that was both warm and painful at the same time.

"I promise," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "I'll tell you the truth, when the time comes."

Dieu Linh did not pay attention to the second part of the sentence - "when the time comes" - only heard the promise, smiled brightly, waved goodbye, and entered the house. Khoi Nguyen stood alone in the middle of a deserted alley, looking up at the starless night sky, wondering when that "coming time" would be, and whether when it came, his promise would still retain its full meaning.

He didn't know, just a few months later, that question would be answered - but not in the way he expected, not with words he voluntarily said, but with a noisy afternoon of car horns and bright headlights at the school gate, where all the secrets he had tried to keep for the past four months would be shattered in an instant, before the eyes of all the students of Tan Viet School, and most painfully, before the eyes of Dieu Linh herself.

But that night, he didn't think that far. He just stood there, in the middle of a quiet alley, heard the sound of Dieu Linh's door closing behind him, heard the distant barking of a dog echoing from the end of the alley, and felt such a simple, complete happiness that he wished time could stop at this moment forever. He walked back to Aunt Bay Nha's house under the faint moonlight, still feeling the warmth from Dieu Linh's hand, his heart humming an unnamed happy melody.

Aunt Bay Nha was sewing under the lamplight. When she saw him return with an unusually bright expression, she jokingly asked: "The fair was so fun today, why are you always smiling?"

"Very happy, aunt," Khoi Nguyen replied, sitting down next to her aunt, recounting that evening with a rare excited tone. Aunt Bay Nha listened, occasionally nodding, but in her eyes, amidst the joy transmitted from her nephew, there was still a silent worry that she did not want to say at this time, for fear of destroying his rare happiness.