Chapter 20 — Betrayed by My Own Mother, Saved by My Mother-in-Law

Mother Chau shook her head, her expression weary. "The old quilt is heavy, and it does not offer much warmth anymore." Dai Tru suddenly spoke up, his voice low and steady. "I still have an old cotton-padded jacket. Let me rip it apart, fluff up the stuffing, and sew a mattress for you."

"And what will you wear when winter comes?" she asked.

"I am a young, strong man. I fear no cold," he replied with a shrug.

Mother Chau gave his shoulder a sharp swat. "Stop playing the hero." Silence returned to the house, thick and heavy, until a sudden knocking broke the stillness. Mother Chau hurried to open the door, revealing the village headman standing there. He held a thick envelope in his hands. "The village has held a meeting," he said earnestly. "Thu getting into university brings honor to Apricot Blossom Hamlet. The village does not have much, but we would like to offer one million as a contribution toward your travel expenses."

Mother Chau stood frozen, her voice trembling slightly. "How could we possibly accept this?"

The headman placed the envelope firmly on the table. "This is not for your family, but for a university student. When you achieve greatness in the future, do not forget that this hamlet still has many children who hunger for education." I stood straight and bowed deeply, my voice thick with emotion. "Headman, I will engrave this in my heart." He nodded, then turned to Dai Tru. "Dai Tru, tomorrow do not go to the brick kiln. The village needs men to clear the irrigation ditches." Dai Tru nodded eagerly, his face lighting up.

After the headman left, Mother Chau stared at the envelope for a long time. "In this life," she murmured, "one only needs to carve a path, and eventually, the winds will change in our favor." I knew she was not just talking about the money. That night, I tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. My acceptance letter was hidden in the cupboard; even through the wooden boards, I could see those brilliant red characters in my mind. I had passed. The thought looped over and over, yet my heart remained restless. Leaving Apricot Blossom Hamlet, leaving Mother Chau, leaving Dai Tru to venture into a vast, nameless city—the road ahead was clear, yet for the first time, I felt the sharp sting of fear.

I heard soft footsteps outside my window. Dai Tru was chopping wood in the yard, each stroke echoing through the night. I wrapped a shawl around my shoulders and stepped out. "It is so late; why are you still chopping wood?"

He paused, looking up at me. "I could not sleep."

"Are you afraid, too?"

He stiffened, then gave a slow nod. "I am."

I leaned against the door frame. "Afraid of what?"

His voice was hoarse and deep. "Afraid that once you go far away, you will not be able to eat or sleep, and that people will bully you. I am also afraid that once you reach the city, you will see bumpkins like us as nothing more than stained, common peasants." My throat tightened, burning with unshed tears. "Dai Tru."

"Yes?"

"I will never forget you."

He looked at me, his eyes rimmed with red, yet he managed a faint smile. "That is enough." A breeze swept over the walls, carrying the sweet scent of ripening grain. Suddenly, from the edge of the village, a dog began to bark. Soon, the entire night erupted in a chorus of howling, shattering the quiet. Dai Tru dropped his axe and peered into the darkness. Moments later, a figure came rushing toward the house, pounding on the wooden gate. "Mother Chau! Open up! Someone from the Lam family came to deliver news—they say Thu’s mother is bedridden and failing, and she must return home immediately!"

The man at the door was a distant uncle from my home village. He was gasping for air, the brim of his hat glistening with night dew. "Trieu Thu, your mother is lying flat on her back at home! Dieu To told me to come get you—he says you must go back right now."

Mother Chau walked out, her face hardening. "What is her illness?"

The man hesitated, shifting his feet. "I heard it is a sharp pain in her chest; she cannot even rise from the bed." I stood in the middle of the courtyard, my limbs turning to ice. Dai Tru looked at me, his eyes questioning. "Are you going?"

I did not answer immediately. My acceptance letter had just arrived, and I had not yet finished the residency transfer papers. At this critical juncture, my birth family had sent someone to fetch me. I did not want to think the worst of them, but the years of jagged, unhealed wounds made it impossible to blindly follow the path of filial piety.

Mother Chau stepped forward. "Have you brought a doctor from the clinic to see her?"

"This..." The man scratched his head. "I ran here so fast, I am not sure."

"Then why did Dieu To not invite the doctor himself? Why send you in the middle of the night to summon Thu?"

The man fell silent, unable to retort. My heart sank into the depths of despair. Mother Chau turned back into the house, took fifty thousand in cash and a bag of brown sugar, and handed them to the man. "If Thu is to go, she must wait until dawn. The night roads are treacherous. Take this money, go back, and tell them to bring the clinic doctor immediately. If she is truly ill, there is no time to waste."

The man glanced at me. "Dieu To warned me over and over that I must bring the girl back tonight."

Mother Chau’s voice turned icy. "Is a human life more important, or is forcing a girl back more important?" The man flushed deep red and retreated into the night, clutching the money.

As the gate locked shut, my chest felt constricted. "Mother, what if she really is sick?"

Mother Chau looked at me. "If she is truly sick, we will go together tomorrow morning. But you must never go alone in the dead of night."

"I will go with her," Dai Tru added immediately.

Mother Chau nodded. "I will go, too."

I shook my head, trying to dissuade her. "The wound on your forehead has only just begun to heal."

"I am not going to fight," she said firmly. "I am going to see the truth for myself."

She pulled my acceptance letter from the bottom of the cupboard and pressed it into my hand. "Hide this in your inner pocket, against your skin. Wherever you go, do not let it leave your side." Holding the paper, my heart twisted with a sharp, heavy ache.