Chapter 34 — Betrayed by My Own Mother, Saved by My Mother-in-Law

I did not necessarily have to become a class officer. However, I knew all too well that if I retreated today because of the daunting complexity of my circumstances, I would find myself retreating countless more times in the future. Tran Que Phan nudged my waist with her elbow. "Go on up," she whispered. Bach Tue also murmured, "If you want it, just be bold and go for it." I stood up abruptly. The classroom fell into instant silence. I strode toward the podium, my eyes inadvertently catching a flash of annoyance in the depths of Luong Mai’s gaze. I didn’t care. I looked at Professor Ha, then swept my eyes across the entire class.

"My name is Lam Trieu Thu, and I come from Apricot Blossom Village."

"I am married; my husband is a farmer who works the fields back home. My mother-in-law had to sell the only breeding pig we owned to help fund my university entrance exams."

A collective gasp of surprise rippled through the room. I continued, "I know my background is different from many of you here. I also know there are those who believe that a woman from the countryside, especially one with a husband, should speak less and do less, instead of constantly trying to push herself to the front." Professor Ha looked up at me, but she did not interrupt.

"I am not standing here to vie for vanity or prestige. I only want to prove that, since I have been admitted here, I have every right to study and stand shoulder to shoulder with all of you."

"I may not be familiar with the city streets, but I am well-versed in the procedures for transferring household registrations, I know how to apply for supplementary documentation, and I deeply understand the obstacles and hardships faced by students coming here from the rural provinces."

"If any of you in this class are missing the red stamps required for paperwork, are lost while trying to purchase meal coupons, or don’t know how to write an address on a letter back home, I am ready to run those errands and help. I may not be the most glamorous person here, but I am willing to take on the humblest, dirt-stained tasks."

The classroom was deathly silent. I could hear my own breathing clearly, and even the rustling of leaves outside the window. Finally, I concluded, "I wish to run for the position of Vice Class President of Student Affairs. If you trust me, I will give my all. If not, I will still strive to study hard." As I stepped down from the podium, Tran Que Phan was the first to clap. Soon, Bach Tue followed suit. The sparse applause suddenly swelled into a hearty sound. Luong Mai, sitting in the front row, did not look pleased. When the votes were tallied, the results for Luong Mai and me were nearly identical. Professor Ha decided to appoint Luong Mai as the Class President, while I was named the Vice Class President of Student Affairs.

"Being a class officer is not about showing off; it is a responsibility," Professor Ha said sternly, looking at both of us. "You must both remember that well."

Luong Mai nodded with a forced smile. I nodded as well. After the meeting, Luong Mai approached me. "Lam Trieu Thu, you certainly have a sharp tongue." I replied nonchalantly, "I only spoke the truth." She stared at me for several seconds. "I hope you can do as well as you talk." I answered simply, "I will."

Being the Vice President of Student Affairs was by no means easy. At the start of the school year, everything was chaotic: registering for meal cards, student IDs, distributing dormitory supplies, and filing applications for hardship subsidies. Our class had several students from rural areas, carrying tattered blankets just like mine, with very little money. There was a student named Luu Quoc Cuong, who came from the northern mountains. He couldn't come up with the deposit for his dorm room, so he sat hunched in the hallway, looking miserable. Luong Mai had remarked coldly, "According to the rules, no deposit means no room key." Luu Quoc Cuong’s face turned crimson. "My father said the money is on its way, but it will take a few more days." He wore a threadbare, quilted jacket, and the soles of his shoes were peeling away. Looking at him, I saw my own desperate reflection from the first day I arrived here. I ran to find Professor Ha to ask if there was any way to guarantee his debt so he could move in first. Professor Ha said, "Those in difficult circumstances can apply for an emergency grant, but a written explanation of the situation is required." I guided Luu Quoc Cuong through writing the application and rushed from office to office, seeking signatures from the dormitory management board. After toiling for the entire afternoon, he finally received his key. Luu Quoc Cuong bowed repeatedly in gratitude. "Friend Lam, when I receive my money, I will definitely treat you to a meal." I laughed it off. "Don't bother with that. Just try to help others find their way if they are as lost as you were."

The story spread, and more rural students in the class started seeking me out. Some didn't know how to send a parcel, some were confused about exchanging meal coupons, and others were too shy to knock on the teachers' doors to ask for aid. I patiently accompanied them, guiding them through writing their forms and reminding them to keep their files flat so the red stamps wouldn't smudge. Luong Mai saw it all, but she didn't say anything further. Yet, the distance between us remained palpable. A week later, the school posted the list of recipients for the hardship subsidy. I qualified. Professor Ha handed me the application form. "Lam Trieu Thu, your situation perfectly meets the criteria. The monthly allowance is not much, but it will be enough to help you get by." Holding the paper in my hands, a heavy burden seemed to lift from my chest. However, as soon as the list was posted, the whispers began to erupt again.