Chapter 6 — Calling Off the Engagement with the Master Surgeon

Senior brother, please do not leave me. I was wrong, and I swear I will never deceive you again.

Senior brother, I have some wonderful news to share with you.

Lam Van Van took a deep, shaky breath, her hand trembling as she rested it against her flat stomach.

I am pregnant. It is your child.

Lately, I have been feeling sharp pains in my abdomen; it must be the baby kicking me, she lied, her eyes wide with a desperate, feverish light.

Co Canh Tham froze. Though he despised her with every fiber of his being, the thought of a child—his child—gave him pause. Hesitating, he reached out to touch her stomach. Suddenly, the skin of her abdomen began to swell at a terrifying, unnatural speed. It expanded like a grotesque balloon, stretching until the fabric of her hospital gown tore apart with a sickening rip. A blood-curdling scream tore from her throat.

Ah! My stomach! It hurts! It hurts so much!

Co Canh Tham recoiled in horror, stumbling backward as if burned. The duty doctor rushed in, his face paling as he took in the sight of her stomach, which looked ready to burst. They scrambled to wheel her away for imaging. When the results arrived, the entire department fell into an eerie, suffocating silence. It was never a pregnancy. It was a massive, malignant tumor weighing thirty pounds. The growth had crushed her internal organs, ready to rupture at any second. Lam Van Van lay on the gurney, cradling the monstrous weight, her body too broken to even scream. Seeing this, Co Canh Tham began to laugh, a jagged, broken sound that echoed like the cackle of a madman.

Retribution! It is all just retribution!

The parents of the Co family could no longer sit idly by. They watched helplessly as their son, once their greatest pride, devolved into a broken shell of a man, unable to even steady his hands enough to hold a surgical scalpel. The prestige and influence the family had painstakingly built over generations were crumbling to dust. After much deliberation, the elderly couple decided to swallow their pride and seek me out, begging for mercy. They believed that if I could be persuaded to forgive Co Canh Tham and restore our betrothal, the To family would step in to salvage his career and perhaps even fund the hiring of the world’s finest specialists to repair his damaged hands.

Bearing extravagant gifts, they arrived at my home. I sat on the sofa, watching coldly as these two people—who once held themselves above everyone else as my future parents-in-law—approached me. The mother of Co had barely entered when her eyes welled with tears, and she collapsed to her knees before me with a dull thud. Her husband followed suit, bowing his head in the dirt.

Thien Thien, every mistake, every ounce of wrongdoing, belongs to Canh Tham. It is our failure as parents to have raised him so poorly.

The mother wept, her face a mask of snot and tears.

For the sake of the long-standing friendship between our families, please save Canh Tham. If he can no longer hold a scalpel, it is a fate worse than death for him!

I took a slow, deliberate sip of my tea.

Whether or not he can hold a scalpel has nothing to do with me. You have come to the wrong person; you should be consulting a surgeon, not me.

The father grew desperate, knocking his head hard against the floor.

Thien Thien, you cannot simply stand by and watch a life wither away! We have been so distressed by this situation that we have not slept in days. My blood pressure is soaring; I fear I am on the verge of a cerebral hemorrhage!

The mother chimed in, desperate to add to the theatrics.

It is true, Thien Thien. My head has been pounding like a drum. I feel as though a stroke is imminent. Have pity on two old souls nearing the grave!

I set my teacup down and arched a brow. A cerebral hemorrhage? Are you two quite certain?

They paused, confused by my tone, but pressed on to manipulate my conscience.

It is the truth, Thien Thien. We are dizzy, and we could collapse at any moment...

They did not even finish their sentence. The father’s eyes suddenly bulged from their sockets; he clutched his head and let out a roar of absolute agony. Seconds later, the mother let out a shrill shriek and collapsed backward. Both of them began to tremble violently, their eyes rolling back as white foam bubbled from their lips. They convulsed across my expensive carpet, and blood began to seep from their nostrils and ears. A massive, bilateral cerebral hemorrhage—truly. I looked down at the writhing figures and shook my head.

At your age, you really should not speak so carelessly. Look at that—your wishful thinking has become reality.

I summoned the butler and told him to call for an ambulance. They were rushed away, and after ten hours of emergency surgery, their lives were saved. However, both were left with severe hemiplegia—permanently paralyzed on one side, unable to speak clearly, and forced to endure the indignity of drooling from their crooked mouths. The Co family, for all intents and purposes, was finished.

In a large ward of the city hospital, the family was gathered in a grim assembly. Co Canh Tham, Lam Van Van, the elderly Madam Vuong, and the now-paralyzed parents of the Co family—five souls crammed into a hellish existence. Lam Van Van sat clutching her thirty-pound tumor, sobbing blindly. Madam Vuong, her leg encased in a heavy cast, spent her days screaming venomous insults at Co Canh Tham. The parents lay paralyzed, their distorted mouths only able to emit guttural, unintelligible sounds as they drooled onto their pillows. Co Canh Tham sat in the corner, clutching his chest, a hollow husk of a man. The room echoed with nothing but screams, curses, and the sound of thrown objects. Even the nurses refused to enter that ward.

I chose a beautiful, sunny afternoon to pay a visit, carrying a bouquet of chrysanthemums. As I pushed open the door, the cacophony of cursing abruptly ceased. Five pairs of eyes locked onto me in a sudden, chilling silence.