Chapter 1 — Cotton Slippers Arrive Late

1After checking my exam scores and returning home, the sandals my mother promised to buy for me were still missing. Apparently a family of five. But in front of the door there were only four pairs of slippers placed neatly next to each other. From father, mother, brother and sister. My classmates gave me the nickname "King of Beggars". They said I always wear clothes that you don't need anymore, and wear torn shoes that have lost their heels. On my birthday this year, my mother made a promise to me. After the university entrance exam is over, she will buy me a new pair of cotton slippers. Rabbit head shape, light pink, with two round eyes. My brother and sister each have a pair. I once secretly tried it. My feet were as cold as ice, and as soon as I put them on, they warmed up. I took a deep breath, squatted down and opened the shoe cabinet, it was empty inside. The bridge of my nose suddenly stings. In the end, I still couldn't bear it. I typed and deleted for a long time before sending my mother a text message: "Mom, my university entrance exam scores are here. The new slippers you promised..." She sent back a ten-minute recording. "Those sandals cost me thirty-two yuan, too expensive. Save up, it's not easy for parents to raise you kids..." At that moment, my sister's voice rang out on the phone: "Mom, the performance costume is three thousand two hundred yuan, quickly swipe the card." go!” “Come here, come here!” The call was disconnected. I held the phone tightly, but couldn't stand up for a long time. You can buy a formal dress for 3,200 yuan, so why are sandals expensive for 320 yuan? If you feel like buying anything for me is expensive. So in later life, I will pay for it myself. … Eight o'clock at night. They finished eating, I finished washing the dishes. Only then did my mother ask a question: "Vuong Nguyet, do you have your college entrance exam scores? How many points did you get?" It's been forty-eight hours since the phone call the day before. During that time, she called my aunt and asked my aunt how her children did in the exam, what they wanted to register for, and what university they attended. She also talked to the neighbors a few words: "My Lam Lam will take the piano exam in a few days, even the teacher said she really appreciates her." "My Lang Huy will probably be able to join the province's soccer team, and then be recruited directly to the sports university." The neighbors laughed, continuously congratulated, then casually asked: "What about little Nguyet Nguyet?" My mother was stunned for a few seconds. After a while, he smirked: "He, he couldn't even get a passing score on the math test, what can you expect from him..." That's what happened when I was in the third grade of elementary school. She remembers it to this day. But in recent years, I have been recognized as an excellent student, won first prize in the Math Olympiad, and was always in the top three of my grade. Yet she doesn't remember anything. She only remembers the practice schedule of my brother's soccer team, only remembers how many times a week her sister has to practice piano, and which piece of music to practice each time. There is also a certificate of merit and a photo of me receiving the award. If he wasn't thrown into the storage room with a pile of scraps of paper, he was also placed on the table to hold a plate of fruit. My fingers curled slightly, I still opened my mouth: "I passed the exam..." "Mom... Where are my clothes? Quickly help me find them!" My older sister, Vuong Lam, stood in front of the room door, a new pair of cotton slippers at her feet. These are the pink bunny slippers that I like. I have two pairs of these sandals. One pair is blue, one pair is yellow. She doesn't like pink. Yet the pair of slippers my mother once said were expensive and didn't buy for me on the phone, are now on my sister's feet. And I'm wearing size forty-one sandals that my brother doesn't need anymore. Slippers do not fit feet. Every time I wash dishes or clean the house, I easily slip and fall. This week, for the third time, I fell and tore my knee. Dad put down the phone and calmly said: "If you don't care about other things like your brother and sister, stop it. You don't even know how to clean the house..." His mouth moved slightly, but the last two words were not said. I knew what he was going to say. “Useless!” That was his assessment

for me. It's also this family's validation for me. Seeing me looking, Vuong Lam's older sister stomped her foot twice: "Nguyet Nguyet, the pink color you like is indeed very beautiful. Wait until I'm tired of leaving and then I'll give it to you." "Look how much your sister loves you, even wearing the slippers reminds me of you." Mom looked for clothes without turning around, continuing to speak casually. That's right. She threw torn socks at me, stuffed leftover dumplings into my bowl, took away my savings jar to buy new hairpins, and said she was helping me spend money. Mother naturally tolerates everything. Dad would smile and nod: "Still Lam Lam is active and has a good personality." Things like that happen too much, over time I get used to it. I quietly said "yes". Mom suddenly remembered something, turned her head and told me: "Tomorrow your brother has a football match at the stadium. Go over there and take care of him, give him a towel and water." I immediately raised my head: "But tomorrow you have to go to school to register your wishes..." She impatiently interrupted me: "What's the point of registering your wishes? Two or three hundred points, can't fill a school? Tomorrow my sister will change the new song, I have to watch her practice. Your father goes on a business trip tomorrow." If I don't go, who will? "Having said this, I have to go even if I don't want to go. Like last year. When I was about to go out to participate in the Math Olympiad, my mother stuffed a sheet of music into my lap. "My sister forgot the sheet music at home, bring it to her quickly." "Mom, today I have a competition... It's the final round." "Today my sister has an upgrade exam! No matter what competition, I have to give way to my sister!" At that time, my ranking was far behind everyone else's. The principal said the first prize definitely belonged to me. But my mother pushed me into the car, causing me to miss the final round, narrowly missing out on the gold medal. Later, during the meal, my mother told my father: "Fortunately, I was decisive at that time and forced Vuong Nguyet to quit the exam to bring the music. Otherwise, Lam Lam's upgrade exam would have been dangerous..." Dad said "yes", gave her a piece of sweet and sour ribs, and gave my sister an oil-braised shrimp to show off. Only my bowl was empty. I missed the competition, three years of effort went down the drain, and yet my bowl is still empty. My brother looked at me. There was sympathy and pity in his eyes, but he said nothing. In this family, not taking me seriously is the rule. Therefore, he learned from his father's appearance. Use shared chopsticks to give your mother and sister the foods they like to eat. I tried to put white rice in my mouth, desperately chewing. Only then can the confusion at the bottom of my eyes be forced down. My older sister laughed and teased me: "Nguyet Nguyet, there's still rice in the pot, eat slowly, no one will fight with you." Mom didn't even lift her eyelids, she let out a sentence: "Don't pay attention to him. He sees that his children are excellent so he's jealous and feels inferior." The next day, I completed my registration on the subway. The homeroom teacher was a bit stunned: "Vuong Nguyet, you got six hundred and ninety-eight points on the exam. You can choose Thanh Hoa, Bei Dai or Kinh Thanh University. Why did you choose National Defense University?" I held the phone and replied hoarsely: "I have seen their admission documents. Particularly excellent students will be exempted from all tuition, living expenses and other expenses." A heavy sigh rang out on the phone. "Good kid, National Defense University is also exempted." very good. I have a senior there, I will ask him to take care of you." "Thank you, teacher." A teacher who is not related by blood knows how to love me, knows how to take care of me. And the people closest to me just ignore me. I stood in the sun at the stadium for four hours. Vuong Lang Huy's brother, covered in sweat, walked out

yard. I ran slowly and gave him a towel and warm water. He looked at me and said: "It's been hard." I shook my head and said nothing. He tilted his head back to drink water while using his shadow to cover me. There was only the sound of rushing water in my ears. Suddenly, a lollipop appeared before my eyes. I raised my head, facing my brother's sweaty but smiling face: "Thank you gift." My hand reached out halfway, stiffened for a few seconds and then pulled back. I suddenly remembered last year. I braved the heavy rain to bring him a pair of soccer shoes. At that time, he was very happy, took out a hairpin from his pocket and gave it to me. It's a chubby crystal bunny. But as soon as I got home, Vuong Lam pointed at me, his eyes red and said: "You can tell me if you want, why did you steal my hairpin?" "You're still young, so why did you learn how to steal?" Without waiting for me to explain. Dad slapped me. Slapping until my ears started ringing. Mom didn't stop, just looked at me with extremely disappointed eyes. Vuong Lang Huy returned very late. As soon as I saw him, I felt like I saw a life-saving straw, rushing to beg him to explain: "Brother, tell them, the hairpin was not taken by me..." He raised his head to look at them, then stared at my red, swollen face for a few seconds. Then he patted my head: "Nguyet Nguyet, if you want anything, just tell me directly. You shouldn't take my things..." 2In that moment, I felt like all my strength was drained. I fell to the ground, limp. And he still walked past me as usual, accepted the towel my mother gave me, wiped his hair and reconciled: "It's just a hairpin. Everyone has beaten me, scolded me, enough." Since then, I told myself. Vuong Nguyet, you have to try harder, pass the exam and leave here. No one can easily break your wings. Now, that time has come. Thinking so, I tried to smile and waved my hand: "Thank you. I'm grown up, I don't eat candy anymore." He slowly lowered his hand, his eyes looking towards the football field. There was a pair of brothers chasing each other and playing. He looked for a moment, sighed regretfully: "Do you still blame me?" I quickly took out my phone, pretending to be on the phone, as if I didn't hear that sentence. That evening, my grandparents came to my house. In their hands, they carried Shanghai's most famous duck dish and dried shrimp wontons from Tran Ky restaurant. "Two people only have four hands, so we can only carry four bowls." When they said that. Four bowls of wontons and pre-divided duck meat were placed in front of his parents, brother and sister. To show fairness. Grandma added a little hot water to the last leftover broth, then poured it into my bowl. She pushed hard towards me: "Don't say I'm biased, now you have it too." She used a bit of force. The soup rippled, half splashed on the back of my hand. The skin immediately turned red. Grandma didn't pay attention at all, just kept telling my brother: "Eat slowly, next time I'll bring it to you." But next time, there was no part for me. Even though my grandparents made countless false promises to me, they broke their promises every time. There were small dots on the back of my hand. They gradually whiten, swell, and turn into transparent bubbles. In my ears was the sound of my parents slurping broth. It's the sound of my older sister being coy and dissatisfied with her grandmother. It was the sound of my brother chewing large pieces of duck meat. In front of me there was only a bowl of broth full of oil, with a few onion stalks spinning inside. The burning sensation on the back of my hand seemed to follow the blood into my body. Very painful. But I held back. In this family, I have no right to talk about pain. Saying it doesn't help. Mom will say: "Go run some cold water." Dad will coldly throw out two words: "Useless."