Chapter 2 — Dark Corner Outside the Light

"Di Huyen celebrated the Mid-Autumn festival outside alone, so pitiful." I looked at that sentence and felt very funny. I also celebrated Mid-Autumn Festival outside alone. The distance to home is even longer than hers. But no one feels sorry for me. Because I have never been pitiful. I make people feel secure. That night, the three remaining people in the dormitory all went out to eat with their classmates. They invited me, I said I didn't want to go, everyone just went. I sat alone in my room, munching on a five-seed mooncake I bought at the school canteen. Very hard. Halfway through eating, the phone rang. I thought it was family. It's Lam Tieu Man. "Du Van, are you really not coming? The cinnamon flower cake at the restaurant outside is delicious! Shall I wrap you a portion?" “Okay, thank you.” After hanging up, I looked at my mother's phone number in my contacts for a long time. Mid-Autumn Festival, as a girl, you should make a phone call. Should call. I pressed call. The bell rang eight times before anyone heard it. “Hello?” Mom's side was very noisy, there was laughter and clinking of glasses. “Mom, happy Mid-Autumn Festival.” "Yes, have fun, have fun. Have you eaten yet?" "Already ate." "That's okay. Mom and dad are eating outside, please hang up first." "Yes." The call lasted fourteen seconds. Including five seconds of waiting to pick up the phone. The time that truly belongs to me is only nine seconds. “Mom, happy Mid-Autumn Festival”, four words. “Yes, have fun, have fun, have you eaten yet? I'll hang up first,” counting all punctuation, it's fifteen words. That is the entire content of the Mid-Autumn Festival between us and our mother. I put the phone next to my pillow and turned off the light. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, illuminating the three empty beds opposite. This bed was chosen by me. I came to this city myself. This path is my own. No one saw off, no one welcomed, no one waited at the end. But at least, no one compares me anymore. When Lam Tieu Man returned, she brought cinnamon cake and a bottle of cinnamon wine. She placed it on my nightstand and said in a low voice: "I see you turned off the light, you can eat tomorrow too. Good night." I said: “Good night.” Before I closed my eyes, I thought of something. The National Day holiday has seven days left. I'm not going home. “Du Van, won't you come home for National Day?” Mom's voice on the other end didn't sound like concern, but like she was confirming a schedule. "I'm not coming home, school has something to do." “What?” “Club activities.” Mom didn't ask more. I heard her turn over a piece of paper, probably her shipping slip. "Okay then, take care of your own safety. Do you still have the house key? Next time you come back, fix the lock on your room's window, it can't be closed all the time." Forever a warning. It's always about assigning tasks. The only conversations related to me were about telling me to work. During the seven days of National Day, I stayed at the school library for six days. The remaining day, I went to Tay Ho alone. Tourists are too crowded, crowded like a subway train during morning rush hour. I stood on Doan Bridge and took a photo and posted it to my friends circle. The first person to like was Lam Tieu Man. The second person is a high school classmate. No family members. Maybe they didn't see it at all, maybe they saw it but felt there was nothing worth liking. In mid-October, something shocking happened. The reason is that my mother shared a link to the family group, the list of winners of a creative contest for Tsinghua University students. She won third prize. First year student, enrolled two months ago and won an award, really very good. Mom sent more than ten messages to the group in a row, even more excited than the day she found out her university entrance exam scores. “Di Huyen is so good!” "I told you, Di Huyen is an excellent student wherever we go." "Mr. Du, have you seen it? Hurry up and praise your daughter!" Dad sent a paragraph, using words like he was writing a year-end summary report: "Di Huyen has been self-disciplined and hard-working since she was young. Today's achievement is an inevitable result, dad is proud of you." She replied with an embarrassed expression. I exited the chat group and did not comment. Not out of jealousy. But because I'm tired. Every time the family group is active, it's because of her. She won an award, she was published in the newspaper, she was personally recognized by the professor

n praise. This group has never had a red dot notification appear because of me. But that night, something unexpected happened. After ten o'clock, she texted me privately. “Du Van, what are you doing?” I'm writing an English thesis, and my answer is one word: "Write." “Write what?” "Exercise." "OH." She was silent for a moment then sent a paragraph. "Today I won an award, my parents praised me a lot in the group. I saw you didn't say anything... Are you unhappy?" I looked at that text. Not happy? This question itself is very strange. It's like she feels like I should be happy. “No, congratulations.” “Really not?” "Real." “So that's okay.” She sent a symbol of relief. “I thought you were angry.” Angry. If anger had any effect, I would have flipped this house a long time ago. “Rest well, sleep well.” I framed the chat. But she sent another message: