Chapter 7 — Dark Corner Outside the Light

My voice is very calm, not rising or falling at all. "Sorry doesn't solve any problem. You said you're sorry, so what? Go back and tell your parents that Du Van said it's okay, he just needs a little time? Then everything goes back to the way it was, I continue to be the eldest daughter that everyone remembers, and you continue to be the second child that makes everyone feel secure." “It won't be like that.” She stood up. “I talked to my mother, she knows she was wrong.” “Mom, do you know where I went wrong?” “I know… I shouldn't ignore you.” "What specifically? Do you know that the congratulatory money at the college entrance party was agreed by her to be recorded in your name? Do you know that I never received the thousand yuan that Third Aunt gave me? Do you know that in the photo of the year-end dinner, when she said the family of three were taken together, she missed one person?" Du Di Huyen's face immediately turned pale. “What kind of money… What family of three?” “Don't you know?” “I don't know.” I really don't know. She stood under the light for too long, so long that she couldn't see anything outside the light. It's not her fault, but it's also not the price I should bear. “Now I know.” I said. “So please go home.” "Du Van..." "I don't hate you. I don't hate my parents either. I just don't want to go back to that position anymore. That position is too low. I've been standing there for eighteen years, my back is bent." Her tears fell, drop by drop hitting the paper bag containing Long Tinh cake. "So what do you want? Tell me, I'll tell my parents." “I don't want anything else.” It's the truth. I wanted my face to be in the family photo, wanted a hairy penis that belonged to me, wanted my mother to remember what day my parent-teacher conference was, wanted my father's eyes to stop for a second when passing by me. But those wishes, after many unanswered times, gradually shrunk. Like a tree that hasn't been watered for a long time. It's not that it's dead, it's that the roots are shrinking in on themselves. No need for water anymore. “You go home.” I opened the door. She stood outside the door, crying very hard but still trying to hold it in, not making a sound. Before leaving, she turned her head to look at me. “When you were little, you broke a plate, I helped you pick up the pieces of the bowl, do you remember?” "Miss." “At that time I thought, I must protect you.” She wiped her face. “But I can't do it.” The door closes. I leaned against the door and stood for a long time. Then bent down to pick up the bag of Long Tinh cakes and put them in the trash. Not angry. But because I really don't like eating Long Tinh cake. Even I don't know about this. That evening, the phone received a text message from an unknown number. It's mother. "Yu Wen, your sister said it's okay for you to live in Hangzhou. I know there were some things I didn't do right in the past, but you can't cut off contact with your family because of those small things. If you live together, how can you avoid conflicts? If you lack money, just tell me and I'll pass it on to you." Small matter. Collide. If you lack money, transfer. Mom still feels the problem is money. Still feel like those things are just small things. Still think that using money can fill the gap. I delete the message. No reply. “Hello, I'm the editor of Bo Chu Culture, is it okay to talk?” The second week of the first semester of my third year, while studying by myself in the library, I received a private message. The texter's name is Luc Nhien, an editor at a cultural company specializing in producing non-fiction content. He found my song "The Invisible Man" online. "We are doing a feature called 'Echoes', collecting real stories of ordinary people. Your writing style is very suitable, I wanted to ask if you are interested in providing articles for us?" I thought for a day and then answered. "It's possible. What's the request?" "Write what you want to write. It's okay to be authentic." I wrote my first article in three days, titled “The Fifth Chair”. The article tells about a family of five people but there are only four chairs on the dining table forever. I don't use my real name, all characters are redacted. But every detail is real. The missing chair is real, the fifth pair of chopsticks no one remembered to place is real, the background of the family photo

being cut off is also real. After the article was sent, Luc Nhien texted me: "I have been editing articles for eight years. This is the first time I have to stop and drink a glass of water in the middle of reviewing before I can continue reading." A week later, the article entered the trending list on the platform. Thousands of comments appeared. Most said the same thing: “It's like it's writing about me.” Some people say that from a young age she gave her mother's toys, clothes, and bracelets to her younger sister. Being praised for understanding things and not understanding things until you grow up is also a type of being ignored. Some people say that they passed the entrance exam to an important university, but what their parents bragged about to everyone is that their younger brother got a middle school Go certificate. Some people just leave a three-dot mark. Below that three dots there are more than eight hundred likes. I sat in my rented apartment, reading those comments until two in the morning. It turns out I'm not the only one.