Chapter 5 — Daughter of the Martial Arts Dojo

Luc Niam Sanh remained silent.

You are asking why, father. Luc Thua Vien stood up. He did not raise his voice, yet the water inside the teacup resting on the coffee table trembled visibly.

The very first time I hired people to beat her, I wanted them to cripple her. She had not even lived with me for a full month.

Luc Niam Sanh finally parted her lips. Her voice was barely a whisper.

Because after she arrived, none of you belonged to me anymore.

Absolute silence filled the spacious living room.

I lived here for eighteen years. She came for less than a month. The way everyone looked at her changed completely. You stopped handing me tissues, father. Mother stopped answering my phone calls. When you looked at her, father...

She turned her gaze toward Luc Thua Vien.

You have never once looked at me like that.

She raised her chin. Her eye sockets were entirely dry.

I did not hire those men to beat her. What else was expected of me?

Su Uyen Thanh stood up. Her hands were trembling violently.

What else could you have done? You could have spoken to your mother. You could have confided in your father...

Would either of you have listened? Luc Niam Sanh stared directly at her.

The very first day she arrived, I told you I was afraid. What was your response, mother? You told me not to be afraid because she was my older sister. You never once bothered to ask why I was terrified.

Su Uyen Thanh froze in place. Luc Nghien Ninh walked over until he stood right in front of Luc Niam Sanh. His hands held no tissues.

You claim I stopped handing you tissues. His voice remained utterly calm.

Do you know why? Whenever you wept in the past, I genuinely felt you were my younger sister.

Eventually, I realized you were merely manipulating me. You calculated that I would hand you the handkerchief. You calculated that I would chime in. You calculated that I would glare at her.

I was never your brother. I was nothing more than a prop in your performance.

Luc Niam Sanh lips twitched. No words came out. Luc Thua Vien placed his smartphone down upon the coffee table.

Han men are waiting outside. The police are out there as well. You are an adult. You must bear the consequences of your own actions.

The color drained entirely from Luc Niam Sanh face, leaving her ghost-white.

Father...

Do not call me father. Luc Thua Vien rose to his feet. His tone remained level from beginning to end. From this moment onward, you are no longer a member of the Luc family.

Han Hai Dong men escorted Luc Niam Sanh away. The sirens of a police vehicle wailed from beyond the courtyard, then gradually faded into the distance until nothing remained. Only three people were left inside the living room. Su Uyen Thanh sat upon the sofa, her hands resting flat on her knees, completely motionless. Luc Nghien Ninh leaned against the window frame, his back turned to everyone. Luc Thua Vien stood before the coffee table. I leaned against the doorframe of the staircase. The wound on my arm had been pressed down with a towel. Blood seeped through the fabric, dripping down beside my slipper. Su Uyen Thanh suddenly spoke. Her voice was remarkably soft.

Chi Ninh. Mother has failed you.

I offered no reply. I pressed down on the towel and stood up, blood oozing between my fingers.

I am going to wash up.

I refused to meet her eyes. For the week that followed, the Luc household was enveloped in a heavy, suffocating quiet. One afternoon, Luc Thua Vien knocked on my bedroom door. He carried a small bag containing medicated ointment prescribed by the hospital.

Han said your arm required several stitches. This is for the scarring.

I accepted the bag, placing it gently on the bedside table.

Thank you.

He lingered at the doorway instead of leaving. His eyes swept across the room, noting that I still occupied the cold, north-facing bedroom. The housekeeper had previously offered to move me to a different chamber, but I had refused.

You refused to change rooms?

I am used to it.

He fell silent for a brief moment.

Chi Ninh. I am well aware that buying a few items or switching bedrooms cannot undo what was lost. However, should you ever require...

I require nothing from you to make amends. I paused briefly. You lost me for eighteen years. That is something money cannot fix.

He offered no argument. His hand rested against the wooden doorframe, where he remained standing for a long time before finally departing. Shortly after he left, my phone lit up with a notification. Han Hai Dong.

The statements from those three individuals have been recorded. That younger sister of yours has already had her household registration removed from the Luc family registry. Your father chose not to pursue criminal charges, preserving a shred of final dignity.

I replied with a single word. Understood. I placed the phone back onto the bedside table. The screen went dark. Su Uyen Thanh began bringing breakfast to my room every morning. I refused three times. She brought the tray a fourth time. One morning, she carried in a bowl of noodles. I took a single bite. It was far too salty. It was not that she had forgotten the salt; rather, she had added it twice. I raised my head to look at her. She stood nearby, twisting the fabric of her apron, waiting for me to speak.

Too salty.

Her eyes instantly turned red.

I will use less salt next time.

I finished the entire bowl of noodles, drinking every last drop of the broth. As she gathered the dishes, the phone tucked inside her apron pocket vibrated. She pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and pressed the end-call button. The ceramic bowl in her hands shook slightly. Though she kept her head down, I clearly saw the caller ID flashing the name Niam Sanh. Doan Lang invited me to visit a shooting range. Through his family connections, we gained access to a restricted military training ground.

Your combat skills are impressive. How is your marksmanship?

I have never touched a firearm.

Let us test it out.

I picked it up with surprising ease. Doan Lang stood beside me, watching, the corners of his lips curling upward.

My father mentioned that Master Ji once taught close-quarters combat within the military before retiring to open a martial arts school. Were you aware of this?

I was not.

Your father is far more than a simple proprietor of a martial arts dojo. It appears you know virtually nothing about him at all.

I did not respond, but I locked the words away in my memory. Upon returning from the shooting range, an unfamiliar car was parked outside the gates of the Luc estate. Giang Lam Chau was leaning against the vehicle. He wore no dress shoes, and his hair was unstyled. In his hand, he tightly gripped a set of car keys.

Ky Tri Ninh. I have been standing here waiting for you for a full hour.

What do you want?

I wish to offer you a formal apology. Regarding everything that transpired before...