Chapter 1 — From Collapse to Brilliance: I Don't Need You

The alarm bell rang at exactly six-thirty, and Tôn Diệu Kỳ opened her eyes in a panic she could not name.

She lay still, her heart beating rapidly, her hands clutching the thin blanket as if it were the only thing keeping her on the ground. The ceiling above was the familiar ceiling of her third-year dorm room, with a butterfly-shaped water stain in the left corner that she clearly remembered being repainted during the following summer vacation. But the stain was still there, clear and untouched.

Diệu Kỳ sat up, panting like someone who had just surfaced after a long dive. She looked down at her hands. They no longer shook from sedatives, no longer bore needle marks and bruises, and were no longer as skeletal as they had been during the last days in the cell awaiting trial. They were the hands of a twenty-year-old woman, full of vitality, her skin still glowing with the health of a youth that had not yet been tormented.

She remembered—every smallest detail.

She remembered the last evening, sitting alone in a cramped room after being suspended from school, her hands shaking as she held an appeal the lawyer said might not reach the court in time. She remembered the sudden attack of angina in the middle of the night, the pain like a cold iron hand strangling her heart, and her futile calls to the emergency room—no one answered, because no one wanted to be associated with a name labeled “biomedical research fraud causing serious consequences.” She remembered her consciousness fading, and the last question echoing in her head: not why she was dying, but why her, when she had done nothing wrong?

And now she was here, in the third-year dormitory at Viet Xuan University of Medicine and Pharmacy. It was the day she remembered clearly—the day Trịnh Ý Nhi would step into Professor Đoàn Khắc Tuấn's immunology laboratory for the first time.

Diệu Kỳ raised her hand to cover her mouth, trying to suppress a sob that was about to spill out. Not because of suffering. But because of a strange feeling mixed between terror and something almost like hope — a chance she had never dared to dream of, a chance to live all over again, to know in advance what was to come.

She got out of bed, went to the window, and pulled up the curtain. Morning light flooded the room, illuminating a youthful face not yet lined with worry and exhaustion. Outside, the schoolyard was bustling with students' footsteps, traffic, and birdsong among the phoenix trees putting out new leaves. Everything was peaceful to the point of absurdity, while in Diệu Kỳ's chest the memory of a life ended by injustice remained hot and sharp as a blade.

She looked into the small mirror hanging next to the desk, looking straight into her own eyes. Those eyes, in their previous life, were once clear to the point of innocence, placing full trust in everyone around them - in the instructors, in the lab friends, and especially in a small, seemingly weak, newly transferred girl who always bowed her head shyly every time she entered the lab.

Trịnh Ý Nhi.

That name echoed in Diệu Kỳ's head like a curse. She clearly remembered the morning Ý Nhi first appeared, holding a fragile transfer file, her face bowed, her voice so soft that it was almost inaudible when introducing herself to the whole lab. She said she had been bullied at her old school, had been isolated for being "too outspoken", and wanted to start over in a new environment. The whole laboratory, especially Diệu Kỳ, welcomed her with open arms without any doubt.

Diệu Kỳ closed her eyes, letting the next memories appear one after another like a slow-motion movie. The private conversations Ý Nhi had skillfully steered to sow resentment. The insinuations—half hidden, half explicit—were planted in each person's ear so subtly that no one realized they were being led. Đặng Thảo My, her best friend who had stayed up all night studying with her and shared half a sandwich when money was tight, gradually became distant, her eyes filling with doubt whenever she looked at Diệu Kỳ. Hồ Đình Vũ, the rigidly disciplined technician, began openly criticizing her in group meetings. Only Phùng Nhật Lam maintained a little clarity, but in the end he too was caught in the whirlwind.

And the climax is the case. A batch of clinical trial data was tampered with, a volunteer suffered serious side effects due to an incorrect dosage, and all the evidence—evidence that had been meticulously crafted by someone—pointed in only one direction: Tôn Diệu Kỳ.

She shouted that she was innocent. Knelt down before the disciplinary committee and begged them to reconsider. She asked for help from Thảo My, asked for help from Đình Vũ, asked for help from anyone who ever called her a friend. But no one stood up. Their eyes at that time, Diệu Kỳ still remembers clearly now - not hatred, but a cold and distant look from people who were completely convinced that she was the traitor to the trust of the entire lab.

Diệu Kỳ opened her eyes and clenched her hands so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

In this life, she will not let that happen again.

She went to her desk, pulled open the drawer, and took out the small desk calendar she used to note her schedule. She flipped to today's date, and saw the words she had written in her familiar handwriting many months ago, in her past life: "9:00 a.m. — lab meeting, new members introduced."

That new member is Trịnh Ý Nhi.

Diệu Kỳ sat down, placed her hands on the table, and tried to calm her breathing. She had time. She had an advantage no one else possessed: she knew what was coming. She knew Ý Nhi would use feigned weakness to win her affection, then gradually tear apart the lab's friendships with unsupported whispers. In the end, every finger would point at Diệu Kỳ, and no one would believe her.

The problem was not how to expose Ý Nhi at once. Diệu Kỳ understood better than anyone that such people's tricks were carried out in the dark, leaving no obvious traces until it was too late. If she denounced Ý Nhi on the first day without evidence, she would only look irrationally jealous of the new student. Ý Nhi was too good at playing the victim.

That was not the real problem. The real problem was that the Diệu Kỳ of her previous life had placed her future, honor, and life in an environment she could not control, depending entirely on the trust of those around her. She had naively believed that friendship and sincerity would always be returned in kind. She had not understood that some people were willing to destroy everything others had built simply because they could not bear to see someone shine more brightly.

Diệu Kỳ took a deep breath. In this life, she would not repeat the old path. She would not wait until everything fell apart to understand where she had gone wrong. She would leave the environment that had become a deadly trap—not out of fear, but because she understood that fighting in an arena where her opponent had already controlled public opinion was an unequal battle.

She would go. She would change majors and rebuild her life from a new foundation, where Ý Nhi had no place, where no one knew her old story, and where she could prove her abilities without relying on the approval of people who had betrayed her and might do so again.

But she would not turn her back completely. She would watch in silence. If she left without doing anything, Ý Nhi would continue to destroy Thảo My, Đình Vũ, and Nhật Lam—people who, despite betraying her in the despair of her previous life, had been true friends for many years. They deserved to know the truth, even if they learned it too late.

Diệu Kỳ stood up, put on a thin sweater, and walked out of the room. The dormitory hallway was still as noisy as every morning, with the laughter of classmates and the smell of coffee wafting from the common room. It was all so familiar, and it was all a second chance that she wouldn't let slip away.

On the way to the lecture hall, she passed by the laboratory building, where the sign "Immunology Laboratory — Professor Đoàn Khắc Tuấn" still hung exactly as in her memory. Diệu Kỳ stopped for a moment, looked into the glass window, saw the familiar silhouette of Đặng Thảo My busy arranging tools, of Hồ Đình Vũ writing something down in a notebook, of Phùng Nhật Lam making a pot of tea for the group as usual every morning.

The warm sight made her chest ache. They were the friends she had loved and trusted with all her heart. In a few months, they would be the first to turn away, believing every lie instead of believing her.

She tightened the strap of her backpack, turned, and walked toward the training building. She was in no hurry to enter the lab. She needed time to think through her plan and outline each step before acting, instead of letting emotion guide her as it had in her previous life.

Morning sunlight shone through the phoenix leaves, scattering bright spots across the paved road. Diệu Kỳ looked up at the clear blue sky. A faint smile crossed her lips—not a smile of happiness, but the smile of someone who had been given a chance she would never waste again.

"This time," she whispered to herself, her voice so soft that only the morning wind could hear it, "I will rewrite my own destiny."

With that determination, Tôn Diệu Kỳ took her first steps down a path entirely different from her previous life—a path whose direction she, and no one else, would decide.