Chapter 13 — I Shall Never Set Foot in Nam Thanh Again

Father spoke, his voice steady: "Keep these things for now." I took the documents from his hands.

"Thank you, Father."

"There is one more thing," he said, pausing briefly. "The Tan family just sent a message. They hope I will come to the training center this afternoon."

"Are you going, Father?"

"No."

I froze for a moment. His tone was remarkably indifferent.

"I am not their team doctor, nor am I his primary physician. Furthermore, if I were to go now, the responsibility for whatever went wrong would inevitably be dumped onto my shoulders."

My heart felt as if it had been struck by a dull blade. In my previous life, my father had gone. Tan Tu Bach had recovered fairly well, but all the glory was heaped upon Meng Zhi Xia. However, the moment any issue arose with Tan Tu Bach’s training, the first people the Tan family thought to blame were those who had provided the medical plan. That is what they called sentiment. When it was useful, it was "kinship." When trouble struck, it became a "debt." I looked at him and said, "Father, I am sorry." He looked back at me, bewildered.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"In the past..."

The words died on my lips. I could not speak of a previous life. I corrected myself instead.

"I have always been such a burden to you."

Father pondered for a moment, then reached out to pat my head.

"You are my daughter, not a burden."

Tears stung my eyes, nearly falling into my bowl. At that moment, the doorbell rang. I assumed it was Aunt Chu returning, but to my surprise, standing outside was Meng Zhi Xia. She wore the white short-sleeved t-shirt of the training camp, her eyes swollen and red, as if she had not slept all night. Behind her stood two other girls from the camp. It was clear she hadn't come alone. The moment she saw me, tears began to stream down her face.

"Sister Thanh Chi, I am sorry."

I leaned against the doorframe, refusing to let her enter.

"What exactly are you apologizing for?"

Meng Zhi Xia bit her lip, trembling.

"It is all my fault that Brother Tu Bach was injured. But I was truly just so worried about him. I thought that if we followed Uncle Nguyen's previous training plan and just increased the intensity a little, it would be fine."

Her choice of words was incredibly calculating. She admitted to using the regimen but framed it as the "previous plan," as if the fault lay in the document being outdated rather than in her own illicit snooping, unauthorized use, and reckless modifications. The girl standing behind her immediately chimed in.

"Nguyen Thanh Chi, Zhi Xia has already apologized. What more do you want?"

"Tu Bach is currently bedridden. Does your family really have no sense of responsibility at all?"

"If your father had arrived sooner, this would never have happened."

I watched them silently, feeling a sense of absurdity so profound it was almost comical. They stood at my doorstep, clutching my father's stolen plan, accusing our family of lacking a sense of duty. This world was sometimes like a distorted mirror, reflecting humanity in the most grotesque, twisted shapes. Meng Zhi Xia sobbed as she spoke: "Sister Thanh Chi, if you must blame someone, blame me. Do not blame Brother Tu Bach. Last night, he was in such pain that he kept calling your name." She clearly thought this would provoke me, but unfortunately for her, I was no longer that person. I asked, "And why would he call for me?" Meng Zhi Xia stumbled, taken aback. I continued, "To ask me to clean up the mess you made?" Her face drained of all color.

"Sister Thanh Chi, how can you say such a thing?"

"Then how should I say it?" I laughed coldly. "Should I say that you used Tan Tu Bach's phone in the middle of the night to log into my father's email, download an outdated, unsuitable plan, and then pressured him to increase his training intensity? And now that he is injured, you run to my door to cry, claiming you were 'just worried about him'?"

The tears stopped falling from Meng Zhi Xia's eyes. The two girls behind her stood frozen in shock. I pulled out my phone and pulled up the login history I had saved from the previous night.