Chapter 3 — I Shall Never Set Foot in Nam Thanh Again

In the end, all of my efforts would have only served as stepping stones for their grand romance. I was no longer willing to give of myself. Father took off his glasses.

"Thanh Chi, are you certain about this?"

I replied, "I am certain. The legs are his, and his future belongs to him alone. Giving general advice is acceptable, but offering a personal recommendation is out of the question." Father studied my face. After a long silence, he suddenly smiled.

"My daughter has truly grown up."

My eyes stung with sudden heat.

"Father, am I being too cruel?"

He set his glasses down on the tea table.

"No."

Father said, "You were never meant to be a practice ground for anyone." I bowed my head, tears threatening to spill. In my previous life, by the time I finally understood the weight of those words, it was far too late. But in this life, I was still in time.

Early the next morning, Tan Tu Bach intercepted me downstairs. He was dressed in athletic gear, moisture still clinging to the hair on his forehead; he must have run over here immediately after his morning training. Once upon a time, this was the sight I loved most—a tall, broad-shouldered youth standing in the morning sun, as vibrant and brilliant as a sapling kissed by the wind. Looking at him now, however, he seemed entirely unremarkable. A person cannot spend their whole life staring at a single tree, or they will inevitably miss the entire forest. Tan Tu Bach frowned when he saw me emerge.

"Why didn't you answer my calls last night?"

I walked right past him.

"I didn't hear them."

He reached out and grabbed the strap of my backpack.

"Nguyen Thanh Chi."

I came to a halt.

"If you have something to say, say it now."

Tan Tu Bach’s expression darkened. He was clearly unaccustomed to me speaking in such a tone. From childhood, I had always been incredibly lenient with him. If his training ran late, I waited. If he was in a foul mood, I coddled him. If he told me he disliked me standing too close to other boys, I would reflexively distance myself. When he insisted that Meng Tri Ha was just an ordinary friend, I fought desperately to force myself to believe him. I treated his words like divine decrees, and he, naturally, began to view me as a shrine meant to burn incense at his altar every single day.

"You didn't review my files last night," he said.

"Yes."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I didn't review them."

Tan Tu Bach was so incensed he let out a sharp, mocking laugh.

"Do you even realize that my coach needs those by today?"

"I do."

"And yet you still—"

"Tan Tu Bach," I interrupted him, "why don't you review them yourself?"

He opened his mouth, but for a moment, he could not find the words. It was not that he lacked the ability to review them; he simply lacked the inclination. In my past life, all these tedious, exhausting chores had been my burden. I knew his training cycles, his physical metrics, his injury reports, and his academic scores better than he knew himself. I even knew exactly which part of his right leg would cramp if his warm-ups were insufficient. But what of it? It was true that I had stood by his side through his darkest times, but the person he loved most was never me. A man cannot use my very life as kindling to sustain his flame while simultaneously claiming the fire was lit by someone else entirely. Tan Tu Bach suppressed his anger.

"Thanh Chi, is this about Tri Ha?"

I remained silent. As expected, he continued on his own.

"She fell during practice yesterday, and I merely applied a muscle patch for her. You don't need to be so sensitive."

In the past, whenever he offered an explanation, I would scramble to prove that I wasn't being petty or jealous. But not anymore. I said, "You can apply patches for whomever you like." Tan Tu Bach’s brow furrowed deeper.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like."

He stared at me, his eyes searching my face as if he were seeing a stranger for the first time.

"Nguyen Thanh Chi, do not speak to me like that."

I smiled.

"Like what?"

His expression turned ugly. Just then, Meng Tri Ha called. Tan Tu Bach glanced at the screen, and his features visibly softened. He answered the call.

"What's wrong?"

From the other end of the line, the gentle, delicate voice of Meng Tri Ha drifted through the air.