Chapter 5 — I Shall Never Set Foot in Nam Thanh Again

When he accepted the award, he thanked Ha Tri Manh, conveniently forgetting the ten years I had stood by his side. But that was a mere trifle, wasn't it? Was the fact that I spent my entire life confined to South City also just a trifle? I turned my gaze toward my homeroom teacher.

Teacher, I am simply choosing the university I wish to attend.

Her expression stiffened. Just as she was about to speak, the office door was pushed open. Tu Bach Tan stood at the entrance, his face looking even worse than it had that morning. Clearly, he had heard every word.

Have you changed your preferences?

I did not deny it.

Yes.

He strode into the room, his eyes dark. Which school did you apply to?

The teacher looked at me, and the eyes of every other educator in the office shifted toward us. I replied calmly, The Capital Foreign Language University. The pupils of Tu Bach Tan contracted visibly.

The Capital?

His voice was strained and husky. Is it really that far?

I nearly laughed aloud. Far? In my past life, I lived in South City, in the very same city as him, yet he could go three months without seeing me. I once burned with a fever of 103 degrees and called him, only to find him at the gym, helping Ha Tri Manh stretch her muscles. On my birthday, I had booked a restaurant in advance, but because Ha Tri Manh was in a low mood, he spent the entire night strolling along the banks of the South City river with her. Distance had never been the issue. The issue was whether or not he actually wanted to see me. I said, The Capital is an excellent choice. Tu Bach Tan stared at me intensely.

You clearly said before that you were going to South City.

I have changed my mind.

Is this because of Ha Tri Manh?

I felt a surge of genuine exhaustion. Tu Bach Tan, not every decision I make revolves around you and Ha Tri Manh.

A flicker of awkwardness crossed his face. The teacher hurried to mediate. Both of you, settle down. Let us talk this through calmly. Even though the preferences have been confirmed, there is still time...

I cut her off. Teacher, can I sign the physical documents now?

The teacher was momentarily stunned. Well, yes, I suppose so...

Then I will sign them now.

She looked at me, finally realizing that this was not a tantrum born of petty resentment. She pulled the confirmation sheet from her folder. I wrote my name: Thanh Chi Nguyen. Every stroke was clear, deliberate, and final. Tu Bach Tan stood beside me, his expression darkening into something terrifying. Once finished, I returned the pen to the teacher.

Thank you, teacher.

As I turned to leave, Tu Bach Tan suddenly seized my wrist. Come outside with me.

I shook his hand off. If you have something to say, say it here.

He lowered his voice. Do not make this difficult for me.

How strange. So he did know what it meant to be in a difficult position. I looked at him. I am simply submitting my own applications; how does that make things difficult for you?

Tu Bach Tan froze. The entire office fell into a silence so profound that the dropping of a pin could have been heard. I stopped looking at him altogether. As I stepped out of the office, my phone lit up with a message from an unknown number: Sister Thanh Chi, do you really want to go to the Capital? Brother Tu Bach’s face looked terrible earlier. If you do this, his training will be affected.

I did not reply. Staring at those three lines of text, I suddenly recalled something. In my past life, the first time Tu Bach Tan’s old injury flared up was three days after the final deadline for university applications. That day, in a desperate bid to win a team assistant position for Ha Tri Manh, he had secretly overtrained. The result was a recurrence of his right leg injury. The entire Tan household was thrown into chaos. In the end, my father had to rush to the gym in the middle of the night to re-evaluate his recovery. It was from that very day that Ha Tri Manh began to gain access to the rehabilitation protocols my father had designed for him. Later, that was how she gradually evolved into the person who, in Tu Bach Tan’s words, understood him better than anyone else.

I stopped at the end of the hallway. Slowly, I took a screenshot of that unknown number and saved it. The third day. That meant there were only two days left. Ha Tri Manh was about to make her move.