Chapter 6 — Lam Du Van

Essential needs. Playing games is an essential need. Watching football is an essential need. I didn't eat rice. "Mom, I won't move." This was the first time I directly refused. The other end of the line was silent for about five seconds. "Lam Du Van, what do you mean? As a family member, my younger sister uses an item and you refuse to use it?" "It's not that you don't want to, it's that you don't have it." "It's not like you're studying and working at the same time..." "A month is six hundred, I have to eat rice, buy household items, have to pay electricity and water bills." "Six hundred is not enough for me to spend? When I was a child..." "Mom, when I was a child, a bowl of noodles from you was five dimes." She choked. I heard her take a deep breath. "Okay, it's over, don't care about your sister anymore, right?" "He has three computers, a mechanical keyboard, a pair of two-thousand shoes. He doesn't lack a tablet." "Why are you so vindictive? Those things are what he needs..." "I need it too." "What do you need? Since I was little, I've understood things, I'm different..." "I don't want to be different anymore." When this sentence came out, even I was stunned. From childhood to adulthood, the word "understanding" is like a lock. Lock up all my anger, needs, and anger. You understand, so you can eat at least one piece of ribs. I understand, so I can give up the computer. I understood, so I had to run two kilometers to fill out my application. I understand, so no one needs to love me. On the other end of the line, mother's voice changed. Not angry, but confused. It's like encountering an unsolvable math problem for the first time. "What do you want to say?" "I want to say, everyone owes me one thousand six hundred yuan." "There's also a sentence 'pay attention to safety on the road'." "And a travel plan with your name written on it." "There's also a lot of 'what do you want to eat', 'are you tired', 'are you happy'." From the phone, the sound of the TV in the living room was heard, the younger brother was laughing, the older sister was talking. That house still operates as usual. Without me, nothing would be missed. "You've thought too much," my mother finally said. "We don't treat you differently." She really thought so. This makes people even more uncomfortable than intentional. Intentionally at least proves she saw it. No discrimination, proving that in her eyes, everything is natural. Hanging up the phone, I sat behind the library counter, an open book spread out in front of me. To Giac walked by after school and saw me sitting there dumbfounded, knocking on the table. "Have you eaten?" "No." "Go, today the cafeteria has sweet and sour fried ribs." Ribs. The ribs in the house always go into the younger brother's bowl first, then into the older sister's bowl. When it was my turn, the plate hit the bottom. The girl in the cafeteria scooped a spoon full of ribs and covered my rice. "If you eat a lot, you'll become this thin." I picked up the tray of rice and found a place near the window to sit down. Stir-fried sweet and sour ribs, shiny red, sweet and sour taste. I ate one piece. The meat is firm, with tendons still attached to the bones. This plate of ribs costs seven yuan. No one competes with me. Before the National Day holiday, roommates started booking tickets home. To Giac bought a high-speed train ticket, Dinh Nhien directly told his father to pick him up. Hua Gia Ninh shouted in the group: "Is anyone going to share the car to the train station?" Dinh Nhien asked me: "Du Van, are you coming home?" "Not coming home." "It's been seven days, don't you miss home?" I laughed a little. "The library has overtime on vacation, double the salary." This is true. But not the whole reason. Before To Giac left, she piled all the snacks on my table. "Help me eat, if I get worms, I'll deal with you." Hua Gia Ninh also stuffed a bag of rice cake over. "My mother sent it again, but I can't eat it all." When Dinh Nhien left, she stood at the door for a bit. "Du Van." "Yes?" "Happy holidays." "You too." The dormitory was empty. I sat alone by the window, watching the lights in the opposite dormitory gradually turn off. The whole building became quiet. On the phone, the family group is very

bustling. Mom sent a photo of a table of food: "Happy Mid-Autumn Festival!" On the table there are four sets of bowls and chopsticks. Sister, brother, parents. Four people. My younger brother sent a close-up photo of the moon cake, already taking a bite, filled with salted egg and lotus seeds. She forwarded a video wishing Mid-Autumn Festival. No one said, "Du Van, you're alone there, remember to eat moon cakes." No one, when taking a photo, remembered that one person was missing. I turned off my phone and went to the cafeteria to eat a bowl of noodles. The girl in the cafeteria even added two dumplings to my bowl. "It's time, more dishes." "Thank you." "Alone?" "Yes." She didn't say more, turned around to clean the table. After eating, I returned home and passed by the small lake in the school. The moon is very round, silhouetted against the water, broken into pieces. The phone rang. Not a family group. It's Ms. Truong. "Du Van, happy Mid-Autumn Festival. When you're alone outside, take good care of yourself." Below was another sentence: "My re-issue certificate has been completed, please keep it for me, come get it after winter break." I stood by the lake, looking at this message. Vision is a bit blurred. A teacher who no longer teaches me, misses my certificate, misses me alone in a far away place. The family where I was born forgot that there was a set of bowls and chopsticks missing on the table. I replied Ms. Truong with a message: "Thank you, happy Mid-Autumn Festival." Then added another sentence: