Chapter 3 — Left Behind in the Rain

The corrugated metal roof of the orchard storage shed began to leak violently, and the surrounding world sank into a dead, suffocating darkness. My phone signal bar transformed into a stark, red X. I screamed for help into the void, but only the rolling thunder answered me. Suddenly, a memory from two years ago flashed through my mind: on a day much like this, when a storm raged, Bui Chinh had abandoned me while I was burning with a high fever on an overpass just because Lam Ha had called him, crying that she was afraid. The last shred of hope I held in my heart shattered into bone-chilling frost at that very moment. At this exact time, in a warm restaurant in the heart of the city, Bui Chinh was busy slicing a steak, doting on Lam Ha. He glanced at his phone, noted the absence of any desperate messages from me, and instead of feeling any concern, he spoke with gentle condescension to Lam Ha:

"Don't worry about her. Once she gets hungry enough, she will naturally learn how to behave."

The next morning, the torrential rain finally ceased. Bui Chinh sat in a suite at a downtown hotel, sipping his coffee at a leisurely pace. He glanced at his wristwatch, a confident smile curling the corners of his mouth as he spoke to his assistant:

"Go get the car. The person in the mountains must be scared witless by now, crying and waiting for me to pick her up."

Two hours later, Bui Chinh led a motorcade into the deep mountain orchard. Yet, the scene before him made his smile freeze instantly. The entire storage shed had been completely swept away by an overnight mudslide, buried under several meters of thick, yellow sludge. Not even the roof remained visible. Bui Chinh's hand trembled violently, and his phone slipped from his grasp, landing in the mud at his feet. At that very moment, I was sitting on a bench at the local medical clinic, looking at the high-speed train ticket to Suzhou displayed on my phone. Even though my body was caked in mud and sand, and my arms and calves were etched with deep lacerations from sharp branches, I let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief. I recalled how, two years ago, I had dreamed of moving to the river regions of Jiangnan to open a small, quiet bakery. But Lam Ha had wept and clung to Bui Chinh, claiming that Suzhou was a place of heartbreak for her ex-boyfriend and that she didn't want me to go there. Back then, Bui Chinh had persuaded me to abandon my dream and stay in this city to be with him. I had compromised, just as I had countless times before. But this time, I would not yield again. Suddenly, the glass doors of the clinic's lobby were shoved open. Bui Chinh rushed in like a madman, his clothes stained with filth, his eyes bloodshot. Seeing me sitting on the bench, he lunged toward me, intent on pulling me into his arms.

"Tong Diem!"

He gripped my wrists tightly. The mask of calm, tender affection he usually wore was completely gone. His eyes were wide with the sheer terror of having almost lost me, yet he turned his fear into an accusation:

"Why didn't you stay where you were and wait for me? Do you have any idea how terrified I was, thinking you were dead!"

I looked at him, my expression utterly blank. I wrenched my arm away from his grasp with all my strength, not deigning to utter a single word to him. I turned toward the police officer who was taking my statement and pulled out my phone, which I had wrapped in multiple plastic bags to protect it from the elements. I played the recording of the automated call that had been saved the night before.

"Officer, I would like to file a formal report."

I pointed a finger at Bui Chinh.

"This man intentionally abandoned me in a remote mountainous area prone to mudslides, during a time when the weather bureau had issued a red alert."

Two police officers stepped forward immediately, taking hold of Bui Chinh's shoulders from either side. In an instant, his gaze filled with panic and sheer disbelief.

"Tong Diem, have you lost your mind?"

At that moment, Lam Ha ran into the lobby, panting for breath. Seeing the police restraining Bui Chinh, her face turned sheet-white. Instinctively, she shrieked at me:

"How could you report him to the police? He only meant to scare you!"

"Shut your mouth and step back!"

The officer issued a stern warning to Lam Ha before turning to tell Bui Chinh to remain calm. Bui Chinh stared at me, his tone reverting to one of cold command:

"Tell the police this is just a misunderstanding, and don't take this any further. The engagement party next month can still be salvaged; don't burn all your bridges like this."

Seeing that I remained silent, he lowered his voice, offering a condescending promise:

"As long as you drop the charges now, I will personally fund your move to Suzhou to open that bakery."

He was certain that I would prioritize my ambitions over everything else. I let out a cold, sharp laugh, pulled the engagement ring he had once picked up and forced onto my finger from my pocket, and threw it down at his feet.

"I will not retract my statement, nor will I lie for you."

Clutching the receipt for the police report, I walked out of the lobby without once looking back.

Bui Chinh remained detained by the police, ordered to cooperate with their investigation. He stared down at the diamond ring, now coated in thick mud, his eyes glazed and vacant. Perhaps it had never crossed his mind that the woman he had spent four years domesticating with superficial kindness--the one who came when beckoned and left when dismissed--would truly reach a point where she no longer needed him. Half an hour later, I sat on a bus headed toward the high-speed rail station. As I watched the town fade into the distance through the window, the shoulders that had been rigid with tension for four years finally slumped in absolute release. The woman sitting next to me, noticing my disheveled and filthy appearance, kindly offered me a tissue.