Chapter 8 — Light Does Not Touch

25

Realizing what was happening, I screamed and rushed forward to stop him. But no one can see me. Until the sudden sound of braking was deafening. The loud, chaotic sound immediately enveloped the street. Screams, curses, painful sighs... When I opened my eyes again, I didn't see the scene I had so fearfully imagined— Luc Chieu lying motionless in the middle of the road. I turned my head and realized that... My brother had come, I don't know when, and brought the police with him. Right at the moment Luc Chieu was about to be hit by a car, they rushed over and pushed him hard towards the sidewalk. Luc Chieu, who had completely lost his reason, fell to the sidewalk. He lay there like a puppet with its strings broken, not moving for a long time. In his eyes, it wasn't luck that he just escaped death. It was an empty disappointment—a single dream gone up in smoke. My brother walked over, bowed his head and looked at him with cold eyes. No one said a word. Only then did Luc Chieu absent-mindedly speak, like a lost soul:

“Why don't you let me go find her?”

My brother replied in an icy voice:

“She doesn't want to see you again.”

“Trinh Hoai An was the last person to see her before he died.”

“She said she hated you for not trusting her.”

“Before she closed her eyes, she left a message—hoping she would never see you again in her next life.”

Luc Chieu's eyes suddenly shocked. Already frighteningly pale, his face now felt like it had been cut by an invisible blade again. Perhaps, his last hope— is to believe that if there really is an afterlife, he can still find me. But actually… I never said those words. Perhaps Trinh Hoai An was not willing to replace me, feeling that I did not deserve such suspicion. So I lied to my brother that I died in resentment. My brother understands. In this world, you are the person who understands me the most. You know I'm not the person who would say such things. But he still chose to repeat that lie to Luc Chieu. Because, no matter what, he doesn't want anyone to die because of me. Because I still remember... Luc Chieu and I used to love each other. He remembers that, when we were struggling and at the end of our rope, Luc Chieu did everything to help us. The doubt is real. But the strong love that existed was also real. There are so many things, it's impossible to say clearly who is right and who is wrong. The chaos on the street was quickly dispersed. My brother returned to the car and I quietly followed him. Before leaving, in my sight I still saw Luc Chieu sitting there, quietly motionless. He was still sitting on the ground. I saw silent tears rolling down his blank face. I heard him softly utter a sentence:

“Sorry.”

The voice was so soft that I wasn't sure if it was just my hallucination. The sky gradually brightens, the morning mist disappears. The warm sunlight gradually spread across the road. But he still sat in the shade under the trees along the roadside. The back is skinny and lonely. As if… from now on, he would never touch the light again.

26

The day I was about to be reincarnated. I went back to see my brother one last time. I prayed to the King of Hell, that I wanted to meet him in my next life my mother. I read my mother's name. The King of Hell examined the birth and death records of the cemetery where my mother was buried. But the name I just mentioned could not be found. I again named nearby cemeteries, but couldn't find them either. Perhaps because after death, my memories became chaotic, I remembered my mother's name wrongly. Now I can't go back and ask my brother anymore. I have no other choice. Even though I regret it, even if I'm not willing, I still have to accept it. Before reincarnation, at midnight. I went to my brother to say goodbye. Now, my brother has returned to work in the hospital. His mental illness has also completely cured. When I found him, he was lying under the old bridge—where we used to live when we were children. He looked up at the sky, following the moonlight. I also lay down next to him, just like when I was a child. Imitating him, I put my hand out as a pillow and rested my head on it. The familiar scene reminded me of many old stories. Since birth, I have relied on my older brother. He once told me that my mother died from postpartum depression. My father was an alcoholic, a gambler, and never cared about the life or death of my brothers. Whenever he was in a bad mood, he would break the wine bottle and throw it directly at our heads. When I was seven years old, my brother built a small hut under the bridge and took me away from home. We became street children, living extremely miserable lives, but at least we were no longer beaten. When I was nine years old, I had a high fever and almost fainted under the bridge. That night it rained heavily, water flooded in, the whole tent was soaked. My brother took off his old, tattered coat and wrapped it around me. The first time, he asked me:

“Do you want to go back to that man?”

That man—is our biological father. Even though the fever made my face hot, I still shook my head in panic:

“Not going anywhere.”

My brother was silent for a long time, then his eyes turned red. He patted my back and said in a low voice:

“Then in the future, I will try harder.”

After finishing school, he threw himself into all sorts of jobs. Picking up scraps and bottles, working as a laborer, loading and unloading. Because child labor is illegal, he has to work twice or three times as much as other people to get paid. Actually, things gradually got better later on. I have thought countless times— When I grow up, I will definitely repay you well. But now, I don't have a chance anymore. No matter how many years have passed, I'm still just your burden. Actually, I knew the truth about my mother. The King of Hell couldn't find the name I gave. Perhaps seeing how pitiful I was, he helped me investigate. That woman, after giving birth to us, because she could not stand her husband's violence, left us and left. She is also a pitiful person. Maybe she's not wrong. But I just... I just unconsciously believed my brother's lies, and then fantasized about a mother's love. Actually… It's okay, actually. Just having my brother by my side is enough. It's just a pity that in the end I still left him alone. I couldn't help but gently pulled his sleeve and whispered softly with a guilty voice:

“I'm sorry.”

When I stood up to leave, a wind suddenly blew, making my brother's scarf flutter slightly. He gently pulled tight scarf, unconsciously looked towards me. It seems... he sensed my existence. I quietly approached him and gently hugged him. That's it. Consider saying goodbye. That's it, brother. This time, it's really goodbye.