Chapter 1 — My Tattooed Dad

My mother was eight months pregnant when she pulled me to a public restroom in the middle of the night. She pointed to the tattooed, muscular man sitting on the bench smoking a cigarette and said: "See? From now on, that person is your father." "Before sunrise, don't open your mouth to talk. You have to hold on to him, even if you die, don't let go." I was six years old that year. I'm scared. But I'm even more afraid of my mother. I tremblingly walked forward, grabbed the man's shirt. He watched my mother holding her stomach as she walked into the public restroom, muttering: "This girl is really polite, it's not difficult to help babysit a child." But he did not expect that babysitting would last for twenty years. Twenty years later, at my wedding, he cried like a dog, his tears and nose stained his suit, and insisted that sand flew into his eyes. Guess if he ever regretted not running away that year? 【Chapter 1】 Three forty in the morning. The November wind blew against my neck, making me shiver. Mom held my hand and dragged me for twenty minutes, then stopped in front of a public restroom on the corner of the street. Next to the toilet there is an iron chair. There is a man sitting on the chair. That person is really huge. His shoulders were as wide as a wall, the tattoo on his arm was half exposed under the streetlight. He sucked on his cigarette and lowered his head to look at his phone. I couldn't see the expression on his face clearly, but that line alone was scary enough. Instinctively, I took a step back. Mom squatted down and squeezed my shoulder so hard that it hurt. "To Duong, listen carefully." Her voice was both urgent and low. "From now on, that person is your father." "Now go over and grab his clothes. Before sunrise, don't say a word." "Do you understand?" I don't understand. Isn't my father Trieu Loi? "Don't ask so many questions!" Mom squeezed even harder. "If you tell me to go, just go, what's the matter?" She pushed me hard outside. I staggered, almost falling down. The cotton shoes on my feet had a hole in them, and my big toe was so cold that it was numb. I stood in front of that man, my whole body shaking like I was winnowing rice. Not because of the cold. But out of fear. But mom said, I can't open my mouth. I reached out and grabbed the man's coat. He bowed his head and looked at me. The red light from the tip of the cigarette clearly illuminated his face. He had a crew cut, a high eyebrow bone, and a scar on his chin. "Oh, little girl." He raised his eyebrows. "Whose child are you?" I didn't speak, just tightened my grip on his shirt and refused to let go. He turned his head to look at my mother. Mom smiled at him: "Brother, help me look after the child for a while. I'm going to the bathroom, I'll be out soon!" After saying that, she hugged her big pregnant belly and hurried into the public restroom. The man pouted, took another breath of tobacco. "Okay." He looked down at me and asked, "Are you cold?" I didn't answer. I don't dare. Mom said, before sunrise, I can't talk. Five minutes passed. Ten minutes passed. Inside the public restroom, there was silence, no movement at all. The man put out his cigarette, stood up and looked towards the bathroom door. "Is your mother constipated?" Another ten minutes passed. Finally, he began to lose patience, went to the bathroom door and called out twice: "Hey? The sister from before? Are you okay?" No one answered. He asked a cleaning lady passing by to check inside. "There's no one inside." The man was stunned. He bowed his head and looked at me. I also looked at him. My hand is still holding the hem of his shirt. He squatted down and looked straight into my eyes. "Little girl, where is your mother?" I didn't speak. Tears fell. Because I know that she will

don't come back. This is not the first time. Last time, she also said "I'll be right back", then left me in front of the shopping center door. Three days later, I was discovered by security. But this time it's not like that. This time, she left me with a stranger. Furthermore, she said that person was my father. So I can't let go. The man looked at the tears on my face, his expression changed. The word impatience turned into a complicated look that I couldn't understand. He reached out his hand, hesitated for a moment, then clumsily patted my head. "Don't cry anymore." His voice was rough, but he tried to calm down. "Your mother must be busy. Where is your home? I'll take you home." I didn't talk. Mom said, before sunrise, I can't say a word. He asked again a few times, but I still didn't open my mouth. He was impatient, squatting there, squeezing between his eyebrows. "You don't know how to talk?" I shook my head. "So can you signal to me where your house is?" I shook my head again. He took a deep breath. "Very well, I met a mute girl in the middle of the night." He stood up, took out his phone from his pocket. "I'm telling the police." As soon as I heard that, I immediately tightened my grip on his shirt, desperately shaking my head. Last time my mother left me at the mall, after the police arrived, she was called to the police station. When I got home, she beat me. She used a coat hanger to hit more than twenty times. She said it was all because I didn't listen. I don't want to be beaten anymore. The man looked at my appearance and was stunned. He slowly squatted down. This time, he moved closer to me. The streetlight fell on my face. His eyes moved from my face to my neck. Then, his expression changed. Completely changed. “What is that on your neck…?” He carefully pulled out my collar. I know what's there. Those are burns caused by cigarette lighters. Three circular scars. There are also marks on his back where he was hit by a coat hanger. Streak by streak, streak by streak. I backed away, afraid he would hit me too. But he didn't. His hands are shaking. A tall man with tattoos on his arms and scars on his face, yet his hands were shaking. He gritted his teeth, forcing a sentence from his throat with difficulty: "Who did it?" I looked at him. Don't talk. He closed his eyes. Then he stood up, took off his coat and wrapped himself around me. That coat was very large, so big that it could cover my whole body. Very warm. Smells like tobacco. But it's very warm. “Let's go,” he said. He did not report to the police. Don't ask where my house is anymore. He held out his hand. I hesitated for a moment, let go of his shirt and held his finger. His hands were so large, I had to use both hands to hold one of his index fingers. He stopped. Then, he grabbed my hand. "First, just follow me." It was four twenty minutes in the morning. The sun hasn't risen yet. I didn't say a word. But I followed him. 【Chapter 2】 He led me to the corner of the street. A black car parked on the side of the road. The car was big and shiny, more beautiful than any car I had ever seen. A young man wearing a black suit stepped down from the driver's seat. When he saw me, his whole body immediately turned to stone. “…General Manager Deputy?” The tattooed man, General Manager Deputy, picked me up. His movements were not proficient, but very careful, like holding a fragile porcelain doll. “Open the door.” He said. The young man opened his mouth, intending to ask something, but as soon as he met General Director Pho's eyes, he immediately closed his mouth and opened the back door. The heating system was turned on in the car and it was very warm. The leather seats are as soft as cotton candy. He put me in the back seat, my coat still wrapped around me. I curled up inside my large coat, revealing only half of my face. The young man turned back to the driver's seat and looked at me a few times through the rearview mirror. "General

Deputy Governor, this... whose son is this?" "I don't know." "So you..." "Go home first." It was clear that the young man had a lot of words to say, but he tried to hold back. The car began to move. Street lights passed outside the window, one after another like a stream of water. I was sleepy. My eyelids kept fighting. But I didn't dare to sleep. What if I fell asleep and you threw me away? I tightened my grip. holding his coat, determined not to let go. He sat next to me, bowed his head and looked at my hand. "If you're sleepy, just go to sleep." I shook my head. "No one will chase you away." I still shook my head. After a while, a big hand was placed on my head. Very gently and clumsily, like the first time stroking a small animal, afraid that using too much force would kill it. The car's heating system was too warm. Ban tay ay cung qua am. Toi co chong do duoc ba phut roi ngu thiep di. Khi tinh lai, troi da sang. Mat troi da moc. Toi co the noi chuyen roi. Toi dang nam tren mot chiec giuong rat lon. Chan vua day vua mem, thoang thoang mui nuoc giat. Can phong rat rong. Rong den muc kho tin. Ca can nha cua toi cung co the nhet vua vao day. Cua phong mo ra. Ong bung mot bat chao buoc vao. Thay toi da tinh, ong dat bat chao len tu dau bed. "Are you awake?" I nodded. "Can we talk?" I hesitated for a moment. The sun had already risen. "...Okay." My voice was hoarse, like I had just been sandpapered. He pulled a chair to sit next to the bed, put his hands on his knees, leaned forward slightly and looked at me. "What's your name?" "To Duong." "How old are you?" "Six years old." "What's your mother's name?" "...To Lan." "And dad." "Trieu Loi." "Who is Trieu Loi?" "Your mother's boyfriend." "Where is your biological father?" "I don't know." He was silent for a moment. "Who made the scars on your neck?" I bowed my head and stopped talking. He didn't force me. He picked up the bowl of porridge and brought it in front of me. "Eat first." I took it. It was white porridge. Inside there was lean meat and chopped green vegetables. I took a sip. It was very hot. But very hot. Delicious. So delicious that I almost cried. When I was at home, my mother never cooked porridge for me. I searched for something in the refrigerator. If I couldn't find it, I starved. I drank it too quickly, so I choked. "Slowly." He frowned. "No one fought with me." I raised my head to look at him, the tattoo on his arm was more visible in the morning sunlight up to his shoulder blade. The scar on his face was a bit white in the sunlight. He didn't look like a good person. But he cooked me porridge. After I finished drinking the porridge, he came back with a phone in his hand. "I gave it to someone to investigate." He sat down, his voice calm. "Your mother got on the train at four thirty in the morning. She went south, the phone was also turned off. "I was stunned for a moment. Then I nodded. Don't cry. What's the use of crying? She also left before. Only this time, I feel like she won't come back again. Looking at my reaction, his eyebrows furrowed even tighter. "Do you have any other relatives? What about grandpa?" "Grandma passed away last year." "What about grandpa?" "I've never met." "Grandpa and grandma?" "I don't know who my biological dad is." He closed his eyes. His fingers squeezed between his eyebrows. "...What about Trieu Loi? Your mother's boyfriend?" "He doesn't like you." "What?" "He says I'm a burden. He told mom to take me away." Silence. A very long silence. I heard him gritting his teeth.