Chapter 5 — My Tattooed Dad

My fingertips trembled. The brush fell onto the table. I remember what my mother once said: "You're just a parasite, who wants you?" I remember what Trieu Loi said after getting drunk: "You destroyer, go away." I thought those words no longer hurt me. But it turns out it's not painless. It's a wound that has crusted over. Now when someone poked it with a finger, the wound cracked again. I stared at the table. Didn't speak. "To Duong, are you mute?" Chu Minh Thuy came closer and reached out to touch my schoolbag. "Your schoolbag is also definitely fake..." I immediately pushed his hand away. I used very strong force. He didn't expect me to attack. He was stunned for a moment and then his face turned red. "Do you dare to hit me?" He pushed me. The chair fell down. I fell to the ground, my knee hit the leg of the table, it was so painful that I cringed. But I don't cry. Can't cry. Crying is losing. That's what I learned when Trieu Loi beat me. The more you cry, the harder he hits. If you don't cry, he will stop crying if it's not interesting anymore. Seeing that I wasn't crying, Chu Minh Thuy began to panic. "I... I didn't use my strength..." When the homeroom teacher ran over, I stood up on my own. My knee was bleeding, my pants were covered in dust. "What is this?" The homeroom teacher squatted down to check my knee. "She hit me first!" Chu Minh Thuy immediately accused me. I don't talk. Just like before. Don't say. No matter what you say, no one believes you. The homeroom teacher treated my injury, then called both parents. Chu Minh Thuy's mother arrived first. She curled her hair and wore high heels. As soon as she walked in, she hugged Chu Minh Thuy, feeling unbearably heartbroken. "Dear, does your hand hurt? Let me see." Then, she glanced at me and said to the homeroom teacher: "Teacher, since I was a child, my child has never fought with anyone. Did this To Duong learn bad habits outside..." The door opened. Pho Nghien walked in. He came very quickly. He wore a black jacket, all the tattoos on his arms were exposed, his stride was very wide, with no expression on his face. But that expressionless expression is even scarier than when angry. Chu Minh Thuy's mother immediately stopped speaking. She looked at Pho Nghien, her face changed. Not because of the tattoos. But because she recognized him. "General... General Director Pho?" Pho Nghien did not look at her. He walked straight in front of me and squatted down. He looked at my knees, then at my face. “Who did it?” The same question he asked that night. The tone is also identical. I glanced at Chu Minh Thuy. Pho Nghien stood up and turned to Chu Minh Thuy and her mother. His mother's face was pale. "General Director Pho, I... I didn't know this was your child..." "What did you say just now?" Pho Nghien asked. "Are you saying my daughter learned something bad outside?" "No, that's not it, I didn't mean that..." "Your son pushed my daughter. You come here and protect your child first." Pho Nghien's voice wasn't loud, but the classroom was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. "Okay. Okay. You protect your child. But today, you have to give me an explanation." "Sorry, sorry! Minh Thuy, please apologize to my sister!" Chu Minh Thuy was so scared that she burst into tears. A six-year-old boy burst into tears, tears mixed with nose and snot. "Sorry, hu hu..." Pho Nghien did not pay attention to him. He lowered his head to look at me. "What did he say?" I pursed my lips. "He said... I was picked up. I don't have a biological mother." The class became even quieter. Pho Nghien's fingers tightened. Then relax. He squatted down, looking straight into my eyes. "You weren't picked up." His voice was very steady. "You are my daughter." "I have a father." "Whoever says you don't have one, tell him to come find you." My nose was stinging.

see. But I tried to hold back. He stood up and looked at the homeroom teacher. "I won't pursue this matter anymore. But I'll say it first, the next time someone touches a finger on my daughter, I won't look for the child, I'll look for the parents." The homeroom teacher nodded repeatedly. Chu Minh Thuy's mother pulled her son away, constantly apologizing, almost running away from the classroom. Pho Nghien held my hand and went out. In the hallway, his big hand wrapped around my small hand. Very warm. "In the future, if someone bullies you, you don't have to endure it." He said. "Do you fight back?" "If you can't fight back, then run. Run back to find dad." "So what if you can fight back?" He bowed his head and looked at me. The corners of his lips curled up slightly. "If you can hit back, don't hit me in the face. It's hard to compensate." I couldn't bear it anymore. Tears finally fell. Not because of pain. It's not because of self-pity. But because no one has ever protected me like that. Never before. Realizing I was crying, his steps stopped. After that, he didn't say anything, just bent down and picked me up. I lay on his shoulder, tears wetting my collar. He patted my back. "Okay, okay. It's no big deal." "Go home and eat hot pot." From that day, I never doubted a thing again. He is my father.