Chapter 2 — Queen of Salted Fish

On the car ride home, a blanket of silence prevailed. Tham Duc Phong, sitting next to me, suddenly opened his mouth, his tone unpredictable: "You really... live very thoroughly." I leaned against the leather chair and sleepily replied: "My husband compliments me too much, I'm just lazy." He didn't say anything more. But I could feel the eyes falling on me, stopping for a long time. After the "turbulence" of the family party, the atmosphere in the house changed slightly. Tham Minh Chau must have been so angry with me that he didn't bother to cause trouble anymore. Tham Duc Phong is still as busy as ever, his dragon spirit is uncertain, his shadow disappears and appears. As for my three stepchildren, their eyes looked at me from initially hostile, hesitant, then disappointed... gradually turning into a complex curiosity. It seemed like they finally believed that I really only came to lie down with salted fish, and had no intention of participating in any fight drama with them. The antagonism subsided, but then a new problem arose. The first person who couldn't hold on was Tham Hoai Tu. He stood right in front of the sofa I occupied, a tall and thin teenager, with a barely noticeable shyness on his face. "This." It spoke, its voice stiff. I was engrossed in watching the movie until the dramatic part, not bothering to lift my eyes: "Um?" “…I… I want to start a business.” It seemed like he had made a great deal of determination, saying at once: "Let's build a small app with a few classmates, we need startup capital." I pressed pause on the screen, finally giving it a glance. The teenager's lips were tightly pursed, his eyes were both determined and ambitious, but also lurking with some insecurity. Eighteen years old - the age when you both want to prove yourself and are afraid of failure. "OH." I nodded nonchalantly, then started the movie again, "How much do I need?" Maybe he didn't expect me to be so cheerful, he was a bit stunned: "...Fifty thousand." "Okay." I picked up the phone, my fingers clicked, "It's transferred." Tham Hoai Tu's phone made a "ding" sound, signaling that money was coming in. He lowered his head to look at the screen showing the notification of the money that had just been transferred, stunned as if he were tied up. “Just… that's all?” He looked up, his face full of disbelief: "You didn't ask about the project plan? Didn't evaluate the risks? Aren't you afraid that I'll make a big hole?" I looked at him, surprised: "The money has been given, how to use it is up to you. If you lose money..." I thought, "consider it like paying tuition. Anyway, your dad has money." Tham Hoai Tu: “……” He moved his lips, as if he wanted to refute something, but in the end he couldn't utter a single word. It's just that his complicated eyes stayed on me for a long time, then quietly turned around and left. That back shadow exuded something vague - as if "putting all the force into throwing a punch and hitting empty space" mixed with a feeling of confusion... when suddenly trusted (?). Next it was Giang Tam Nguyet's turn. It causes fights. Not at school, but outside on the basketball court, because of a dispute over the field, he got into a fight with a group of other teenagers. He returned with an injured appearance: the corners of his mouth were torn, his cheeks were bruised, his uniform was tattered, and his whole body was covered in sweat and dust. But instead of going back to his room, he went straight into the living room, with the defiant look of someone who "doesn't care if a fish breaks a vase", standing tall in front of me. “Hey, I got into a fight.” He craned his neck, his voice was both hoarse and flat, but his eyes were glued to me, observing every expression, as if waiting for a scolding or at least panic. I'm peeling tangerines, Hearing that, he just slightly raised his eyelids and glanced at the wound on his face. “Yeah.” I replied faintly, then stuffed a tangerine segment into my mouth, chewed and said vaguely: "The medicine cabinet is on the second shelf under the TV shelf, there are red pills and bandages in there. Treat yourself." Giang Tam Nguyet paused. The storm of words he imagined in his head never appeared. Just a sentence as indifferent as the breeze. The words of protest that had been prepared were forced into his throat but could not escape, stuck to the point that his face turned red. "...You didn't scold me? Didn't ask why I fought? Didn't you go tell the school?" It almost screamed, carrying a bit of anger and confusion that it hadn't even realized yet. I looked at him, surprised: "Why do I have to scold him? Win or lose?" "...Of course, of course we win! One against three!" – The teenager immediately puffed out his chest, his voice filled with a bit of youthful pride. “Yes, that's for now.” I stuffed another tangerine segment and slowly said: "Next time, don't hit me in the face. If you're ugly, it'll be hard to find a girlfriend." Giang Tam Nguyet: “……” It was just like a balloon that had just been punctured - the aggressive, ruffled appearance from before immediately deflated, leaving only a vague and frustrated feeling of "missing the punch in the air". He scratched his head angrily, and in the end, without saying a word, rummaged through the TV cabinet and pulled out the medical box. I heard him struggling to treat his wound, occasionally inhaling cold air, and muttering incomprehensibly: "What is it all about..." The last person was To Kien Thu. Childishness comes quickly and goes away quickly. He hugged his precious ragdoll Persian cat and crept closer to the sofa that I considered my territory. “Hey… Lam Van Chieu.” – He called my name in a low voice, with a slightly shy yet intimate tone. “Um?” – I paused the candy stacking game on my phone. “…Next week… there will be a parent-teacher conference.” He bowed his head, his fingers unconsciously ruffling the cat's fur, "The teacher said that Mom and Dad must come... But dad will definitely be busy..." He looked up, his big round eyes clearly revealing a cautious look, which also contained a hint of expectation mixed with fear of being rejected: "Sister... can you go?" In the past, this type of activity was always done on behalf of the housekeeper, or very rarely, Tham Duc Phong appeared briefly and then disappeared. I looked at this kid - trying to act mature, but in fact I still craved attention. "What time? Where?" – I asked. To Kien Thu's eyes immediately lit up: "Next Wednesday afternoon, two o'clock! Right in my class!" "Okay." – I clicked to reopen the game and casually replied, "I know." On Wednesday afternoon, I rarely left the house on time and took a taxi to To Kien Thu's aristocratic school. Following the instructions, I found its class. Inside, there were quite a few parents dressed neatly and sitting neatly. As soon as I entered, I immediately became the focus of many eyes. Bare-faced, wearing a baggy hoodie and jeans, compared to the sea of mothers wearing elaborate makeup, office dresses or elegant tweeds, I was like an ugly duckling lost in a flock of swans. To Kien Thu sat in his seat. As soon as he saw me, his small face suddenly exploded with great joy, but then immediately showed tension, glanced around, his small back tensed and sat straight. The teacher began to speak, only talking about the class situation and the children's achievements. When it comes to “some students still lose their practice middle school, the ability to pay attention is not good", the teacher's meaningful eyes glanced at To Kien Thu. His small head immediately lowered his head, his ears turned red. Around, several mothers looked at each other and exchanged glances, which contained an implicit understanding of superiority. As soon as the teacher finished speaking, the parent exchange session began. The atmosphere immediately became lively, turning into an implicit "competition to see whose child is better". "My son, Tu Hien, recently passed the exam. The teacher even praised those 8 pianos as being very talented!” "Oh, my little Vi Vi just won first prize in the city's Olympic team. It's just so miserable. I feel so sad when I look at it." "My child is not that good, he can only speak English so well, he can have simple conversations with foreign teachers..." Those boastful stories, intentionally or unintentionally, all turned towards the corner of the room where I sat silently. “Are you To Kien Thu's mother?” — a mother with meticulously curled hair looked over with a polite smile, “This is my first time meeting you. This kid is lively and cute, but... I heard there are a lot of small movements in class? For boys, it's normal to be a little naughty, but to be dedicated should be nurtured from a young age. Like my little Tu Hien, who is taking a very good concentration training course, do you want me to introduce him?" The tone was mild, but the boastful superiority and faint slight of contempt could not be hidden. The other mothers also smiled and looked over, waiting to see my reaction. Confused and embarrassed? Or hastily asked for experience? Or try to appear calm? To Kien Thu was so nervous that he clenched his fists and bowed his head, not daring to look at me. I put down my phone (just finished playing a game of candy sorting), raised my head, received that "good will" look, smiled comfortably, and even brought a little appreciation. “Oh, intensive training camp?” “That doesn't sound too bad.” In everyone's expectant eyes, I leisurely added a sentence: "But my family, To Kien Thu, does not need it for the time being." “I find it can be distracting, showing a rich imagination and flexible mind. In today's society, rote learning doesn't do much, the important thing is to have ideas and a creative mind, right?" “Also,” I rolled my eyes and looked at the mothers who were smiling awkwardly, their tone was as leisurely as chatting about the weather, “For children, being happy is the most important thing. Forced to study this and that all day long, I'm tired to death. They're still young, don't wear away all their aura." The whole classroom suddenly became dead silent. The atmosphere of "elite education" that everyone worked so hard to build was shattered by my "salted fish truths". The curled-haired mother's smile was completely frozen, looking like she was wearing a bad mask. The other mothers had a variety of expressions: some were stunned, some were disdainful, and even a little... guilty of being exposed.