Chapter 10 — Scary Neighbors

But because Truong Tu Lan was the only child and her actions constituted the crime of abusing her ward, the court ruled that she lost her inheritance rights. The house belongs to cousins like Trieu Ngoc Phan. Trieu Ngoc Phan said in the group that the house was sold for five hundred thousand yuan, which the relatives divided equally. Each person received about seven or eighty thousand yuan, just enough to compensate for the living expenses they had transferred to Truong Tu Lan over the years. Nothing more, nothing less, in the end it's all in vain. I opened the window. The night wind blew in, bringing with it the typical humidity and heat of summer. The neon light in the distance kept flashing. I suddenly remembered that old lady. She often wears a faded blue cloth shirt, sits by the bed, looking out the window. Every time I came, she held my hand, her mouth constantly moving. One time I heard it clearly. She said: "When will Tu Lan return?" Then I replied: "Miss Truong is on a business trip and will be back in two days." She said "yes", let go of my hand and continued looking out the window. Now that I think about it, maybe she didn't wait for Tu Lan to return. She was just waiting for an answer. Why did my daughter turn out like that? This question I cannot answer. Truong Tu Lan also could not answer. Perhaps she has never thought about that question. Since the first time she transferred money from the old lady's savings book, there was no turning back. Step by step, step by step, stepping deeper into the mud. Until the mud was up to her neck, she still thought that if she just earned some money, she could cure Tran Chi Cuong's illness. As long as he recovers, everything she has done will be worth it. But he was not cured. She also couldn't wait for that day. When fall came, I changed to a new job. The workplace is very far from the old company, also very far from the Cam Hoa apartment building. My new colleague asked me where I lived before, and I just said roughly an area, not giving details. Eighth month after moving, I went to the hospital for a health check-up. In the hall, I saw a person. Tran Chi Cuong. 13 He sat in a wheelchair, being pushed towards the dialysis room by an old lady. He was much thinner than the image on camera, with prominent cheekbones, sunken eye sockets, and his arms wrapped in bandages. As he passed me, he raised his head and looked at me. Of course he didn't recognize me. But I recognized his face. In the transfer records, in the photos Trieu Ngoc Phan showed me, in the evidence documents I arranged. That face has appeared countless times. He looked at me for a second then bowed his head, continuing to stare at his hands. The old lady pushed him into the dialysis room. The door closed, the red light above lit up. I stood in the hall for a long time. Then turned around and walked out of the hospital. The sunlight was extremely dazzling. I squinted my eyes and raised my head to look at the sky. The late autumn sky is very high, very blue, without a single cloud. I remember the last message Truong Tu Lan sent me. “I just don't dare.” She said it as if this were a reason worthy of sympathy. But in this world, who doesn't have things they don't dare to do? I didn't dare tell my parents how scared I was living alone. I don't dare to refuse unreasonable requests from colleagues for fear of being told I'm not sociable. I don't dare post negative emotions on my personal page because I'm afraid others will think I'm overdoing it. There are many things I don't dare to do. But there is no such thing as putting the key into someone else's hand, forcing an innocent person to take on a murder case for you. Not daring is not the reason. Not daring is just an excuse. What Truong Tu Lan is best at is using pity to cover up calculations, using tears to hide malice. She makes everyone feel like she's just a poor person crushed by life. Until a photo of a skinny old woman with only bones was posted to the group. Until the police investigated the transfer history of two hundred thousand yuan. Until the day she was taken away, she no longer spoke

Just a word. I withdrew my gaze and walked towards the subway station. The phone in my pocket vibrated. It's a message from Trieu Ngoc Phan. "Tieu Yeu, I heard that Truong Tu Lan performed well in prison so his sentence was reduced by half a year." “It will probably take more than a year to be released.” I replied: “I know.” Then delete your chat history with her. The train arrived at the station, I squeezed into the train car. The moment the door closed, I saw my face through the glass. Not much different from when I graduated two years ago. Just more careful now. Beware of strangers, beware of enthusiastic neighbors, beware of all free kindness. Truong Tu Lan spent two years teaching me something. In this world, there are people who treat you well just because they need you. Not because they like you, nor because you are you. Just because at the right time you lived in the apartment next door, at the right time you were young, living alone and easy to fool.