Chapter 31 — Secret Explosive Burning of Cow Dung

“When you cry, you look much quieter than when you were a baby.”

My nose stung and I immediately glared at him.

“You even mentioned when you were a kid, I dyed you green now.”

Finally, he smiled. It's very light, but it touches my heart. * Three days later, the official broadcast of the program did not cut off that night's livestream. The comments went from initially mocking, to a screen filled with apologies. Some people say I'm not a pick-me green tea, but a gem in the cow dung explosion village. Some people say Luc Van Da's mine saved my life. Someone asked me what kind of relationship we have. I'm resharing an excerpt of the show. Accompanied by a caption: *When we were kids, we blew up the wall together, when we grew up, we overturned the verdict together.* Luc Van Da immediately shared it again. He wrote: *I gave you the matchbox, I also protected you.* The comment area went crazy. I looked at that text and laughed for a long time. Sunlight shines in from outside the window. Lam Van Thu is learning how to cook noodles for me in the kitchen. Van's mother stood next to her and grumbled that she added too much salt. Van's father sat in the living room, flipping through an old photo album, muttering that he had to put away all my ugly childhood photos, lest they be pulled out as evidence one day. Luc Van Da leaned on the door and asked me: "Is there anything else you want to know about your childhood?" I said, “I want to know why you kept my diary for all these years.” He was silent for a moment.

“Because I told you, I'm afraid no one will believe you in the future.”

I looked up at him. He said again: “I believe.” My tears almost fell again. But I held back. I placed the silver begonia lock I had just found back into the palm of my hand. The two words Duong An on the lock's surface are illuminated by sparkling lights. This time, I finally don't have to look back to see who abandoned me. Because I already know. Someone once stole my way. But no one can steal the light that lights my way home. RUN OUT OF