Chapter 3 — The Bias Box

With a steady hand, I picked up the pen and signed my name on the direct enlistment agreement. Without a second thought, I pulled back the thin hospital blanket and yanked the IV needle from the back of my hand.

"Head Coach, when can I report to the special training camp?"

The Chief Instructor looked at the unwavering resolve in my eyes and stood up.

"Anytime."

I put on my shoes, grabbed my backpack, and strode out of the hospital room without looking back.

5

"Have you heard? Tham Tri Van from the special operations unit collapsed behind the mountain and was rushed to the hospital."

"I heard it was acute gastritis combined with a high fever. She was already in shock by the time the ambulance arrived."

The motion of Tham Yen Chi pouring water suddenly froze. A loud ringing filled his ears, and the glass slipped from his fingers, shattering against the floor.

"What did you say? Who was sent to the hospital?"

He grabbed the student by the collar, his eyes instantly turning bloodshot.

"Tham... Tham Tri Van. She was just taken to the First Municipal People’s Hospital..."

He remembered my pale, deathly face in the pouring rain, the way I had crouched on the slope clutching my stomach in agony. And what was he doing at that moment? He had been fussing over a trivial ankle sprain for Tham Kieu Kieu, eventually snatching my first-aid kit and abandoning me alone in the desolate wilderness.

"Van Van..."

A strangled, choked sound escaped Tham Yen Chi's throat. He didn't even stop for an umbrella, instead hailing a taxi and speeding toward the hospital. On the way, he pulled out his phone with trembling hands, dialing my number over and over again.

"I am sorry, the number you have reached is not in service."

The cold, mechanical female voice repeated itself until it drove him to madness. Tham Yen Chi’s face drained of all color. The number did not exist.

"Driver, go faster! I am begging you, please drive faster!"

He was practically pleading with the man. Twenty minutes later, Tham Yen Chi violently pushed open the door to room 302.

"Van Van, I..."

His voice died in his throat as he faced the empty room. The bed that had been mine was vacant, the sheets folded with meticulous precision. In the trash can sat the mystery box, crushed and discarded. The two words written in red—"Disgusting"—seemed to pierce his eyes like jagged thorns.

"It can’t be... She’s just sulking. She wouldn’t leave me behind."

At that moment, Tham Kieu Kieu, who had followed him, stepped into the room. She looked at the empty bed, a flash of triumph flickering in her eyes before she quickly masked it with an expression of concern and self-reproach.

"Brother Yen Chi, why isn't she here? Is she still angry with us?"

Tham Kieu Kieu bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes as she tugged at his sleeve.

"It’s all my fault. If I hadn't sprained my ankle, you wouldn't have left her alone in the rain. She must be jealous and hiding on purpose just to make us worry..."

"Shut your mouth!"

Tham Yen Chi roared, shoving her away with such force that she stumbled back, hitting the bedside cabinet. The pain turned her face paper-white.

"Brother Yen Chi, are you yelling at me? I’m just worried about her..."

"I told you to shut your mouth!"

Tham Yen Chi’s eyes were bloodshot. He pointed at the mystery box in the trash, his voice trembling uncontrollably.

"She threw this away! Do you really think she's just being jealous or sulking?"

Tham Kieu Kieu looked at the box with those two words written on it and fell silent, her face pale with shock. Tham Yen Chi rushed out of the room, charging to the nursing station and grabbing the nurse by her shoulders.

"Where is Tham Tri Van from room 302? I am her family; where did she go?"

The nurse, startled by his frantic demeanor, hurried to check the records.

"The girl named Tham Tri Van? She completed her discharge paperwork right after she woke up. The notes state that she was picked up by personnel from the public security system. She left with a special police officer."

Tham Yen Chi stood in the middle of the crowded hospital hallway, his heart feeling as though it were being crushed in a vice. Even his breath tasted of iron and blood. She was gone. She had severed all ties completely, leaving not a single trace behind. At that moment, I was sitting in a jeep bound for the provincial special training camp. The scenery outside the window blurred as the city’s neon lights faded into the distance. The Head Coach in the passenger seat handed me a bottle of warm water.

"Joining the special training camp means cutting ties with your former life entirely. Are you prepared for that?"

I took the bottle and sipped the warm liquid. The cramping in my stomach had eased significantly.

"I am prepared."

I looked at my reflection in the glass, my eyes calm and unyielding. Tham Yen Chi, Tham Kieu Kieu, and those biased parents—they no longer had anything to do with me.

6

Life in the special training camp was even more grueling than I had anticipated. We rose at four every morning for long-distance runs under heavy loads, tactical combat training, and live-fire drills. My schedule was packed to the brim. I had no time to dwell on the past; each day I was so exhausted that I would fall asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. A month later, my physical fitness and tactical scores were consistently ranked at the top among all the female cadets.