Chapter 15 — The Hand That Carves Sin

What I wanted was never money. I wanted justice. Now, I have reclaimed my justice. I will not take a single cent of his money.

Time flowed on, and the city entered autumn. I took An An and moved to a new city. It was a quiet, small town in the south, characterized by a mild, humid climate and a leisurely pace of life. With the help of my mentor, I managed to get in touch with a private rehabilitation hospital in the area. Upon hearing about my condition, they were extremely intrigued. They were not interested in the sensationalist drama of "saving the heroic ex-husband," but rather in the high-difficulty surgical procedures I had successfully completed using neural feedback systems. This hospital held a progressive outlook, attempting to integrate high-tech equipment with traditional rehabilitation methods. I spoke with their director for a long time. I neither concealed my past nor exaggerated my abilities. I simply told him that I was a surgeon whose hand had been injured, but I loved my profession and wished to continue using my knowledge and experience to help more people. In the end, they hired me. Not as a surgeon, but as a medical consultant and technical instructor for their rehabilitation center. I no longer needed to stand at the operating table. My primary duties were to apply my expertise to design rehabilitation plans for patients and guide them in using the new recovery equipment. This position completely avoided the limitations imposed by my hand’s function while maximizing the strength of my professional background.

I had a new job and a new life. An An started at a new kindergarten. The smiles on her face became more frequent, and her nightmares grew increasingly rare. Sometimes, watching her run and laugh with the other children, I felt that leaving that place was the most correct decision I had ever made in my life.

I still heard bits of news about Tran Da from Old Truong from time to time. I heard that his recovery process in the capital was incredibly difficult. The "reconstructed" hand, though physically alive, had failed to regain its function in any ideal way. Because the nerve damage was so severe, even though they had been reconnected, the signal transmission remained significantly degraded. His hand felt sluggish, and his movements were stiff, like a disobedient puppet. Previously, he could have used that same hand to disassemble and reassemble a firearm in seconds. Now, he couldn't even manage to twist open a bottle cap with it. The magnitude of this disparity caused him to fall into total despair. He began to drink heavily, smashed furniture, and refused to cooperate with his treatment. The doctors and nurses in charge were at their wits' end because of him. He was no longer the lofty hero; he had become an irritable patient, wallowing in self-destruction.

Eventually, the department processed his retirement. He took a significant severance package and left the military. He did not return to his hometown, nor did he stay in the capital. No one knew where he went. Hearing this news, my heart remained completely undisturbed. Where his life would lead was no longer any concern of mine. We were people of two different worlds. In my world, there was sunshine, the laughter of An An, and a new career that I loved. In his world, there was only himself and a hand forever scarred by the "evidence of his crimes."

One day, I received an unexpected call. It was Director Luu, Tran Da’s former immediate superior. His voice sounded aged and weary.

"Doctor To... I am sorry to bother you."

"What is it?" My voice was calm.

"I... I will be retiring next month," he said.

"Congratulations."

The other end fell silent for a moment.

"Doctor To, the truth is, I called you today because I wanted to... offer an apology."

I froze.

"An apology?"

"Yes." Director Luu's voice carried a profound sense of shame. "Regarding Tran Da. At the time, we only saw his 'heroic' side. To protect his honor, we... committed very unjust acts against you. At the trial... it was I who told him to say those things. The reporters were also brought in by me."

Although I had guessed as much, hearing him admit it with my own ears still felt like a dagger to the heart.

"We all thought that as long as we preserved him, we were preserving the honor of the unit. We thought family matters were only trivial affairs. Not until later, when I saw the consent form you had him sign, and saw his state in the hospital, did I understand that we were all wrong. A man who cannot even protect his own wife and family is not fit to be a hero at all. Doctor To, I have wronged you. On behalf of the unit, I offer you my sincere apology."

After he spoke, the line remained silent for a long time. I could hear his heavy, ragged breathing. I held the phone, looking out the window, unsure of what to say. Forgiveness? I could not do it. Some wounds, once inflicted, can never be mended. But I did not want to hate anymore, either. Hating someone is too exhausting.

"Director Luu," I finally spoke, my voice very soft. "Everything has already passed."