Chapter 1 — The Path I Chose

When the university entrance examinations finally concluded, Pho Thanh Tay asked me which university I intended to apply to. I pondered for a moment before replying, "Probably Peking University." He nodded and departed. On the eve of the new academic year, clutching the acceptance letter from UCLA that I had secured long ago, I boarded a flight to the United States. The moment the plane touched down, my phone lit up with over fifty missed calls, every single one of them from Pho Thanh Tay. I frowned, removed my SIM card, and tossed it casually into an airport trash bin.

Three years later, at a hotel in Los Angeles.

"Check in!"

As the words left my lips, two passports were pushed across the counter toward me. I looked up, immediately locking eyes with the icy, stoic face of Pho Thanh Tay. Seeing him, I faltered, my breath catching as I prepared to speak. Chu Diem Diem, who was clinging to his arm, surveyed me from head to toe before letting out a mocking scoff. "Luong Tri Da, so this is why you went abroad—to work as a front-desk clerk? When I first heard the rumors, I refused to believe them." I arched an eyebrow, swallowing the polite greeting I had been about to offer, and processed their check-in with practiced, mechanical efficiency. When I handed them their two room cards, Pho Thanh Tay pushed one back toward me. He spoke slowly, his voice dropping into a low, deliberate tone. "Cancel one room; Diem Diem and I will be staying together." A surge of triumphant delight flooded Chu Diem Diem’s face. Before stepping into the elevator, she deliberately turned back to glance at me, her gaze filled with the smug satisfaction of a victor.

At one in the morning, the front-desk phone rang. Pho Thanh Tay’s voice came through, cold and demanding: "Bring a fresh set of bedsheets up here." I hung up the receiver and contacted the housekeeping department to handle the request. At three in the morning, the phone rang again.

"Change the sheets again."

I replied calmly, "I apologize, Mr. Pho, but the housekeeping staff has finished their shift for the night."

"Then come up and change them yourself." His voice held an air of absolute command.

I gathered a new set of linens and rang the doorbell. Pho Thanh Tay opened the door, dressed only in a towel wrapped around his waist. Chu Diem Diem was inside, showering. Hearing me enter, she intentionally cracked the bathroom door, peeked her head out, and cast a shy, coy glance at Pho Thanh Tay. Then, she addressed me, "Tri Da, I’m so sorry to trouble you to change the sheets this late. Don’t worry, we will ‘try’ not to disturb you again for the rest of the night." I swiftly stripped the old sheets from the bed, working with practiced hands as I replied, "It’s no trouble at all. Midnight cleanup falls under our special after-hours service. According to hotel policy, you only need to pay a thirty-dollar service fee for each visit."

The expressions on both their faces turned stiff and ugly. Pho Thanh Tay curled his lip in disgust, reached into his wallet, pulled out a bill, and threw it directly at me. He sneered, "Luong Tri Da, you really haven't changed a bit—you're still just as obsessed with money as ever!" I said nothing, kneeling to pick up the bill from the floor and tucking it into my pocket before carrying the soiled linens away.

In the elevator, just as the doors were about to close, they were pried back open. Pho Thanh Tay stood in the doorway, his Adam's apple bobbing as he struggled to control his anger. He stared at me, his eyes burning with resentment and unresolved bitterness, and spoke slowly.

"Luong Tri Da, aren't you angry?"

My expression remained vacant, and I asked in return, "Angry about what?" His pupils contracted, a look of profound shock crossing his face. "About Chu Diem Diem and me being together—doesn't it bother you at all?"

"Oh, not at all. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness." With that, I pressed the button to close the doors again.

However, my answer clearly failed to satisfy him. He lunged forward, pulling me out into the hallway and pinning me against the wall. He leaned in, his face inches from mine. "Why did you lie to me back then?" I frowned and pushed him away, pointing to the surveillance camera overhead as a warning. "Mr. Pho, your current behavior is becoming a nuisance. If you persist, I will call the police." I stepped back into the elevator. Outside, he hung his head, looking wounded.

"Luong Tri Da, why did you lie to me? Why did you abandon me to go abroad?" he asked once more.

I suppressed my rising emotions and said, in a voice as flat and cold as stone, "Because I just didn't like you anymore."

Three years ago, on the eve of the entrance exam, I had gone to Pho Thanh Tay's house to give him the academic charm I had prayed for at the temple. Outside his door, I heard his father’s authoritative voice: "Thanh Tay, I hear you’ve been getting quite close to that classmate of yours, Luong Tri Da. Don’t tell me you’re actually falling for a poor, pathetic girl like that?" Pho Thanh Tay’s voice replied with chilling disdain: "How could that be? I’m just playing around with her. Don’t worry, Father, I know my limits."

In that instant, I finally understood what I had been to him all along. I had nearly sacrificed my own future for him. Fortunately, fate had given me a chance to correct my mistake. During the transition exam, I had placed first in the entire city. The school’s offer for recruiting me included full tuition coverage and a scholarship for all three years. In that class, aside from myself and Chu Diem Diem, nearly every other student was the scion of a wealthy Jiang City family. Much like a cliche television drama, the moment we stepped into the classroom, we were shunned by the group of spoiled heirs and heiresses. They believed that with so many schools in the city, our insistence on attending this elite private institution must have had ulterior motives. Among them, the one who targeted me most viciously—the one who loathed me the most—was none other than Pho Thanh Tay.

But I was neither saddened nor discouraged. I did not care how others viewed me. I only knew that I had to seize this opportunity, to study hard and work tirelessly to earn money so that I could escape my impoverished, patriarchal family. My parents spent their days waiting for me to come of age so they could marry me off to some household and use the dowry to pay for my brother’s wedding. Therefore, the only path to liberation was through education.

During those three years of high school, I had to earn enough money to go abroad and never look back. I studied hard, but I also sought every possible way to make ends meet. Serving rice in the cafeteria, shelving books in the library, cleaning the swimming pool—wherever there was work, I was there. In a school full of the wealthy, these actions made me an outcast. Even Chu Diem Diem, who was just as poor as I was, came to warn me not to be so materialistic, claiming my mind was consumed by greed. She believed that while we were poor, we shouldn't lose our integrity or reek of the common world. But I didn't care. Eventually, we became polar opposites: one treated money as life itself, while the other held onto a hollow, haughty sense of pride. When the first semester’s final results were released, I held the top rank in the grade. Some students gradually shed their prejudices, began asking me academic questions, and I patiently explained everything. Some borrowed my notes, others asked for study methods, and I shared my knowledge without a second thought.