Chapter 16 — The Path of Remembrance

At the dining table, grandmother still sat in the chair as usual. First, she asked Luc Uyen Dinh's study status. She reported one after another: placing second in the district-level speech competition, preparing for the ninth grade piano exam, and maintaining first place in the midterm exam. Grandma nodded with satisfaction. Then, she looked at me. "What about Niem Niem? How is studying?" “Last week's test came in nineteenth in the class.” “Still nineteenth?” “The last time was nineteen, the last time was fifteen.” Father Luc added for me. "Mom, Niem Niem is progressing very quickly. Furthermore, she won first prize in art at the district level, her paintings were selected for the city exhibition, even the junior class of the art academy invited her." Grandma said yes. “Can painting make a living?” If my mother heard this sentence, she would definitely respond. But my mother is not here. Luc's father smiled and reconciled: "Mom, painting is also a very good path now." Luc Chan Minh interjected. "Eldest brother, to be honest, I feel that this child's cultural studies are too much worse than Uyen Dinh's. Uyen Dinh is ranked first in the grade, she can't even make it into the top ten. Tell me about the Luc family's reputation in the future..." His words were interrupted by Luc's mother. "Chan Minh, Niem Niem just transferred school less than two months ago, from being in the bottom of the exam to being in the top twenty. Have you ever seen this speed in your daughter?" Luc Chan Minh's face stiffened. Luc Tu Tu next to him muttered in a low voice. “I used to be in the top fifteen…” Grandma slapped the table. “Okay, eat rice when you eat, don't argue.” There was silence at the table. Luc Uyen Dinh always bowed his head while eating, from beginning to end without saying a word. But her existence itself says it all. First place in the grade, grade nine piano, second place in the speech contest. What about me? Fifteenth in class, best in running, pretty good at drawing. In grandmother's eyes, the victory or defeat of this comparison had been decided long ago. After the meal, Luc Tu Tu pulled Luc Uyen Dinh to talk privately in the living room. While passing by, I heard a sentence. “Miss Uyen Dinh, are you a little unhappy?” “No, why are you unhappy?” "But that To Niem Niem stole a lot of my attention. First it was painting, then jogging, now the adults are praising her." "Tu Tu, don't say that. Niem Niem has its own advantages, we are not the same." "Unlike what? She's clearly competing with you. Look, as soon as she arrived, you didn't even win first place in the speech contest." “That has nothing to do with her, it's because I'm not doing well.” Luc Tu Tu snorted. "I don't like her anyway. As soon as she arrived, she made a mess of our house." Luc Uyen Dinh did not refute this statement. She just gently patted Luc Tu Tu's hand. “Tu Tu, don't say these words in front of adults.” Please pay attention. She said “don't talk in front of adults”. Not "don't say it". I stood at the turn of the stairs, hearing every word clearly. Then quietly walked upstairs. Go back to your room, close the door. I opened the drawing board and started drawing a new picture. I still haven't figured out what to draw in this picture. But when the pen first lowered, a table appeared on the painting. A very long table, surrounded by many people. Everyone looks in the same direction. But that direction is empty. Nothing. After entering the junior class of the art academy, every Saturday morning, I had to go to the academy's classroom. The junior class had a total of ten students, ranging in age from nine to thirteen. I was the only person nominated directly from the district competition. The remaining nine students all had long-term painting training. Some people study sketching for three or four years, and some people take a professional certification exam. In the first class, Professor Tran in charge of the class told us to draw a cat. In the classroom there is a real, orange cat, lying on the window sill basking in the sun. The other students spread out drawing paper, sharpened their pencils in a professional way, and used the standard pen holding position to sketch. I also spread out the paper. But my writing posture is different from theirs. A boy next to me looked at me. “Why are you holding the pen like that?” “I always hold it like this.” “That's not up to standard.” “If you can draw it, it's fine.” He doesn't

vomit again. Half an hour later, Professor Tran came to see the painting. The cats of the remaining nine people are all drawn very neatly. The proportions are accurate, the lines are smooth, and where there should be shadow, there is shadow. As for my cat, according to Professor Tran later, "looked like an orange fire burning on the windowsill." He stood in front of my painting for a long time. “Haven't you ever been properly trained before?” "Not yet." “So how do you know the curvature of an animal's spine when relaxed?” “I don't know the curvature at all, I just drew the shape of it lying down.” “The ‘lying figure’ you drew is more accurate than the anatomy in the textbook.” The boy next to him poked his head over to see. This time, he didn't comment on my writing posture anymore. After class, Professor Tran sought me out to talk privately for a few minutes. "Nim Niem, your talent lies in your ability to observe and feel. Technique can be compensated for later, but these two things are innate." “My mother said the same thing.”