Chapter 2 — The Ten-Yuan Donation

She had only sustained a superficial graze, yet she had somehow secured a VIP rehabilitation suite. I stopped in my tracks and fixed my gaze upon her.

Six years ago, during that warehouse fire, did your sister actually go inside, or was she never there at all?

Ha Thanh Le’s expression flickered for a fleeting second, but she quickly bit her lip, composing herself. Sister Tang, how can you speak of someone who has already passed away in such a manner?

Her voice was not loud, but it was just audible enough for those nearby to catch. At that exact moment, Thinh Canh Xuyen called. Ha Thanh Le answered, her voice trembling with the artifice of tears. CEO Thinh, I am fine. Sister Tang was merely questioning me about my sister’s affairs.

A few seconds later, she thrust the phone toward me. Thinh Canh Xuyen’s voice was as cold as a blade. Tang Van Ngung, have you come to give Le a hard time?

I was merely asking about the fire. About what happened that day.

I warned you already: do not touch Niem Tu. She is dead; must you drag a ghost into your petty calculations?

Calculations. Always calculations. Suddenly, I felt no desire to explain myself any further. Thinh Canh Xuyen, if a day ever comes when you realize you have been kneeling at the wrong grave, honoring the wrong benefactor, and protecting the wrong person, what will you do?

He let out a chilling laugh. That day will never come. All I know is that Niem Tu is the one who saved me.

The line went dead. Ha Thanh Le retrieved her phone, tears still clinging to her cheeks, yet the fear in her eyes had vanished. Sister Tang, people must learn to accept their fate. There are some debts of gratitude that you cannot simply steal for yourself.

I stared at her. Anything you steal will eventually burn your hands.

That evening, I returned to the Thinh residence to retrieve my household registration papers. Ha Thanh Le was lounging on the sofa, her feet propped up on a soft ottoman. Thinh Canh Xuyen was squatting before her, carefully unwinding her bandages. Seeing me enter, Ha Thanh Le immediately pulled her feet back. Sister Tang, please, do not misunderstand. CEO Thinh just felt that the hospital’s medication was not good enough.

Thinh Canh Xuyen did not correct her. I walked past them, entered the bedroom, and gathered my registration papers, our marriage certificate, and a copy of the contract from those years ago—the one where I had mortgaged my properties to help the Thinh Group stay afloat. Thinh Canh Xuyen followed me inside and slammed the door shut behind him. Are you truly determined to drag this matter to court?

I am.

He gripped my wrists tightly. Du An is still in the hospital. If you turn against me now, who is going to support you?

I looked up at him. I do not need your support. I only need you to stop trampling over me.

From the living room, Ha Thanh Le called out softly, CEO Thinh, my leg seems to be hurting again.

Almost instinctively, Thinh Canh Xuyen released me. In that heartbeat, the last flicker of hope in my heart extinguished. That night, I returned to the hospital. By Du An’s pillow lay a note, written in shaky, uneven script: Sister, if I do not make it through, please, do not beg him anymore. I only want you to live well.

I clutched the paper in my palm and sat motionless through the long night. Two days later, Du An slipped into critical condition for the third time. The doctor informed me that he needed an emergency cardiothoracic surgery, but they were missing a set of extracorporeal circulation equipment. There was only one set left in the hospital warehouse, and it had been reserved for a patient who had already paid in full. If I could not provide the one hundred and thirty-six thousand required within forty minutes, the equipment would be handed over to someone else. My bank cards had been frozen, the money from my pawned assets was exhausted, and my fundraising application was still stuck in bureaucratic limbo. I sat in the stairwell, scrolling to the very bottom of my contacts. My finger hovered over Thinh Canh Xuyen’s name. I knew I should not call him. But Du An was behind a closed door, fighting a desperate race against death.

The first call went unanswered. The second was rejected. When the third call finally connected, the background was loud and chaotic. I heard the clinking of glasses, applause, and Ha Thanh Le’s voice. CEO Thinh, can I really accept this award?

Thinh Canh Xuyen laughed, saying, Your sister would certainly be happy for you.

I tightened my grip on the phone. Thinh Canh Xuyen.

There was a brief silence on the other end. What is it now?

Du An needs the circulation equipment, and we are short by one hundred and thirty-six thousand. I will sign a loan agreement.

He did not ask about Du An’s condition. Instead, he asked, Do you know that I am at the Ha family’s tribute banquet right now?

I froze. He suppressed his rising anger. Today is the anniversary of Niem Tu’s death. This is the first time Le is representing the Ha family on stage. Must you call at this very moment just to make me look like a fool in front of everyone?

I listened to the hum of the machines outside the operating room, suddenly finding no words to say. My younger brother was waiting for life-saving equipment, yet he believed my plea for help was an attempt to humiliate him. My voice was barely a whisper. What if it were Ha Thanh Le waiting for that equipment today?

There was a silence of several seconds on the other end. That silence was my answer. He quickly snapped, Le would never use her illness to blackmail me.

I closed my eyes. Thinh Canh Xuyen, you will regret this.

He let out a cold, sharp laugh.