Chapter 5 — The Ten-Yuan Donation

"I will stand at the very back."

"Get out!"

"I promise I won't say a single word."

"Get out!"

His eye sockets turned a raw, inflamed shade of red.

"Van Ngung, I am begging you."

I looked at him, my expression cold and unyielding. "So, you finally know what it feels like to have to beg someone else for mercy?"

Just then, the Ha family arrived. Ha Thanh Le followed closely behind her parents. The moment they stepped through the threshold, Mr. Ha dropped to his knees.

"Ms. Tang, we acknowledge our debt to your younger brother. But Niem Tu is dead. You cannot heap every sin in existence onto someone who is already in the grave."

Mrs. Ha began to wail loudly. "Our poor Niem Tu inhaled just as much smoke that day; she was wounded too!"

Ha Thanh Le bowed her head, her voice trembling. "Sister Tang, I am willing to apologize, but can you please spare my sister’s reputation? Don't destroy her memory."

I watched them, and suddenly, a wave of nausea washed over me. It was not because of their tears, but because they performed them with such practiced, rehearsed precision. I walked over to the sound system and plugged in a flash drive. The next moment, a recording began to play. First, it was the voice of Du An.

"The person who was saved is named Thinh Canh Xuyen."

"Don't let my sister know."

Then, a recording from the platform's customer service department followed.

"The complainant is the verified business account of the Thinh Corporation."

"The employee ID used for the login: Ha Thanh Le."

Finally, a cold, automated computer voice announced:

"Donor: Thinh Canh Xuyen. Donation amount: ten currency units. Message: Adults must learn to take responsibility for themselves."

The funeral parlor fell into an absolute, suffocating silence. A screen ignited, casting a harsh glow over the room. The dashcam footage from the shuttle bus outside the scene of the fire began to play. The images were grainy, but the truth was undeniable. A sixteen-year-old Tang Du An was seen sprinting into the roaring inferno. Seconds later, he crawled out, dragging an unconscious Thinh Canh Xuyen with him. Ha Niem Tu was standing at the threshold, clutching a cufflink in her hand. She did not enter. She did not call for help. She simply stood and watched.

Ha Thanh Le’s legs gave out, and she collapsed to the floor. Thinh Canh Xuyen stood frozen in place, looking as if his very soul had been ripped from his body. Mr. Ha rushed forward, desperate to shut off the screen.

"Stop showing this! She is already dead; what is the point of broadcasting this now?"

I stared at him with cold detachment. "Only now do you realize she is dead? When my brother was still alive, you used his life to trade for your own wealth. Now that he is gone, you still want to use your dead daughter’s status to trample on his name."

Mr. Ha’s face turned a mottled purple. "Don't you dare go too far!"

Thinh Canh Xuyen suddenly spoke, his voice hollow: "Call the police."

Mr. Ha whipped his head around to look at him. "CEO Thinh! Even if our family has no great merit, we have at least endured hardship for you all these years!"

Thinh Canh Xuyen cut him off sharply. "From this day forward, the Thinh family will terminate all support for the Ha family. Every cent transferred over the past six years will be audited line by line. What must be repaid will be repaid; whoever must face the law will face the law."

Ha Thanh Le crawled toward him, clutching his trouser leg. "CEO Thinh, I truly know I was wrong. You cannot treat me like this."

Thinh Canh Xuyen looked down at her. "Tang Du An is gone. He was driven to his death by your entire family, with my own hands helping to push him."

Hearing those words, I felt nothing. No surge of satisfaction, no flicker of grief. He had finally managed to speak like a human being, but it was far too late. Once the ceremony concluded, I took Du An’s urn and walked toward the exit. Thinh Canh Xuyen stood at the base of the stairs, not daring to come closer. As I passed him, he asked softly:

"May I bow to him just once?"

I stopped. "No."

Before getting into the car, I glanced back at him one last time. "Thinh Canh Xuyen, if your investigation is not clean and thorough, I will sue you, too."

He looked at me for a long moment before nodding. "Go ahead and sue me. I will accept whatever comes."

By the day the divorce lawsuit was officially accepted by the court, the stock of the Thinh Corporation had plummeted to its limit. Three trending topics dominated the public search boards: "The ten-unit donation," "Six years of mistaking one's savior," and "The Thinh Corporation CEO refuses to pay for life-saving supplies."

The public relations department at the corporation spent the entire night trying to scrub the internet, but it was useless. Netizens had stitched the screenshots of that message into a long, scathing visual.

"Adults must learn to take responsibility for themselves."

Attached to the post were Du An’s medical records showing the outstanding debt of one hundred and thirty-six thousand, contrasted with the receipt for the rehabilitation sessions Thinh Canh Xuyen had purchased for Ha Thanh Le. Ten units. In the end, it was no longer just an insult to me; it had become a permanent brand, a mark of shame that could never be torn from Thinh Canh Xuyen’s skin.

During the first mandatory mediation session, Thinh Canh Xuyen appeared in person. He had lost a significant amount of weight. He used to be a man who prized his appearance above all else, where even his shirt cuffs had to be perfectly ironed into sharp pleats. That day, his tie was knotted askew.

The mediator asked, "Does the defendant agree to the divorce?"

Thinh Canh Xuyen looked at me. "I do not agree."

"Reason?"

His voice was rasping and raw. "I have yet to provide her with compensation."

I lifted my head to meet his gaze. "Compensation and divorce are not mutually exclusive."

He said, "I want to transfer all my assets to her first. The shares of the Thinh Corporation, the real estate, the liquid cash, the rights to the trust funds—everything. I only ask that she agrees to wait until I have finished the investigation."

I looked at him, my heart a hollow, silent void.