Chapter 3 — The Test Has No Name

Destiny Scholarship

Chu Dinh Vy stood in front of the living room door, clutching the evening exam prep class tuition envelope in his hand. He could clearly hear his parents talking inside. He deliberately lowered his voice but not low enough for him not to hear.

"This month I had to borrow another two million for Vy's practice class," his father said, his voice more tired than reproachful. "Combined with the debt from last year's purchase of machinery, it's now over ninety million."

"He studies so well, he will definitely pass the scholarship," his mother replied, but in her words there was more pleading than certainty. "If you pass, everything will be paid for, you won't have to worry about university tuition, you won't have to worry about living expenses for four years."

"What if I don't pass?"

Father's question made the room silent for a long time. Vy stood outside the door, feeling like the envelope in his hand was ten times heavier than its actual weight. He knew clearly that ninety million debt was not an abstract number - it was an old weaving machine his father bought to expand the small workshop at home, an investment that bet on the future of the whole family, and a large part of it was poured into extra classes, exam preparation, and review materials for him over the past two years.

He knocked on the door, walked in as if he hadn't heard anything, and gave the envelope to his mother. "This month's tuition for your child, the teacher said to pay it before Friday."

His mother took it and smiled wryly. "Have you eaten yet? Mom left the portion in the kitchen."

"I've eaten." Vy lied, went back to his room, closed the door, sat down at his desk but didn't open the book right away. He looked up at the board filled with class schedules, exam preparation schedules, and handwritten words covering all four corners of the wall - all revolving around a single goal: a full scholarship to study abroad that was about to be officially announced.

Vy doesn't hate Nguyen or Khanh Thu. On the contrary, he respects both of them - Nguyen for the perseverance of someone who has nothing but himself, Khanh Thu for his ability to truly learn even though he has enough conditions to not need to try so hard. But that very respect made him even more desperate, because he knew clearly that among the three of them, he was always third, neither first nor second, only good enough to raise hope but never good enough to be sure of winning.

Before Vy could return to his room the night before, his father called him to the dining table and pushed a plate of hot fried eggs toward him — the only thing left from the dinner that had been served a long time ago.

"Eat and then study. Don't let your stomach be hungry and your mind can't concentrate," he said, his voice less tense than before when talking to his mother. "Dad is not good at writing, can't help me with homework, just trying to make sure I have enough qualifications to take the exam to be fair to others."

"I know." Vy held chopsticks, but did not feel hungry.

"I won't force you to pass at any cost," he added, as if reading something in his son's eyes. "I just hope you don't let the whole family's efforts go to waste. Do you understand what I mean?"

That sentence, although said with good intentions, fell on Vy's ears like a verdict. "Don't let the whole family's efforts go down the drain" — meaning all the debt, all the nights his mother stayed up sewing more handmade goods, all the days his father skipped breakfast to save money to pay tuition, all were hanging on a single exam that he wasn't sure he could win.

"I'll do my best," he replied, his voice even, trying not to show the trembling inside.

"I believe in you." He patted his shoulder, a smile appearing on his face, tanned from many years of working outdoors before switching to repairing looms at home. "The day you pass, I will invite all my relatives to celebrate, just like when you ranked first in the semester in tenth grade."

Vy nodded, swallowing the cooled fried egg, feeling it get stuck in his throat not because of the taste but because of the weight of the promise he had just blurted out. He remembers that party in tenth grade very clearly — the laughter and chatter of his relatives, the compliments his parents received instead of him, the proud look in his father's eyes as he recounted his son's achievements to each guest. He never told anyone that, since that party, every time he got a score that was not as expected, he saw that smile on his father's face fade a little, even though he never scolded him verbally.

The next morning, at school, the atmosphere in class 12A became bustling when the homeroom teacher walked in with an official notice from the training room. The whole class held their breath as the teacher posted it on the bulletin board.

"The exam to select students to receive full scholarships to study abroad will take place at the end of next month," the teacher read aloud. "There is only one spot for the entire grade. Three students are eligible to take the exam according to academic and behavioral standards: Huynh Dang Nguyen, Vo Khanh Thu, and Chu Dinh Vy."

The whole class turned to look at the three people, whispers rose throughout the room. Nguyen sat up straight, trying to remain calm even though his heart was beating faster. Khanh Thu glanced slightly at both of them, her expression showing no obvious emotions. As for Vy, sitting in the right row, he clenched the pen in his hand so tightly that his fingertips turned white, his eyes glued to the notice as if trying to remember every word.

"This scholarship covers all four-year university tuition at a foreign partner school, plus living expenses," the homeroom teacher added. "This is the biggest opportunity our school has had in the past ten years. The principal and the board of directors have high hopes for all three of you."

During recess, Vy did not go out on the field as usual but sat in class, pretending to review his homework. Nhat Khoi passed by and stopped to pat him on the shoulder.

"Are you on the list too? The three best kids in the grade are competing against each other, it must be very tense."

"Yes," Vy replied simply, not wanting to say more.

"Why are you so worried that your face is pale? You're the third best student in your grade, so it's not like you don't have a chance."

"Third means no chance, Khoi." Vy said, his voice was even but something broke underneath. "There's only one spot. Third place out of three means nothing."

Nhat Khoi didn't know how to respond. He just patted his shoulder one more time and left, thinking it was just a temporary complaint from a student under pressure before a big exam. He didn't know that behind those words was a family burdened with ninety million in debt, a fifty-year-old father still staying up late fixing machines, a mother gradually selling her wedding jewelry to have money to pay her children's tuition.

In the afternoon, Vy cycled through the deserted road leading home, past the sugarcane fields that were in season, the sweet smell of molasses wafting in the wind. He stopped the car at the edge of the field, sat down on a mound, took out his old phone and looked at the text message his father sent this morning: "Hold on, son, the whole family puts all their hopes in you."

Those six words, instead of giving him motivation, weighed on his chest like a rock. Vy remembers in the tenth grade, when he ranked first in a semester exam, his father organized a party to invite relatives to celebrate, boasting throughout the neighborhood that his son would make a name for the family. From then on, every time he dropped in rank, even just one level, he felt the silent disappointment in his father's eyes, even though he never expressed it in words.

He thought of Nguyen - who always ranked first with pure internal strength, without a penny of tutoring fees - and of Khanh Thu - who had all the best conditions but still studied surprisingly seriously. Compared to both of them, Vy felt like someone in the middle, not poor enough to have absolute motivation, not rich enough to have security, only a family pressure that weighed down every day that no one in the class saw.

On the way home, he passed by a small pawn shop at the end of the street and saw his mother walking out, clutching a wad of money in her hands, her eyes red but trying to hide them when she realized her son was standing there. She didn't say anything, just stroked his hair as if apologizing for letting him see this scene, then walked quickly towards the market.

That night, Vy sat at his desk studying until late, not to review but to do another calculation - calculating how long it would take for his ninety million debt to be paid off with his father's worker's salary and the nights his mother had to pawn her jewelry. The number that appeared in his mind was so large that it made his hands tremble, not because of fear of mathematics, but because of fear of his own future.

He closed the book, turned off the desk lamp, lay down but couldn't sleep, his eyes opened and he stared at the ceiling. In the darkness, a vague, dangerous thought began to creep into his head — not a specific plan, just a question he hadn't dared to fully imagine: was there a way, just once, for him to not be third in a race with only one winner.

He reassured himself that it was just a fleeting thought during the sleepless night, which would disappear when morning came. But that question, once it appears, is not easy to disappear completely.