Chapter 9 — The Test Has No Name

The Bus Leaving Vong Khe

Rumors in Vong Khe town spread faster than anything Nguyen could have ever imagined. In just two weeks, from the market to the street stall, everyone knew the story of "Mrs. Dieu's son cheated on the scholarship exam" - even though none of them were present in the hall that day, even though no one knew the content of the minutes, the story was still embellished with each retelling, until it became an unshakable truth in the eyes of most of the people of this small town.

Mrs. Dieu still goes to the market every morning as usual, carrying the processed fabric that needs to be delivered, but now she feels eyes following her and whispers stopping as soon as she passes by. Some people who were once close to her now avoid looking directly into her eyes. There was another person, with a more evil mouth, who even let out a few insinuating words right in front of him.

"If children from poor families want to compete for scholarships with children from rich families, they can't compete without cheating," a neighbor said to the person next to her, deliberately loud enough for Mrs. Dieu to hear as she passed by the vegetable stall.

Mrs. Dieu did not respond, just bowed her head and continued walking, but when she got home, she sat quietly at the machine table, not sewing a single thread that afternoon. When Nguyen came home from extra classes and saw his mother sitting so absent-mindedly, he immediately understood what had happened, even though she didn't tell her.

"Don't pay attention to those words, Mom," he said, sitting down next to her. "It's enough that I know I'm pure."

"I'm not afraid of what people will say about me," Mrs. Dieu replied, her voice hoarse. "I'm just afraid that you have to live here, facing those eyes every day, and there's no way to wash it off."

His mother's words, more than anything else, made Nguyen start thinking about a decision that he had pondered many nights ago but had not dared to say: leaving Vong Khe.

Three months later, when he completed the self-study program and was eligible to register for the free graduation exam next year, Nguyen decided to go to the city to find a part-time job, earn money for his mother, and learn things that school didn't teach himself - especially programming, a field he accidentally learned about through an article about young people who self-study and succeed without a traditional university degree. In the city, no one knows his story. He could start again, without having to carry the shadow of a false accusation every time he walked out.

The night before the departure, Mrs. Dieu quietly put the clothes into an old cloth bag, with trembling hands folding each shirt until it was smooth, even though Nguyen said he could do it himself.

“Mom, let me,” he said, but she continued, as if this was the last way she could take care of her son before he left her arms.

"When you go, remember to take care of your health," she said, without looking up, her voice trying to stay calm but her hands couldn't hide the trembling. "If you have any difficulty, call home, don't hide it from mom."

She took out a small envelope from the closet, inside was a small amount of savings she had saved over the past many months by taking on extra sewing jobs in the evenings. "Take this in case you need it. Don't let your stomach be hungry and not dare to eat."

Nguyen held the envelope, his throat was choked, he couldn't say a word for a few seconds. He knew clearly that amount of money was equivalent to countless nights when his mother stayed awake at the computer desk, and he promised himself that he would not disappoint her, no matter how unclear the road ahead was.

Before going to bed, he opened his desk drawer, took out his father's old watch, and put it on his wrist again. This time he didn't take it off and put it back like usual, but decided to keep it on hand from now on, as a reminder of where he came from, no matter where the road ahead leads.

The next morning, at the small bus station at the beginning of town, Nhat Khoi was there to see his friend off, carrying a bag of hot, newly purchased bread.

"Eat to gain strength, it's a long way," he said, thrusting the bag of cookies into Nguyen's hand. "Remember to keep in touch, don't disappear like the other dropouts."

"I promise," Nguyen replied, trying to smile, even though his heart was heavy.

Right before the car was about to leave, Nhat Khoi added another piece of news that he intended to hide to make his friend less sad, but in the end he couldn't help it. "Did you know, the results of the retest between Vy and Khanh Thu last week were out. Vy passed, received a scholarship, and will study abroad next month."

Nguyen stood silently for a few seconds. He had known this possibility, had prepared himself mentally for a long time, but when he heard it come true, the feeling still stung like a new knife. The person who made him lose everything was now preparing to leave for another country, taking with him the opportunity that should belong to him, and he was standing at this small bus station, preparing to leave his own hometown quietly.

"Thank you for speaking," Nguyen said, his voice strangely calm, as if the pain had passed the threshold of exhilaration into a state of numbness. "Anyway, good luck to him."

He didn't say anything more about Vy, nor did he mention Khanh Thu, although in his mind she still echoed what she said in the empty classroom that day - "I didn't see anything" - a statement he never really believed, but also never had enough evidence to refute.

That same morning, not far from the bus station, Vy's family was holding a small party to celebrate him passing the scholarship, just as his father had promised at dinner many months ago. Relatives came in large numbers, cheers filled the small house, his mother busily prepared the feast, and his father, for the first time in many years, smiled so brightly that the worried wrinkles on his forehead seemed to relax completely.

"That's my son, the best student in this area," he said to each guest, his voice filled with undisguised pride, just like the scene Vy had imagined during many sleepless nights before the exam.

Vy sat in the middle of the tray, nodding to thank each wish, smiling at the right time to smile, but in his heart, the joy that he should have felt fully was diluted by an unnamed, heavy feeling. He thought about Nguyen, wondering where he was now, what he was doing, or whether he was preparing to leave town like a rumor he heard from a classmate.

"Are you happy?" his mother asked, sitting down next to him while the guests were busy chatting with each other.

"Yes, I'm happy," Vy replied, trying to keep her voice as natural as possible.

But even as he said that, he wondered if he was lying to his mother or lying more to himself. He looked around the room filled with laughter, looked at his parents who were happier than he had ever seen them, and realized that very happiness - which he had traded with his conscience to gain - had now become a burden he would have to carry for the rest of his life, silently, without anyone knowing.

He asked permission to go out on the porch for a moment, standing and looking at the road leading to the bus station, where he heard that Nguyen would leave town this morning. He didn't know the exact time, nor was he brave enough to go there to see the face of the person he had harmed, but he stood there for a long time, as the only small form of self-punishment he could allow himself at this time.

The car rolled away, Nhat Khoi waved along until it disappeared. Nguyen sat with his head against the glass door, looking at the town of Vong Khe receding behind him - rows of workers' boarding houses, sugar cane fields in harvest, and in the distance, looming behind the trees, was the red tiled roof of Vong Khe High School, where he used to top the grade list, where he believed that ability and honesty were enough for a poor child to have a fair chance.

He did not look back one last time. Not because he was no longer attached, but because he knew that if he looked back now, he wouldn't have the courage to continue looking forward. The old watch on his wrist still ran steadily, the second hand ticking quietly, like a silent promise that no matter what the road ahead held, he won't let one false accusation define the rest of his life.

The old passenger car turned the last bend before entering the highway, leaving behind a faded wooden sign that read "Welcome to Vong Khe town" - a sign he had passed by countless times in his eighteen years of life without ever paying close attention, and was now engraved in his mind like an indelible landmark. From his pocket, he pulled out the exam book for excellent students that Khanh Thu had lent him from the year before - the book he had intended to return but had not yet had time, and now carried it with him as a silent testament to a friendship, or perhaps something more, that had ended unfinished without a complete explanation.

He closed the book, stuffed it deep into the bottom of his bag, telling himself that he would not open it again until he found a good enough reason. Outside the glass door, sugar cane fields stretching to the horizon gradually gave way to a row of high-rise buildings sporadically appearing in the distance - the first sign of the city he was about to set foot in, where no one knew his name, no one knew his story, and therefore, the only place he could start rewriting it from blank pages.