Chapter 6 — The Whole Class Is Infected Except Me

Lam Chieu's hand stopped. Still stopped in mid-air. Phuong Vien turned around. Chu Duong also turned around. The male student who was squatting by the wall stood up, then sat down again. “Someone reported to the police that there was a dispute going on here.” The person walking in front said. Lam Chieu's hand slowly lowered. Rainwater flowed down from his forehead, gliding through his eye sockets. He pursed his lips and stood still without moving. Two policemen stood in front of him, separating him from me. One person stood on the left of Lam Chieu, the other stood on the right. Like two walls in the middle. “You come with us for a trip.” Lam Chieu did not move. He looked at me over the policeman's shoulder. Rainwater continued to flow down my face. “Hua Ninh.” He called me. I stood under the umbrella. Water drips from the edge of the umbrella to the ground. Cup. Cup. I looked at him. Say nothing. The policeman gently pushed him. He complied and turned around. Phuong Vien and Chu Duong were kept in place. The male student who was squatting was also helped to stand up. I passed by them. Step out of the alley that belongs to your route. When passing by Lam Chieu, he shouted: "Hua Ninh, you called the police." I heard it. But don't stop. At the beginning of the alley, there was a group of people standing and watching, all holding up their phones to record. I passed through their midst. The edge of the umbrella brushed against a person's arm. The person let out a cry, but I didn't turn around. Rain is still falling. Police lights flashed in the back alley. The red and blue light reflected on the wet ground, constantly shaking. I walked out of the alley and raised my umbrella a little. The rain has become lighter. The sky was still gray, but not as low and heavy as before. I continued to step forward. Don't turn around. 9. The police investigated for a week. In the end, To Tu was discovered to be involved. She contacted Lam Chieu through Chu Duong and sent three voice messages. First paragraph: "Hua Ninh owes us an explanation." Second paragraph: “Go ask her.” Third paragraph: "If you don't go, I will never pay attention to you again in the future." The investigation report clearly states that To Tu admitted that he sent those three voice messages. She said: "I just told them to ask, but I didn't tell them to raise a hand." But when Lam Chieu raised his hand, those three recordings were still in his phone. For inciting others to disrupt public order, To Tu was prosecuted according to the law. How long she was sentenced to, I don't go to find out. But on the afternoon of the day the verdict was announced, I saw her in front of the school gate. She stood across the street, wearing uniform, no makeup. Hair is tied low. She looked quieter than ever before. She didn't come forward, nor did she look at me. She just stood there, looking towards the school gate for a long time. Then, she turned and left. The back has become thinner. The white dress was replaced with a gray jacket. The wind blew and she reached out to pull her collar back. I didn't call her. She also didn't turn around. That afternoon, when I finished school, my mother was waiting at the school gate. She still stood in her familiar position, under the sycamore tree. Seeing me leave, she nodded. I didn't say anything, walked over and stood next to her. When the mother and daughter just walked to the school gate, someone from the side quickly ran towards them. Lam Chieu's mother. She was wearing a gray coat and her hair was not combed neatly. “Hua Ninh!” She shouted. I stopped. My mother also stopped. Lam Chieu's mother ran in front of us, gasping twice. "Hua Ninh, Lam Chieu knows it's wrong. He's still young, it's just that he's hot-headed at the moment so... Can you write a letter asking to lighten his punishment?" My mother looked at me, then took a half step forward. She stood in front of me. “Letter asking for a reduced sentence? “Your son brought three people to block my daughter in the alley next to the school gate. Now you come again to ask for a letter to reduce the sentence? “He's still just a kid…” “Eighteen years old.” My mother said: “It's an adult. When he brought three people to stop my daughter in the alley, she didn't call me to say 'she's still just a girl.

ah a child'.” The wind blew through the canopy of the sycamore trees, causing the voices to scatter a bit. Lam Chieu's mother stood in place. Lips moved several times but couldn't say anything. “I won't sign.” My mother said: "If you want a letter of relief, go find someone else." She reached out and pulled my wrist. I followed her, turned and left. After walking more than ten steps, I turned around and looked back. Lam Chieu's mother was still standing under that tree. The wind blew her gray coat around, but she didn't move. Admission notice is sent in the second month. That day, when I came home from school, the envelope was placed on the table. Mother sat next to the table, an empty bowl in front of her. The envelope has red letters printed on it. Maybe she's seen it many times. “My letter.” she said. I sat down and opened the envelope. Inside is a sheet of paper. Name, major and enrollment date. I finished reading, folded the paper and put it in the envelope.