Chapter 11 — There's No More Room For You

brought it before me. I delete emails, empty both my inbox and trash. Years ago, the first time my mother brought her home, she was skinny and small, standing outside the door, not daring to enter. My mother said: "This is my daughter, who will later be your biological sister." She stayed at my house until she was 20 years old. Wear my clothes, use my desk, and sometimes secretly read my diary. I told my mother, she said I was happier than my sister, I had to give in to her. I yield. From childhood to adulthood, I yield to everything. Snacks were given away, and so were college entrance exams—her college entrance exam score was lower than mine, so my mother forced me to change my wish to a school where she could pass. I fix it. When I graduated, I had an internship opportunity in Shanghai. The professor recommended me. She said she also wanted to go. Mom said it was convenient for the two of us to stay together. I gave that slot to her and went to Lam Thanh myself. After that, I lived well. Meet Tham Do Chu. I thought this time I wouldn't have to give in anymore. Until he saw Chu Au Vi for the first time. The look he looked at her was so familiar to me. It's the kind of look that feels like the person in front of you needs to be protected. I've never needed that kind of gaze. Or rather, no one felt I needed that. Because I can handle everything myself. Because I look like I'll never fall apart. Because I am a "understanding", "independent", "no need for others to worry" Trinh Yeu. But children who understand things are not born without needing to be loved. It's being forced to get used to not being loved. Exiting the mailbox, I opened a new browser tab. The screen appeared on my personal portfolio website. This is the fifth month since I arrived in Bangkok, I have built an independent website. Above are the projects I've worked on in recent years, including the cross-border project that was stolen by Chu Au Vi—I rearranged the original data, hid customer information, and made it into a public project analysis. It has caused quite a stir in the industry. Occasionally, a few brands contact me through this website, asking if I accept cross-border consulting. I accepted two contracts, one was for a Singaporean designer fashion brand, the second was for an emerging local designer who wanted to reach the international market. I helped them create a complete Southeast Asian market entry plan. The income from these two contracts, plus the money Tham Do Chu returned, was enough for me to pay a deposit for a small apartment in Bangkok. I targeted a building on the outskirts of Sukhumvit. 10 minutes walk from the subway station, on the rooftop there is a swimming pool and gym. The room is not large, one bedroom and one living room, but has a very large floor-to-ceiling glass panel. After 3 p.m., sunlight will shine diagonally, forming a golden square on the wooden floor. I filled out the application to register my desire to buy a house and made an appointment with the broker to sign the contract next week. Sitting on the sofa in the apartment, I suddenly remembered something. That spot—the empty spot next to the sofa that I always leave behind. It's still there. But it is no longer "empty space" anymore. It's just a space. You can place a pillow, you can place your laptop, you can also order a glass of freshly brewed Thai milk tea. I no longer wait for anyone to sit in it. Because of lice
I have sat in every corner of this room. * Chu Au Vi's case has already been decided. Half a year later, I heard this news from a phone call from my mother. At that time, I had lived in Bangkok for more than half a year, and the rainy season of the Chao Phraya River had come and gone. Mother's voice was very complicated, filled with sadness, regret, and even an unspeakable confusion.