Chapter 5 — Three Thousand Miles Away From Family

"Sister, I... I don't ask for your share. It's my parents..." "Yes, it's my parents." I stood up, the wind on the rooftop was very strong, blowing my camouflage pants. "But I've never asked a single question why you don't have one." "Never." Both ends of the phone were silent at the same time. More than ten seconds later, An An's sad voice rang out. "Now that I've told you... What can you do?" The wind rushed into her ears, making her voice vague. I thought and gave him a very gentle answer. "There's no need to do anything. Live your life well." Before hanging up, he suddenly called me back. "Sister, is your school... very good?" I didn't answer, just said one sentence: "Try it and you'll know." At eleven o'clock that night, An An forwarded a link to the "Dear Family" chat group. That is the introduction page of National Defense Science and Technology University. Below the link, it only wrote one line. "Mom, Dad, the school I passed the exam is this school." The group was silent for a long time. Within forty-eight hours after An An sent that link, the "Dear Family" chat group did not have a single message. Not the usual coldness, but a kind of deliberately oppressive silence. Forty-eight hours later, Dad sent a text message. Not in the group, but in private messages. There were only four words: "Tich Nguyet, call back." I didn't answer. A day later, he sent a very long text message. I looked at it, the first sentence was: "Dad has been negligent with you over the years." The second sentence was: "But you also have to sympathize, An An's health has been weak since childhood, so it is a forced thing for us to care for her more." The third sentence was: "If you lack money, just tell me, dad will transfer it to you." I didn't open it and see all the content. Health is not good. Has An An ever had a bad health? From childhood to adulthood, he rarely caught colds, and every year he passed a physical fitness test with a pretty good score. The only time he was hospitalized was when he was in the tenth grade, when he suffered heatstroke during military training, stayed in the hospital for an afternoon and then ran out. But in the words of his parents, he will always be "in poor health", "in need of care", "causing others to feel pain". As for me, because I didn't cry out for pain, didn't complain about suffering, and never opened my mouth to ask for help, I was automatically considered to not need anything. Friday night, Trinh Han returned from the training field and gave me a bottle of cold water. "Jiang Tich Nguyet, recently your family has been looking for you quite often." I screwed the cap on the bottle and took a sip, without explaining too much. "Yes, there's a little something." She didn't ask any more questions, just sat across from her wiping her sweat and said casually: "Today my mother sent a box of specialties, including dried mango and dried beef. Please help me eat some." As she said, she took it. Some snack packages in the cupboard were thrown onto my bed. I looked at the packaging with the name of my hometown printed on those packages, and my throat felt a little choked. Eighteen years, no one has remembered me. My hometown has many specialties, but no one remembered to send them to me. In the third week of new student training, the school's official account posted an article. The title was: "Early recruit freshman Giang Tich Nguyet: Tops the overall team evaluation", accompanied by a photo of me climbing over a high wall on the obstacle course. I do not share this article, nor do I tell anyone. But our high school homeroom teacher saw it. The teacher sent the article to the parents' group, along with a sentence: "Jiang Tich Nguyet is the only student from our school to pass the National Defense Science and Technology University this year. The whole province only recruited twelve people, so special congratulations." That night, the eldest aunt mentioned her mother's name in the group of relatives. "Your Tich Nguyet school passed the exam, I just looked it up, it's even harder to get into than Thanh University."

Hoa and Peking University." Mom didn't answer. But in the chat group "Dear Family", for the first time she proactively sent me a message. Not asking if I was cold or tired, but a question: "Tich Nguyet, is that article real?" I answered with one word. "Yes." She didn't say more. But I saw that she had shared that article on her personal page. No words, just a dot. The day the training ended, the whole company practiced. in the hall for a group photo. After the instructor shouted, someone patted my shoulder from behind. It was the company commander, a female officer in her thirties, surnamed Diep. "Giang Tich Nguyet, your overall final evaluation performance is top of the entire company." She looked at me, her voice filled with frank, decisive admiration. "There will be a reserve recruitment for the special forces in the future, I suggest you register." I stood in the ranks, her eyes shining. The sunlight shined through the high windows of the hall, falling on the straight rows of camouflage uniforms. I looked at the young faces around me. No one looked at me with the eyes "Why are you still here?" "Report to the company commander, I'm registered." That evening, my mother rang for a long time, I looked at the word "Mom" on the screen, and finally answered the phone. "Tich Nguyet."