Chapter 1 — When He Believes the Outsiders

I suffer from a severe form of ultraviolet allergy, yet my own brother, the chief instructor in charge of our training, personally tore my medical exemption certificate to shreds. He claimed he had to be fair to every student. Under the scorching forty-degree heat, I was thrown into the front row, forced to stand in the sun without a scrap of shade. My neck and arms were soon covered in angry, red rashes, the stinging itch burrowing deep into my very bones. Meanwhile, my roommate, Chu Man, merely whispered that she had abdominal cramps from her period. My brother did not hesitate for a second; he immediately took his own thermal flask to prepare her red sugar water and permitted her to return to the dormitory to rest. I could endure no more, so I begged him.

"Brother... my face and neck are swelling up. Could you... could you please let me stand in the shade for just a moment?"

In front of over a thousand people, he pointed his megaphone at me, his roar echoing across the entire drill field.

"Pretending again! Chu Man is genuinely in pain, but what is a thing like you compared to her?"

"You have loved playing these theatrical roles since you were a child. Mom and Dad might fall for your act, but that garbage doesn't work with me."

"Want special treatment? Ask the thousand people here if that would be fair!"

I was dragged onto the two-meter-high flagpole platform, becoming the most conspicuous target on the entire field. At that moment, I saw Chu Man standing beneath the shade of the trees, the thermal flask in her hands still emitting wisps of steam. A wave of vertigo crashed into me, and the blisters on my skin began to burst, weeping clear fluid. The world turned black, and I slumped forward. As my consciousness began to drift away, I heard him bellowing at the top of his lungs:

"Nobody touch her! I want to see how much longer she can keep up this charade!"

Brother, this time I am not pretending. But I no longer have the chance to tell you that myself.

1

A dull thud echoed through the air. It took me a long moment to realize that it was the sound of my head striking the concrete steps. My spirit hovered mid-air, looking down at the mangled body that once belonged to me. Because I had been exposed to the fierce, unrelenting sunlight without any protection, my skin had suffered severe lesions. Bright red rashes stretched from my neck all the way to my cheeks.

"To Van, get up!"

A voice filled with fury erupted. I looked toward the source of the sound. My biological brother, To Lam, the head instructor in charge of this year’s freshman military training, was marching toward my corpse in his heavy military boots. His face was ghastly pale, his eyes filled with undisguised disgust. Ignoring the wretched state of the body lying on the ground, he used the toe of his boot to kick my limp hand. My fingers twitched with the impact, then fell still once more.

"Stop playing dead. Haven't you been putting on this show since we were kids?"

His voice, amplified by the megaphone he gripped tightly, rang out across the drill field with ear-piercing harshness. The freshmen in the front row turned pale. One male student mustered the courage to shout out:

"Chief Instructor, she really doesn't look well. The rashes on her face have blistered—should we call an ambulance?"

"Shut your mouth! Is it your place to speak here?"

To Lam whipped his head around, his fierce glare pinning the student to the spot.

"I know her too well. If she has to suffer even a little bit, she can invent a hundred terminal illnesses to show you."

"Today, anyone who pleads for her will be punished right alongside her!"

The surroundings plunged into a deathly silence. I drifted in the air, watching To Lam sneer. He leaned over and grabbed the collar of my camouflage uniform. Like he was hauling a sack of trash, he yanked my lifeless body off the ground. I wanted to tell him: Brother, being dragged like this, the collar is choking me. But my mouth could no longer open.

"Bring me the rope!"

To Lam shouted at the assistant instructor standing nearby. The assistant stood stunned for a moment before scrambling toward the equipment room, returning with a coil of thick, rough hemp rope. It was coarse; one could tell just by looking how much it would chafe against skin. Out of habit, I wanted to lift my hand to scratch my arm, only to realize I was nothing more than a formless shadow. The fears and pleas etched into my marrow could no longer reach him. To Lam showed no mercy, pressing my body against the scorching metal pole on the flagpole platform. He then took the rope and wrapped it around and around, binding me tightly to the steel, even tightening the knots with all his might. My head hung helplessly, my tangled hair obscuring my ulcerated face. To Lam stepped back two paces, satisfied with his "masterpiece." He raised the megaphone, cranked the volume to the maximum, and announced to the thousand silent students below:

"Today, in front of all of you, I will cure her habit of playing the victim!"

"No one is permitted special privileges. This is discipline!"

The metal pole had been baked by the sun. As my nape pressed against it, I could feel the temperature rising bit by bit. My body, tied to the hot metal, began to deteriorate rapidly under the high temperature. In a while, my flesh would likely fuse with the pole itself. I looked on in sorrow. I had paid with my life, yet in the end, it only earned me his label of "play-acting." Just then, To Lam turned his head. His gaze swept over the crowd, his finger pointing toward the shade of a tree behind the formation.

"Do you think she is pitiful? Do you think I am cold-blooded?"

To Lam held the megaphone, his voice striking the drill field like a heavy sledgehammer.

"Fine, then I will show you what true resilience is, and what you all ought to be learning!"

2

As soon as he finished speaking, every gaze followed the direction of his finger, settling on the frail figure beneath the tree. It was my roommate, Chu Man. She was clutching a pink thermal flask, her face pale, leaning against a bench. I recognized that flask. It was the old one my brother had used for years. It had a scratch on it from when I dropped it as a child. Now, it was filled with red sugar water.

"Today, classmate Chu Man is on her period, hurting so badly she is breaking out in a cold sweat, yet she still insisted on standing in formation all morning. It was only when she couldn't take it anymore and fainted that she was helped down!"

To Lam held the megaphone, his voice dripping with undisguised admiration.

"That is what you call true resilience! That is the strength of will that military training is meant to teach you all!"

His tone shifted abruptly. He spun around, pointing at me as I was bound tightly to the pole, his eyes filled with loathing.

"And what about her? To Van! An incredibly selfish saboteur!"

To Lam’s voice suddenly climbed to a shrill, piercing pitch that seemed to reach the very heavens.

"Do you think she is actually sick?"

"I am telling you, ever since she was a child, she has relied on this 'sickly' act to monopolize the attention of our entire family!"

I hovered mid-air, coldly watching him air what he called our "family shame" for all to see.

"When I was twelve, I made it into the provincial soccer finals!"

"Just because she said she was 'having trouble breathing,' our parents abandoned me and rushed to the hospital!"

"Leaving me alone to sit in the stands for an entire day and night!"

To Lam’s eyes were bloodshot, and he screamed through gritted teeth in front of the entire field.

"Asthma? Allergies? They are all nothing but vile schemes she uses to compete for affection!"

"Therefore, under my watch, I will never allow this kind of injustice to exist!"

Hearing his accusations, I found it laughable. That year, I had suffered an acute asthma attack and spent an entire day and night in intensive care just to stay alive. But in his eyes, it had merely become proof that I had stolen his "fairness." I turned my head to look at Chu Man under the tree, seeing clearly that the corners of her mouth were curling into a mocking smile amidst the sea of people. She had not been on her period at all.

"Report, Chief Instructor!"

Someone pushed their way out of the ranks. It was the physical education class monitor. She was holding a piece of paper, and having run so fast, one of her shoes had fallen off, yet she did not stop to retrieve it. She ran to the foot of the flagpole, looked up, her voice choked with tears:

"This is the medical leave request To Van gave me this morning!"

"To Van really does have a severe ultraviolet allergy! This is a diagnosis from a Grade 3A hospital!"

"She cannot be in the sun! Something truly terrible is going to happen..."

I hovered in the air, watching her tremblingly hold the paper that decided my fate toward To Lam. To Lam glanced at her, snatched the certificate away. He did not even bother to look at the official seal.

"Riiip..."

The sound of tearing paper rang out harshly beside the megaphone. To Lam tore the hospital certificate in two right in front of everyone. Then, he continued folding and tearing it into four pieces, eight pieces, until it was nothing but a pile of shredded paper. The scraps fell onto the monitor’s trembling hands and onto my feet, which no longer felt a thing.

"Daring to collude to fake a medical record? To Van, you have become quite capable!"

To Lam waved his hand, throwing the pile of paper scraps into the PE monitor’s face, pointing right at her nose as he bellowed:

"You left the formation without permission and covered up a fraud!"

"Run ten laps around the field, then stand in attention for two more hours! This is the consequence for siding with her!"

A scrap of paper was caught by the wind, sticking to my cheek. It was quickly soaked through by the weeping fluid from my skin. The writing on the certificate blurred away, until nothing could be seen at all.

3

I do not know how much time had passed. It felt as if the sun had never moved. I hovered in the air, clearly seeing every inch of my flesh decomposing under the harsh light. The skin that had once been merely swollen and red was now ulcerated over a large area. Blisters as large as fingertips kept bursting, a mixture of red and yellow fluid streaming down my heavy camouflage uniform.

"Drip, drip."

The fluid fell onto the metal base, which had grown scorching hot under the sun, instantly turning into wisps of white smoke. The scent of charred flesh mingled with the sickening, sour-sweet stench of blood, rapidly spreading through the air. The students in the front row, who had initially felt indignant or sympathetic, were now so terrified by the grotesque reality of the scene that they recoiled. Several female students covered their mouths, retching. The entire formation lost its composure, collectively taking half a step back. Their eyes, once full of pity, now held undisguised terror.

"Blood... the blood on her doesn't look fake..."

"Instructor, it really seems like To Van is in trouble..."

Someone in the crowd whispered in a trembling voice. Just then, Chu Man stepped out from the shade. Still clutching her abdomen, she feebly trudged toward the flagpole, tilting her head to look at me with reddened eyes.

"Van Van, don't keep being stubborn with the chief instructor anymore. Keep acting like this and everyone will be frightened. Just admit you were wrong, please..."

The two assistant instructors standing behind To Lam also realized something was wrong. Bound tightly to the pole by the rough hemp rope, my head hung heavily against my chest.