Đông Anh leaned back against the wall, eyes drifting lazily to the sunlight piercing through the branches overhead. The hallway outside the classroom was quiet, broken only by birdsong and the muffled drone of a lecture spilling from inside. Then came a rapid thud of footsteps, the urgent beat of a latecomer. Đông Anh smiled faintly, amused to find someone else in the same boat.
The steps stopped right beside him, followed by heavy breathing.
"Well damn, Đông Anh—you're late too!"
"Not the first time."
"The first time… you mean the very first time we met, right?" Hiền grinned, face alight with cheer.
Đông Anh nodded. "Yeah. Some twisted fate—we only ever run into each other when we're late."
"Not as twisted as last night's encounter."
That jab made Đông Anh stiffen. How dare Hiền bring that up here, in a place where every wall had ears?
"And why's Mr. Model Student late today?" Hiền teased.
"Well… after what happened last night, I got into a bit of a mess… kept me up all night, so I couldn't roll out of bed." Seeing Hiền look blank at his dot-dot-dot answer, Đông Anh waved it off. "Screw it, nothing to see here. What about you? Were you squared away last night? Why are you late this morning?"
A sweet, chirping bird up in the tree brought a clean, bright smile to Đông Anh's face. Hiền looked at that smile, his heart heavy with regret.
"Đông Anh, why… why did you go to that den?"
"I…"
"Don't you think you've gotten too close to Dung? How can you accept him?"
"Why shouldn't I accept Dung?"
Hiền drew a deep breath and said slowly:
"When you risked your neck to save a man, I wasn't surprised—I knew you were that kind of guy. The good kind, the saintly kind, like a virgin saint." He smiled bitterly. "But what shocked me was seeing you so cozy with that Big Bad Boss."
"Big Bad Boss… Dung?"
"Đông Anh, I'm asking you, do you even know Dung's real job?"
"I do!"
"You know? And you're still okay hanging around with a pimp? You're cool with his dirty, immoral business?"
Đông Anh fell quiet, then shook his head. "No… but I still see good in him. Maybe if life had dealt him a better hand, he wouldn't have fallen this way."
"Stop looking at a devil with angel eyes, Đông Anh—you'll only get yourself killed. His nature is rotten. To him, only money and profit mean anything. He never gives without taking."
"I didn't think you hated Dung this much. You two grew up together, didn't you?"
"Exactly. And because we grew up together, I got stabbed in the back more times than I can count. You forget it was Dung who got me kicked out of the boys' home? Dung who had me thrown in jail?"
Đông Anh froze, realizing he really had forgotten—that old injustice, that burning question he once meant to ask Dung. He'd let it slip, too busy with his own swirl of feelings to remember anyone else's scars. Damn it…
"He never told you a thing, did he?" Hiền pressed on. "He was the ringleader behind that fire at the military camp. Forced me to play accomplice. And when it was done, he dumped my whole crew in prison."
"But the government didn't charge you wrong. You carried banners, you staged protests. And you, Hiền—you lied to me too!"
"…That's true. I wronged you, and I'm sorry. But what I need you to hear now is: watch out for Dung. Don't let him trick you. He's a pimp, sure—but he's also a snitch. A goddamn bloodhound for the cops."
"Do you have proof, Hiền? Or is this just street gossip?"
Hiền planted both hands on his hips, eyes flashing with anger.
"There's no smoke without fire. Whole damn town's buzzing with the same story, you think that's coincidence? The plain truth is—Dung fingered that spy at the military camp. He only dragged you there as cover. His real job was spying, feeding intel, and ratting people out."
Đông Anh frowned at that.
"Wake up, Đông Anh! That bastard tails you everywhere just to angle for the Liberty manager's post—so he can get his hands on your family's fortune. Don't you see?" Hiền shook him hard as he spoke.
"I know! That job is the fee my father pays Dung to be my babysitter."
"Babysitter?" Hiền gave a scornful laugh. "He babysits you by dragging you to a whorehouse? Teaching you to party and go rotten? He already hooked up your father and your older brother, now it's your turn. You okay with that?"
"Why are my father and my older brother in this?"
"You don't know? Dung manages every single party, every woman, for your whole damn family."
"Did you see my dad with a whore? My brother with his gang? How dare you smear my family like that?" Đông Anh's eyes blazed. "Every Sunday, my family's in church. Dad sits beside Mom, caring for her. Not a soul there has ever whispered against his honor. And you—you stand here spitting out lies?"
"Đông Anh, I'm not lying. I'm telling you this for your own good. Why won't you believe me?"
"Because you lied to me before! You lied to me for your own ideals!" Đông Anh jabbed a finger into Hiền's chest, his voice sharp. "So no—I can't believe you now."
With that, Đông Anh stormed off, fury in every step.
Left alone, Hiền kicked the wall in rage and muttered through his teeth:
"If lies can keep someone from falling, if lies can shield the righteous—then I'll lie till the day I die."
.
A sudden downpour cracked open the sweltering Saigon noon. Mr. Liễu's wife stood frozen at the doorway, watching two young men dash across the yard. From the powder-blue Peugeot, the pair sprinted for the porch, their banter loud enough to drown even the drumming rain.
"I told you to wait for me to grab an umbrella, Út!"
"What for? It's just a sprinkle!"
"Sprinkle my ass—look, you splashed water all over my fresh new kicks! You did that on purpose, didn't you?"
From where she stood, Mr. Liễu's wife could hear her youngest son's laughter ringing bright.
"Serves you right for dressing up fancy today—made the sky jealous, so it rained!"
That pimp she never had the stomach for pulled her boy close under his arm, flipping his coat up to shield both their heads. Mr. Liễu's wife clenched the towel in her hand and strode out to block them at the porch.
"Ma?" Đông Anh froze when he saw her.
"Come here—let me dry you off!"
Mr. Liễu's wife yanked her son out of Dung's arms. She wanted to fuss over her boy right in front of that pimp. To shut down any daydreams he had about touching her child. Mr. Liễu's wife just lifted the towel when Đông Anh quickly grabbed it.
"I'll do it myself. Go on, get inside, Ma, before you catch a cold from the rain."
Đông Anh patted his face lightly with the towel, then gently led his mother into the living room. On his way, he casually tossed the towel to Dung.
"So why'd you come out waiting for me at the door, Ma ? Something up?"
"No, nothing. Just… saw the rain and—" She faltered when she caught her son's tender gaze drifting toward Dung. Her voice rose sharp: "Đông Anh, are you free this weekend?"
"Why?"
"Well… I made an appointment with Mrs. Bảy, the potter. Remember her? She said she'd bring her daughter along, so… I thought I'd take you too."
"All women? Why drag me along?"
While Đông Anh still blinked in confusion, Dung gave a snort of laughter.
"What the lady means is—she's lining up a bride-show for you." Rain trickled down his sharp jaw as he said it.