A small village in Tường Vân town, where a persistent drizzle fell.
In the dead of night, at 2 AM, Tư Truy pushed aside the torn curtain covering the doorway and fumbled her way to the kitchen to light the firewood.
The fire lit earlier that evening had died out. Skillfully, she broke a few dry twigs, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake her parents.
The sound of the rain, like a whisper in Tư Truy's ear, made her even more disheartened. Watching the flickering orange-yellow flame, she didn't know where she would go or what she would do tomorrow.
Continue with that meager-paying livelihood, or find a way to escape this impoverished village?
None of it seemed feasible, but for now, all she could do was help her parents collect plastic bottles and trash.
Life went on, and Tư Truy didn't know how much longer she would have to suffer like this.
She wanted to go to school, to finish her last year.
However, everything had been left unfinished simply because there was no money. Her mother was ill, her father was often irritable, and what little savings they had accumulated had all been spent on medicine.
Tư Truy wondered why her fate was so cruel. If Heaven wouldn't grant her joy and comfort, it should at least grant her health, shouldn't it?
At a tender eighteen years old, she had to bear the heavy burden of her family.
Tư Truy felt tired, but she was glad to be alive, to exist.
…
After the rain, morning came.
Then, the crowing of a neighbor's rooster startled Tư Truy awake.
The pile of firewood in front of her was now just smoldering embers. She stealthily pushed two sweet potatoes into them, then stood up to prepare breakfast.
She scooped some rice from a rickety plastic bin she had found while scavenging, added rainwater from a chipped jar, and placed it on the stove. After cooking for a while, the porridge boiled and was done.
There were no seasonings at all in the house, only a little salt she had traded for from Bà Lan's house.
Tư Truy looked at the salt jar with sorrowful eyes, cautiously measuring it into the still-steaming pot of porridge.
Her mother seemed to be awake; her distinctive hacking cough made Tư Truy even more despondent.
Before she could even stir the porridge, her head was suddenly struck hard. She turned to see Trịnh Nhất glowering, as if ready to unleash a torrent of shouts.
“What are you dawdling for? Can't even finish cooking a simple pot of porridge!”
As he spoke, he raised his hand to strike. Tư Truy warily dodged and actually managed to avoid his slap.
She was all too familiar with this scene; was there ever a day Trịnh Nhất woke up without taking his anger out on her?
She wouldn't tolerate it indefinitely. Long-suffering patience had to give way to resistance.
Trịnh Nhất was Trịnh Tư Truy's father, but he had no right to beat her.
She understood this clearly, so she avoided him whenever possible, fearing he might lose his temper completely and lash out at her regardless.
Tư Truy frowned, “I'm done cooking, Father. Wait a moment, I'll serve it right away.”
Trịnh Nhất was not appeased. His hand, hidden behind his back, trembled violently. He snarled like a fierce tiger: “You'd better watch yourself! If you eat even a mouthful of that porridge, I'll beat you to death.”
Having said that, he swaggered away without even glancing at how distraught Tư Truy's expression was.
She bit her lip, suppressing the anger buried deep within her heart. Looking at the watery porridge, then at the pile of embers rising like a small mountain, she sighed.
A year ago, her mother suffered from a dry cough. She consulted the village quack, who gave her various traditional herbal remedies to drink.
Tư Truy advised her, but her mother wouldn't listen. Instead, she blamed Tư Truy for being stingy and not daring to let her get proper treatment.
Tư Truy felt wronged but didn't know how to explain herself.
After half a year of drinking them, her mother's condition not only didn't improve but worsened, and she even vomited blood on one occasion.
The money had already been given to him, and there was no way to get it back.
Life was already hard, but now it was even harder; desperation seemed to bring out the worst in people.
Tư Truy didn't blame her parents. She served them porridge, adding some wild greens she'd picked by the river, and carried the meal up to the house.
The house and kitchen were connected, and the space was very small.
Tư Truy's room was the kitchen; she spread out a mat and a blanket in a corner to sleep, hanging up a cloth for privacy.
It wasn't so bad, really…
Tư Truy gently stroked the large, imposing rock at the entrance of the path, wiping away all the sparkling water droplets that had collected, before finally sitting down with a sense of ease.
Two sweet potatoes were cooked, their skins burnt black and covered in ash.
Tư Truy found the smell delicious; unable to wait, she immediately broke a sweet potato in half and began to eat.
The sweet potato was soft and yellow. Tư Truy ate, feeling utterly satisfied.
She delightedly looked at the high, cloudy sky, and at the green vegetable patch, carefully fenced off.
Her gaze unexpectedly fell upon an empty can lying in the middle of the road. The corner of her mouth immediately curved upwards. Without much thought, she took two steps forward and, as if by instinct, bent down to pick it up.
Just then, a pair of long, slender legs suddenly appeared in Tư Truy's line of sight.
Holding the empty can, she reflexively stood up abruptly, only to unexpectedly bump into the tall man and fall backward with a thud.
“Oof!”
Tư Truy cried out, wincing. Her limbs and clothes were covered in mud, and her face was contorted in a grimace of dissatisfaction.
She looked up, her bright, clear eyes filled with resentment.
The other person was also looking at her. Beside him were many people, each holding a stack of documents or a small briefcase. She didn't know what they contained, but they seemed very important.
It was the first time Tư Truy had seen people dressed so elegantly, and she felt a little curious.
She turned to assess the man she had accidentally bumped into, and immediately felt her whole body go weak.
His gaze was extremely sharp, and his harmonious features seemed to hold an air of arrogance and haughtiness.
His skin, in particular, looked very clean; his suit was clean, his leather shoes were clean – everything about him was immaculate.
Unlike her, she was so dirty that sometimes she didn't even recognize herself in the mirror.
The road was slippery and wet from the rain; the people around him had more or less gotten some splashes of water on their trouser legs, yet this man was different. Only the soles of his shoes, which directly touched the ground, bore the red color of the soil.
“Miss, please move out of the way!”
A woman's voice of reminder rang out, pulling Tư Truy out of her thoughts.
She scrambled to sit up, not daring to glance at the noble man's face anymore, and obediently moved aside.
There was no scolding, no feigning injury, no demanding compensation as he had imagined. Bùi Nghiêu was slightly startled and couldn't help but look at the girl.
Tư Truy stood with her back to him, so he could only see a part of her profile.
She had a few delicate features that looked very attractive, but Bùi Nghiêu didn't pay them any mind. He regained his composure, looking at the arduous path ahead with a sigh of worry.
The woman who had led the way earlier smiled, but clearly couldn't hide her disgust at having to set foot on this road.
“Mr. Bùi, please!”
Mr. Bùi, so his surname is Bùi?
Tư Truy stared blankly after the man's retreating back, muttering to herself in her head.
No matter who he was, she didn't care; she wouldn't see him again anyway.
And given his elegant demeanor, he must be from no ordinary background.
She still shouldn't provoke him. These clothes... she could just wash them when she got home. If she demanded something from him, who knew what trouble she might bring upon herself.
Thinking this, Tư Truy slowly picked up the remaining intact sweet potato, skillfully avoiding the muddy puddles as she walked back.