After that glorious day when the college entrance exam results were announced, my life officially turned a new page with two major changes.
First, I became, officially and legitimately, the legendary “other people’s child” every housewife in our apartment complex held up as a role model.
Second, I completely lost the right to decide what I ate on a daily basis.
The source of this second tragedy was entirely my two beloved parents. After a phone call lasting less than ten minutes, during which my mom and Mrs. Trinh gossiped about everything under the sun, they quickly reached a strategic agreement: From now until enrollment day, our two families had to get together for meals even more often.
The perfectly reasonable explanation my mom offered was, “Once you two are off in different places, with different school and work schedules, getting all six of us around the same table won’t be nearly as easy as it is now.”
It sounded pretty touching. However, based on my eighteen years of experience as her daughter, I still had serious doubts that the ultimate purpose of these gatherings was simply to give the two mothers an excuse to sit around chatting from late afternoon until the dead of night, while their husbands had no way to object.
That afternoon, Mom started cooking dinner at four.
The first time I walked past the kitchen, she was enthusiastically chopping vegetables. The second time, she was using both hands to marinate meat. By the third time, I nearly had a heart attack when I saw two enormous pots simmering over the blazing gas stove.
I stopped and leaned against the kitchen doorway. “Mom.”
“Yeah?”
“How many people are eating dinner tonight?”
“Six.”
I looked at the two pots, each one big enough to cook sticky rice cakes for a whole festival, and asked uneasily, “I thought we were getting ready to host sixty people.”
Mom stopped what she was doing and turned to me with a bullet-like glare. “The Trinhs are coming over for dinner tonight.”
“Yes, I know.”
“So everything has to be done properly. We need plenty of dishes!”
“But with this much food, six people might not finish it by tomorrow morning.”
She slowly set her kitchen knife down on the cutting board and spoke in an even tone. “Ha Minh Chau.”
Sensing a level-red danger signal, I immediately changed my tone and obediently said, “Your calculations are absolutely flawless, Mom! I have no objections whatsoever. I’ll just head out now!”
“Finally, you’re learning some sense. Go sit in the living room.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
My hard-won survival experience had taught me that once Mom started calling me by my full name, any further argument posed a serious threat to my health.
I had barely stepped out of the kitchen when the doorbell began ringing insistently.
“Minh Chau, can you get the door for me?”
“Coming!”
I hurried over. The wooden door had barely cracked open when the first thing looming in front of me was a gleaming stainless-steel thermal pot. Behind it was Mrs. Trinh’s beaming face. Behind her came Mr. Trinh, carrying a gift basket. And bringing up the rear was Trinh Canh Ngon—both hands loaded down with big and small bags, looking like an unwilling pack donkey.
I blinked at the pot, then looked at Mrs. Trinh. “You made soup too?”
Mrs. Trinh nodded enthusiastically. “Lotus root and pork rib soup! I remembered it was your favorite, so I made a whole pot to bring over.”
I silently turned to look toward our kitchen. Right then, Mom poked her head out.
“Perfect timing! What kind of soup did you make?”
“I made lotus root and pork rib soup!”
Both mothers froze on the spot.
I looked at Mrs. Trinh. Mrs. Trinh looked at Mom. Mom stared fixedly at the thermal pot in Mrs. Trinh’s hands. The hallway went still for three seconds.
Then Mom turned to me with a look overflowing with “love.” “Minh Chau.”
I immediately switched to maximum alert. “Yes…what is it?”
“You’re going to drink two full bowls of soup for me tonight, okay?”
Me: “…”
Mrs. Trinh also turned to her precious son. “Canh Ngon, you have to finish two bowls too.”
Trinh Canh Ngon: “…”
I looked at him. He looked back at me in despair. In that miraculous moment, a strategic alliance the likes of which had never existed in twelve years of conflict was officially formed.
Eighteen years of knowing each other, twelve years of competing over every little thing, and finally there came a day when we stood together on the same front line against a common enemy.
The enemy’s name: lotus root and pork rib soup.
I quickly stepped back and moved aside politely. “Please come in.”
Mrs. Trinh eagerly carried the pot straight into the kitchen, with Mr. Trinh ambling after her. Trinh Canh Ngon had just started to step over the threshold when I pointed at the brown plastic bag in his left hand. “What’s that?”
“Fruit.”
“And the bag in your right hand?”
“Snacks.”
My eyes immediately caught the pretty cardboard box sitting right on top. “Fresh cheesecake?”
“Yeah.”
“From the new bakery down on the avenue?”
“Yeah.”
“Who bought it?”
“My mom.”
I sighed, my face full of disappointment.
Canh Ngon immediately saw through my expression. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Clearly it’s something.”
“I just thought you’d suddenly learned to think and show some respect for your elders.”
He was silent for two seconds before gritting out, “I was born a full three months before you.”
I nodded as though I understood. “That’s why I said you’re an old man.”
Trinh Canh Ngon stared at me wide-eyed. He didn’t bother arguing. He simply reached out and pulled the cheesecake box out of my line of sight. I lunged forward like lightning and hugged the box tightly. “What are you doing?”
“Never mind respecting my elders. Give it back.”
“Once it’s in my hands, it’s mine!”
“Give it back.”
“In your dreams!”
“Ha Minh Chau!”
“Trinh Canh Ngon!”
Each of us grabbed one corner of the cake box and pulled back and forth, determined not to let go. Mrs. Trinh came out of the kitchen and passed through the living room. Seeing us struggle over the box, she calmly waved a hand. “If you two want to wrestle, go settle it in the hallway. Don’t break Uncle Ha’s liquor cabinet, or even I won’t be able to save you tonight.”
Me: “…”
Trinh Canh Ngon: “…”
The adults’ utterly casual calm made me wonder whether our tumultuous childhood had trained them to develop nerves of steel and countless crisis-management skills.
In the end, Trinh Canh Ngon sighed and let go first. I carried the entire cake box back to the sofa with the bearing of a victorious general.
The first battle of the day: Ha Minh Chau wins. Score: 1–0.
Unfortunately, the joy of victory lasted a mere three seconds. From the kitchen, Mom’s voice drifted out in an eerily calm tone. “That cake is for after dinner, okay?”
I lowered my head to look at the cheesecake in my hands, then obediently set it on the coffee table. That was the law of life: The highest authority in a family never belonged to the victor on the battlefield. It always rested with the person who controlled the kitchen.
At six forty, dinner officially began.
Our dining table was designed to fit six people perfectly. The two mothers sat beside each other, chattering away; the two fathers raised their glasses across from them; and Trinh Canh Ngon and I were naturally forced to sit side by side.
I glanced at the stool that could have been added at the far corner of the table and hesitated. “Mom.”
“What is it?”
“I want to sit over there.”
Mom glanced at me. “Why?”
“Um…the air is fresher over there.”
She looked at where I was sitting. “You’re right beside the window, with the balcony breeze blowing in.”
Me: “…”
Trinh Canh Ngon leisurely pulled out the chair beside me and sat down. He leaned close and lowered his voice so only the two of us could hear. “Are you really that afraid of sitting next to me?”
I lowered my voice too and replied through gritted teeth, “I’m afraid sitting next to you will ruin my appetite.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “What a coincidence.”
“What?”
“I feel the same way.”
I ground my teeth together and swore I wouldn’t stoop to arguing with him.
Dinner proceeded in a relatively peaceful atmosphere—at least for the first three minutes. I focused on picking up pork ribs, while Trinh Canh Ngon focused on picking up beef. Both sides firmly upheld the principle of not invading the other’s territory. The mothers chatted merrily, and the fathers enthusiastically clinked glasses. How beautiful life was!
Until there was only one piece left on the plate of sweet-and-sour ribs.
I saw it. Trinh Canh Ngon saw it too. Our two pairs of chopsticks stopped in midair at the exact same moment.
I turned and glared at him. “You don’t even like sweet food.”
He kept his eyes on the rib. “I changed my tastes five minutes ago.”
“Eat the beef!”
“You eat the shrimp.”
“The shrimp is cold.”
“The beef is cold too.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re picking a fight with me on purpose, aren’t you?”
“You’re overthinking it.”
Our chopsticks shot downward simultaneously, like two bolts of lightning!
Clack!
The tips of our chopsticks smacked together over the plate. The entire table suddenly fell silent. I immediately put on a perfectly friendly, standard-issue smile. “Go ahead and eat it. I’m letting you have it.”
Trinh Canh Ngon also put on his trademark smile. “No, you eat it. You’re a girl.”
“Don’t be so polite. Go ahead.”
“I’m older. It’s only right to let my little sister have it.”
“No need!”
“Very necessary.”
“I said no need!”
“It’s necessary!”
Clack! Mom gently set her rice bowl on the table. “You two.”
We both whipped around and answered in unison. “Yes?”
Mom calmly used her chopsticks to pick up the last rib from the plate and put it straight into Dad’s bowl. Dad, who had been bent over his rice, suddenly looked up in confusion. “Huh…why did you give it to me?”
Mom answered in a tone of absolute serenity. “I gave it to you to put an end to the war.”
I stared wide-eyed at the rib. Trinh Canh Ngon also watched in shock. And one second later, Dad cheerfully popped the rib into his mouth and started chomping away.
The second battle: A draw. The fisherman got the rib.
I suddenly realized that the idioms we learned in class would, one day, be illustrated right before my eyes with remarkable vividness.
Mr. Trinh steered the conversation elsewhere. “So, how far along are you two with your enrollment paperwork?”
I answered obediently. “I’m still looking into a few more schools.”
Mrs. Trinh pressed me. “Have you settled on a school yet?”
The chopsticks in my hand suddenly stopped. Trinh Canh Ngon, sitting beside me, didn’t answer right away either. Both mothers shot us razor-sharp looks at the same time. I immediately smelled danger approaching.
Mom interrogated me. “What’s wrong? You still haven’t decided?”
“I’m still considering everything carefully.”
“Considering what?”
“There are a lot of factors, Mom. The curriculum, scholarships, research opportunities, location, living expenses…” I hesitated, then added, “…and the school cafeteria.”
Mom raised an eyebrow. “The cafeteria?”
I nodded with utmost seriousness. “I’ll be spending four years there. How can I take food lightly?”
Beside me, Trinh Canh Ngon quietly chimed in, “That makes perfect sense.”
I immediately turned to him. “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said all day.”
“I always say sensible things.”
“I don’t want to argue with you in front of food.”
Mrs. Trinh burst into hearty laughter, then turned to her son. “What about you, Canh Ngon?”
Trinh Canh Ngon set down his bowl. “I’m still considering my options too.”
I shot him a sideways glance. “You really haven’t settled on a school?”
“Not yet.”
“Seriously?”
He turned to look at me. “What?”
“Nothing. I just thought someone like you would have planned out his entire life through the age of sixty.”
Trinh Canh Ngon blinked, thought it over, and answered, “Actually, I’ve only planned through age thirty.”
I nearly choked on my soup. “Are you serious?”
“No. I’m kidding.”
Me: “…”
I knew it! Putting faith in Trinh Canh Ngon was always an extremely high-risk activity.
Then the two mothers began enthusiastically analyzing our options for us: School A was strong in this field, School B offered an excellent scholarship package; City X was much too far away, while City Y had a mild and pleasant climate; School C had newly built modern dorms, while School D had a cafeteria famous for its delicious variety…
Until Mom summed it all up by saying, “How about you two choose schools that are relatively close to each other…”
Trinh Canh Ngon and I reacted almost instantly, shouting in unison, “That won’t be necessary!”
The entire table abruptly fell into dead silence. We turned to look at each other awkwardly.
I hurried to clarify. “I mean…there’s no need to use the distance between the schools as a deciding factor.”
Trinh Canh Ngon nodded along. “Yes. Each person should make their own decision about their future.”
Mr. Trinh set his wineglass down and nodded approvingly. “Exactly! Let the two of them decide freely when it comes to their future studies. The parents are only offering suggestions.”
I looked at Mr. Trinh with admiration. He really was the most clear-headed and rational person at this table! Dad also nodded in agreement. “That’s right. There’s no reason to force yourselves to study in the same place.”
I looked at Dad with tears in my eyes. “Dad, you’re being incredibly reasonable tonight!”
He answered calmly, “When have I ever not been reasonable?”
Mom immediately exposed him. “Then who was sitting up last night checking the distances between all those universities on a map until midnight?”
Dad: “…” Me: “…”
The tower of trust that had just been built inside me instantly collapsed into ruins. Sure enough, no one in this world could completely trust a parent’s spontaneous declarations!
The topic of choosing a university was temporarily shelved. But less than five minutes later, dinner entered an even more terrifying danger zone: college romance.
The person who lit the fuse was none other than Mrs. Trinh. “Once you’re in college, if either of you wants to date, go ahead. You don’t need to hide it from your parents.”
The chopsticks in my hand stopped. Trinh Canh Ngon’s chopsticks also froze halfway to his mouth. Both mothers turned their piercing, high-beam-like gazes on us.
Mom continued, “That’s right! But whoever you date, make sure they’re a decent, respectable person.”
Mr. Trinh added, “And absolutely don’t let it affect your studies.”
Dad nodded emphatically and threw in a startling addition. “Most importantly, never lend your partner money!”
I turned to Dad in confusion. “Why are you bringing up loans all of a sudden?”
He was as serious as humanly possible. “There are so many romance-and-money scams online these days!”
I fell completely silent. My father’s worldview always contained inexplicable blind spots.
Mrs. Trinh turned to her precious son. “When you get a girlfriend, remember to bring her home to meet your mother.”
Trinh Canh Ngon calmly continued picking up food. “You’re thinking too far ahead. I’ve never thought about that.”
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing out loud. He immediately shot me a glare. “What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing.”
“Clearly it’s something.”
“I just think the phrase ‘I’ve never thought about it’ suits you perfectly.”
“In what way?”
I began analyzing decisively. “First, your personality is incredibly hard to deal with.”
Trinh Canh Ngon raised an eyebrow.
“Second, your attitude is nothing to write home about.”
He folded his arms and started looking at me.
“Third, you’re extremely fond of competing with girls over food!” I pointed at the now-empty rib plate. “So I estimate your chances of successfully dating someone are approaching zero.”
Trinh Canh Ngon nodded thoughtfully and immediately fired back. “Then I’m afraid your odds aren’t much better.”
I slammed my chopsticks onto the table. “Why not?”
He leisurely spread out his fingers and counted. “First, you’re far too competitive.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Second, you have a terrible temper.”
I tightened my grip on my chopsticks.
“Third, you hold a grudge like nobody’s business.”
The image of the kindergarten blanket from twelve years ago immediately flashed through my mind.
He continued, “And fourth, you love stealing other people’s food.”
I slapped the table in protest. “The cheesecake was for the whole family!”
“But you were the one clutching it first.”
“That’s called being quick on the draw!”
“That’s called robbery.”
I quickly picked up a piece of green pepper and triumphantly dropped it into his bowl. “Eat it. It’ll cool you down!”
Trinh Canh Ngon looked at the green pepper lying conspicuously in his bowl. I smiled, my voice so sweet it was terrifying. “Go on. It has vitamin C.”
He looked at me for a few seconds. Then, to my astonishment, Trinh Canh Ngon calmly picked up the pepper and chewed it.
I was a little surprised. “It’s not spicy?”
“It is.”
“Then why eat it?”
Trinh Canh Ngon took a sip of soup and answered, “I just don’t want to waste food.”
I nodded approvingly. “Oh, what admirable frugality.”
The two mothers watched us interact, then exchanged a look. I immediately sensed that something was off. Sure enough, Mom drew out her words. “What if you two…”
I hurriedly cut her off. “Nothing good is going to come from that, Mom!”
Mom turned to me. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”
“I know exactly what you were going to say.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You do?”
I froze for half a beat. Damn it! I’d dug my own hole again!
Mrs. Trinh chuckled. “Then why don’t you guess what your mother was going to say, Minh Chau?”
I lowered my head into my rice bowl. “Um…I don’t know anything.”
Trinh Canh Ngon leaned close and teased in a low voice, “What are you thinking about?”
I gritted my teeth and whispered, “I’m thinking about how to poison you.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Looks like the plan hasn’t worked yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m still very much alive.”
Me: “…”
I resolved not to speak to this guy for the next five minutes.
But three minutes later, I broke my own vow with my own hands. The cause was a crawfish.
Mom carefully peeled a fat, meaty crawfish and gently placed it in my bowl. Right then, the phone on the table vibrated—a message from my homeroom teacher. I lowered my head to read it. It took only about two short seconds.
And yet, a pair of chopsticks from beside me had already crept into my bowl, clamped onto the crawfish, and withdrawn at the speed of light!
I looked up. Trinh Canh Ngon was calmly chewing the crawfish.
I stared at my empty bowl, then glared at him so hard my eyes nearly popped out. “Trinh.”
He remained perfectly calm.
“Canh.”
He kept chewing.
“Ngon!”
He leisurely swallowed. “What?”
“What the hell did you just do?”
“Ate a crawfish.”
“Who did that crawfish belong to?”
Trinh Canh Ngon turned to look at Mom. “It belonged to you, ma’am. You peeled it.”
Mom looked confused. “I peeled it for Minh Chau.”
Canh Ngon answered with an expression of complete innocence. “I thought you peeled it for me.”
I let out a bitter scoff. “What kind of logic did you use to ‘think’ that?”
He considered it for a moment before answering, “Positive thinking.”
I gritted my teeth and raised my chopsticks. Trinh Canh Ngon immediately shifted his chair a little to the side. I moved after him. He shifted again. I followed again.
Clack! Mom lightly tapped the tips of her chopsticks against the table. “You two!”
We stopped moving at the same time. “Yes?”
“Sit still!”
“Yes, ma’am…”
Mrs. Trinh sighed helplessly, peeled two enormous shrimp herself, and put one in my bowl and one in Canh Ngon’s. “Here. Fair division!”
I looked at Mrs. Trinh with tears of emotion in my eyes. “Mrs. Trinh, you’re the fairest judge in the world!”
Trinh Canh Ngon said calmly, “But I already ate one, Mom.”
Mrs. Trinh showed no mercy. “Then eat another one so you’ll be full!”
Canh Ngon was speechless. I laughed so hard I nearly dropped my chopsticks on the floor.
The third battle: A draw. The referee wins by a landslide.
After dinner, the two fathers went out to the balcony together to get some air and smoke, while the two mothers sat leisurely in the living room watching a TV drama. The cleanup and dishwashing duties were naturally dumped on Trinh Canh Ngon and me.
I immediately protested. “Why do we have to wash the dishes?”
Mom answered casually without looking up from her phone. “Young people need to exercise more to stay limber.”
“But I just survived the college entrance exam!”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I need time to rest and recover!”
“Washing dishes is also a form of rest and relaxation.”
I stood there blankly for three seconds. There truly wasn’t a single logical flaw in my mother’s system of reasoning!
I had no choice but to trudge into the kitchen. Trinh Canh Ngon followed behind me.
I pointed at the sink overflowing with dishes. “You wash.”
He pointed at the dish towel. “You dry.”
I crossed my arms. “Why don’t we switch?”
“Do you want to wash?”
I immediately snatched up the towel. “No! I’ll dry!”
The division of labor was settled: Trinh Canh Ngon washed, and I dried.
By the fifth bowl, I was starting to lose patience. “Hurry up a little.”
He didn’t turn around. “Clean matters more than fast.”
“I’ve been standing here waiting for thirty whole seconds!”
“Then try washing them yourself.”
“No.”
“Then be quiet.”
I glared at the back of his head and gritted out, “Trinh Canh Ngon.”
“Hmm?”
“Could you try being a little more pleasant to live with?”
“Sure.”
I was surprised. “Really?”
“But I don’t want to.”
Me: “…”
I discovered that this guy possessed a special ability: turning the ordinary chore of washing dishes into an activity designed to raise the other person’s blood pressure.
While drying the seventh plate, I hesitantly asked, “You…really haven’t decided which school to choose?”
Trinh Canh Ngon handed me a bowl rinsed clean of soap. “I have a few options I’m considering.”
“You can’t tell me?”
“Not yet.”
“Afraid I’ll choose the same one as you?”
This time, he turned and looked straight into my eyes. “I’m only afraid you’ll choose a school just because you want to beat me.”
My hand stopped in midair as I wiped the bowl. A moment later, I laughed out loud. “You’re awfully confident, Trinh Canh Ngon.”
“I’m just reminding you.”
“My future isn’t a tool for comparing wins and losses with you.”
Trinh Canh Ngon was silent for a beat. Then he spoke softly, his voice low. “Good.”
I tilted my head and looked at his profile. For some reason, the words out of his mouth stirred up an indescribable feeling in my chest.
I continued, “You feel the same way, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You won’t change your choice because of me?”
“Never.”
“Good.”
I continued carefully drying the bowl. After a while, curiosity got the better of me again. “You still have to send me your grades later, okay?”
Trinh Canh Ngon laughed. “What for?”
“To check whether you’ve lost your touch, obviously!”
“If I lose my touch, what does that have to do with you?”
“Of course it has something to do with me!”
“Why?”
I answered in the most natural tone imaginable. “You’re my longtime rival. If you fall behind, beating you won’t be nearly as glorious.”
Trinh Canh Ngon looked at me for a few seconds, then turned back to rinse the dishes. “Childish.”
I raised the towel threateningly. “The first one to lose their touch…”
“Don’t call the other person a dog again.”
I burst into laughter. “Scared?”
“I said you’re childish.”
“Too scared to make a bet, huh?”
He glanced at me. “Fine.”
“What’s fine?”
“Whoever loses their touch first is a dog.”
I nodded in satisfaction. “Now that sounds like the Trinh Canh Ngon I know!”
Right then, Mom’s excited shout rang out from the living room. “Oh my gosh! This picture is so adorable!”
My instincts told me danger was close. I hurriedly set down the towel. “What are you looking at, Mom?”
No one answered. I immediately dashed into the living room.
On Mom’s phone screen was an old, faded photograph. In it, I was about five years old, wearing a flared pink princess dress and a glittering plastic crown, one hand gripping Trinh Canh Ngon fiercely by the collar. He was wearing a neat little children’s suit, his face scrunched up in a woeful, wronged cry.
I stood frozen for five seconds.
Mrs. Trinh laughed so hard tears streamed down her face. “The two of them were in a kindergarten performance, weren’t they?”
Mom nodded vigorously. “That’s right! Aren’t they adorable?”
I immediately raised my hand in protest. “No! There’s a serious misunderstanding in this photo!”
Mom looked at me. “What misunderstanding?”
“I wasn’t playing a princess!”
The living room fell silent. Trinh Canh Ngon had just come out of the kitchen and was leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. “Then what were you playing?”
I squeezed my eyes shut and whispered, “A…witch.”
One second… Two seconds… Trinh Canh Ngon looked at the frilly pink princess dress in the picture. “A witch wearing a pink princess dress?”
Mom laughed as she explained, “The child playing the witch had a high fever that day. The teacher made Minh Chau fill in at the last minute, and there wasn’t time to change her costume, so she had to go onstage in that princess dress!”
Trinh Canh Ngon nodded as if he understood deeply. “Oh, I see. Very logical.”
I pointed at the phone screen. “Then why do you look so pathetically heartbroken?”
He looked at the picture. “I don’t remember.”
“I’m clearly grabbing you by the collar!”
Trinh Canh Ngon thought for a moment, then answered, “Maybe the witch was bullying me.”
The entire living room erupted in laughter.
I ground my teeth and threatened him. “Don’t say another word!”
“Why?”
“Because you’re the one crying in the picture!”
“But you’re the one committing violence in it.”
Me: “…”
I realized that arguing about the past with someone who had a photographic memory like Trinh Canh Ngon was an exceptionally bad decision.
Mom continued scrolling through her phone. Second grade: Canh Ngon and I stood together onstage receiving certificates for Outstanding Student. Fifth grade: The two of us sat with our heads bowed beneath a flamboyant tree, doing our summer homework. Seventh grade: We wore the uniforms of the academic competition team. And tenth grade…a picture capturing the moment I fell asleep on the bus to a competition in another city, my head tilted completely onto Trinh Canh Ngon’s shoulder.
I shot forward like lightning and snatched the phone away. “Who…who took this picture?”
Mrs. Trinh slowly raised her hand. “I did.”
“Why did you take it?”
“I thought the two of you looked so cute sleeping that I took a picture for keepsake.”
I lowered my head and looked at the picture again. In it, Trinh Canh Ngon was silently gazing out the bus window, while I was sleeping like the dead on his shoulder. The pose looked so natural that even I had no memory whatsoever of when it had happened.
I hurriedly locked the phone screen. “No more! I’m not looking anymore!”
Mom protested. “Aw, there are lots of other beautiful pictures!”
“No more, Mom!”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s seriously damaging my image!”
Dad walked in from the balcony and casually tossed out, “You have an image to damage?”
I whipped around and glared at him. “Dad!”
He burst out laughing. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”
I felt like the entire world was on Trinh Canh Ngon’s side tonight.
At nine o’clock, the Trinh family began getting ready to leave.
Mrs. Trinh stood by the door and turned back to remind Mom, “Come over to my place for dinner tomorrow night!”
Mom nodded emphatically. “Absolutely!”
I turned to look at Trinh Canh Ngon. He was looking at me too. We both let out a simultaneous, gut-wrenching sigh.
Mrs. Trinh immediately tried to cheer us up. “Tomorrow night I’ll make two huge plates of sweet-and-sour ribs!”
I instantly straightened, my eyes shining. “Really?”
“Of course!”
Canh Ngon, standing beside me, poured cold water over my excitement. “One plate is mine.”
I turned and glared at him. “Dream on!”
“This is my house.”
“But I’m an honored guest!”
“As a guest, you should know some manners.”
“Your mother personally invited me!”
Trinh Canh Ngon looked at me contemptuously. “Do you have no shame?”
“No!” I answered decisively. “How can you eat well if you have shame?”
He couldn’t hold back his smile.
After putting on his sneakers, Trinh Canh Ngon leisurely stepped into the hallway. When he reached his front door, he suddenly turned around. “We’ll keep competing tomorrow night.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Who’s scared of whom?”
He was just about to unlock the door when I suddenly called after him. “Hey!”
Trinh Canh Ngon turned around. “What?”
“If tomorrow night there’s only one piece left on each plate of ribs…”
“Then what?”
“I’ll steal both pieces!”
He was silent for two seconds, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “If you’re good enough, go ahead and try.”
Click. The Trinh family’s door closed.
I turned to go inside, then jumped when I saw Mom standing directly behind me. I had no idea how long she’d been there.
“Mom…how long have you been standing there?”
She answered calmly, “I was standing here listening to you two negotiate peace.”
“There’s no peace for us to negotiate!”
“I know.”
I trudged back to my bedroom. Less than a minute later, the phone on my desk began vibrating violently. It was a message from Trinh Canh Ngon: “Tomorrow night, whoever loses has to wash all the dishes.”
I immediately typed back: “What are we competing in?”
Canh Ngon: “You choose.”
Me: “Badminton?”
Canh Ngon: “I already lost today. I’m not playing again.”
Me: “Scared?”
Canh Ngon: “Don’t keep using the same trick.”
Me: “An old trick is fine if it works.”
A while later, he finally replied: “Chess.”
I shot upright in bed. My win rate at chess really wasn’t very high. After seriously weighing the pros and cons, I typed back: “No.”
Three seconds later, a message came flying back: “Scared?”
I stared at the phone, choking with anger. Retribution really did arrive as fast as the wind!
I gritted my teeth and typed: “Tomorrow at seven.”
Trinh Canh Ngon: “Deal.”
Me: “The loser has to wash all the dishes from both houses!”
Canh Ngon: “Fine.”
Me: “And absolutely no getting help from a dishwasher!”
Canh Ngon: “My house doesn’t have a dishwasher.”
Me: “Then that’s perfect.”
A moment later, the screen lit up again. “Ha Minh Chau.”
Me: “What now?”
Canh Ngon: “You should go to bed early.”
Me: “Who do you think you are, telling me what to do?”
Canh Ngon: “Don’t blame losing tomorrow on not getting enough sleep.”
I immediately fired back: “In your dreams!”
He didn’t reply again.
I smiled and set the phone down on my pillow. Night blanketed the room, while from the living room came the faint sound of my parents whispering together.
The Trinh family’s door was less than ten feet from ours. Tomorrow, I’d step out of my home and run into him. The day after that, and the day after that, it would surely be the same. From childhood until now, things had always happened that way. I had never felt that his presence was anything special or unusual. It was no different from waking up in the morning and never being surprised that the sun had risen in the east.
Some people stay beside us for so long that we naturally come to regard their presence as one of the universe’s givens.
But at eighteen, innocent and thoughtless, I had no room for such profound reflections. I had a far more serious and important life-or-death matter to consider:
Tomorrow night, the Trinhs would have two plates of sweet-and-sour ribs. If there was only one piece left on each plate…should I steal both of them?
I thought about it for ten seconds.
Absolutely! Of course I should steal them both!
Friendship could involve compromise, and academic achievements didn’t always have to be compared. But when it came to sweet-and-sour ribs, absolutely not!
That was the unshakable principle of Ha Minh Chau’s life!