The second time Đông Anh went to school, he was still huffing and puffing. The good part was, he wasn't chasing after some weirdo this time—he was just… late for class.
"Room 7… Room 7, I swear it's on this floor…"
He slowed his run, breathing hard. That gnawing, guilty churn in his stomach was back even though this wasn't entirely his fault. He'd woken up early, got everything in order, and yet…
"Room 7… there it is! Thank God."
The classroom he was looking for sat apart from the others, reached by Stairwell No. 3.
"Stairwell No. 3… next time I'll take this way," Đông Anh muttered, stepping toward the door when suddenly someone clamped a hand over his mouth and yanked him against the wall by the stairs.
"Shh! Shh! Don't yell, it's me!" the voice hissed.
Đông Anh muffled something in protest, then froze when he saw who it was. He tapped the hand over his mouth, signaling to let go.
"You remember me?" the other asked.
"I do. The hunger-strike student… at the infirmary."
The guy nodded brightly, ready to launch into a story until Đông Anh cut him off.
"Sorry, we'll talk later. I'm late for class."
He made to dash for the door, but the other boy caught his arm.
"Wait, don't you have philosophy in Room 7?"
Đông Anh nodded.
"Then don't go in yet. That professor's a real stickler, he'll chew out anyone who's late."
"But..."
"Just wait a bit. When he steps out to the restroom, we'll sneak in."
"No."
"Why not? Trust me, I've had him before. I know."
"It's not that I don't trust you, but that's dishonest."
"Come on, dishonest? I'm trying to help you here."
Đông Anh stared at him for a moment, then said firmly, "Thanks, but I'm not doing that."
"Đông Anh…"
"Let go. Keep holding me and I won't talk to you again."
"Just hear me—"
"I don't want to—"
"What's all this noise?"
Their back-and-forth had finally reached the professor's ears.
"Sir… we…" the boy stammered.
"You do realize class is in session?"
"I'm sorry, sir. Please let me join the class."
At that, the other boy sighed in defeat, as if he knew Đông Anh was beyond saving now.
"What, you're in my class? And you—same thing?"
The professor's bark was so loud it rattled the students inside. Faces popped up at the windows to gawk. And just like that, without lowering his voice a single notch, the professorspun a ten-minute lecture on the mortal sins of being late and disruptive—masterfully upgrading the charges to include filial betrayal, sapping the moral fiber of your peers, and, for the grand finale, disgracing the honor of an entire nation. By the end, it felt like we'd committed a crime of the century. Even the students who'd been eavesdropping inside looked deflated and grim. Some even shot Đông Anh and his unlucky partner a glare, silently blaming the pair for the auditory torture they'd just endured.
Đông Anh stood with arms folded in the hallway outside the classroom, looking serious, while the boy next to him leaned against the wall, legs casually crossed, sighing.
"See? Now you regret it, huh? Got chewed out, got stuck out here in the hall, and still… not allowed into class."
He glanced at Đông Anh's face for some hint of reaction, found none, and kept going.
"If you'd just lied a little, you wouldn't have had to suffer through all that."
"Lying's a sin. I don't want to do that. But… I am sorry you got punished with me."
"You're something else…talk and think like a priestly type."
"Not yet. I'm just a seminary candidate."
"You? Seriously? How's the son of Mr. Liễu end up in the priesthood?"
"What's that supposed to mean? Why not?"
"Oh… I didn't mean anything by it. Just… surprised, is all."
"Surprised? Sounds like you don't like my family."
"No, it's just… I didn't think rich folks would want to become priests…"
"Ever since I came back here, it feels like everyone around me's been a little cold. Is it because my family's rich?"
"You mean everyone around you is poorer than you?" the other teased, half-serious.
"No, I didn't mean that," Đông Anh replied with such grave sincerity that the boy beside him couldn't help but chuckle.
"I'm kidding, don't be so serious!"
Đông Anh blinked at him, and caught a gentle smile in return.
"Thanks," the boy said.
"Huh?"
"Thanks for saving me yesterday."
"Oh… it's nothing," Đông Anh said, scratching his head in embarrassment. "You—"
"You—"
They both spoke at once.
"You first," the other offered.
"Uh… what's your name?"
"Hiền."
"Hiền…" Đông Anh repeated softly, thinking it over. "The name matches the face—mild and pleasant."
"What are you thinking about my name?"
"I think it really fits you. You feel… gentle."
"Gentle—even if I led a protest and am now stuck here for being late to class?"
Đông Anh just smiled, saying nothing. He didn't know why, but he felt that way about his new friend. Maybe because, at the very least, this guy was a whole lot gentler than Dung Tây.
"I've got a question for you. Why… do you want to protest? To go against the system?" Đông Anh asked.
"To fight for our rights. So all students can focus on studying without being turned into pawns for the ones in power." Seeing the blank look on Đông Anh's face, Hiền pressed, "Do you even know what's going on here?"
"I've only been back a few weeks. Before that, I was in Dalat."
"Doesn't matter where you are, you can't escape the war. And… if you don't know yet, then in a few days you should come to one of our seminars. Then you'll know what opposing schools becoming military training grounds really means."
"I…" Đông Anh hesitated, as if about to shake his head.
"Don't worry, this isn't a protest. It's held inside a classroom, with professors joining in. No one's allowed to bring guns in and haul people off."
"But I don't think..."
"You'll have to face it sooner or later. The mandatory military training will come, you'll have to take it, and you'll be made part of the war raging out there. At the very least, you should understand the nature of the orders coming from those in charge."
With that, Hiền reached into his pocket, pulled out a ballpoint pen. "Give me your hand!"
He took Đông Anh's hand, turned it over, and scribbled a few lines on the palm.
"This is the time and place for the seminar. I hope you'll come." Catching the hesitation in Đông Anh's eyes, Hiền added, "If you're a representative of God, you should all the more see for yourself the persecutions in this world."