In the small hall hosting the "Opposing Schools Becoming Military Training Grounds" seminar, nearly thirty seats were already filled—students shoulder to shoulder, with a few professors in attendance. All eyes were fixed on the young man at the lectern, his dimples flashing as he spoke with fervor.
"The University Autonomy was signed years ago, yet here we are in the '70s and it's still not fully honored. Those in power want to turn our campus into the back yard of their politics. And the most disgusting part? They want to put knives and guns in students' hands instead of books and pens—like it's supposed to be…"
Đông Anh watched Hiền closely. The longer he looked, the more he was drawn in, not by the man's arguments, but by the blaze in his eyes. That kind of passion made people want to believe every word he said. Standing there at the lectern, he looked almost like a priest preaching the Lord's Gospel. To speak with such fervor, a preacher had to hold a love and faith so great—whether for the divine light or for their own cause—that it could drive every word they spoke.
Đông Anh found himself admiring that kind of passion. Even after years in God's house, he still didn't feel he understood or loved Him enough to spread His word, let alone die a martyr for Him.
"Stand against it! Keep fighting!" Hiền raised his fist to the air, his voice sharp and ringing. The crowd started chanting along, snapping Đông Anh out of his thoughts. A few irritated glances shot his way when they saw he wasn't joining in.
When the seminar ended, the crowd shuffled out, leaving only a small group lingering for more private discussion. Đông Anh stayed too, just to greet Hiền.
"I thought you were banned from coming," Hiền said, giving him a pat on the shoulder.
"Banned?"
"Oh… I mean, I thought you wouldn't bother showing up. Either way… glad you did."
"I wanted to see why you guys are so dead set on going on a hunger strike."
"Now that you've heard me, are you leaning our way?"
"A little…"
"Then how about joining us?"
Đông Anh stayed silent, as if weighing the offer. Hiền laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Kidding. A guy like you's better off in the infirmary, taking care of folks."
A girl suddenly cut in: "Hiền, come here, we've gotta talk about whether we're doing the military training this round."
"Of course we're not doing it. But we'll sort the details later. Right now, I've got a class to teach."
"What are you teaching?" his friends chimed in.
"Lessons for the kids at Sister Xuân's orphanage."
Đông Anh froze, murmuring to himself, "Sister Xuân's orphanage…"
By coincidence, both Đông Anh and Hiền showed up at Sister Xuân's orphanage that noon. That was why Đông Anh generously offered to take Hiền along. But since the one picking him up today was his grandmother—Madam Kim, the Councilman's wife' —he had to spend a moment introducing his new friend. Luckily, after one sharp, appraising glance, Madam Kim was all smiles and gave her blessing.
"You teach the kids at the orphanage? I go there often myself, yet I've never seen you," Madam Kim asked.
"Maybe because I don't have a fixed schedule for teaching, Grandma, so we just haven't had the chance to meet," Hiền replied.
"This boy's quick with his tongue! Calling me 'Grandma' like it's nothing! So… do you live nearby? What's your father's name?"
Hiền hesitated, he was never comfortable talking about family. Sensing it, Đông Anh jumped in:
"Grandma, how come you suddenly decided to take me to the orphanage today?"
"Well, I missed you, so I came by. And while I was at it, I thought I'd take you along. What, I'm not allowed?"
"Of course you are. Since I got back, I've only seen you twice. I was planning to visit you today anyway, but I didn't expect you to show up at my school."
"You flatterer! If you really wanted to see this old lady, you could've come any day instead of waiting until now."
"No, really, I was going to bring you some rosary beads that have been blessed."
"Oh, how sweet!" Grandma pinched Đông Anh's cheek.
The scent of medicated oil clung to her, filling the car. For some reason, even though he'd been born in this land, Hiền couldn't stand that particular "local perfume." Sitting in the front seat next to the driver, he discreetly covered his nose and kept listening quietly to the grandmother-grandson chatter. He paid special attention to the way she spoke. Hiền couldn't quite remember what people called her outside—Mr. Liễu's mother, Madam Kim (after her husband's surname), or just plain "Grandma." But he was certain that whenever people mentioned her, it was with a tinge of fear. Her wealth and exacting nature made her a hard woman to please. Even those who'd benefited from her charity still approached her with caution, if not unease. Perhaps they could see, in her deep, seasoned eyes, more control and expectation than any selfless love.
"Đông Anh, tell me—how long are you planning to stay here?" Madam Kim asked.
"At least until I finish my studies."
"I still think you'd be better off at the seminary."
"I've already finished all the enrollment paperwork here. Don't kick me out, Grandma!"
"When have I ever kicked you out? I'm just trying to choose what's best for you. Studying here will only set you back a few more years before you can wear the bishop's robe."
"Just think of this as the time God's using to test me."
Grandma fell silent, her thoughts drifting somewhere far away, so far that Hiền felt she must be calculating things well beyond his grasp.
"I understand. You're still too young to keep your trust in God unshaken. So if you want to test yourself, go ahead. I won't stop you."
Đông Anh looked at her, eyes full of gratitude.
"Everything's already been arranged by God. In the end, it'll all fall into place—nothing can change that." She ended with a firm pat on Đông Anh's shoulder.
Hearing that, Hiền couldn't hide a faint smirk.
"Drive a little slower, or we'll miss the alley," Hiền told the driver.
"I remember there's a sign right before the turn, isn't there?" the driver asked.
"There is, but it's always busted. There—right-hand side!"
Hiền pointed out the window, and Đông Anh followed the direction of his hand. At the mouth of the alley, a young man in a sleeveless undershirt was hammering away at the road sign for the orphanage. He was trying to fasten it straight onto a post about five feet tall. Under the harsh midday sun, his skin seemed to glow.
Đông Anh rolled the window down and squinted, a nagging sense of familiarity tugging at him. When the young man finally lifted his face, Đông Anh realized: It's Dung Tây!
Dung and Đông Anh passed each other without a word. The car rolled deeper into the alley.