Drinking cold tea in this weather of just over ten degrees, for Bich Quyen, there is nothing to worry about. She likes to drink cold drinks and eat ice cream no matter how cold it is outside. She still likes to do it. Even later, when she left Vietnam, she still kept this habit. Bich Quyen always thinks that a cup of cold tea will help her stay awake instead of a cup of coffee, more or less like that. She doesn't like to drink coffee, rather, Bich Quyen is drunk on coffee. There was a time when she had fun, drinking a cup of iced milk coffee. As a result, all day she was lightheaded and her head ached. Then, when she lay down on the bed, she slept from four o'clock to eleven o'clock at night, skipping dinner. From that time on, Bich Quyen never dared touch coffee again. In fact, she just knew she was drunk with milk coffee, but with pure black coffee, she didn't know if she was drunk or not. She wanted to know too, but didn't dare try. One time is enough for her.
With a sip of cold tea, the chill drifted down the throat to the stomach. In this weather, drinking something cold like that makes us even more aware of where it's going in the body. Bich Quyen sat next to her best friend, quietly taking sips.
One sip, then two sips.
She said nothing. Two hands holding the cup of tea were so cold that she could no longer feel anything. Manh Tuan sat next to her. He looked at her hands, which were red from the cold, and felt a pain in his heart. Yesterday, when he stayed in class during self-study, he witnessed everything. Quyen's books were thrown away, stepping on dense footprints. Her water-splattered schoolbag was dumped in the trash. He could no longer do Tung Lam's actions. He could stop it once, he could stop it twice. But being too busy three times, he didn't stop anymore. But this morning, seeing Bich Quyen carrying an old school bag, replacing a series of new books, he knew that his tolerance for Nguyen Tung Lam's actions had left. Manh Tuan can imagine how the appearance of staying up until morning just to copy down every bit of knowledge in Bich Quyen's old notebooks took away her sleep. All of these things came from him. Or at least, because he tolerated it.
Tuan held the hand of his best friend. The small hand was cold because of the weather as well as because of the cold cup of tea. Fingertips are red, and each knuckle is gradually turning red. He painfully grabbed her hand and breathed in some heat, as if doing so would warm her up a bit. Bich Quyen looked at his actions, eyes wide with surprise. Tuan had never done that to her before, let alone intimate acts like this. How is he today? She asked herself. In her left chest, Quyen's heart is beating so hard that she can hear it even though the recess is noisy and bustling.
- Give me your other hand.
He looked at the empty teacup in her hand, took it, threw it in the trash next to him, and then reached out her hand to him. This dummy drank cold tea. Two hands held a cup of cold tea. Her hands are cold and red. How will she be able to study later in the literature class with her hands like this?
Bich Quyen said nothing and obediently extended her remaining hand to Manh Tuan. His palms were very hot, wrapping her warm hands in his. Was it the heat from his hand that made her feel hot, or was it because of this intimate contact that her body temperature increased? Quyen didn't know, but she didn't dare think about it anymore. Her cheeks were pink. Tuan didn't notice the strange expression on his friend's face, he was busy warming her hand. Quyen's hands were very small, so small that one of his hands could easily wrap around her two hands. Each finger is slim, making it look a little cute. Only the callus on the middle finger of her right hand is the only thing that makes this hand difficult to see. The calluses are caused by using a pen a lot. The pen presses on the knuckles to leave calluses. In fact, Tuan doesn't hate the callus, it's the clearest proof of Quyen's hard work and also something to cherish. Bich Quyen is very talented. The callus on the middle finger is what proves all of this. He gently stroked Quyen's fingers, then hugged them again like his treasure.
The school drum sounded, signalling the coming of the next class. Quyen stood up, brushing off the dirt on her pants. She doesn't have to study this afternoon, she wants to go to the city library to study. Bich Quyen likes to go to the city library because it's the quietest place she can find, even though it's far from her house. When she was in elementary school, she used to ask Tuan to take her there and study with her. But since middle school, Tuan has been much busier. Since Mrs Linh is not often at home, housework, as well as taking care of his little brother or even money, are Tuan's jobs to do. She really admires this friend of hers, whose son can take on so many jobs. That doesn't make up for her, when she comes home, she only has to study and sometimes helps her mother with household chores. Maybe some people think that she is worried too much, but if in the future, there is a girl who gets married to him, that girl is really lucky.
- What the hell are you guys doing?
Tuan entered the class and saw the crumpled notebook on the lesson. He walked around, which was Quyen's writing book. His eyes looked at the corner of the class. Tung Lam was sitting there, smiling very happily. Apparently, seven or eight parts were done by him. Bich Quyen looked down at the notebook, which was so crumpled that it couldn't be used anymore. She just quietly picked it up and put it in her bag.
- Tuan, give me some blank sheets of paper. That notebook is no longer usable.
She grabbed the hem of his shirt and shook her head gently. She didn't want Tuan to clash with Lam because of her. Things like this don't pay attention to her. He looked at her, his eyes filled with sadness. Yesterday and today, she clearly knew who did it, but there was no resistance at all? He knew that Tung Lam blamed her for not protecting her classmates. But isn't that her fault? When Lam hit people, it's not a matter of a day or two, it's always Quyen who apologizes and asks the principal not to punish him. It's none of her business. Whatever Lam does, he deserves the same results. Quyen herself knows that too. Regardless of how he wanted to vent his rage on her, she remained silent.
When Mrs Tuyet entered the class and saw her beloved student using white paper to write her essay, she was surprised. Until now, Bich Quyen has never forgotten to bring books, but today she took a blank piece of paper to write on.
- Quyen, you stand up.
Mrs. Tuyet walked over to Quyen's desk and tapped the table twice. She looked up at the teacher next to her, quietly stood up, lowered her head, and dared not look anymore.
- Why do you use white paper to write? Where's your notebook? -
- I left my notebook at home. I apologize for this.
Tuan sat next to her, his brows furrowed. What the heck? Forgot her notebook at home? He pursed his lips. Obviously, the notebook was damaged by someone else, yet she said that she forgot it at home? How long will Bich Quyen want to cover for Lam? He put down his pen and wanted to take out the notebook from Quyen's bag and give it to the teacher, but she secretly stopped him. It's not a big deal. Don't make it a big deal.
Mrs. Tuyet sighed. Just now, she looked at Tuan's face and knew that something was wrong. But if the insiders don't want to talk, there's really no way to solve the problem. She said that if she forgot her notebook at home, she could only believe that she had forgotten her notebook.
- Sit down. Tomorrow you will give me your notebook for testing.
- Yes.
Quyen sat on the chair. She turned to Tuan with a small smile. His face was extremely unsightly, his brows furrowed, his eyes no longer looking at her. She sighed softly, whose notebook was damaged by someone. She did not know who that guy was. Even if it was true that Tung Lam did it, the two of them wouldn't have any evidence to accuse him of it.
- How long do you want to protect Tung Lam?
Tuan spoke very quietly, just enough for him and her to hear.
- I don't protect him, I just don't have proof. Never mind, I'll stay up all night to rewrite the notebook.