7
A crate of beer sat on the table.
The blond guy fiddled with a butterfly knife in one hand while pouring beer into a glass with the other.
“Let’s see whether Boss Đàm plans to keep his new bride around.”
“Until he agrees to my terms, the boys and I are going to drink our fill with our sister-in-law.”
Looks like I don’t need to pretend to be deaf and mute anymore.
“Just drinking beer is boring. How about we play rock-paper-scissors? Whoever loses has to drink.”
I forced a smile and tried to keep myself relaxed.
“Sure! I’ve never lost to anyone!”
…
After three glasses of beer, four men were already sprawled across the table.
The blond guy’s eyes were getting bleary too, so I used the excuse that I needed to go to the bathroom.
But he was smarter than the other blockheads. He immediately grabbed my hand and asked if I was trying to run away.
A Hoàng was tied to the leg of a chair nearby. He’d been lying still, but at the sound of a commotion, he dragged the chair along as he rushed over.
As soon as A Hoàng knocked the blond guy down, the butterfly knife flew out of his hand and sliced the back of mine, leaving a bloody cut.
He completely lost it, grabbed A Hoàng by the neck, and kicked him.
I picked up an empty beer bottle beside me and warned him not to come any closer.
“If you lose it now, you’re definitely going to regret it!”
Because through the window, I’d seen a man approaching with a murderous look on his face and a club in his hand.
“Fuck off! You’re clearly asking for a lesson!”
8
“Ngô Tiêu, have I been giving you too much leeway?
“You think you can do whatever the fuck you want?”
A hoarse, furious voice rang through the hall. Đàm Tranh stood behind the blond guy and forcefully slammed him to the floor.
“I was wrong, I was wrong, bro.”
“I thought all you had to do was say yes over the phone. I didn’t know you’d come in person. I didn’t hurt your sister-in-law—I was just messing around with her.”
“Right, sister-in-law? I didn’t do anything to you, did I?”
I didn’t answer him. I lowered my head and dabbed at the blood on the back of my hand with a tissue. My hearing aid had fallen out, so I had to keep up the act.
Đàm Tranh’s gaze traveled from my ear down to my hand.
Then I heard a string of curses.
The blond guy kept pleading. His buddies had just managed to get back up, but when they saw what was happening, they quietly lay back down.
“Boss Đàm, I know better now. Please spare me.”
Đàm Tranh’s tie was crooked, and one of his cuff buttons had fallen off. He looked a little disheveled.
But suddenly, I found him more attractive than before.
I untied A Hoàng from the chair and turned to call Đàm Tranh home.
Then a drunk suddenly picked up an empty beer bottle and threw it at him.
Fresh blood trickled from Đàm Tranh’s forehead.
The group panicked when they saw that and immediately scattered out of the room.
I shakily took out a tissue and was about to press it to his wound, but the man bent down to pick up the hearing aid from the floor. He blew the dust off, put it back in my ear, then leaned close and asked:
“This probably isn’t broken, right? Other than your hand, are you hurt anywhere else?”
It was as if this man had taken advantage of my distraction to stab me in the most vulnerable part of my heart.
9
“Keep the wound dry over the next few days. An infection would be a real problem.”
The family doctor reminded him before leaving:
“When you wash your hair, you should have your wife help you.”
Đàm Tranh gave a distracted “mm,” clearly not taking it seriously.
But I was sitting beside him and heard everything.
So as soon as he pushed open the bathroom door, I stepped in front of him.
I pointed to myself, then at the bottle of shampoo.
“You’re not so disabled that you need me to wash your hair for you.”
Đàm Tranh smiled and ushered me upstairs to bed.
This time, my sign finally matched what I meant.
[I’m your wife.]
10
Out of sympathy for the injured patient, I asked to sleep in the living room again.
I couldn’t let Đàm Tranh keep sleeping on the floor forever.
Even though I didn’t know why this man, despite being so good at fighting, was afraid of thunder.
But for the entire month we’d been together, the skies had been clear all over the city.
I’d just carried my pillow downstairs when he followed me.
When he saw I wasn’t wearing my hearing aid, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and started rambling:
“What’s this supposed to mean? You don’t want to live together anymore?”
“I haven’t even gotten into bed yet, and you already want to leave me?”
“You just said you were my wife. Turns out you were only pitying me because I got hit in the head.”
“Miêu Thiến, take one more step and we’re getting divorced right now.”
“Turn around and come back right now, and I’ll let you off.”
I stopped and turned to look at him.
Đàm Tranh immediately fell silent.
I signed:
“Is there… anything else?”
[Are you sick in the head?]
To my surprise, the man immediately clutched his head and groaned:
“Ow, that hurts.”
“You say I have to sleep alone. What if I die in my sleep?”
Me: “?”
Do you even understand what you’re saying?
In the end, I drew a line down the middle of the big bed in the master bedroom.
“If you feel unwell, wake me up.”
“Okay.”
I lay still with my back to him.
Đàm Tranh’s breathing was right by my ear.
I forced myself to close my eyes, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep immediately.
As it turned out, I really did sleep straight through until I woke up naturally.
The only problem was that my neck hurt from the pillow.
I looked down, and my vision went dark.
Why was I in Đàm Tranh’s arms?
I was about to quietly push him away when his arm tightened around my waist. He rolled over and pulled me back, grumbling in displeasure:
“You bothered me all night, snuggling up to me nonstop. Now that you’re awake, you have to keep sleeping with me.”
Help, I’d forgotten about my bad habit of tossing and turning in my sleep.
11
After spending so much time with this man, I’d almost forgotten who Đàm Tranh really was.
That is, until I heard his secretary say that they’d intercepted a shipment.
Đàm Tranh’s expression changed at once.
A few vague phrases made it impossible for me not to think of criminal activity.
He left the house without a word, hurrying off.
Even though we’d been together for nearly three months, I still didn’t really understand him.
The system had only told me who he was; it had never told me what his relationship was to the main characters.
What if he was a criminal?
My heart suddenly sank.
A Hoàng sat at my feet, holding a tennis ball in his mouth and eager to play with me.
Looking at his glossy, well-groomed coat, my suspicions stirred again.
If he really had committed a serious crime, how could I get away safely?
Time passed, bit by bit.
I found myself outside Đàm Tranh’s company building.
Several police cars were surrounding the entrance.
My mind filled with scenes from all the crime shows I’d ever watched.
What had Đàm Tranh done?
I couldn’t tell whether I was afraid or disappointed. All I knew was that my breathing had grown labored.
“Ma’am? What are you doing here?”
Secretary Triệu adjusted his glasses, his voice full of uncertainty.
Then, as if he’d realized something, he asked again in sign language.
[What did Đàm Tranh do?]
[Why are the police here?]
I silently asked in sign language.
12
“Recently, the city police have arrested a criminal group involved in kidnapping and child trafficking…”
“On the screen are children who were held in an underground cellar. The youngest was not yet four years old.”
The TV was airing a report on the latest news from the past few days.
The next moment, a familiar face appeared on the screen.
The reporter held out a microphone and asked, “Mr. Đàm, how did you find out about their crimes, stop them before the deal went through, and report them to the police?”
In the footage, the man answered calmly:
“Because I knew he’d go right back to his old ways.”
That day, the police had come to see Đàm Tranh not because he’d committed a crime, but to take custody of the children he’d had his people intercept and rescue.
That same day, I finally learned about Đàm Tranh’s past.
Eighteen years earlier, when Đàm Tranh was ten, he was sold to a small village.
After he’d had a high fever for three days straight, the family thought he wouldn’t live to see spring, so they decided to sell him on the black market.
At the time, illegal fighting was all the rage, and many bosses invested huge sums in it.
That man sold Đàm Tranh to one of those bosses.
To survive, you had to speak with your fists.
The loser’s reward was being locked in a dilapidated underground cellar and left to starve.
Đàm Tranh had once told me nonchalantly, “I was a coward as a kid. I got locked in the cellar a few times, and every time it was raining and thundering outside, so I guess that left me with some lasting trauma.”
“You’re not usually a coward.”
In the original story, his past was only mentioned in passing, with a brief line saying:
[Đàm Tranh spent the first half of his life in illegal fights. He could only survive by defeating others, so he was definitely ruthless and not someone to mess with.]
No matter how difficult things got afterward, he made it through, using his fists to subdue the people who bullied him.
Later, a wealthy, childless old man took a liking to him. Everyone said this man from the underworld would surely become unchecked and ruthless, but instead he focused solely on business—and did very well.
At last, I understood why he had stood in the protagonist’s way.