11
It had taken me a whole week to finally get my emotions under control, but Friday had come around again, and I was standing hesitantly outside his door.
My feet stopped at the threshold, and I suddenly felt a little afraid.
What if I ran into Quý Thần Dần again? What would I do?
After what happened last time, I truly had no idea how to face him.
As I muttered to myself, a familiar voice sounded behind me:
“Why aren’t you coming in?”
Startled, I turned around and saw Quý Thần Dần standing not far behind me. I had no idea when he’d arrived.
I was already nervous, and his question only made me more flustered. I stammered:
“Because I don’t have a key.”
Ahhh, what was I even saying? Had I lost my mind?!
Quý Thần Dần was clearly at a loss for words at my answer. But when he thought about it, it did make sense, so he simply came over, took out his key, and unlocked the door:
“I do. Come on in.”
As soon as the door opened, warm air poured out from inside, fogging up my glasses at once.
I followed Quý Thần Dần inside, trying to clear my vision. Suddenly, my foot caught on something, and I pitched forward. On instinct, I grabbed the nearest thing.
When I came to my senses, I realized I was gripping Quý Thần Dần’s arm tightly, pulling him off balance with me.
“Careful.”
His low voice sounded beside my ear. I looked up.
The fog on my glasses gradually cleared, and Quý Thần Dần’s image slowly came into focus before me, like an oil painting.
Only when I met his calm, unruffled eyes did I fully come to my senses. My heart began pounding before I knew it.
“I’m sorry.”
I let go of him at once and sprang backward.
But then I suddenly remembered that he’d caught me just now. Had I hurt his leg? Without thinking, I rushed over to support him.
Quý Thần Dần looked at me with a rather strange expression, as if he found this amusing.
What was I doing?! I’d suddenly gone to help him, and letting go now would be even weirder.
While I was still flustered, Tiểu Vi suddenly opened the door and came in. From where she stood, it looked as if I were holding Quý Thần Dần’s hand.
I immediately let go and took a step back.
Sure enough, Tiểu Vi looked back and forth between us several times, then, as if she’d confirmed something, pulled me upstairs and whispered in my ear:
“I knew it was you as soon as I saw your silhouette from behind!”
What a clever kid. She really had figured out that the book belonged to me that day.
But little sis, you guessed wrong.
The book really is mine, but I’m not going to be your future sister-in-law!
12
The lesson went very smoothly. We shared a passion for programming, so we never ran out of things to talk about.
When I learned that Tiểu Vi wanted to pursue the tech track for gifted students, I couldn’t help admiring her and gave her a thumbs-up.
Just as Tiểu Vi finished typing the last line of code, she suddenly asked:
“Big Sis, can I ask you something?”
I looked at her and gestured for her to go on.
She tilted her head, looked at the simple code on the screen, and asked:
“Why is the first program we always run ‘hello world’?”
Huh? That string?
Honestly, I’d never thought about it. I just knew that whenever you learned C, this was always the first program.
As I was still thinking it over, a familiar voice suddenly sounded behind me:
“It’s a greeting to the world.”
We all turned around at once.
Quý Thần Dần stood leaning against the door, backlit as he spoke slowly:
“The moment your program runs successfully, it comes to life. It represents emerging technology challenging the world.”
My heart gave a sudden, heavy beat.
The living room light fell across Quý Thần Dần’s handsome face. I couldn’t make out his expression, but heard his voice continue:
“It’s a legacy, and a new hope, too.”
I didn’t come back to myself until Quý Thần Dần approached. My mind kept replaying his explanation of the program.
As always, he handed me a glass of water, his voice gentle:
“You’ve worked hard.”
I slowly took it and drank a few sips, still a little worked up.
Tiểu Vi was clearly caught up in it, too. Our eyes met, and we said in unison:
“Oh, master, please tell us more!”
Quý Thần Dần had no choice but to give in. He led us into his study, turned on the projector, and began explaining the history of computer development.
He was truly a master in this field. Not only did he explain everything clearly, he also showed us lots of examples on the computer, making the lesson vivid and fascinating.
The lesson quickly turned into an engaging discussion. The two of us sat on the floor, nodding enthusiastically and occasionally letting out an impressed “Wow.”
Standing in front of the screen, Quý Thần Dần radiated an inner passion for computers. He made no show of it; he simply spoke plainly but fervently about the new hope this field could bring people.
I was completely absorbed, but as time went on, I noticed that Quý Thần Dần would occasionally shift his leg awkwardly.
That cold prosthetic leg came back to me once more.
Tiểu Vi was being introduced to programming for the first time and had clearly gotten completely swept up in this world, forgetting all about it. I kept sneaking glances at him, watching him move his leg more and more often. He must have been very uncomfortable standing for so long, but he didn’t want to spoil our enthusiasm.
Seeing that, I raised my hand and asked tentatively:
“Um, I need to use the bathroom.”
Quý Thần Dần looked at his watch, then said:
“Sorry, I went on a little long.”
Good grief, getting a lesson from Professor Quý was a privilege most people could only dream of. How could I complain that it was too long? If it weren’t for his leg, I’d gladly listen all night!
13
After the lesson Quý Thần Dần taught, I gradually grew more comfortable around him. I would collect a bunch of programming questions and wait until the weekend to bring them over and ask him. Every time, Quý Thần Dần patiently explained everything without a single complaint.
Gradually, it became a habit. Quý Thần Dần would teach, while Tiểu Vi and I sat on the floor, listening so intently we hung on his every word.
He joked:
“So I’m spending my own money and hiring myself as a tutor?”
Of course, I wasn’t taking his money—my older sister had already paid me. Even so, I still felt a little awkward. But I was bolder now, so I knew how to joke back:
“Then let it go on the tab. I’ll pay you back someday.”
Quý Thần Dần teased us, saying, “Your tab just keeps getting bigger.”
This went on for a long time, and somehow I began looking forward to Fridays, when I could study programming with Quý Thần Dần.
Then one day, when I knocked, it took Quý Thần Dần a long time to answer. His face looked unusually weary, his cheeks were flushed, and he seemed unwell. His voice was hoarse, too:
“There’s no lesson today. Didn’t your sister tell you?”
I hurriedly checked my phone and only then noticed that my sister had texted me about ten minutes ago. It turned out Tiểu Vi had gone to another province with her mother to compete, and Quý Thần Dần was the only one left at home.
Seeing how unwell he looked, I tried asking:
“Are you—no, I mean, are you okay?”
As soon as I finished speaking, he collapsed toward me.
Oh my God!
I frantically caught him and suddenly realized how hot he was. Fear made my heart pound; my legs and arms went weak, and both my hands started shaking.
As I struggled to drag him toward the living room, I used what little presence of mind I had left to call 120 for an ambulance.
14
By the time we got to the hospital and made it through all the procedures, I was utterly exhausted and sank into a chair. Quý Thần Dần had started an IV, but was still fast asleep.
The tension suddenly lifted, but fear washed over me instead. The sight of him collapsing against me, lifeless, along with the rumors about his health, had me worried. I’d never been through anything like this before. I was afraid we might not make it in time, and the more I thought about it, the more frightened I became.
I was already a fragile person, and I couldn’t stop myself from sobbing. Part of me blamed myself for being so weak, but somehow I also felt so wronged and scared.
“Stop crying.” A familiar voice rang out in the hospital room.
I froze, my eyes blurred with tears, and accidentally met Quý Thần Dần’s bleary gaze. He was awake now, gently reassuring me: “Don’t be scared.”
The moment he said that, I cried even harder, but still tried to save face. “I’m not crying. I’m just putting in eye drops.”
All the emotions I’d been bottling up burst out, and I let them all out on Quý Thần Dần. “You’re a grown man. You caught a cold and didn’t even take care of yourself. If I hadn’t come today…”
Tears streamed down my face as I panted and pointed at him, scolding, “You just stayed home with a fever like that!”
Quý Thần Dần stared at me, stunned by my words. His eyes held emotions I couldn’t understand, and he seemed a little pained. He raised a hand and gently wiped away my tears, murmuring, “It’s my fault.”
Then he gently patted my back, as if comforting me.
When I finally calmed down and realized I’d just had an emotional outburst without thinking, I felt embarrassed. I tried to find something to talk about. “When did you wake up?”
I didn’t know how long I’d been crying.
Quý Thần Dần managed a weak smile, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I dreamed about a girl crying her heart out. I was afraid she’d flood the hospital if she kept going, so I woke up.”
Me: …
I was worried sick, and he still had time to joke around.
I looked at the bill in my hand and raised both hands. “Now I don’t owe you anything anymore.”
I wasn’t lying.
The trip to the hospital and all the tests had wiped out all the money I’d managed to get from my sister for extra lessons.
Quý Thần Dần hummed in acknowledgment, his gaze gentle as he smiled and said, “Then I’ll owe you instead.”