On the eve of my enrollment, Ms. Lee dropped by with a stack of study materials and an extra-curricular book. Tucked inside the front cover was a tiny sticky note that read: “May you hold sixpence in your hands, and lofty ideals in your heart.”

I casually flipped the pages open… and a five-hundred-yuan bill fell right out. I immediately tried to hand the cash over to my uncle, suggesting he return it to Ms. Lee. It felt like way too big an “investment” for just middle school. But Uncle shook his head, pushing it back toward me.

“Just focus on your studies. Don’t let her gesture go to waste.”

Middle school was also the time when my body began to change. Being a guy who’d never raised a daughter before, Uncle found himself completely out of his depth with those awkward teenage milestones.

When I got my very first period, I freaked out for a second. Thankfully, we’d had a basic health class at school, so I didn’t completely lose my mind. That evening, Uncle took me to the supermarket to buy pads. The store clerk kindly walked him through picking the right size and flow, even suggesting he hit up the mall nearby to buy me a few sets of proper undergarments.

By the time we headed home, his hands were loaded down with bags. As we passed a local bakery, he stopped abruptly to buy a frosted cake.

I looked at him, bewildered. “Whose birthday is it?”

Uncle patted my head, his voice as natural as could be. “Why does it have to be a birthday? Today is the day Chi Chi becomes a young lady.”

I went quiet for a moment, a sudden urge to laugh bubbling up inside me.

As middle school wore on, I transformed completely. My skin grew porcelain-pale, I shot up in height, and my grades remained rock-solid. Most importantly, I’d completely outgrown my elementary school days of throwing fists. None of the kids who’d witnessed my past beatdowns went to the same school, so nobody here knew my rough history.

To everyone else, I was just pretty, brilliant, and soft-spoken.

Sometimes, while standing in the restroom stall, I’d overhear girls gossiping about me:

“She’s so sweet and gentle…”

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud.

Every single morning, opening my desk was like pulling out a jackpot of love letters—boys, girls, you name it. I’d glance over them… sweep them straight into the trash, and turn right back to my textbooks.

My entire existence revolved around three places: the classroom, the dorms, and the cafeteria.

Even though I shot down every guy who confessed, a few stubborn “kamikaze warriors” still insisted on trailing behind me every Friday afternoon after school. A couple of them even hung around outside Uncle’s diner just to catch a glimpse of me before heading home.

I didn’t pay it much mind. More customers meant a busier diner, which meant Uncle made more money—I had zero reason to stop them.

Uncle, however, viewed these boys as an invading army. He went so far as to invite my former elementary homeroom teacher over to brainstorm defense strategies. From that day on, no matter how packed or dead the diner was, he made it his personal mission to escort me to and from school.

Whenever he pulled up to the school gates, his sharp gaze swept the crowd like a deadly blade, practically broadcasting: Touch her, and you’re picking out your own gravestone.

Over time, a legend spread through the hallways: Bui Chi in Class 8-1 is completely off-limits. Because standing behind her… is a terrifying uncle.

Thanks to him, my middle school years were so peaceful they were practically monotonous, leaving me with nothing to do but study. When high school entrance exams rolled around, my scores weren’t mind-blowing, but they landed comfortably within my usual range. I officially scored a spot at the prestigious key high school I’d been aiming for.

Ms. Lee told me, “Middle school is just a warm-up. High school is where the real fight begins. Those three years will define everything.”

I nodded. I knew I was still a long way from the peak. But the road ahead was long, and all I could do was keep walking.

…

The day I picked up my high school admission letter, Uncle dropped a completely unexpected bomb: my biological father was getting married again, and he’d actually sent us an invitation.

Hearing the words “biological father” made me freeze for a few seconds. It had been so long I’d honestly assumed he’d already kicked the bucket. The words slipped out before I could stop them:

“Wait… did Uncle Number One get dumped by another rich lady?”

Uncle shot me a warning glance, though he let out a quiet sigh. “Don’t be so blunt, kiddo. Say what you want, but your uncle still has… charm.”

I tilted my head. What kind of “charm” gets a guy married for the umpteenth time?

When we arrived at the wedding venue, my faith in humanity took another hit. On one side stood a gold-digging playboy who had burned through multiple marriages; on the other stood a rich heiress who had already been divorced six times.

Ah, the mysterious world of the ultra-wealthy.

According to Uncle’s insider gossip, the heiress’s ex-husbands had all been young, handsome, energetic guys. I took one look at my father, then looked at his new bride, and internally gagged.

Uncle and I were seated at a table with a bunch of distant aunts and uncles from our extended family. Having not seen us in years, everyone suddenly seemed to have a whole lot to say.

“Thanh Thuong, you’re pushing forty and still not thinking about marriage?”

“Now that the kid is growing up, you need to look out for yourself. A house without a woman is just cold.”

“Oh, by the way, I bumped into your first love the other day. She has three kids now!”

I almost choked on my rice. First love? Three kids? Sounded like a prime-time soap opera.

I whipped my head around to stare at Uncle.

Noticing my burning gaze, he gave my ear a gentle pinch. “Eat your food and stop letting your imagination run wild.”

Before I could pry any further, my father and his new bride strolled over to our table to toast the guests. Seeing me, my father paused, a complex look flickering across his eyes. He was probably stunned by how much I’d grown up—not to brag, but I wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes.

I raised my glass of orange juice with polite grace. “Wishing Uncle Number One and my new aunt a lifetime of happiness together.”

My father offered a stiff smile and nodded. My “new aunt,” on the other hand, looked thrilled. She reached into her bag and handed me a thick red envelope. Out of the entire table, I was the only one who got one.

Feeling the heft of that envelope, I immediately took back my silent curse. May you two enjoy a long and prosperous marriage.

The relatives quickly turned their sights back onto me.

“Bui Chi’s graduating middle school now, right? So, which factory are you planning to work at?”

“Dressed up so pretty… got yourself a boyfriend already?”

“Once you start earning money, make sure you show proper gratitude to your uncle. If he hadn’t taken you in back then…”

“Aunt Three, everyone—let’s leave Chi Chi’s business for later. She still has high school entrance exams to worry about.”

Uncle poured himself a cup of tea, his tone calm, yet sharp enough to instantly shut down the family tribunal.

The entire table turned to stare at me as if I were some kind of alien creature.

“What? Bui Chi passed the high school entrance exams?!”

I quietly rolled my eyes. Honestly, if people didn’t know what they were talking about, they really should just keep their mouths shut.

“Yeah… she got into City Experimental High.”

“WHAT?!”

The entire table nearly flipped the banquet board over. I nonchalantly picked up another piece of braised pork, acting like none of this had anything to do with me.

After the banquet, as we were packing up to leave, my father pulled me into a quiet corner. He darted his eyes left and right, then tried to shove a two-hundred-yuan bill into my palm.

“Bui Muoi… you know we’re not father and daughter anymore, right? Just… make sure you don’t mention any of our past to your new aunt.”

I knitted my brows. “You were never my father to begin with. My legal registry is under my uncle’s household.”

Without missing a beat, I slapped the bill right back into his hand. Did he really think two hundred yuan was enough to buy my silence? I wasn’t a beggar, and I had my self-respect.