After dropping Đông Anh off at Mr. Liễu's mansion and exchanging a few polite greetings, Dung hopped on his Honda 72 and rode straight to the Nam Ngọc building. He took the elevator to the top floor and headed straight for Room 14.
Knock knock.
A woman's voice called from inside, gentle, but cold.
"Who is it?"
"It's your moneyman at the door," Dung replied.
The lock clicked open instantly, though the person inside didn't show her face. Dung stepped in without hesitation and threw himself onto the sofa in front of the TV. He glanced around casually, eyes hunting for anything unusual. Spotting something new, he raised his voice theatrically:
"Well, well, a brand-new stereo system, looks pricey! Only the top beauty of Saigon could score something like this, huh?" He teased the woman now sitting beside him.
"Drink your water and shut that mouth," she snapped, handing him a glass.
"Why so cold, sis? If it weren't for me whispering your name into Mr. Liễu's ear every chance I get, you wouldn't be getting sweet treats like this. Come on, show your gratitude, big sis!"
"There's a kilo of apples and two kilos of grapes in the fridge. Knock yourself out!"
The woman lowered her icy gaze toward Dung's sprawled body on the sofa, then added:
"Or maybe… you'd rather have a little fun tonight?"
She tugged down one side of her sheer robe, revealing a bare shoulder—slender, milk-white, like it hadn't seen the sun in years. A lace strap from her glossy nightgown traced gently across her pale shoulder. Dung closed his eyes and instinctively leaned away.
"Please, sis. A lowlife pimp like me only gets turned on by cold, hard cash."
She didn't bother fixing her robe. Resting her head on the hand draped over the sofa, she inadvertently revealed a long, graceful curve—starting from her porcelain neck, dipping into a hollowed collarbone, then flowing down to her pale, delicate arms. A brushstroke of pure seduction. Her eyes narrowed as she looked straight at Dung.
"Sometimes I wonder... are you really a saint or just allergic to skin?"
Dung sighed and sat upright. He reached out and pulled the robe back over her, covering up the exposed skin.
"Look, sis—I'm a pimp. Your body? It's just walking profit."
"Bastard!"
Dung just smiled, as if accepting the insult as a badge of honor.
"Alright, alright—cut me some slack. I came here 'cause I need a favor."
He watched her walk toward the vanity, her back to him.
"Hah! Never thought I'd see the day—Dung Tây coming to a whore like me for help." She called out dramatically, pulling a wallet from the drawer.
"I'm no saint," Dung said, grinning. "Even I need help sometimes. And I've got a feeling this little errand might pique your interest."
She raised an eyebrow at him.
"You know who I've been with all day?" Dung asked.
"Mr. Liễu's youngest."
"Well damn, sis—you've been keeping tabs, huh?"
"What's the kid like?" she asked, curious now.
Dung furrowed his brow, trying to piece together a clearer image of Đông Anh.
"Hmm… soft, tall, all scholarly on the outside but..."
"But what? Should we be worried?"
She didn't have to say what kind of worry she meant, Dung understood perfectly.
"Hard to say," he replied. "He's got that lamb look going on, but every now and then... I catch a fox tail peeking out." He glanced at her, then added, "But don't worry, sis. I won't let anything—or anyone—mess with our business."
She sighed, asked: "So, what's this favor?"
"I want you to dig into this boy background. When he was up in Đà Lạt… was he really studying to be a priest, or just faking the collar in some pleasure house up in the hills?"
"And why do you suspect that?"
"Well, they say blood runs true. His old man owns the hottest nightclub in Saigon, and mistresses on both sides of his bed. You really expect that man to raise a holy child in a white robe?"
She scoffed. "If he's got a thing for girls, just bait the hook. No need to play spy."
"I want to know his type, his flavor. Just dig up whatever you can, alright? I need to know what kind of game this father-son duo's playing."
She narrowed her eyes.
So Mr. Liễu's keeping an eye on you now? You'd better be careful."
A brief silence passed before Dung spoke again, voice back to teasing.
"What's this? Worried about me, sis? Or have you fallen for me already?"
She shot back without missing a beat.
"I'm just curious to see what kind of death someone like you is destined for."
"That's a woman's heart for you." Dung said with a mock shake of his head, feigning disappointment.
At the vanity, the woman picked up her wallet and walked over to him. She counted the bills carefully, then handed over a wad of cash.
"Been saving up to send the kid abroad, so you'll have to let me stall a bit. But about that favor—don't worry. I'll ask around, real thorough."
"Need me to scout some more paying gentlemen for you? 'Cause sending a kid overseas ain't cheap."
"Are you crazy? You want Mr. Liễu to shoot us both dead?"
"Wait—are you telling me you're actually faithful?"
"Sure I am. A whore stays faithful—to money. The bigger, the better."
Dung gave a sharp laugh. The woman continued, voice steadier now.
"This one's for the kid—his living expenses. I need you to give it to him."
"Why don't you hand it over yourself?"
"You think he'd take it if he knew it came from me?"
Dung scoffed.
"And you think he won't figure it out just 'cause I'm the one handing it over? That kid's just pretending, acts all high and mighty, doesn't even call you 'mom.' Honestly, someone like him deserves whatever karma the heavens have lined up."
"It wasn't him. I'm the one who told him not to call me that," she said softly. "What kid would ever feel proud knowing his mother's a whore?"
"I would!" Dung snapped. "All these years, I've been holding my head high living off the money I wring out of whores."
"Oh come on, Dung. Please. If you're gonna help me, then help me all the way, will you?"
Dung looked at her for a long moment—an unreadable look, something pained. Then he shook his head.
"Fate's been unkind to you… but you've been even harder on yourself."
With that, he turned and walked away.
"Please, make sure my kid gets the money," she called after him.
She stood there, eyes following the lonely, bitter silhouette of Dung disappearing down the hall. Then, almost in a whisper:
"…Thank you."
.
"Dung, zip up the back for me, will you?"
Ms. Tư called out to the young man behind her, who was far too busy staring at her bare back. Against her smooth skin, the straps of a black bra stood out in sharp contrast.
"Hurry up, would you?" she added, carefully outlining her full lips with a lipstick brush. Reflected in the mirror, her image looked sinfully sexy—pure temptation, through and through.
"Stand up straight!"
Dung's voice blew softly against her ear, making goosebumps rise on her skin. Ms. Tư obeyed, curious to see what he'd do next. His warm fingers brushed against her back, slowly trailing along her spine.
"Your skin's flawless," he murmured.
She smiled smugly at the compliment.
"Your mom's not home this afternoon, is she?" he asked.
"Nope," she said, turning to wrap her arms around his neck. "Which means there's no one to interrupt us."
Dung slipped his arms around her waist, then whispered into her ear:
"There's one peeking around the door."
Ms. Tư's eyes darted toward the half-open door, .just in time to catch a clueless Đông Anh hovering near the door. She stomped over and slammed the door shut with a loud bang, then raised her voice so the eavesdropper could hear:
"Seriously, what is it with this family and snooping around? Always sneaking, always spying."
She flopped down onto the chair, her face sour.
"Aren't you worried your brother might tell someone about this?" Dung asked in a low voice.
"I dare him to," she shot back, loud as ever. "Honestly, still acting like a tattletale at that age, what a joke!"
"Sounds like you two don't get along too well," Dung said, clearly amused.
"That boy's always playing the righteous little angel, but behind everyone's back, he's whispering all kinds of things to the grownups. You know, when he still lived here, I don't know what he said, but my dad and grandma wouldn't stop comparing us to him. Always 'Đông Anh is so polite, Đông Anh is so good'—ugh, makes me sick."
Dung chuckled and sat down beside her, voice teasing:
"Poor Ms. Tư, such a proper, gentle lady. You must've had a tough childhood."
"You jerk," she huffed, giving his arm a playful slap.
There was a knock at the door, followed by Đông Anh's voice:
"Tư, I'm waiting for you."
"Yeah, yeah. Just a minute."
She said it, but had absolutely no intention of getting up. Instead, she turned to Dung, annoyed:
"This time he's back, I swear I'll make sure Mom and Dad see his true colors. If he's not petty and selfish, then he's just another spoiled brat. Kids like him—pampered since birth—no way he's cut out for chanting prayers day and night."
Another knock. This time, Đông Anh's tone was sharper:
"If you're busy, you don't have to take me out."
"I wouldn't dare!" she called out mockingly. "Út's finally come home for a visit—if I don't take you out and show you around, then you tell Dad and Mom, I'm doomed."
(Út is the youngest son in the family, and in Southern Vietnamese families, it's common to call him Út instead of his real name.)
Hearing that, Dung spoke up.
"So, you're taking him out? Want me to book a spot?"
"Dad keeps telling me to take him out, but hell if I know where to drag him."
Đông Anh's voice came through again:
"I'm not gonna say anything to Dad. Just whenever you're free is fine."
"Please, like I'd take that risk."
A short pause, then Đông Anh replied:
"Then just come out and tell me what you want to do. Talking back and forth like this isn't really working."
"There, you see that, Dung? He's even trying to correct his own sister now," Ms. Tư muttered under her breath.
She picked up her clutch bag nearby and casually studied herself in the mirror.
"Where should I take him, Dung? Somewhere that'll strip him down to what he really is."