Chapter 38.B: The Stalemate Move
The silence lasted for nearly an hour.
It was not the comfortable silence of people who knew each other too well. It was the stifling silence of those imprisoned. The crackling of the firewood in the fireplace sounded like the countdown of a bomb. The sound of Quan turning the pages of his book, steady and dry, was the hammer of a judge.
Ngan looked at her “tribe”. Her wild beasts. They were completely neutralized.
Tung sat on the floor, motionless like a stone statue, his back still leaning against her leg but without any energy. He just stared at the fire, his bloodshot eyes reflecting the fire but empty. Her strong bear was trapped, only knowing how to gnaw at his own confusion.
Minh was restless. He couldn’t sit still. He pulled out his phone, his thumb swiping aimlessly across the screen, from Facebook to Instagram and back to Zalo. A meaningless movement. His explosive energy, her fire, had been extinguished, leaving only a faint blue glow from the phone screen.
Both are tame. Their wildness can only exist without an audience.
Ngan took a deep breath. *Damn.*
She couldn’t stand this silence. It felt like death. She looked at Tung, at Minh. She couldn’t bring them closer. Quan’s gaze, though not directed, had built an invisible wall. They wouldn’t dare. Send Quan away? It would be impolite. And it would only confirm that they had something to hide. Accept the dull evening and go to bed?
No. She can’t.
Her eyes moved to the corner of the room. Towards Quan. The one who was leisurely reading a book, completely isolated. He was the problem.
And then a thought flashed through him, cold and clear as a mathematical equation. *The problem lies with him. Then the solution must also come from him.*
She couldn’t pull Minh and Tung closer. They wouldn’t come. So… she had to pull him in. She had to break his isolation. She had to turn him from a stranger into a part of the play.
Had to turn him from judge to player.
The decision has been made.
Ngan took a deep breath, held it in her chest, then slowly exhaled. She moved.
She slowly stood up.
That small action, in this quiet space, had the weight of an earthquake. Almost immediately, everything stopped.
Minh’s frantically swiping thumb paused in the middle of the screen. He raised his head.
Tung startled, turned around, his eyes escaping the hypnosis of the fire.
And in the corner of the room, Quan, though his eyes were still glued to the page, also stopped. His thumb paused on the edge of the paper, ready to turn the page but did not.
Both men were looking at her.
Ngan walked past Minh and Tung.
She didn’t look at them, didn’t even spare them a glance. For her, those two wild energies were temporarily absent. Her bare feet on the wooden floor made no sound, but each step stretched the invisible strings in the room. Minh looked up from his phone. Tung turned his head, his eyes filled with confusion. They both held their breath and watched, like two small animals witnessing a confrontation between two predators at the top of the food chain.
She walked straight towards the corner of the room. Towards Quan.
She didn’t sit down. She stood beside his armchair, a position of slight superiority. The firelight shone from the side, drawing soft curves of her body but casting a sharp shadow on her face. She looked down at the book in his hands.
“Is the book good?” Her voice was calm, clear, without a ripple.
Quan did not look up immediately. He finished the line he was reading, as if her presence had not distracted him. Then, he slowly closed the book, still holding his index finger between his fingers to mark the page. He looked up. His movements were slow and methodical. He took off his glasses and placed them on the book.
The action was a declaration. There was no longer a layer of glass between them. He looked straight into her eyes, a deep and undisguised curiosity. A very small smile, almost a smirk, played on his lips.
“Interesting.”
“What about?”
Quan was silent for a beat. A beat long enough for the tension in the room to thicken. He didn’t look away, his eyes still fixed on hers. His voice was clear, distinct, not too loud but enough for the two people holding their breath in the distance to hear.
“About herd mentality.”
A straight punch. No metaphors. He wasn’t hiding anything. He was telling her: *I know what you are. I’m studying you.*
Tung shivered slightly. Minh swallowed dryly.
But Ngan did not flinch. She was not startled, not confused, not angry. On the contrary, the smile on her lips became even clearer. It was not a polite smile. It was a smile of admiration, of a chess player who had just met a worthy opponent.