Professor Wen Nhuoc Duong stared at me.
—Tong Uyen Nghi?
I nodded.
—She changed Professor Trieu’s experimental data and copied part of the research into a project submitted under another laboratory.
Professor Wen’s face hardened.
—Do you have proof?
I pointed at the USB.
—Everything is there.
Original laboratory logs.
Timestamped backups.
Internal emails.
Access records.
And one audio file.
Four years ago, Professor Trieu had discovered the data manipulation.
Before she could report it, she had an accident.
I was the only person who knew she had copied the evidence.
That was why I became the easiest person to blame.
Tong Uyen Nghi cried in front of my brother.
She said I had altered the data out of jealousy.
She said Professor Trieu discovered me and that I threatened her.
Then investigators found modified files on my computer.
Perfect evidence.
Too perfect.
I told Jiang Tu Hanh that someone had used my account.
I begged him to investigate the laboratory access records.
I knelt outside the Jiang family house in the snow.
Three days.
Three nights.
He came outside only once.
He stood beneath an umbrella and looked down at me.
—Uyen Nghi has already admitted she saw you changing the files.
I remember lifting my frozen face.
—Brother, believe me once.
His reply had followed me for four years.
—Why should I believe you instead of her?
That day, I stopped having a brother.
Professor Wen opened the first folder.
Then the second.
Her expression changed.
—These timestamps…
—I know.
—They were created before the allegedly fraudulent version.
—Yes.
She clicked another file.
The laboratory access system showed Tong Uyen Nghi entering Professor Trieu’s office late at night several times.
Then came the emails.
One message from Tong Uyen Nghi to an unknown address:
Once the old woman is gone, the project will belong to us. Jiang Nien So will take the blame. My brother will believe me.
Professor Wen’s hand froze on the mouse.
—Your brother?
I smiled faintly.
—She always called him that.
Professor Wen looked at me.
—Did Jiang Tu Hanh ever see this?
—No.
—Why didn’t you show him?
—I never had the USB after my arrest.
I leaned back.
—Professor Trieu hid it before she died. A former technician found it later and managed to send it to me through someone working at the prison.
—Why wait four years?
I looked at the screen.
—Because if I sent it to the Jiang family, Tong Uyen Nghi would find out.
Professor Wen understood.
—I was waiting until I could hand it directly to someone Professor Trieu trusted.
Her eyes reddened.
—And you came here immediately after prison.
—Yes.
She looked at my medical file.
Then at me.
—Instead of going home.
I smiled.
—I don’t have a home there anymore.
The clinic door suddenly opened.
Jiang Tu Hanh stood outside.
He must have followed me.
His eyes immediately found the USB on Professor Wen’s desk.
Then my medical report.
—Nien So.
I looked away.
Professor Wen stood.
—Mr. Jiang, this is a consultation room.
—I need to speak with my sister.
—She doesn’t want to speak with you.
His face tightened.
—Professor Wen—
She interrupted him.
—Before asking her for anything, perhaps you should see what your adopted sister did.
The room became completely silent.
Jiang Tu Hanh slowly turned toward the computer.
Professor Wen played the files.
One after another.
His face changed with every page.
Disbelief.
Confusion.
Then horror.
Finally, the recording.
Tong Uyen Nghi’s voice came through the speakers.
—Once Jiang Nien So is convicted, nobody will question me. Tu Hanh already believes whatever I say.
My brother stopped breathing.
Professor Wen paused the recording.
—Four years ago, your biological sister told the truth.
Her voice became cold.
—You simply preferred someone else’s lie.
Jiang Tu Hanh stared at me.
—Nien So…
I stood.
—I delivered what I came to deliver.
Professor Wen stopped me gently.
—Your treatment.
—I know.
—We need to discuss options.
I nodded.
—Tomorrow.
Jiang Tu Hanh took a step toward me.
—I’ll arrange the best hospital. Specialists abroad. Anything—
I looked at him.
—No.
His face collapsed.
—Don’t refuse treatment because of me.
I almost laughed.
—You still think everything is about you.
He froze.
—I’m refusing nothing.
I lifted my medical report.
—But my doctors already explained the situation.
His lips trembled.
—Six months?
I said nothing.
That was enough.
Tong Uyen Nghi was still living in the Jiang family villa.
Still calling Jiang Tu Hanh “brother.”
Still using the room beside mine that my parents had once prepared for me.
That evening, Jiang Tu Hanh returned home carrying copies of the evidence.
I wasn’t there.
Professor Wen later told me what happened.
Tong Uyen Nghi came downstairs smiling.
—Brother, did you bring Sister Nien So back?
He put the documents on the table.
—Why?
Her smile froze.
—What?
—Why did you frame her?
Her face turned white.
—Brother, what are you talking about?
He played the recording.
She lasted less than a minute.
Then she started crying.
Exactly as she had four years earlier.
—Brother, listen to me—
Jiang Tu Hanh reportedly laughed.
A terrible, empty laugh.
—That’s what she said too.
Tong Uyen Nghi froze.
He continued:
—She begged me to listen.
—And I told her I believed you.
For the first time, her tears stopped working.
The investigation reopened.
Professor Wen submitted the original data.
Independent experts verified it.
The academic fraud accusation against Professor Trieu was formally withdrawn.
My conviction was reviewed.
Evidence showed that files had been planted under my account and witness testimony had been fabricated.
Four years after being sent to prison…
I was officially declared wrongfully convicted.
The announcement became national news.
Jiang Group’s share price fell after reporters discovered that Jiang Tu Hanh had personally provided testimony supporting Tong Uyen Nghi’s accusations during the original investigation.
Headlines appeared everywhere.
Jiang Heiress Imprisoned After Adopted Sister’s False Testimony.
Researcher Cleared Four Years Later.
Professor Trieu Dung’s Final Work Vindicated.
I didn’t read them.
I was too busy helping Professor Wen organize the research.
That was the only thing that mattered to me.
Jiang Tu Hanh came every day.
I refused to see him every day.
Flowers.
Returned.
Food.
Returned.
A private medical team.
Refused.
Then he stopped sending expensive things.
Instead, he sat outside Professor Wen’s department.
Hours.
Sometimes all day.
One afternoon, I walked out after treatment and found him asleep on the plastic chair.
His coat was folded beneath his head.
The birthday coat I had given him four years earlier.
I stopped for two seconds.
Then continued walking.
He woke immediately.
—Nien So.
I didn’t stop.
He followed at a distance.
—I’m sorry.
Silence.
—I know those words mean nothing now.
I finally turned.
—Then don’t say them.
His eyes became red.
—What do you want me to do?
I looked at him.
Four years ago, I would have had a thousand answers.
Believe me.
Protect me.
Investigate.
Visit me.
Ask if I was alive.
Now?
—Nothing.
He looked devastated.
I continued:
—That’s what you don’t understand.
—I’m no longer waiting for you to fix anything.
His voice broke.
—I’m your brother.
I smiled faintly.
—You were.
Then I walked away.
Tong Uyen Nghi was arrested shortly afterward.
Her lawyers claimed she had been young.
Afraid.
Manipulated by senior researchers.
Then another file was discovered.
Bank transfers.
She had received money from a pharmaceutical competitor in exchange for Professor Trieu’s research.
It had never been about jealousy.
It had been money.
My four years.
Professor Trieu’s reputation.
My illness progressing without proper treatment.
All of it had been worth a bank transfer to her.
When Jiang Tu Hanh learned this, he went silent for an entire day.
Then he came to Professor Wen’s office.
This time, I agreed to see him.
He sat opposite me.
—Why didn’t you tell me you were sick in prison?
I looked at him.
—I did.
His face changed.
—What?
—Second year.
I had written him three letters.
Persistent cough.
Chest pain.
Abnormal scan.
I asked if he could help arrange another examination.
He never replied.
Jiang Tu Hanh’s hands began shaking.
—I never received them.
I nodded.
—Your secretary sent them back.
He whispered:
—Why?
—Because Tong Uyen Nghi said I was trying to manipulate you into getting me released.
He closed his eyes.
Another door closing four years too late.
—I should have checked.
—Yes.
—I should have visited.
—Yes.
—I should have believed you.
I looked at him.
—Yes.
Tears finally fell from his eyes.
—I destroyed you.
I shook my head.
—No.
He looked up.
—You destroyed our relationship.
I touched the research folder beside me.
—I’m still here.
For the first time, I wanted him to understand that distinction.
He had taken years from me.
He had taken trust.
But he did not get to own the rest of my life too.
However long it was.
Professor Wen and I spent the following months completing Professor Trieu’s final paper.
My name appeared beneath hers.
Not because I wanted fame.
Because Professor Trieu had written it there in the original draft.
Trieu Dung, Jiang Nien So.
Teacher.
Student.
The research was published after an independent review.
It received international recognition.
At the press conference, Professor Wen placed an empty chair beside mine.
Professor Trieu’s name was written on it.
I touched the edge of the chair.
Then smiled for the cameras.
For the first time in four years, when people said my name, they did not whisper “criminal.”
They said:
Researcher.
Student.
Wrongfully convicted.
Professor Trieu’s successor.
That was enough.
Jiang Tu Hanh stayed nearby.
He no longer asked me to return home.
No longer demanded forgiveness.
He drove me to appointments when I allowed it.
Waited outside when I didn’t.
Once, I fell asleep in the car and woke with his coat over me.
I looked at him.
He immediately said:
—Sorry. I’ll take it away.
I stopped him.
—Leave it.
His eyes turned red.
That was the closest thing to forgiveness I ever gave him.
And perhaps it was enough.
Several months later, Professor Wen asked me one evening:
—Do you regret anything?
I thought for a long time.
—Yes.
—What?
—I regret kneeling in the snow for three days.
She looked surprised.
I smiled.
—I should have spent those three days trusting myself instead of begging someone else to trust me.
Professor Wen reached over and squeezed my hand.
I looked through the hospital window.
The city lights were beginning to appear.
My remaining time was uncertain.
But for the first time in years, I wasn’t afraid of losing it.
Because it finally belonged to me.
Afterward, Jiang Tu Hanh established a foundation in Professor Trieu’s name to support researchers falsely accused of academic misconduct and prisoners requiring independent medical reviews.
He never put his own name on it.
He knew he didn’t deserve to.
On the first page of the foundation’s charter was one sentence I had written:
Truth arriving late does not return the years it missed. But it can stop the next innocent person from losing theirs.
That was the only legacy I wanted.
Not revenge.
Not my brother’s guilt.
Truth.
Four years earlier, I had knelt in the snow begging Jiang Tu Hanh to investigate.
He turned away.
Four years later, he would have given everything for me to ask him for something again.
But by then, I had nothing left to ask.
He finally believed his sister.
He finally cleared my name.
And the cruelest part was that he did everything I had once begged him to do…
only after I had stopped needing him to believe me.
