Chapter 11 — After Taking Mother Away, We Changed Our Lives

Not only are we not allowed to continue production... But we can't even use the three words "That Ly Huong" anymore. Everything I worked hard to build. A brand that I am always proud of. In the blink of an eye... Became someone else's. Turned into a thief again. Trademark infringer. How wild. How funny. A huge wave of anger and humiliation rushed straight into my head. I couldn't hold back any longer, grabbed the glass jar on the table and slammed it on the ground. The sound of broken glass was deafening. Dark red chili sauce and glass fragments were scattered all over the floor. Like blood. Mom and Aunt Tran ran to hug me in panic.

“Nguyet Nguyet!”

“Don't be like that!”

My whole body trembled violently, tears kept falling like a broken string of beads. Coming to Dung Thanh and suffering so much... I have never cried. But this time... I really couldn't bear it anymore. They took away my hope. That night, I locked myself in a small attic, not eating or drinking. I wonder over and over again. Am I wrong? Persistence with quality… Is it wrong? Not bowing to money... Is it wrong? I kept thinking but didn't understand. Late at night, my mother carried a bowl of hot porridge upstairs. She placed a bowl of porridge next to the bed. Don't advise me anything. Just quietly sat next to me, gently patting my back. Just like when I was a child... Every time I was sick or sad, she would comfort me like that.

“Nguyet Nguyet…”

“I know you feel sorry for yourself.”

“If you really can't try anymore…”

“Let's go home.”

“I don't need anything else, I just want you to be safe.”

I turned my head to look at her blurry figure in the darkness. To which house? Did the house kick the mother and child out like trash? I don't have a home anymore. This is my only battlefield. I can't lose. A thought like a single flash of lightning ripped through the darkness, suddenly illuminating my mind. Bach Vi Giai has money. There are laws. So what do I have? I have the heart to risk my life. I have a good mother. I also have a real story. They can take my name. But you can't steal my story. Can't rob my mother of her skills. It is impossible to rob my mother and me of the life-and-death relationship we rely on. I have to use public opinion. I want to tell our story to all of Dung Thanh. I want everyone to see clearly... what kind of company Bach Vi Giai is. I want them to see... Behind the "That Ly Huong" brand that they are proud of... How dirty is the robbery. I suddenly sat up from the bed, wiping away my tears. Then find the local newspaper you previously bought. At the bottom corner of the newspaper... I found the editorial hotline number. My hands are still shaking. But the act of dialing the number is extremely steadfast. Phone connected.

“Hello, hello, this is Dung Thanh Afternoon Newspaper.”

I took a deep breath, using all my strength to keep my voice steady.

"Hello."

“My name is Ly Nguyet.”

“I have a story.”

“A story about ‘mother's chili sauce'…”

“And a big company.”

“You guys will be very interested.”

A young female reporter named Tien Giai arrived faster than I thought. The very next morning, she appeared in front of our small factory that was suspended from business. Looking at her, she must have just graduated not long ago, her face still has a youthful look. White t-shirt. Simple jeans. On the back is a cloth bag dad. Completely unlike the type of sharp, experienced media person I had imagined. When she saw the seal pasted in front of the door... Along with the five crooked words "Mother and Son That Ly Huong" on the rolling door... A very complex emotion flashed through her eyes. I invited her inside. Mother and Aunt Tran frantically poured water, so nervous that they didn't know where to stand.

“Everyone, don't be nervous.”

“Just call me Tieu Tien.”

She laughed, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

“Sister Nguyet, let's talk here too.”

“I want to see where people used to work.”

Her eyes glanced over the kitchen that we cleaned... Through the shiny glass jars. I nodded and took out all the "evidence". 5,000 yuan fine. Notice of business suspension from the Market Surveillance Department. Same paper refusing to register the fatal trademark. Then I started talking. Since the compensation payment. From my father's words:

“A daughter is always a member of another family after all.”

Since the day my mother and I took 3,000 yuan and boarded the old train heading south. I told about the small windowless room in the village in the city. Tell me about how my mother was heartbroken when she saw my hands soaked in greasy water, then secretly went to pick up scraps and bottles. Talk about the excitement of selling your first jar of chili sauce at the night market. Telling the story of how we used all our savings to rent this small yard... We thought we could finally have our own roots. My voice was very calm. Don't cry. Also do not denounce. I'm just stating a fact. The truth about how we both struggled to survive in despair. When I mentioned Director Vuong's words:

“200,000 yuan, buy out your formula.”

I saw Tieu Tien's hand unconsciously tighten. When I mentioned them monopolizing the raw materials... Malicious accusations... Even stealing our brand... Her face was filled with irrepressible indignation.