Chapter 1 — After the Rain, There's No Turning Back

On the day of the press conference, in front of more than three hundred media agencies, Chu Tu Bach announced something on my behalf. He said:

"My fiancee, Ms. Trinh Kien Vi, voluntarily donated the flash flood warning algorithm 'Vu Dang' in her possession to Thanh Duong Charity Foundation for free. In the future, it will serve more children in mountainous areas."

The whole hall echoed with applause. I sat in the front row, my skirt spread over my knees, white like a misplaced piece of snow. On the big screen was my photo. Next to the photo is my name. Below the name is a line of golden letters: Great love without sound, science and technology towards goodness. Chu Tu Bach turned to look at me. His eyes were gentle, with a bit of certainty, as if he had prepared all the most decent and beautiful words for me.

“Kien Vi.”

He gave me the microphone.

“Let me say a few words.”

At that moment, the flash light under the stands flashed like lightning before a heavy rain. I took the microphone. I heard myself calmly say:

“I don't agree.”

1. The applause suddenly stopped. The whole hall could only hear the sound of wind blowing from the air conditioning door. The smile on Chu Tu Bach's face stiffened. Sitting next to the stage is Diep Thanh Duong, founder of the Thanh Duong Charity Foundation. Her eye sockets immediately turned red. She wore a long ivory white dress, her figure was thin and gentle like a flower that could be blown away by the wind at any moment. She asked softly:

“Kien Vi, did I do something bad?”

This statement is so clever. No blame, no anger, even self-criticism. Then all the lenses turned to me. They were waiting to record the ugly appearance of a cold-blooded woman. I tightened my grip on the microphone.

“Miss Diep, whether you do well or not has nothing to do with whether I agree to donate or not.”

I raised my head to look at the words "Great love without sound" on the big screen.

"First, the 'Vu Dang' algorithm is not a wedding gift. It's not like someone standing on stage saying a 'voluntary' sentence can take it away."

“Second, I have never signed any donation agreement.”

“Third, I will indeed put it into the public rescue system, but not to a private fund that has only been established for seven months, does not disclose financial reports, and the supplier also matches to a high degree with Bac Ngan Group.”

In the hall, soft sounds of commotion rang out. Chu Tu Bach's face changed. He lowered his voice:

“Kien Vi, don't cause trouble.”

I looked at him. This man has known me for seven years. He knows that every time I stay up late writing code, I often bite the gap between the thumb and index finger of my left hand. Knowing it's raining will give me a headache. Knowing that my father died in a flash flood, all my life I hate the idea of someone using the warning system to make money. But he still stood on the stage, declaring on my behalf that I was willing. He didn't even think he needed to ask me a question first. I told him:

“Chu Tu Bach, I am not causing trouble.”

“I am officially informing you.”

“Impersonating me, forging my will, scheming to transfer my intellectual property rights.”

“I will pursue this matter to the end.”

In the midst of dead silence, I placed the microphone down the table. Then turned around and left the hall. The moment the door opened, it started to rain outside. The rainy season in Cang Thanh comes very early. Dark clouds pressed low on the glass dome, strands of rain like millions of thin needles piercing the hot face of the city. As soon as I walked out of the exhibition center, my phone rang. It was Chu Tu Bach calling. I don't listen. Second, third, fourth. I turned off the computer. A black commercial vehicle stopped on the side of the road. The window was lowered halfway. Inside was a man wearing a white shirt, a cold gray tie, and thin-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose. He looked over at the chaos behind me.

“Miss Trinh, three minutes earlier than expected.”

I pulled the car door open, sat inside, gathered the wet ends of my hair behind my shoulders.

“They are more stupid than I thought.”

The man handed me a file.

"The notary office and the intellectual property representative unit have both made appointments in advance. All videos recorded at the press conference scene have also been backed up in three copies."

I opened the file. On the cover is written: List of evidence in the case Trinh Kien Vi sued Chu Tu Bach, Trung Hai Technology and Thanh Duong Charity Foundation for violating intellectual property rights and honor rights. I closed the file.

“Ky Tram Chu.”

“Yes?”

“After today, they will say I am heartless and meaningless, say I sabotage the public good, say I ignore the children in the mountains for money.”

Ky Tram Chu looked at me, his expression very calm.

“Are you scared?”

Rain water flows along the car window. The exhibition center outside was brightly lit, looking like a giant transparent fish tank. I said:

"The year my father passed away, the whole mountain was calling for help. Calling to the end, only the sound of the rain responded."

“I didn't create 'Vu Dang' so that anyone would like me.”

“I did it so no one would die in silence anymore.”

The car drove into the rain. Behind is Chu Tu Bach's late fifth call. I glanced and immediately hung up. The first time I met Chu Tu Bach was in the summer when I was nineteen years old. Heavy rain in Nam Xuyen caused flash floods to destroy two bridges. My father, Trinh Vien Son, was the last person to leave the local hydrological station. He sent each warning message, but he himself was trapped in the station.