Chapter 13 — Anonymous Drawing

Part III — Named Drawings

The notice inviting bids appeared on the bulletin board of the Truc Giang Architects Association on a Tuesday morning in early April, right next to an old poster advertising a seminar on sustainable construction materials that had faded due to the sun. Dieu Linh, stopping by the association's office to submit an application to renew her practicing certificate, accidentally stopped in front of the bulletin board, her eyes landed on the bold text: "Invitation to participate in the architectural plan competition - Ben Cu Community Cultural House Project - Investor: Kien Nguyen Group."

She skimmed the attached preliminary description: a riverside community center, including a public library, free classrooms for neighborhood children, open cultural living space, clear budget, no limit on the size of participating offices, only requiring professional capacity and design ideas consistent with the community spirit of the project.

Her heart skipped a beat when reading about the location of the land - right on the river near Cay Gon alley, less than a kilometer from her old house, the land was previously an abandoned vacant lot, where the children in the neighborhood, including her, used to run and play on afternoons after school.

"Old Ben Community Cultural House," she mumbled, rereading the name of the project, feeling a vague familiarity creeping into her heart that she couldn't name right away, until an old image suddenly appeared - a drawing of the community center in a sketchbook from years ago, where Khoi Nguyen once said "I want to build something real for this area". She shook her head, immediately dismissed that thought, telling herself it was just a coincidence — after all, "Kien Nguyen Group" is a completely different name from "Ngo Khoi Nguyen", and she was too used to telling herself not to let baseless associations control her emotions.

Returning to the office, she brought the bidding notice to Mr. Huan to see, suggesting that the office should participate.

"This project has real community significance, not just for show," she said, her voice filled with rare excitement. "Reasonable budget, suitable scale for our office, and right in the direction of social housing and public works we are still pursuing."

Uncle Huan looked through the file and nodded in agreement. "I also think it's reasonable. But you know, the investor is a large corporation, there will certainly be many other large offices participating in the competition. Are you confident that your office can win?"

"I'm not sure I can win," Dieu Linh admitted, "but I think I should at least try. This is exactly the type of project I've always wanted to do."

She did not tell Uncle Huan about the fleeting association with the name "Kien Nguyen" just now, telling herself it was an unreasonable thought not worth paying attention to. But that night, when she sat alone in her apartment, she opened her laptop and searched for "Kien Nguyen Group" online, just to see if - she told herself - it had anything to do with the past or not.

The group's official website appears, with a logo shaped like a pencil line stylized into the outline of a roof, along with a list of major projects completed throughout Truc Giang city and neighboring provinces. She scrolled to the "Leadership" section, her heart beating faster as she scrolled down, and finally stopped at a portrait photo - a young man in an elegant suit, his face was much more mature than the high school student she once knew, but his eyes, the way the corners of his mouth slightly raised when he smiled, were still unmistakable. The caption below reads: "Ngo Khoi Nguyen — Vice President in charge of Project Development."

Dieu Linh sat silently in front of her laptop screen for a long time, feeling like the entire eight years she had worked hard to forget, to overcome, seemed to collapse in just a split second in front of a small portrait photo on a company website. She closed her laptop, took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

"It's okay," she told herself, her voice loud in the quiet room, as if she needed to hear herself affirm it. "This is a bid, not a meeting with an old acquaintance. I can participate without having to meet him directly."

But she also knew that if Uncle Huan's office participated and had a chance to make it to the final presentation round, meeting Khoi Nguyen would be almost inevitable, because he was the representative of the investor of this project.

Unable to hold back, she called Ho Khanh Thu that night, telling her all her findings, her voice still shaking.

"Oh my god," Khanh Thu exclaimed over the phone, her voice both surprised and a little excited. "I told you, eight years ago I was suspicious of something about a luxury car. What are you going to do now?"

"I don't know," Dieu Linh admitted, her voice quiet. "Half of me wants to quit right away, half of me doesn't want to let old things get in the way of my work. This is my biggest opportunity ever, Khanh Thu. This project, if done well, can take my name to a completely different level."

"Let's do it then," Khanh Thu said, her voice becoming more serious. "You participate in the bidding, not in dating him again. You just consider this a normal project, competing with your strength. If you unfortunately win the bid and have to meet him again, then it's not too late to consider continuing."

"What if I can't control my emotions?" Dieu Linh asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.

"You will be able to control it," Khanh Thu replied firmly. "In the past eight years, I've seen how much you've grown, from a crybaby girl in high school to an architect praised by the press. You're no longer the girl who stood frozen in the middle of the schoolyard that year, Dieu Linh."

The encouragement from her best friend made Dieu Linh feel more confident, but after hanging up the phone, she still couldn't sleep right away, her mind kept lingering on the image of Khoi Nguyen's mature face on the group's website.

All that night, Dieu Linh couldn't sleep, her mind struggling between two opposing thoughts. Part of her wanted to retreat immediately, away from any possibility of having to face the person who had hurt her most deeply in her life again. But another part of her — the part that had spent eight years building an independent career, relying on no one, not fearing anyone — didn't want to let old fears dictate her decisions again.

Near morning, she took the old drawing book out of the bottom of the chest, flipped to the last page, looked back at the drawing of the community center with the dedication inscription that had faded over the years. She realized that the land in that drawing, with sketches of the skylight, library, and common living space, almost exactly coincided with the location of the Old Ben land in the bidding notice.

"So you really did it," she whispered, her fingers lightly brushing over the old drawing, her emotions so complex that she couldn't clearly determine whether they were anger, admiration, or a silent regret she hadn't allowed herself to feel in the past eight years.

The next morning, she arrived at the office earlier than usual and found Uncle Huan as soon as he entered.

"I've decided," she said, her voice more certain than she expected. "I participated in the bidding for the Old Wharf project. And I want to be the person directly in charge of the design plan."

Uncle Huan looked at her for a moment, noticing something different in her eyes that morning — not the usual hesitation, but a steely determination she had rarely shown so clearly. He didn't ask why, just nodded in agreement.

"Okay. I'll be in charge of this project. I trust you."

Dieu Linh thanked him, returned to her desk, opened the design software, and began her first task — not drawing, but sitting quietly for a long time, reminding herself that no matter who was behind this project, the energy and enthusiasm she put into the new drawing must belong entirely to her, and have nothing to do with the past she tried to overcome.

She opened a new file, naming it according to the habit she used for each project — the date plus the project's abbreviation — but her hand paused for a second before typing, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, and then she finally typed the full name: "Old Wharf." She looked at the words appearing on the screen, took a deep breath, pursed her lips, and began sketching the first lines, not with the hesitation of someone facing old memories, but with the absolute concentration of an architect facing the biggest opportunity of his career.