Chapter 14 — Cartographer of Lost Roads

Sunday morning, the whole family woke up later than usual after a long night full of tears and confessions. The atmosphere in the house was completely different - no longer heavy and tense like the previous days, but carrying a strange sense of relief, although there was still a hint of sadness of a secret that had just been exposed after thirty years of concealment.

Van Khue found Mr. Tuyen sitting on the porch early, but this time, instead of looking huddled and withdrawn as usual, he sat straighter, holding the original map that had been neatly rolled back up, placed carefully on his lap, as if he was holding a newly rediscovered treasure.

"Can you sleep?" he asked when he saw her walk out, his voice much calmer than last night.

"I didn't sleep much, but I'm fine," Van Khue replied, sitting down next to him. "How do you feel?"

Mr. Tuyen pondered for a moment before answering. "It's very strange, my son. I thought that if one day I had to tell this truth, I would completely collapse. But now that I've told it, I feel much more relieved than I thought. For thirty years, I've lived like a shadow of myself, always having to be alert, having to be careful with every word I say, afraid that someone will accidentally touch that wound. Now, even though it hurts, at least I no longer have to pretend."

Van Khue grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. "I want to contact Duy Khanh, tell him about the map, and about Mr. Cung Ba Thinh that you mentioned last night. Do you agree to let me do that? I promise to be careful and not reveal the information without your consent."

Mr. Tuyen nodded without hesitation. "I believe in you. Besides, I think it's time for this matter to be brought to light, not only for myself, but for the Van Dang people, for the families who have suffered for so many years. I can't fix the past, but I can help clarify the truth, if that means anything to those who have lost."

He stopped for a moment, looking out at the small yard in front of the house, where a few ten o'clock flower pots that Van Khue's mother planted were blooming in the early morning sunlight. "There's something I want to tell you," he continued, his voice low. "For so many years, I thought that if I kept quiet and no one knew, it would be as if it had never happened and my family's life would be peaceful. But I was wrong. The price of that silence was the distance I unintentionally created with your father, the sleepless nights I had, the whole part of me that I had to bury, never being able to live fully as myself. I don't want you to have to learn that lesson again in the same painful way as I did."

Van Khue squeezed his hand tighter, touched by these rare words of confidence. "I won't let that happen again, grandpa. I promise."

At breakfast that day, for the first time in many days, the whole family sat down to eat together in a much more relaxed atmosphere, although everyone still felt tired after a long sleepless night. Mr. Lam picked up food for his father more attentively than usual, and Mrs. Bich Nguyen occasionally looked at her husband and father-in-law, her eyes filled with a comfort that was hard to name.

In the afternoon, Van Khue called Duy Khanh and told him everything that happened last night. The other end of the line was silent for a long time after listening, then his voice rang out, full of emotion. "I don't know what to say other than thank you for being brave enough to tell the truth. I think he was never a traitor — he was just the first victim of the same machine that harmed the entire Van Dang neighborhood."

"You said exactly what I was thinking," Van Khue replied, her voice choked. "He also mentioned that a person named Cung Ba Thinh, who was once a colleague in his survey team, may have helped hide some of the original notebook pages. If he were still alive, that would be the second witness."

"Let me try to look through the list of retired officers in the planning industry," Duy Khanh said. "My center has a relationship with the province's construction industry pensioners' association. Maybe we have a clue."

Three days later, Duy Khanh called back, his voice full of excitement. "I found it. Mr. Cung Ba Thinh, eighty years old, currently lives with his children and grandchildren in a neighborhood not far from the city center, only about fifteen minutes by motorbike. He is still healthy and alert. I contacted an acquaintance at the retirement association, and he agreed to meet us this weekend."

The meeting took place at Mr. Thinh's private house, a small but neat house, with a yard full of orchids, which he proudly boasted was a hobby of his old age. Mr. Thinh is a tall, thin man with white hair but still agile and has the sharp eyes of someone who has worked in engineering all his life.

"Tuyen," Mr. Thinh said when Van Khue mentioned his grandfather's name, his face lit up with nostalgia. "Oh my god, it's been so many years since I heard anyone mention that name. Is he still healthy? I still vividly remember the day he had to redraw the map, his hands were shaking, his face was as white as paper. I loved him very much, but at that time I was just a lowly employee, not daring to do anything more than secretly hide a few pages of the original survey book for him, in case he needed it later."

"Do you still have those notebook pages?" Van Khue asked, her heart pounding with hope.

Mr. Thinh shook his head, regret clearly showing on his face. "Unfortunately, I can't keep it anymore, miss. My house was flooded in 2009, during a big flood, most of the old documents were damaged, I had to throw them away. But I still remember the content clearly, I can still recount it and testify verbally if necessary. I still remember, not only Van Dang, at that time Mr. Bon was also involved in several other land cases, but Van Dang was the biggest and most blatant case I have ever known."

That detail made Van Khue and Duy Khanh look at each other, both realizing its meaning - if Mr. Diep Khac Bon had a pattern of behavior repeated many times, not just the Van Dang case, then this was not just a single story, but part of a much larger scale system of land manipulation, lasting over many years, under the auspices of the power he held at that time.

"Do you remember which areas those other cases involved?" Duy Khanh asked, his voice changed to a serious working style, he took out his notebook to take notes.

"There is an area in the west of the city, near the old station. I only vaguely remember it, not as detailed as the Van Dang incident, because at that time I was not directly involved," Mr. Thinh replied, trying to recall his memory, which had faded a bit with age. "But I remember clearly, every time there was a project that Mr. Bon took the lead, not long after that, the land was often silent, and no public works were completed as originally promised. At that time, brothers in the industry also discussed privately with each other, but everyone was afraid and did not dare to speak out."

Van Khue quickly wrote that detail down in his notebook, even though he knew this was just a vague clue and needed a lot more verification before it could become reliable evidence.

"Are you willing to testify officially if needed in the future?" Duy Khanh asked, his voice cautious.

Mr. Thinh nodded without hesitation. "I'm old, I have nothing to lose anymore. If my words can help exonerate Tuyen, help the Van Dang people be recognized for what they have lost, I am willing to tell everything I know, even if I have to confront anyone."

On the way home, Van Khue sat quietly in the car, watching the Kim Xuyen streets pass by outside the window. She was both relieved that there was another important witness and worried at the growing scale of what they were discovering. If Mr. Bon repeats this behavior in many other places, then bringing the truth to light will not simply restore honor to a lost fishing village, but can touch much larger forces and interests, forces that will certainly not easily let this story be told publicly.

"Are you scared?" Duy Khanh asked, his eyes still looking straight at the road, his voice was calm but full of concern.

"Yes," Van Khue answered honestly. "But I'm more afraid if I know the truth and don't do anything. My grandfather lived his whole life with that fear, I don't want to repeat that path."

Duy Khanh nodded, a gentle but determined smile appeared on his lips. "Then let's just go step by step, be careful but don't back down. I will be here, with you all the way through this journey."

That sentence, simple but firm, made Van Khue's heart warm amid all the worries that surrounded him. She looked over at him, saw the sunset shining through the car window, dyeing half of his face yellow, and in that moment, she realized that her feelings for this man were much greater than what she had ever dared to admit to herself.