Chapter 15 — Cartographer of Lost Roads

Finding a person who had been lost for nearly thirty years turned out to be much more difficult than Van Khue initially imagined. She used to think that with the development of technology, social networks, and electronic population management systems, finding a loved one was only a matter of time. But when she started implementing it, she realized how many practical barriers were waiting.

"We only have one name, Quach Thi Nhai, and the information that she was resettled with her husband's family to 'another district, far away' according to her grandfather and Mrs. Net," Duy Khanh said, as the group — Van Khue, Duy Khanh, and Bao Nghi — sat in a meeting at the heritage conservation center office on a Tuesday evening. "I don't know her husband's name, I don't know her specific address, I don't know if she's alive or dead. This is really looking for a needle in a haystack."

"But it's not like there aren't any clues," Bao Nghi said, typing quickly on the keyboard, opening up an Excel sheet she had prepared. "I contacted a few older members of Mr. Thinh's 'Van Dang Memories' group, asking if anyone remembered Mrs. Nhai's husband's name. There is an old lady named Sau, ninety-two years old this year, still quite lucid, remembering that Mrs. Nhai's husband's last name is Trinh, a carpenter, and the husband's family originated in a coastal commune in a neighboring district, apparently named Tan Hoa."

Van Khue felt a glimmer of hope. "If we know the husband's surname and the family's area of origin, we can try to contact the Tan Hoa commune committee to see if anyone remembers or has records of a Trinh family that received resettled people from Kim Xuyen around 1994 or 1995."

"I have an old classmate who is currently working at the civil status justice office of a nearby district," Duy Khanh said. "I will contact him and ask him to help me look up the old household registration system to see if there is any record of a person named Quach Thi Nhai, married to a person named Trinh, moving to that area around that time. This may take time, because the old records may not have been fully digitized, but it's worth a try."

The group spent the entire evening planning the details — who to contact, what questions to ask, how to approach it in a way that would be both effective and not cause unnecessary inconvenience or suspicion to local agencies. Van Khue accepted the task of composing a letter clearly stating the purpose of searching for lost relatives, attaching a copy of Mr. Tuyen's birth certificate to prove the blood relationship, preparing to send it to the Tan Hoa commune committee via official post.

When she got home that night, she told Mr. Tuyen the entire plan, without hiding any details. He sat quietly listening, his eyes shining with a complex emotion - both hope and fear, like a person standing in front of a door that had been closed for thirty years, not knowing whether behind it was the joy of reunion or a disappointment even more painful than silence.

"If I really found your brother," he said, his voice trembling, "do you think he would still be angry with me? That day I didn't go looking for him, didn't say goodbye, just left him alone to face that incident."

"I don't know for sure, sir," Van Khue replied honestly, not wanting to promise things she was not sure about. "But I think, no matter the outcome, you need to try. The silence has lasted too long, you can't let it last any longer, even if she's angry with you."

Mr. Tuyen nodded, was silent for a long time, then stood up, went into the room, brought out a small yellowed photo, the edges of the photo were worn from being flipped through too many times. "This is the only photo I still have of the two brothers, taken when I was fourteen years old, before I went away to school," he said, showing it to Van Khue. In the photo is a skinny boy standing next to a girl about seven or eight years old, both smiling brightly, behind is the faint silhouette of familiar thatched roofs.

"Please keep this photo carefully for me," he said. "If I find it, I'll show it to him, so he knows he's always kept this photo with him all these years, even though he didn't have the courage to look for it."

Van Khue received the photo and carefully put it in her notebook. Her heart was heavy with an indescribable emotion at that small but meaningful gesture from her grandfather.

While waiting for a response, Van Khue's life gradually entered a new rhythm - during the day she still went to the archives center to work as usual, careful not to reveal anything to Mr. Khai about what she was secretly pursuing outside of work, but in the evenings, she spent most of her time with Duy Khanh and Bao Nghi, sometimes at the conservation center's office, sometimes at the riverside cafe that had become their familiar place.

The relationship between her and Duy Khanh, with each evening like that, gradually became closer in a natural way, without needing to say it out loud. He began to remember that she liked to drink iced milk coffee without sugar, always brought a thin jacket in case she forgot, and always patiently waited for her to rearrange all the notes in the correct order she wanted before leaving the office every night, even though sometimes that made them come home later than planned.

"Have you ever thought, if I hadn't discovered the anomaly on the map that day, what would I be doing now?" Van Khue asked, one evening the two sat late at a riverside cafe, waiting for news from Duy Khanh's friend.

"I'm probably still alone rummaging through piles of old documents, trying to piece together disparate pieces of information with no one to share it with," Duy Khanh replied, smiling. "As for me, I'm probably still digitizing map after map, not knowing that my grandfather is carrying such a big secret."

"I think, there are things that seem to be arranged to happen at the right time," Van Khue said, her voice low and sincere. "It was as if that map had been waiting for thirty years, waiting for the right person, at the right time, to see it again."

Duy Khanh looked at her, his eyes in that moment carried a gentleness that Van Khue had never seen in him before. "I think, that person didn't just happen to be the right person at the right time," he said, his voice soft. "I think you're much more special than that, Van Khue."

Those words made Van Khue's heart beat faster, her face felt hot even though the night was quite cool. She didn't know how to respond. She just looked down at the cup of coffee in front of her, a confused but happy smile flashing across her lips. There was a sweet silence between them, broken only when Duy Khanh's phone vibrated with a new message.

He opened his phone, read quickly, then looked up at her, his eyes bright with excitement. "It's my friend at the civil status justice department. He found a clue — there was a record that a woman named Quach Thi Nhai, married to a man named Trinh Van Hai, moved her household registration to Tan Hoa commune in October 1994. The record further noted that this family then moved somewhere else around 2003, but left a new contact address in a coastal town."

Van Khue held her breath, her hands trembled with emotion. "Have we found Ms. Nhai?"

"Not completely sure, but this is the most reliable clue we have so far," Duy Khanh said, his voice unable to hide his excitement. "This weekend, if you agree, we will go to that town and try to find out if that woman is really your grandmother or not."

Van Khue nodded, without hesitation, even though her heart was filled with so many emotions - hope, worry, and an indescribable thrill when thinking about the moment that might be coming, the moment her family, after nearly thirty years of separation, might be reunited again, closing a chapter of sadness that lasted for three generations.

That night, when she got home, she couldn't hide her excitement and immediately told her parents and grandfather about the new clue she had found. The whole family gathered around the dining table, even though it was long past dinner time, no one was hungry, only a common expectation was growing in everyone's heart. Mr. Tuyen held the old photo in his hand, his finger gently caressed the face of the little girl in the photo, his lips moved as if whispering something wordlessly, perhaps an apology that had been delayed for thirty years, now having the chance to be uttered, even if only in silence.

"This weekend," Mr. Lam said, his voice also trembling with emotion, "our whole family can go together, okay? Do you think it's okay if only Van Khue and Mr. Khanh go, or do we need someone else in the family to go with us to reassure us?"

"I think I should let Mr. Khanh and I go first to find out and verify the information to be sure, to avoid confusing you if the information is not accurate," Van Khue suggested, after a moment of thinking. "If it's really you, our whole family will come later, to make the reunion more complete."

Mr. Tuyen nodded in agreement, his eyes still not leaving the old photo, as if he were absent-minded for just a second, that precious image would disappear from his reach once again.