Chapter 25 — Cartographer of Lost Roads

After a fifteen-minute break, the public consultation continued in a completely different atmosphere from the beginning. The representative of the City People's Committee, his voice now carrying a clear caution, announced to the entire hall the decision of the appraisal council.

"In the face of newly arising details, especially the public confirmation from Mr. Diep Khac Bon," he said, "the City People's Committee decided to temporarily suspend the issuance of construction permits for the Kim Xuyen Riverside project, and at the same time establish an interdisciplinary working group to conduct a comprehensive inspection of the land acquisition process and recovery of documents related to the Van Dang Hamlet area in the period 1993 to 1996. All construction activities in the project area The project, including the release of existing green trees, must be paused immediately until there is an official inspection conclusion."

That announcement was received with a resounding round of applause throughout the hall, lasting nearly a minute, mixed with undisguised cheers of joy from former Van Dang residents and their descendants. Van Khue sat between Duy Khanh and his grandfather, holding both of their hands tightly, tears once again welling up, but this time they were tears of extreme joy and relief.

"The banyan tree is saved," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion, thinking of the image of the ancient banyan tree still standing at the entrance to the land, now no longer having to face saw blades in the next three days as originally planned by the construction company.

Bao Nghi, sitting in the back row, held up her phone to film the entire moment of the decision announcement. Her hands were shaking with excitement to the point that the video kept shaking. "I have to post this to the group right away," she muttered, her fingers quickly tapping on the screen, sharing the good news with hundreds of members of "Van Dang Memories" who were eagerly waiting for the results of the consultation.

Kha Duy Thinh, sitting next to him, could not hide his emotions, his hands clasped together, his eyes looked towards Mr. Tuyen with deep gratitude. "My grandparents must be smiling somewhere," he said softly, his voice choked.

After the consultation, when people began to leave the hall, a small crowd surrounded Mr. Tuyen, many of whom were unfamiliar faces but claimed to be descendants of families who had lived in Van Dang, shaking his hand and thanking him for his courage to tell the truth. There was an old woman, in her seventies, holding Mr. Tuyen's hand tightly, tears welling up in her eyes. "Thank you for telling me everything," she said. "My father passed away last year and is still tormented by the pain of not knowing why his family was evicted so unreasonably. Now he can rest in peace."

Another middle-aged man, introducing himself as the grandson of a family who used to weave fishing lanterns in Van Dang, also jostled to shake Mr. Tuyen's hand, his voice equally emotional. "After my grandfather passed away, he still kept the lantern weaving kit and couldn't bear to sell it, even though no one was doing it anymore. He always told us to keep it, in case we needed it one day. Hearing today's story, I thought, maybe it's time to bring that kit out, who knows, maybe it will be useful for a certain display in the future."

Mr. Tuyen took each person's hand, bowed his head in thanks, his eyes were constantly red from the stories that rushed in. Van Khue stood next to her, observing that scene. Her heart was filled with an indescribable emotion - she realized that her family's story, although painful and private, had now become part of a much larger story, the common story of so many families who had silently carried the pain of loss for thirty years, with no place to express it.

Mr. Tuyen grabbed the old woman's hand, bowed his head, his voice choked. "I'm sorry for keeping things waiting so long."

In the middle of the crowd, Van Khue saw Mr. Khai, her department head, standing quietly in a corner of the hall, his eyes following the scene with an emotion that was hard to hide. She walked up to him.

“Thank you for coming,” she said.

"I just regret that I didn't have the courage to speak up sooner," Mr. Khai replied, his voice low. "But seeing today, I thought, better late than never. I have applied to meet privately with the inspection team next week, to provide more information about what I know about the list of 'sensitive' files I have seen."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the hall, Van Khue caught a glimpse of Mr. Diep Nhat Binh pushing his father's wheelchair out of the hall through a private entrance, avoiding reporters who were trying to stop him for an interview. His face no longer looked confident and calm like at the beginning of the consultation, but carried a tiredness, perhaps even a little confusion at having to reshape his entire strategy after what had just happened.

Before leaving the hall, Mr. Bon signaled the nurse to stop the wheelchair for a moment. His eyes searched the crowd until he found Van Khue. He nodded slightly towards her, a short but meaningful gesture, like a silent acknowledgment for the young girl who persevered to the end to bring the truth to light. Van Khue didn't know how to respond, just bowed her head slightly, then watched the shadow of the wheelchair disappear behind the hall door.

Journalist Quan Nha Thanh came to Van Khue immediately afterward, asking permission for a quick interview for an updated article that would be published that evening. "How do you feel now?" she asked, her voice still maintaining professionalism even though her eyes couldn't hide her emotions.

Van Khue thought for a moment before answering, trying to choose her words carefully. "I think, today is not just a victory for me, or just my family. This is a victory for all those who have persistently kept the memory of Van Dang for the past thirty years, even though no one believed that this day would come. I was just lucky to be the one who happened touch an old map, and was curious enough not to stop."

That evening, the entire Van Khue family, along with Duy Khanh, Bao Nghi, Kha Duy Thinh, and Mrs. Nhai via video call, gathered for a celebratory meal at home, even though everyone was exhausted after a long, emotional day. Mr. Tuyen sat at the head of the table, his face, for the first time in many years, no longer looked heavy and melancholy like before, but was filled with true peace.

"You know," he said to Van Khue, when the meal was almost over, "for thirty years, I thought I would have to take this secret to my grave. I never dared to dream of a day like today."

"So how do you feel now?" Van Khue asked, smiling at him.

Mr. Tuyen was silent for a moment, looking out the window, where the moonlight was full tonight, illuminating the small garden behind the house. "I feel," he said slowly, "as if I had been born a second time."

But although the consultation ended with a hopeful result, Van Khue understands that this is only an initial victory. The official inspection process still lies ahead, and the final conclusion about the fate of the land, whether the project will be revised, canceled, or continued in some other form, remains an open question. But for the first time after many tense weeks, she allowed herself to believe that, although the road ahead was long, the truth had finally come to light, unable to be extinguished again.

After the meal, when everyone had left, only Van Khue and Duy Khanh were left sitting on the porch, where it all began many weeks ago, when she first asked her grandfather about Van Dang Hamlet under this pale yellow light. Tonight, the full moon hung in the sky, illuminating the entire small garden, completely different from the tense, searching atmosphere of that evening.

"I still can't believe everything has come to this," Van Khue said, leaning her head on Duy Khanh's shoulder, her voice still filled with both fatigue and happiness from a long and tumultuous day.

"The road is still long," Duy Khanh said, his hand gently caressing her hair. "But I believe, after today, nothing can make this truth go dark again. Mr. Bon has spoken out publicly, the city has opened an inspection, and most importantly, all those who had to stay silent for thirty years have now found their voice again."

Van Khue looked up at him, the silver moonlight shining on both of their faces, and in that rare moment of peace, amidst all the chaos of a long day, she felt more clearly than ever, that although there was still much work to do ahead - completing the inspection process, waiting for the final decision on the land, building a worthy memorial for Van Dang - she would no longer have to walk alone on that journey.