Chapter 8 — Female Judge

I closed the box. “Not maybe.” Father looked at me. I said: "She will definitely be happy." I did not get in the Luc family's car. I held the wooden box and walked back to Van Hoa Vien. 13When night fell, the lights in Van Hoa Vien were still on. The table was filled with the first reports after the new station translation law was applied. After the reform of Bach Sa station, urgent dispatches were half a day faster than before. The original newspaper from An Tay was sent to supplement the capital. The opening of the trade market was postponed, and border trade routes were re-inspected. Tan Tri Vi brought a cup of hot tea. "Still reading?" I nodded. "Finished reading this scroll." She sat down opposite. "Before Ta Hanh Chu was escorted out of the capital, he asked the Tam Ty mandarin to deliver a letter of apology." My pen tip did not stop. "Sent to Your Majesty?" "Sent to you." I put down the lipstick. "Burn it." Tan Tri Vi's finger lightly tapped on the envelope. "Don't see it?" "Don't see it." Mrs. Without asking further, he placed the envelope on the lamp and lit it. The paper rolled up, the firelight illuminating a corner of the table. I didn't ask what was written inside. Just those simple sentences. Before, there was my own suffering. Later, I realized I was wrong. I hope I remember my old love. But if the old lover has to use stealing the manuscript, changing the topic and blaming someone else to prove it, then it's better that it never existed in the first place. Outside the window, footsteps were heard. Newly arrived female officials were passing by holding documents. Someone lowered their voice and said: "Lord Luc hasn't returned yet." Another replied: "Then let's read another scroll." I heard it but didn't raise my head. Tan Tri Vi looked at me. "You really look like a da.a.o blade." I dipped in ink and wrote the first line of approval on the report on the new station translation law. "The knife also needs to be sharpened." She asked: "What's the next step?" I put the bronze horse card of the Bach Sa translation station into the small wooden box on the table. In the box there is also an old manuscript about translating Han Nha station. One thing is a fake place name. One thing is real evidence. They all remind us that our path cannot be left in the hands of others. I said: "Investigate the old exam papers of the exam school." Tan Tri Vi looked at me. "Do you suspect that before there was a female department, someone in the male department also changed the subject?" I raised my head. "It's not a doubt." I pushed a roll of old exam documents in front of her. "Three years ago, during the spring exam, someone also wrote about the Han Nha service station." The tea cup in Tan Tri Vi's hand stopped in mid-air. The wind outside the window blew, the wick of the lamp swayed slightly. We keep the corner of the file tightly. This is not the end. Just the first question has just been answered. But we have entered the exam hall.