Chapter 3 — Floating Market Without Water

Khai used a short iron bar to pry the mud off the crank, but the valve was still stuck.

“M-07 is the water return door of the old pumping station,” he said. “It sends water from the treatment area down to the south branch at scheduled times.”

An squatted next to the trench, writing down each sentence. "What country?"

“Treated water.”

“So why does it smell like oil?”

“Maybe the oil came from the wharf construction machinery.”

“Are you talking out of habit or out of control?”

Khai did not answer. He took off his glove and looked at the mud on his fingers. Previously, he worked at the pumping station for six years. He is in charge of the control panel, checks pressure and signs to confirm shift operations. When the new factory opened, the pumping station was upgraded and then partly handed over to the cooperative. Khai was present at the final acceptance session.

“Have you ever opened this valve?” An asked.

"Have."

“How long ago?”

“Twelve years.”

“And then?”

“I quit.”

"Why?"

Khai tapped the iron bar into the mud. “Because I don't like the way they write the numbers.”

Ti stood a few steps away from the barrier and secretly took a photo. An saw but did not stop. He needed something to prove he wasn't just a kid standing outside listening to adults talk.

Ms. Sau walked over, holding the town government's minutes in her hand. The document requires the cooperative to maintain the status quo of the valve area and not allow people to arbitrarily remove or open it. She gave it to An to read.

“When did you sign the receipt?”

“Ten minutes ago.”

“Who suggested it?”

“Economic Department.”

“They knew the valve before we told them?”

Mrs. Sau did not speak. According to the document, the time taken was before An took the first photo. Someone informed the authorities early, but the information did not reach the market.

Khai used a wire to measure the distance from valve M-07 to the edge of the embankment. The location coincides with a concrete pile exposed when the water recedes. The stake has two round holes, each with a warning sign. Mr. Nam Luc brought a wooden hammer, looked at the pile and said:

“In the past, the sign said 'water return channel'. They removed it when building a new wharf."

“Who do you remember?” An asked.

“Remember my hammer.”

“Are you the one who removed it?”

"I was hired to install new stakes. No one said the old sign had to be kept."

Mr. Nam used his hand to point at the tire tracks in the mud. The tire tracks ran from the factory area to the concrete pile, but in the middle of the road there was a section that was erased by water.

“Heavy trucks passed through when the river bed was still watery,” he said. “The cake leaves this groove.”

Khai bent down. The tire tracks have a rectangular pattern, like a factory equipment truck. Duy said the factory only reduced capacity and did not send machines into the river.

An took a picture, then called Duy.

“Where are you?”

"Office."

“Does the factory have a bus to area M-07?”

“I'm not in charge of the operations team.”

“You can ask.”

“I will ask.”

“I need answers before I post.”

“I'm working as an investigator.”

“I'm working as someone who needs to know who left the cake stains.”

Duy said he would send the car list. Then he sent a small file: in the past three days, no factory vehicles had entered the market area. But the file is just a list prepared by the factory, without location data.

Khai looked at the file. “This board lacks night shifts.”

“How do you know?”

"The vehicle fleet has two types of codes. Files only have daytime codes."

An looked at him. “Are you helping me or are you trying to prove your innocence?”

Khai took off his hat and wiped his face. "Both."

That admission didn't make An more confident, but it gave the story a place to start.

In the afternoon, Mrs. Sau convened a quick meeting on the large boat. Boat owners crowded together under the canvas roof. They talked Stopped at the market for three days, asked the factory for water supply and rented a sludge pump.

One person said that if he posted a photo of the van, tourists would be afraid.

Others said passengers couldn't leave because the boat was stuck in mud.

Ms. Sau slapped her hand on the plastic bin. “We need the boat to float first, then consider reputation.”

An asked why the cooperative did not release the pipeline records.

“Because there are no complete records.”

“But the flow map has defaced marks.”

“The defaced map does not prove the factory wrong.”

"I'm not saying the factory is wrong. I'm saying the market needs to know what structure it's standing on."

Mrs. Sau looked at her. "You keep saying 'the market needs'. Do you know who the market is? It's your mother, it's me, it's the two hundred households that owe boat money, it's the people who work at the factory, it's the people who don't want their names to appear in the newspaper."

Be quiet. She realized she had spoken for the community too quickly.

Ti sent her the photo he just took. In the photo, under the tire tracks, there is a flattened piece of plastic paper. On it is the operating shift symbol and a line of hours:

02:17 – SOUTH BRANCH DISCHARGE.

An zoomed in, then looked at Khai.

“You signed a shift at 02:17?”

Khai held the phone. His face stiffened.

“Not my signature.”

“But I know this time.”

“This is the time when the pumping station changes shifts.”

“And also at a time when no one in the market could see the water.”

Khai returned the phone, in a low voice:

“Do not send this photo to the editor.”

"Why?"

"Because if it's true, the person who signed it wouldn't just lose their job. They could cause the whole town to lose its backup water source."

An looked at the M-07 valve mouth. Inside the riverbed, a drop of black water fell into the mud just as the clock on the wharf showed 2:17 p.m.

That night, the valve crank disappeared.

Khai doesn't sleep. He sat in the boat and opened the worn shift book. An saw him using his finger to trace each line, as if reading the names of people who had left town. Vinh ranked at the top of the list many times, but next to his name there was always an edit mark.

“When did Vinh start working?” An asked.

“After the handover.”

“Hand over to whom?”

"The factory takes over the engineering part. The cooperative receives berths and mooring schedules."

“No one claimed M-07?”

“On paper yes.”

“Whose name?”

Khai found a blurred line: “interdisciplinary management unit”. No names, no phone numbers. He laughed dryly.

“That's how people build a building without an owner.”

An asked why he still signed. Khai said that year the pumping station was degraded and workers were owed wages. The factory offered to pay repair costs if it had the right to use part of the infrastructure. The cooperative agreed because the wharf collapsed after the flood. Everyone gets what they need.

“What about the conditions?” An asked.

"The conditions are in the appendix. The reader said it was just a coordination time."

“You don't read?”

"I read. I don't understand the law."

“But I understand.”

“Understanding the valve does not mean understanding who opens it.”

Ti brought two photos he took after the crank disappeared. The first photo shows the crank arm mounting hole with grease. The second photo has a V-shaped paint mark on the shore. Under the paint mark is a line of feet dragging towards the car.

“When did you take the picture?” An asked.

“After Mrs. Sau called a meeting.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“A guy wearing a factory shirt.”

“What did that guy say?”

“Tell me to delete the photo.”

An looked at Ti. “Are you scared?”

"Have."

“Why don't you say it?”

“Because I'm scared too.”

An doesn't know when he noticed it.

Ms. Sau arrived, bringing with her a decision to temporarily ban people from going into the mud. She said town officials were worried someone would touch the wrong valve. An asked why The decision did not include a boat protection plan.

“Because they only think about equipment,” Ms. Sau replied.

“Have you told them about the households?”

“Told you.”

“They answered?”

“Market protection is a business activity, at your own risk.”

Ms. Sau placed her decision on the boat's lid. She said that in the year the factory expanded, the cooperative signed many documents: wharf fees, boat schedules, life jacket support, garbage treatment, and water supply. Each paper solves a small problem, but no one reads the entire system.

“Do you keep the original?” An asked.

"Some."

“Let me see.”

“I will write the name of the cooperative.”

“If the cooperative knows but still keeps quiet, the name must be there.”

Mrs. Sau nodded, not asking An to forgive her.

In the evening, An returned to the mother ship. Mom is washing the pot with cooled boiled water. She said someone asked to buy all damaged goods at a low price, saying the market was about to close. An asked who it was, her mother didn't remember his face.

“They asked for a support contract,” Mom said.

“Mom, can you give it?”

"No. Mom said her daughter is keeping it."

An was startled. “Mom, don't say that.”

“I don't know why they asked.”

An called the editorial office and said someone was searching for the file. The editor reminded her to keep copies in multiple places. She remembers Ti's USB, Mr. Nam's drawing, and Khai's operation board, but every piece of evidence can be taken.

Khai texted: "The crank is not lost. Someone brought it back to the old station."

An ran over. In the control room, the crank was on the table, clean of mud but still showing traces of oil. Next to it is a newly typed minutes:

“Equipment M-07 was found to be damaged due to people's impact.”

Khai read and laughed. “They need to turn the loss of the crank into a reason to correct the records.”

An took the minutes. Vinh appeared at the door and told him to bring his hand back to avoid losing it. An asked who asked him. Vinh replied that he did not remember.

“Don't remember or can't say?”

Vinh looked at Khai. “I know how to do this.”

Khai stepped forward. “I know someone who doesn't want to be called names.”

Vinh left.

An looked at the crank. On the lace part there was a streak of wet black mud, different from the mud around the dock.

“Can you open it again?” she asked.

Khai shook his head. “Not without orders.”

“So who just turned it?”

Khai did not speak.

Outside the pump station door, a pump started, then stopped after ten seconds. On the floor, water from the pipe leaks out into a black line toward the dock.