Chapter 8 — I Never Made It to Nam Thanh With You

It is in the west wing guest room.

Wan Ninh has not finished photographing them yet.

I need to take them back, right now.

The exhibition launch banquet requires them for the display.

Use the photocopies.

The originals have a much better visual impact for the display.

His voice had already begun to sharpen with irritation.

Lam Kien Nguyet, must you insist on letting a petty matter compromise the entire project?

I looked him straight in the eye.

You took my original drafts without asking for my consent. I am simply reclaiming what belongs to me. How does that make me the one compromising the project?

Co Nghien Le pressed his lips into a thin, tight line. We have never drawn lines between mine and yours before.

The past is the past. From now on, I want to keep things strictly separate.

Inside the west wing room, my rough drafts were scattered across the table. Tong Wan Ninh had already finished photographing part of them. Several sheets had been marked with her colorful annotations. She had even scrawled a line of text right beside my sketch of the moon-viewing window: "It is not the window that imprisons the moon, but the one who gazes upon it."

In my previous life, she had printed this very phrase in the promotional booklet for her solo exhibition, garnering endless praise for her artistic soul. Back then, I had foolishly believed it was a coincidence. Now I knew the truth. She was merely borrowing my work and stamping her name upon it.

I pulled those specific sheets aside. Tong Wan Ninh followed me, rushing to offer an excuse. I was just afraid I would forget my inspiration, so I jotted it down in the moment. I didn't mean to alter your drawings.

I see.

I took out my phone and photographed every page she had defaced. She looked visibly unsettled. Why are you taking pictures of those?

To keep as evidence. If anyone ever claims these words and ideas belong to you in the future, I will at least have proof of where they first originated.

Tong Wan Ninh’s face turned scarlet in an instant. What kind of person do you take me for?

I would prefer you were not that kind of person at all.

I packed the three volumes of original sketches, the photo album, and my field notebook into a cardboard box. Co Nghien Le reached out to block me. There are only eleven days left until the launch banquet. If you take all of this, what are we supposed to do for the exhibition display?

The high-resolution scans are already saved on the project computer. That is more than enough to use.

But these were always meant to be part of the Te Nguyet Villa exhibition.

They are not. I looked at him squarely. Te Nguyet Villa belongs to the Co family. These sketches belong to me.

Co Nghien Le’s expression shifted. We worked on this plan together. I accompanied you to the site twice.

The first time, you received a call from Tong Wan Ninh and left halfway through. The second time, you slept in the car for three hours straight.

He clearly had not expected me to remember the details so precisely. His features stiffened. At the very least, I was involved.

You were present as an escort, not a creator.

I lifted the box. He stood in the doorway, refusing to budge. Kien Nguyet, we are going to be married soon. What is the point of drawing such sharp lines between us?

In my past life, I heard this line countless times. Our salaries didn't need to be separate. The projects didn't need to be separate. The household chores didn't need to be separate. Even caring for parents didn't need to be separate, because we were husband and wife. But his time? That had to be separate. His affections? Those were entirely separate. He kept all his favoritism for Tong Wan Ninh, leaving only the burden of responsibility for me.

We are not married yet, I said. And even if we were, my things would still be my things.

A flicker of shock darted through Co Nghien Le’s eyes. He had never imagined I would answer him this way. Tong Wan Ninh, standing to the side, interjected in a thin, whimpering voice, Kien Nguyet, if you talk like that, Nghien Le will be very hurt.