Chapter 9 — I Never Made It to Nam Thanh With You

He only took your drawings because he saw how close the two of you were, that is all.

I turned to look at her, my eyes cold. If you are so concerned about whether or not he feels troubled, why don't you simply hand over all of your own belongings to him instead? Do not use my personal possessions to satisfy your own performative sense of humanity.

Song Uyen Ninh bit her lip, her expression tightening. Co Nghien Le finally stepped aside, his brow furrowed in frustration. Must you really make such a scene out of this?

I picked up the box and walked past him without breaking stride. Co Nghien Le, I am merely reclaiming what belongs to me. The person who should be feeling embarrassed right now is certainly not me.

09 Before leaving Te Nguyet Villa, I sought out Sister Vuong, the woman in charge of the exhibits. I drew up a formal list of every personal item currently on display. The moon-shaped hairpin had already been retrieved. The three original volumes of sketches were removed from the display cases. Field research photographs were now restricted to digital copies only. Any future use of my materials would require my written authorization. Sister Vuong looked visibly surprised by my actions.

In the past, weren't these matters always decided for you by the young master of the Co family?

From this day forward, that will no longer be the case.

She glanced at Co Nghien Le, who was standing by the entrance of the West Courtyard, and chose not to ask any further questions. She simply signed the bottom of the list. I signed it as well, creating two copies. Co Nghien Le watched me tuck one copy away, his face darkening with each passing second. Perhaps he finally realized that I was not merely throwing a tantrum. Someone who is throwing a tantrum only does so to be coaxed and comforted. They would never go through the trouble of preparing such a methodical, legally sound authorization list.

Back at home, I reorganized my entire archive. The drawings that Song Uyen Ninh had scribbled on were sealed separately. The original competition entries were scanned according to their dates. Even the handwritten annotations left by my grandfather were photographed and backed up page by page. My father passed by the study and saw the boxes piled high on the floor.

Why have you brought everything back?

I need these for my upcoming assessment, Father.

He picked up my competition registration certificate. There was only one name on it: Lam Kien Nguyet.

Will these not be needed for the inauguration banquet of the Co family estate?

Copies are more than sufficient for that, I replied.

My father studied me for a long moment. He did not try to dissuade me. He simply said, Originals should always be kept in one's own hands.

After saying this, he handed the certificate back to me. A sudden sting pricked at my nose. In my past life, I had always assumed my father valued the business alliance between our families above all else. It was only when he fell gravely ill that I realized he had never once forced me to marry Co Nghien Le. He only refrained from intervening because he saw how deeply I loved him. It is a pity that by the time I understood this, I no longer had the courage to turn back. But this time, it is not too late.

10 Two days later, the special assessment for Northwest University commenced. I logged into the online meeting room half an hour early. Seated before me were three professors. Professor Tham sat in the center; I had met him in my previous life. When my father passed away, he had come to the hospital to pay his respects. At that time, he looked at me with deep regret and said, You were the student I had the highest hopes for that year. It is a shame you never came to us in the end.

Back then, I could only offer a bitter smile. I never told him that I had spent my entire life regretting that choice. Once the interview began, Professor Tham asked me about my design concept for Te Nguyet Villa first. I spoke about the moon-shaped windows. I talked about the primal traces of life embedded within the ancient structure. I also explained why I had insisted on preserving the unsightly scratches on the walls of the West Courtyard; that was where my grandfather used to mark the heights of the children. Once architecture is restored, it should not become a hollow, beautiful shell for people to gawk at. What truly needs to be preserved are the living proofs that this space was once home to human lives.

After listening to me, Professor Tham flipped through my file. Your application states that this proposal was completed by you entirely independently.

Yes, that is correct, I replied.