Chapter 13 — Late Table Lady

The family party was held on the rooftop of Khai An hotel, where An once memorized the position of each glass. This time she came by bus, wearing a dress borrowed from Mai and carrying the smell of paint on her sleeve.

Mai went along because she wanted to take architectural photos. Huy was invited because he heard that the party had free cake. Khang did not come, citing the need to repair the car for a regular customer. Like being busy filming videos for a learning channel.

“Are you sure you can come in?” Huy asked the receptionist.

An pulled him away. “I lived here for many years.”

“That was the most suspicious sentence tonight.”

The hotel lobby was shiny, the staff reflexively bowed to An and then immediately stopped when they saw her raising her hand to signal. Mai looked at the ceiling lights, and Huy took three small cakes before entering the banquet room.

Father An is talking to council members. On the screen, the parking lot expansion diagram appears clearly. An uncle joked that An looked more like an intern than an heir. An smiled, but inside he felt uncomfortable.

“Girls should study business, not chase after school projects,” the uncle said.

An put down the glass of water. "School projects also have budgets, risks and users. The difference is that users don't pay directly."

Huy almost choked on the cake. Mai gently pulled An's hand.

Father looked at her, not blaming her. He asked in front of everyone: "If you run this project, what will you do with the land behind the school?"

An looked at the map. "I will ask the person who is using it first. Then consider a plan that does not destroy public space. If the parking lot is necessary, there must be an alternative and a transparent agreement."

One council member laughed. “Youth always think everything can be reconciled.”

“It's not always compatible,” An replied. “But if we only look at profits, we miss the costs that others pay.”

The banquet room was silent. Her father did not intervene. An realized this was no longer a school test; This was the first time she spoke in a room where people were used to hearing from adults.

Then, her father pulled her to the balcony. “Have you prepared your answer?”

“Not quite.”

"Good. Prepared answers often miss the real question."

An looked at the sea at night. “Dad, do you want me to inherit the company?”

“I want you to have a choice.”

“What if you don't want to be a hotel?”

"I won't do it. But before choosing, you must understand what you are refusing."

“What about school?”

“I haven't decided yet.”

“But dad can influence.”

Father nodded. "Yes. So you must understand that power is not something you use to prove you are good. It is something that makes every decision heavier."

An thinks about Khang. He didn't want her to use her power to save the shop. Her father also said power makes decisions heavier. Different stories begin to join a line.

In the banquet room, Huy is arguing with the chef about whether mousse is considered a cake or not. Mai took a photo of an old wall. An looked at his friends and saw that the party no longer felt like a separate world. It's just another room with its own problems.

An older woman recognized An, calling her "little mistress". Huy turned to look. An saw that his eyes didn't seem harmful, just curious. “I used to live here,” she said.

Huy nodded. "I know."

“You don't need to pretend you don't know.”

"I'm not pretending. I'm considering whether to ask for more cake."

Mai smiled. “That is the right priority for Huy.”

When leaving the party, An brought the remaining box of cakes with him. She intended to take it back to her room, but at the bus station she saw a group of children selling tissues under the street lights. An opened the box, then stopped. She asked them if they wanted to share, one by one. Huy looked, not saying if she should give it all away or keep it. Mai took a photo but An said not to post it.

“Not every good work needs an audience,” An said.

“I know,” Mai replied.

The bus arrived late. An sat on a plastic chair, her borrowed dress was slightly wrinkled, and her hands were covered in cake frosting. She texted Khang: "I'm going to a party today, but I don't have my dress."

Khang replied: “Do you have anything to eat?”

“There's mousse.”

“So the party was beneficial.”

“I was thinking about the parking lot.”

“Don't think when you're on the bus, you'll easily miss your stop.”

An looked at the station sign, panicked and pressed the button. The whole car laughed when she got off at the wrong stop and had to walk back. Khang sent another message: "Are you okay?"

An took a photo of dusty shoes. "Fine. Just studying more geography."

The next day, she told the group about the party and the meeting. Khang asked her father if he had explained the plan clearly. An shook his head.

“So we need school data.”

“I will ask Master Hoang.”

"No. We asked together. If it was only you who asked, people would think this was your problem."

An nodded. The group created a survey, asking students, teachers, guards and people around the school. No one is asked the name of assets or income. Just ask them what they use the yard for, what they need and what they fear if the yard is changed.

In three days, they received more than four hundred responses. Some people want a yard to read books, some people need a place to practice art, some people just need a place to hide from the sun. A security guard said he once slept there temporarily after his shift. Khang wrote down that story without naming it.

An read each sentence, seeing that the backyard had lived more than her design. It's not just a pretty corner. It is the breathing space of people who don't have their own room, don't have a garden, and can't afford to go to a coffee shop.

In the evening, my father sent a text message: "Tomorrow the council will consider the plan. Do you want to attend as an observer?"

An answered after a while: "Yes. But I will talk even if you don't want to listen."

Dad sent a thumbs up emoji. An looked at it, then smiled. Her family hasn't resolved anything yet, but at least they've started to hear each other's sentences that aren't in the script.

The survey day began with a debate on the first question. Huy wanted to ask, "Do you want to keep the yard?", but Nhu said that question leading the answerer to the answer. An suggested asking, "What do you usually use this yard for?" Then ask what they want to change.

The group stood at the gate from morning to afternoon. Some people answered very quickly, others stopped and told a long story. A teacher said the yard was where she met her best friend, but she didn't want to write down his name. Mai just wrote "a memory of friendship".

Khang asked the security guard about the truck's time. He said that if the car comes in after seven o'clock at night, the students will no longer be in the yard, but the neighborhood can be noisy. An wrote both sides on the board, not immediately choosing a solution that would benefit the company.

In the evening, An reread the answers himself. There are similar sentences, but different nuances: "need quiet" can be to study, to rest or to avoid being asked questions. She marked the questions that needed to be asked more, then asked Nhu to see if there was a violation of privacy.

Like saying: “You are afraid of misunderstanding the wrong person other."

“I have been misunderstood. I don't want to repeat it.”

“So don't guess. Ask again.”

The next day, the team invited some respondents back, but only those who volunteered. A 12th grade boy said the yard is where he sits when he doesn't want to go home because his parents are arguing. An did not ask more. She just asked him what he wanted from the yard.

“A chair in a hidden corner,” he replied.

The group placed the chair in a place where it could be seen and not overlooked by passersby. Khang said he needed a safe enough light, Mai chose a low potted plant. Huy proposed the name "silent chair", but the student did not want the name to be too sad. They call it "wind chair".

An understands that a design can keep secrets without hiding loneliness. It gives people a place to sit, without forcing them to tell why.

At the end of the week, her father asked about the survey results. An includes needs not related to the hotel. Cha says that's data that a trade report often ignores. An replied: "Because commercial reports don't ask the person sitting in the wind chair."

Father was silent, then said: "Maybe the company needs to learn to ask more questions."

An told that statement to the group. Huy immediately asked if the company could ask him what cake he wanted. Khang said the question must be related. It is suggested to include in the report a section "people not using the yard", to know why they do not come.

The team surveyed students who usually go straight home. One person said the yard was too noisy, one person didn't know he could come in, one person didn't want to be seen. They added discreet signage and a quiet hour without photos. An realized that inviting someone in was more than just opening the door; We also have to make them see that we are not under the spotlight.

In the afternoon, Huy mistakenly sent out a calendar notification. Fifty students came to the yard during quiet time. As if to apologize, Khang divided the group, An led half to the library. Then they fixed the system, adding testers before posting.

Huy is sad because of his mistake. “You are not the only warning,” An said. The whole team needs better processes.” Huy nodded, then wrote his own checklist. For the first time, he did not turn his mistake into a joke to avoid taking responsibility.