Chapter 10 — Lottery Ticket On The Last Train

The last train leaves the station at 11:40 p.m.

An sat in car number eight, opposite the woman who appeared in the audio clip. She called herself Diep, director of Hao Minh lottery company. Mai was tied up in the next compartment, and the ticket was on the table.

“You won,” Diep said. "Hao was arrested, but if you hand over the book and stay quiet, the reward will go to you. A lifetime of repairing ships cannot buy a decent house."

An looked through the glass window. The darkness drifted back like the years his father could not return.

“You changed people on the train.”

“An unfortunate mistake.”

“She used lottery tickets to launder money.”

Diep pushed the ticket towards him. "Money can turn mistakes into accidents. You can turn accidents into the future."

An pressed the record button on the watch. From the beginning, he let Hanh broadcast the signal on the train's internal line. Diep's voice echoed through the speaker system, each word clear.

Diep noticed and tried to snatch the device. Mai kicked her knee. The police stopped the train at the next station.

The case lasted two years. Hao, Diep and others involved were convicted of falsifying records, coercing witnesses and money laundering. The accident at White Stone Bridge has been reopened. Father An was exonerated in a report of only twelve pages, but An read each line as if reading a letter from a relative.

The reward is divided according to the court's decision. An's share is not enough to buy back the old station; He used it to set up a fund for vocational training and brake inspection for railway workers. Ly became head nurse at a hospital near the station.

One year later, the first train to cross the White Stone Bridge stopped for three minutes. An placed the laminated ticket in the traditional room. The back still has Quan's words.

Hanh asked him if he regretted not keeping all the money.

An looked at the young workers learning to check brakes. “I got to keep what my father wanted to keep.”

Outside in the yard, the loudspeaker blared the train departure time. The train left the station, no one was left in the last car.

Quan lived many years later to bear witness. He did not receive a bonus; His portion was transferred to the fund to support workers who lost their jobs due to accidents. Mai became an accountant for the fund, every month sending An a long report and a reminder: "Don't let the data turn into an anonymous story."

Khai received a suspended sentence for cooperation, but still went to the railway safety class taught by An. He often sat at the back of the room, taking notes with a blue pen like before. Hanh wrote a series of articles, not calling An a hero. She called him the record keeper.

An still goes across Da Trang bridge every week. Every time the train glides on the tracks, he remembers his father measuring the vibration with his bare hands. He no longer wants to return to the past; I just want the present to not repeat it.

The ticket is placed in a glass cabinet, next to seventeen copies of the records. Viewers often ask why a piece of paper can shake up a large company. An replied: "It doesn't do anything. The person holding it decides."

One afternoon, a boy stood in front of the glass cabinet and asked An if that ticket had won thirty-eight billion. An nodded.

“Are you rich?”

“You have enough to not be silent.”

Outside, the last train leaves the station. The lights on the carriage stretched into a long line in the sunset. An closed the traditional room door, checked the lock twice and then walked towards the station platform.

For the first time in twelve years, he boarded the train without fear that someone would be left behind.