Chapter 13 — Makeup Artist for the Final Journey

The truck carrying Lương Việt Dũng's body arrived at Tân Khê after a long journey from a northern mountainous province, where he worked as a construction worker for the past four years. Thirty-four years old, he died from a work accident when a construction scaffolding suddenly collapsed, according to the construction company's report attached to the file. The person who received the body and did all the procedures was an older man, thin and slightly hunched, who introduced himself as Lương Bá Hàm, the father of the deceased.

Mr. Ham stood in front of Vĩnh An's reception desk for a long time before he could say the first sentence, his hand clutching a piece of paper that was crumpled from being held during the long journey from his hometown. "I... I came to claim my son's body." His voice was hoarse and broken.

An Nhiên, who was on duty at the reception desk that day, invited him to sit and poured him a glass of warm water. "Just take it slow, drink water to regain your strength."

Mr. Ham took a sip of water, his hands still shaking, then began to speak, his voice slow as if trying to rearrange the chaotic memories in his head. "It's been ten years since he and I talked to each other, aunty. Back then he was twenty-four years old, had a fierce argument with me, then left home without saying goodbye. I'm old, stubborn, refused to look for him, thinking he would come back when he calmed down. Who would have thought that after ten years, he didn't come back, I also didn't look for him, until now..."

He didn't finish his sentence, just bowed his head, his shoulders shaking intermittently. An Nhiên sat quietly, giving him time to calm down and not rush to ask anything else.

"Can you tell me what happened between father and son? If you feel comfortable sharing." An Nhiên asked gently, after Mr. Ham calmed down a bit.

Mr. Ham nodded, his voice lowered. "He wanted to learn to repair motorbikes, I wanted him to go to college, have a stable job, and have a position in society. I scolded him very hard, saying he was useless if he didn't study properly. He argued back, saying I only knew how to impose, never asking him what he really wanted. That night he left, carrying a bag of clothes, leaving a short note saying he would take care of his own life and not need me to worry anymore."

"And since then, you haven't been able to contact Mr. Dung?"

"There were a few times he called to ask about his mother, but every time he heard my voice, he hung up. I was also proud and refused to call first, thinking to see who would give up first. Then his mother passed away three years ago, I told him the news, he came home to mourn her mother's funeral for a day and then left, father and son did not say a single nice word to each other." Mr. Ham wiped his eyes with his hand, his voice choked. "I thought, there was still time, there would come a day when father and son would reconcile. Who knew that time would run out before I could let my damn dignity down." An Nhiên clearly felt the weight of every word Mr. Ham said, a story with no clear good or bad guys, just two stubborn people who loved each other in their own way but neither of them was willing to be the one to step forward, until there was no more chance.

*

When Việt Dũng's body was brought into the preparation room, An Nhiên realized that the injuries on his face were quite serious - the result of a work accident, not the type of injury that could be treated quickly. She stood in front of the operating table, carefully examining the extent of the damage, planning a recovery process that was much more complicated than recent cases.

Mr. Nghi walked in, looked at the situation, and nodded in agreement with An Nhiên's proposed course of action. "This case takes a lot of time. Be prepared to work for a long time. I will assist you with the skeleton and structure, and you will be in charge of the colors and final details."

"Yes teacher." An Nhiên replied, starting to prepare a special kit for severe injuries - specialized shaping wax, medical glues, and a variety of foundation colors enough to treat discolored skin areas due to strong impacts.

The work began by cleaning and disinfecting the entire damaged area, then Mr. Nghi took on the most difficult part: using medical plastic wax to reconstruct the structure of the left cheekbone that had been displaced due to impact, building each thin layer, constantly comparing it with the most recent portrait photos of Việt Dũng that the construction company sent along with the personnel file - a photo taken at the year-end party, him smiling brightly, his face tanned from outdoor work.

"The cheekbones on this side need to be raised about three millimeters to match the original facial proportions," Mr. Nghi explained to An Nhiên as he worked, a habit he still keeps every time he has a difficult case, considering it a professional practice even after thirty years of experience. "Look closely at the angle of this photo. The light is coming from the right side, so the cheekbone on the left has a natural shadow. I have to recreate it exactly according to that angle." An Nhiên attentively observed and memorized every technical detail, helping him move the necessary tools. After the bone structure has been relatively restored, she begins her work: mixing the appropriate foundation color to cover bruises and scratches, using a multi-layer blending technique to create a natural look, avoiding the feeling of being "put on" in a forced way.

"The skin in this area has changed color quite a lot because of the hematoma under the skin." An Nhiên said, observing carefully while doing so. "I will use the neutral light orange layer first, then apply the main foundation layer on top, to completely hide the purple pigment underneath."

She worked continuously for more than three hours, concentrating hard, occasionally stopping to compare with the photo, adjusting every small detail until she felt the whole was as close to the original image as possible. This was one of the most technically demanding cases she had ever performed, but it was also the case that made her feel most clearly the value of her work — not just restoring a face, but restoring the opportunity for a father to see his son one last time, not in the form of an accident, but in the form of the son he once knew.

Mr. Ham, after completing the paperwork, asked to be allowed to stay and observe from afar while waiting, sitting in the waiting room opposite the preparation room, saying nothing, just staring at the closed door, as if trying to find a way to make up for the ten years of absence in his son's life, even if only with this silent presence.

Near afternoon, when An Nhiên took a break to prepare for the next stage of the recovery process, she walked out to the waiting room and saw Mr. Ham still sitting there, looking tired but determined not to leave.

"Please go home and rest a bit. This job still needs another day or two to complete." An Nhiên said, her voice was kind.

"I can't go home, miss," Mr. Ham replied, still looking towards the preparation room door. "I haven't been with him for ten years. Now, even if I can only sit here and wait, I don't want to be away from him for another minute." An Nhiên did not say more, just nodded, brought him a thin blanket and a cup of hot tea, then returned to the preparation room, carrying in his heart the image of his old father sitting quietly guarding the son he had lost for so long, and could only make up for it with this late presence.

Late that night, when Mr. Nghi had left, An Nhiên stayed a while longer to complete the final details for the day's work - not completely finished yet, still had to continue until tomorrow, but she wanted to make sure the work was kept in the best condition overnight. Before leaving the room, she stopped by the waiting room and saw Mr. Ham still sitting there, his head resting on his chest, having fallen asleep from exhaustion in an uncomfortable sitting position.

She gently put another blanket on him, did not wake him, just stood and looked at him for a moment, the old father's face was clearly lined with wrinkles of age and a regret that had lasted for ten years. She thought of her father in Gò Sao, of the short calls between father and son in the past, and told herself that, fortunately, between her and her father there had never been a gap so deep that it could not be bridged like between Mr. Ham and his son.

She turned off the lights in the waiting room, leaving a small light bright enough, then quietly left Vĩnh An, closing the door softly so as not to startle Mr. Ham awake, carrying in her heart a clearer determination than ever: tomorrow, she will complete this case with all the best she has, so that at least, that father can look back at his son completely once again, before it's too late again.