Chapter 3 — Mom's Real Chess Game

Truong Duy Vien's office is very large. A wall full of neatly arranged law books. He stood up to greet me. He is about fifty years old, has gray hair, and behind a pair of gold-rimmed glasses is a pair of very calm eyes. But the moment he saw my face, his eyes suddenly turned red.

“You… look so much like your mother.”

I was not polite: "Lawyer Truong, my mother told me to find you. She said you would tell me everything." He nodded, went to the safe, entered the password and took out a black folder. Inside is a thick stack of documents. At the top is an agreement establishing the trust fund. Authorized person: Chu Hui Lan. Beneficiary: To Niem. Date of establishment: March 15, 2012. The signature is my mother's handwriting. Each line, neat, much more beautiful than the words on the envelope, as if she had practiced writing many times.

“Your mother came to me fifteen years ago.” Truong Duy Vien sat down, speaking slowly.

"She was wearing a faded cotton shirt, clutching a plastic bag in her hand. In the bag was cash, round 400,000 yuan."

“She said: 'Lawyer Truong, I want to open an account to buy stocks'.”

“I asked you which code to buy.”

“She said: Luc Thi Group.”

My fingertips are numb.

"At that time, I was also stunned. A female worker lost her job, took 400,000 yuan in cash and wanted to buy shares in a company that she said she 'did not understand'?"

“But she took out a notebook.”

"It records all of Luc Thi's business data over the past three years: revenue, profit margin, debt ratio, management board changes, compared with competitors in the same industry. It is more detailed and rigorous than the analysis reports of securities companies that I have ever seen."

“She told me something.” Truong Duy Vien took off his glasses and wiped them clean. "She said: 'Lawyer Truong, I don't understand the law. But I understand one thing: my daughter's life cannot be in the hands of others'."

My tears fell onto the table.

"For the next fifteen years," he opened a stock holding report, "every year your mother used most of the transferred money to buy Luc Thi shares. In the early stages, the price was low and the scale was small, she bought little by little. Later when the company listed, the price increased, she bought less but never stopped."

He pushed the report in front of me. Share holding ratio: 8.3%. Current market value: 172 million yuan. One hundred and seventy-two million yuan. My mind exploded. My mother. Pension 1,800 yuan. Wear patched shirts. Shoe soles are worn out. I haven't dared to buy a real cake in my whole life. She spent fifteen years, in a place where no one could see, scavenging every penny to buy back 8.3% of Luc Thi Group's shares. Luc Canh Tham threw 500 yuan and told me to get out. As for me, I have more shares in Luc Thi than him.

“There's one more thing.”

Truong Duy Vien pulled out an unwritten cement paper envelope from the bottom of the file, the mouth of the envelope was sealed with wax.

"My mother told me that this letter should only be opened after she passes away."

I tore the wax seal and pulled out several handwritten papers. The handwriting is scribbled, with a few places where the ink is blurred - wetted by tears. Title: 《My Death Diary》 First line:

“Nien Niem, if you can read this letter, it means that my medicine cannot be changed in the end.”

My whole body stiffened.

"Lawyer Truong. How did my mother die?"

Truong Duy Vien was silent for a long time.

“Please Read the whole letter.”

I bowed my head and read each line.

“April 2021, started having dizziness. The community hospital prescribed medication, which was ineffective.”

“In July 2021, Aunt Vuong said she knew a good doctor who would help me change my medicine. After taking it for two months, the illness got worse. My head hurts like a hammer, I vomit non-stop at night."

“In January 2022, I secretly brought the medicine to the City People's Hospital for testing. The results showed that the medicine contained lead compounds."

My hands started shaking. Aunt Vuong. My aunt lives next door to me. Every week my neighbor brings soup to my mother, who always smiles and calls me "Good Niem Niem" every Tet holiday. I read on:

“In March 2022, I investigated Aunt Vuong's background. She is not a community volunteer. Real name is Vuong Que Hoa, ten years ago she worked as a nanny for Tong Minh Chau's maternal family.

“In June 2022, I found a clinic that provided medicine for Vuong Que Hoa. Business registration information shows that the legal representative's name is Trieu Bang Trinh. Tong Minh Chau's cousin."

“Year 2023. Health is already very weak. The doctor said the liver and kidneys were seriously damaged and advised hospitalization. I'm not going. Because the evidence is still missing one last link.”

“In February 2024, I handed over everything to lawyer Truong. Three drug testing reports from the Municipal People's Hospital, the Provincial Center for Disease Control and an independent inspection unit in Beijing. Bank statement of Vuong Que Hoa. Clinic business registration documents. Trieu Bang Trinh's money transfer records."

“Nien Niem, mother did not die of illness.”

“Mom was killed by someone.”

"The person who harmed me is your biological father's wife, Tong Minh Chau."

The last line, the ink was faint, as if she had used her last bit of strength to write:

“But I can rest assured. Mom arranged everything. She can't touch you."

“Because now, I am a major shareholder of Luc Thi Group.”

“You don't need to beg anyone.”

“Just standing there is enough.”

I slammed the letter on the table. Whole body trembled. Not because of fear, not because of pain. It's hate. A hot, boiling hatred, wanting to burn everything, emanated from the very marrow of my bones. My mother. Dragged out of the factory, publicly humiliated. Being pregnant and having to wander around the streets. Married to an honest guard, lived in a 30 square meter house for eighteen years. Eating the cheapest food, wearing patched shirts, not even daring to buy a bottle of lotion. She quietly studied the financial statements of a listed company. A woman who hasn't finished middle school. She spent fifteen years, scavenging every penny to buy back 8.3% of the shares of a commercial empire. She discovered she had been poisoned, but did not report to the police or run away. She used the last days of her life to collect evidence and prepare a reveal. She used her life to pave a path for me. Then she died. Died on an old mattress with a savings book of three million yuan.

“Lawyer Truong.” My voice seemed to be hissing from deep in my throat, "I want to sue her."

Truong Duy Vien looked at me, not surprised at all.

“My mother said, if I come, I will definitely say this.”

He opened another file: "So she told me to prepare all the necessary documents for the lawsuit."