Chapter 6 — Music Sent After School

Radio stand in the alley

Aunt Huong opened the counter at six o'clock in the morning. The counter is only as wide as a small bedroom, half for cassette players, half for antique radios, outside there is a sign to repair speakers, replace wires, and find human voices. Duy often comes before class to sweep the floor and check the sockets. Today, Nhien went with you.

“You don't need to help sweep,” said Aunt Huong.

“Auntie, just let me try.”

Nhien holds a broom. Ten seconds later, she swept the dust onto her feet.

Aunt Huong smiled. "City people often sweep in straight lines. This alley must be swept in circles, otherwise the dust will run to the neighbors' houses."

Duy gave her another broom. “Don't try to do it quickly.”

“I'm trying not to screw up.”

"Different."

Lam and Khang haven't arrived yet. Ms. Mai wanted Duy to learn about tape 03, but told her not to listen alone. Nhien brought a laptop and an empty storage drive. She did not tell Aunt Huong that she was Minh Quang's daughter. The name Ha Audio lies in the middle of the counter like an invisible string; Everyone avoids touching.

Aunt Huong makes ginger tea. She said Duy's father used to repair radios for free for households in the alley. He doesn't like people throwing away a device just because the volume button is broken. He often changes a screw, wipes off a layer of dust, and then says: "It's not quiet, it's just choking."

“Do you remember the song?” Nhien asked.

“Remember the melody. Forget the name.”

“What is the name of the music?”

"Huy calls it a letter. Not the official name."

Duy took the tape box from his pocket. Label 03 has an underline. He placed it next to the player he found at school. The two silver stamps match in color and scratches.

“Ha Audio makes this device?”

Aunt Huong looked at the stamp for a long time. “Huy did not like to cooperate with that company after the incident.”

“What incident?”

"Someone took his demo and tried it with a different voice. Huy objected. He said if the song isn't finished, no one has the right to edit it into something that's easy to sell."

Nhien sounded like she was listening to a strange story, even though her father's name was in it. “What was your father doing at that time?”

Aunt Huong looked up. She didn't ask why she used "my father". Just say: "Minh Quang is the one who signed the contract. The work in the studio is decided by many people."

“Does he know a song for a child?”

"Maybe I know. But adults often think knowing is enough. It's not."

Duy attached the tape to the machine. This time, he didn't press play right away. He took a pencil to mark the roll position, checked the belt, and placed a thin piece of paper under the machine's lid. His technique is slow and meticulous, in contrast to Nhien's haste.

“Since when have you been doing this?”

“Since Aunt Huong let me fix my first radio.”

“Aren't you going to learn formal phonics?”

“Studying.”

“I mean later.”

“Afterwards it will still be sound.”

“Don't want to join a big company?”

"I want to. But I don't want to go in as someone who has to thank someone for being in the chair."

Nhien understood what the sentence meant even though he didn't look at her. She sat down on the plastic chair and quietly removed the dust from the cable. At home, every opportunity comes by itself. Here, people have to stand in line in front of each door.

The machine runs. The song opens with the sound of tapping on the piano. After seventeen seconds, Huy's voice rang out, closer than the previous version: "Of course, if you can hear me, it means I didn't have time to say..."

Duy turned off the phone.

"Why?"

“I'm not ready.”

Aunt Huong put her hand on his shoulder. “You don't need to hear the rest today.”

“But the sender is using it to pull we."

“So you listen when you want, not when they want.”

That was the first time Nhien saw Duy not refute an adult.

Lam arrived with Khang, carrying a bag of bread and an old box of rope. As soon as she walked in, Lam saw the speaker repair sign.

“Auntie, can you fix your ex-lover's voice?”

"Are not. But I can fix the speaker so I can hear clearly where I went wrong.”

Lam put his hand on his chest. “You talk like my homeroom teacher.”

They listened to the entire tape three times, recording one type of information each time. The first time is the content. The second time is the background sound. The third time is silence. In the background there was the sound of a clock, the sound of a motorbike passing by, and a sound of metal hitting each other at 43 seconds. Khang recognized it as the lock on the warehouse door of Reu Records.

“Maybe the tape was recorded there,” he said.

“Or someone trying to create similar background noise,” Duy replied.

Lam pointed to the clock in the counter. “The ticking sound is identical to file 03B.”

Nhien looked at the recorder. “Someone took the tape here, copied it, and attached it to the device at school. That person used to know the counter.”

Aunt Huong was silent. After a while, she opened the drawer and took out a small notebook. In it is a list of people who came to repair the machine in 2014. There is a Moss Records employee, a Ha Audio technician and a student named Vu Thanh Dat.

“Who is Dat?” Lam asked.

“Huy's friend. Be the last person to take the tape box away.”

“Where now?”

"Don't know. I just heard that he works as an equipment carrier.”

The logo on the delivery man's bag appeared in Nhien's mind. Moss Records closed but the old network remained. Someone was using transportation to bring the player to the school, and that person knew the tape was at Aunt Huong's counter.

In the afternoon, the group went to the old address of Moss Records. The rolling door was locked, and there was a broken glass window on the side. Khang was about to slide his hand to open the latch but Nhien held him back.

“Do not enter voluntarily.”

“You were the first person to say you had to get proof.”

“Proof collected properly.”

Lam looked at the two people. “We can stand outside and ask the neighbors.”

They asked a woman selling water across the street. She remembers that this place used to have a recording studio, but after it closed, sometimes people still came to pick up things. A man wearing a baseball cap and riding a blue motorbike often appears on Thursdays.

“Today is Thursday,” Duy said.

That man can come back. They sat at the bar and waited. Lam bought four cups of kumquat tea and drank two because she was nervous. Khang tried measuring the distance from the counter to the door with his steps, but was scolded by the owner for stepping on a potted plant.

Nearly five o'clock, a blue motorbike stopped in front of the door. The man in the cap was holding the key, but as soon as he saw the group of students, he turned his head. Duy chased after. Nhien ran behind and heard Lam shouting "don't lose the important supporting character".

The other person turned into the alley, leaving behind a paper bag. Duy caught up at the end of the alley but the man had already gotten into another car. In the bag is a tape reader and a piece of paper:

**Do not play the last part. The little girl in the song hasn't remembered what she needs to remember.**

Nhien held a piece of paper. The writing is italic, the underline in the word "don't" is very bold.

“Do you recognize this word?” Duy asked.

“No.”

But she lied. The word “don't” resembles her father's pen on an old note. Ha Minh Quang always underlines the warning with three short strokes.

On the way home, Duy walked next to her, not speaking. As he passed the stairs, he suddenly stopped.

“If this has anything to do with your father, you can withdraw.”

“I won't withdraw.”

“You don't need to prove anything to me.”

“I know.”

“So why?”

Nhien looked at the piece of paper in her hand. “Because I want to know where my memories are hidden.”

Duy nodded. Ask no more.

At 5:10 p.m., the club plays the second number according to the three-minute rule. Lam asked: “Which sound do you want to keep?” Students send the sound of sandals, pens, and bicycles. At the end of the program, Duy let Aunt Huong's counter clock run for three seconds.

Immediately after that, the school speakers rang out an answer that was not in the script:

“Keep what others try to cut away.”

The voice was not Lam, not Duy, nor Nhien.

The system turned off before Ms. Mai could unplug the power.

On the control screen, the new file appears as **03C**.

On the way home, Lam asked everyone to agree on a way to call the girl in the tape. Duy said not to call names unless necessary. Nhien agrees. A person in memory should not be turned into a character just because the story is interesting.

Khang made a list of readers who have gone through the Moss Records warehouse. There are four devices that share the same serial number, but only one has an additional transmitter. He compared the photo of the player with the record in Aunt Huong's notebook and discovered that the silver stamp layer had been overwritten twice.

“Someone wants to cover up the old code,” Khang said.

“Or fix a broken device,” Nhien replied.

“So we have to find someone to fix it.”

Aunt Huong remembers a technician named Bao who often came to the counter on weekends. She didn't know who he worked for, only that he listened to the radio with his left ear because his right ear had been injured. That detail matches the person in the Moss Records photo.

Duy wants to come find it right away. Ms. Mai reminded them not to bother unrelated people. They send an official invitation letter, clearly stating the purpose and right to refuse. Bao answered after an hour: he would go to school with Ms. Mai witnessing.

While waiting, the group recorded a segment of the program at the radio repair counter. Aunt Huong agreed to use the sound of a clock and a screwdriver, but did not want to tell family stories. Lam respected her and only asked her what made her continue to repair old machines.

“Because someone heard them before I did,” she replied.

Nhien wrote that sentence in the notebook and did not include it in the program unless she signed it. Aunt Huong signed, then added a condition: to listen to the final version before playing it.

It was a simple condition, but it made Duy smile the whole time.

That night, Nhien sent Duy a photo of the edited SoundSeed contract. He only responded with one sentence: "Do not accept the microphone." She understood it wasn't just equipment; he was reminding the group not to let a gift buy them the right to speak.

Nhien opens the photo, selects "unlimited use" and writes an alternative next to it. She did not immediately send it to her father; She sent it to Ms. Mai first. Ms. Mai changed the word "permanent" to "twelve months", added the right to withdraw and request deletion of copies when the project ends.

Duy read the revised version and said: "If they don't agree, I won't accept it."

“If they agree, will you accept?”

“I will ask Aunt Huong.”

Nhien sees a person who can keep principles and still remember the person who raised him. They don't need to come from the same starting point to understand the same thing: choice should not be part of the gift.