Chapter 20 — Music Without Chorus

The final agreement was signed after six weeks of negotiations. Milky Way does not claim ownership of the music; They can only distribute for a period of one year, cannot edit the mix, and cannot use images of An, Linh or Le Chi without asking for their own permission. Part of the village's revenue was said in class to go to Le Chi's fund. The Lam family is credited with the composition and receives the corresponding rights to the confirmed melody.

Duc Minh was not present when signing. Records of transactions are transferred to competent authorities, without online convictions. Quang Vu left his position as director after the board of directors requested an audit of the data warehouse. The company did not collapse; the people who work there still need a salary. I find that important. Justice isn't about a building disappearing, it's about how those left behind do things differently.

The album is titled “Songs Without a Chorus”. There are no songs that use repetition as a hook. Each song begins with an everyday sound and ends with an unexplained choice. Linh sang five songs, but her name was not placed next to Le Chi's name on the promotional photo. The two generations are recorded in different lines, no one stands in for the other.

The first release took place at the old cultural house, not on a big stage. Tickets are free but limited in number to avoid turning listeners into an advertising number. Outside there is a small board recording the recording history, each person's rights and how to contact if errors are detected. An insisted that all documents must be readable and not use too small letters.

Vy ran around the stage checking the wires. “If something goes wrong today, I will blame you.”

“You blame me since you opened the Spring.”

“Yes. But now there is a contract to dump.”

An burst out laughing. Her left ear is still unstable, but the doctor allows her to work if the volume level is kept safe. She brought in the new vibration transmitter, placing the pad on the floor and next to the console. Nam arrived early, bringing a pot of ginger tea.

“Vy told me not to drink coffee after four o'clock.”

“Are you controlling my whole body?”

“She said if I gave her the wrong thing, she would fire me.”

An received the tea pot. “This time I learned to listen.”

“I learned how to read instructions.”

Linh stood in the corner of the stage, reading the lyrics of the new song. She no longer asked if the lesson was easy enough to remember. She asked which question was hers. An helped correct a consonant, Nam corrected the piano rhythm, and then the three agreed to keep Linh's original singing style.

Before the show, the screen played a video of Le Chi. She sat in the classroom, behind her were children practicing tapping.

“I'm not here to reclaim the past,” she said. "I'm here to remind you that the writer's name is not a decoration. If the song is missing, let it be missing in the right place."

The video ends. No advertising images, no calls to share.

The first song starts with the sound of a train. An felt the floor vibrate and the sound of strings passing across the soles of his feet. Nam did not look at her while playing; he looked at Linh. Linh sings the first verse, letting the second verse change to a different pitch. The audience was silent, not because they were forced but because they didn't know when to clap.

In the third song, a microphone was disturbed. Vy reported with hand signals. An cuts that channel and switches to the backup microphone. The incident only lasted two seconds, but in those two seconds, Nam did not fill it with music. He let the sound of the room enter. A child coughed in the front row, someone pulled out a chair, then Linh continued.

After the fourth song, an audience asked why Le Chi's singing was not restored. An replied from the console:

"Because that part belongs to a decision that has not been approved by you. We do not use the cut part as emotional evidence. The legal documents have been processed separately."

Another person asked if Nam forgives Quang. Nam held the microphone and thought for a moment.

"I do not reserve the right to forgive on behalf of those affected. I can only take responsibility for my part, and not continue to work in the same way."

Linh looked at him, then put away the last lesson. There is no background music. She said one sentence, left it silent, then sang three notes she wrote herself. Nam added a low piano sound. An included the beat of the ferry bridge, but turned down the volume so it sounded like a distant memory. At the end of the song, Linh's breathing was not cut off.

No one clapped for a few seconds. An felt the floor stop shaking. The silence opened up, wide and calm. Then an older woman stood up. She whispered that she had heard Le Chi at the old theater, and for the first time in many years she listened to a piece of music without seeing it being sold to anyone.

The applause started from that row of seats, slowly and spread out. Irregular, does not form a common rhythm. An likes that. People are not forced to repeat each other.

After the show, Nam stood outside the stage, watching the chairs being folded. An came next to him, keeping a sufficient distance.

“Do you regret that the album doesn't have a chorus?”

"Sometimes. But I regret other things more."

"For example?"

“Because I thought silence was the way to keep others safe.”

An looked at his hand. “Are you still planning to make another album?”

"Yes. But I don't know who to do it with."

“I have a studio.”

Nam turned. “Is that a job offer?”

“Partly.”

“The rest?”

An did not answer immediately. She didn't want to end the story with a big promise. They still have hearings, money to pay, days when her left ear is silent and days when Nam is pulled back by the past.

“The other part is I want to know you can stay by my side without trying to save me, without hiding anything, and without turning every conversation into a report.”

Nam laughed. “It's difficult.”

"I know."

“I can try.”

“Testing also requires a contract.”

“First clause?”

“Don't call each other by their full names unless signing papers.”

Nam nodded. “Second clause?”

“If one person needs to be quiet, the other person doesn't write the missing part themselves.”

“Third clause?”

An looked out at the stage. “Save it for the next lesson.”

They don't kiss. Nam just raised his hand, waiting for An to decide. She placed her hand in his, short and firm, as if testing a new beat. No major vibrations. Only the presence of one person did not pull her towards him.

The next day, Mach Nuoc opened its doors with a new sign: “Studio by music creator — rights reserved.” Vy added a line below: "Do not accept recordings from unknown sources." Linh came to collect cards privately, bringing a box of cakes. Tung sends the final report, Hanh sends the payment schedule. Le Chi sent a photo of the classroom, in which a child is tapping four beats and then stops one beat.

An placed the photo next to the controller. She opened a new project, imported the first three notes of the old song, and then deleted the repetition. Nam sits at the piano. Vy turned off the fan because it sounded out of rhythm.

“Ready?” Nam asked.

An put your hands on the table. “Let's get started.”

The first note rang out. There is no waiting chorus. No one is asked to stand where someone else left off. Only one passage opened, and this time, they entered it together.

The morning after its release, the album did not top the charts. It has no parts that can be easily cut into short videos, and no looping verses for listeners to sing along for a few seconds. Some comments criticized it for being slow, criticized it for being difficult to remember, and criticized the group for turning disputes into art.

But there are other messages. One student said she looked up Lam's name in the notes section. A music teacher asked to use lessons in class to teach about life sounds. A person who worked on post-production for Milky Way sent more documents, saying they didn't want to stay silent anymore.

An reads each message, does not respond on behalf of the group. She passed on the information that needed to be processed to Hanh, the words of thanks to Linh, and the technical questions to Vy. Nam prepares his own revenue table and compares each item.

“I never thought I would have to check the distribution part as well,” he said.

“What do you think now?”

“It's not as difficult as not checking.”

They went to the cultural house to listen to the live version again. The wooden floor still keeps the rhythm of the show. An put her hand down and realized that the broken string no longer bothered her. In the file, the four-beat silence is heard more clearly than any clapping sound.

Vy asked: "Do you want to edit the studio version to look like the performance version?"

"No. Two versions have two truths."

Nam nodded. "One knows he's in control. One knows he can lose control."

An looked at him. “I can start talking now.”

“I still need editing.”

"Of course."

Le Chi sent a public letter. She wrote that the album is not her comeback, nor is it Nam's redemption. It is a new work built from sounds that have been asked for permission, names that have been recorded and spaces that are not forced into answers. She thanked listeners for not demanding a chorus just to feel safe.

Lam's family posted a photo of his name tag. They did not post photos of the accident, nor did they tell painful details. Just write: "Lam Nguyen - harmony, people like the sound of water."

Milky Way released an apology. Quang Vu no longer signs his name as director, but the letter still states that he is responsible during the executive period. Duc Minh was asked to hand over the entire warehouse. The civil investigation continues, with no quick ending like a headline.

Nam asked An if he wanted to go to the warehouse when they opened the seal. An said no need. “I don't want to see all the evidence turned into scenes.”

“Do you want to listen to the remaining original?”

“If Le Chi and Lam's family agree, there will be an appraiser, and the original will not be exploited outside the scope.”

“Many conditions.”

“That's how people don't lose it again.”

Nam nodded. He didn't ask more.

Circuit Water offers small tutorial classes every month. Vy teaches how to save files, Tung teaches how to read contracts, Hanh talks about rights. Linh teaches singing without imitating. An teaches listening in many ways, but does not tell anyone to listen like her.

One afternoon, a boy put his hand on the table and asked why the empty notes weren't coming back.

“Because it's gone,” An said.

“Can't find it again?”

“You can find it, but you don't always need to call it back.”

The boy thought, then tapped a new beat. An doesn't fix it.

Nam stood at the door, holding two cups of tea. He gave An coc without sugar. She accepted, without asking him when he remembered.

“I would like to suggest one work,” he said.

“Say it.”

“Doing a second album. Not for the Milky Way, not for Le Chi, not for redemption. Only do it with people who want to put their name on it.”

“Do you have an idea yet?”

“There is a beat from the morning market and the sound of theater elevators.”

“Do not open with the sound of rain.”

"I know."

“There is no mysterious president, no people betrayed without cause.”

“I will write it down in the story bible.”

An looked at him and laughed. “You learn so fast.”

Nam put down the cup and waited. “What about the third clause?”

An remembers the paper he gave her. “If one person needs to be quiet, the other person doesn't write the missing part themselves.”

"I agree."

“So start by listening.”

They sat in the studio without turning on the computer. Outside on the street, the sounds of the afternoon market, the sounds of cars and the sounds of children from the classroom mixed together. An placed his hand on the table, Nam placed his hand next to it but did not touch. Vibrations pass through the wood unevenly and without repetition.

An doesn't know where this relationship will go. She doesn't need to know right away. A piece of music can be remembered not because it leads the listener back to the same verse, but because it gives the listener a reason to return.

The final note of the album has been released. But in Water Circuit, a new beat begins, bearing no one else's name.