Chapter 13 — Old Book Repairer In A Small Alley

Tieu Ngoc Lam responded earlier than expected, just four days after Duy Khoi sent the invitation to review the documents. She agreed to meet, but asked that the meeting take place at her private office in the city center, instead of going all the way to Tra Lang - the reason she gave was her busy work schedule, but Lam couldn't help but feel a little uneasy at that somewhat distant caution.

On the way to Tieu Ngoc Lam's office, sitting behind Duy Khoi on the old motorbike, Lam couldn't help but think about the gap between her world and the world she was about to enter. For the past twenty-seven years, her life has been confined to the four walls of the bookstore, her hands calloused from holding needles and threads, and quiet afternoons by the window overlooking a familiar alley. She has never had to prove herself to people with degrees, titles, and academic prestige like Tieu Ngoc Lam — whose name alone makes her feel small.

"What are you worried about?" Duy Khoi asked over his shoulder as he stopped at a red light, perhaps sensing the tension in the way Lam clutched his shirt.

"I'm afraid I said something wrong, or wasn't convincing enough," Lam confessed. "You and Ms. Ngoc Lam both have expertise and have your own language of the research world. I only have a few old papers and a family story."

"Your family story is the most valuable evidence," Duy Khoi replied, his voice firm. "Don't let anyone make you feel like you're not qualified to be there. You're the one who found out the truth, not us."

Tieu Ngoc Lam's office is located on the fifth floor of a modern office building, completely different from the ancient atmosphere of the provincial library or Lam's small workshop. She welcomed them with a polite but reserved attitude, a woman in her forties, neatly and professionally dressed, with the sharp eyes of someone used to working with valuable and easily counterfeited things.

"I took a look at what Mr. Khoi sent," she said, her voice calm, not revealing any obvious emotions. "In terms of chronology, I have no doubts — the lab report is quite reliable. But in terms of authorial conclusions, I need to be much more cautious. This is a very serious allegation against one of the great names of modern literature."

"We understand that," Duy Khoi replied. "That's why we came to you, we needed an independent, unbiased professional eye."

Tieu Ngoc Lam nodded, took out copies of pages of poems and letters, placed them on the glass table, turned on a specialized lamp, and used a magnifying glass to examine each stroke. She worked in silence for a long time, occasionally taking notes in a separate notebook. Her face did not express any clear emotions, making Lam unable to guess which direction she was leaning.

"This handwriting," she said finally, "has the characteristics of the writing style taught in French girls' schools before 1965 — the consistent left slant, the distinctive way of joining the letters 'g' and 'h'. Technically, your hypothesis has some basis. But I must say frankly, technical basis does not mean a certain conclusion. It is possible that this is another person trained in a similar style of writing, copying the poetry of Ung Boi Chau for some reason — word practice, memorization, even a form of admiration.”

"But what about the letters?" Lam spoke up, unable to hide his impatience. "In the letter there is a direct mention of sending the manuscript to a person named Tuyen for safekeeping, with a date earlier than the year of publication, and a living witness who confirmed that he had seen that girl go to the printer to ask for the manuscript back."

Tieu Ngoc Lam looked at Lam, his eyes still maintaining a cold professionalism. "The testimony of an eighty-year-old man, although valuable, is still only circumstantial evidence, easily refuted in court or before public opinion if the other side has a good lawyer. I'm not saying you are wrong. I'm just saying, what you have currently is not enough to withstand a serious questioning, especially when the accused is a highly influential figure, with a family with significant resources to refute."

Duy Khoi pondered. "So what do you think we need more?"

"Official manuscript appraisal, performed by a recognized professional council, not just one individual," Tieu Ngoc Lam replied. "We need more witnesses, the more the better. And if possible, we need to find this woman's direct descendants, to further confirm the genealogical, emotional, and perhaps, to have an official representative if the matter becomes public."

She stopped, looking at both of them with somewhat stern eyes. "I will help you in terms of appraisal, but I need you to understand clearly, I will make conclusions based on objective scientific evidence, not based on anyone's wishes, including you. If the evidence is not convincing enough, I will say frankly that it is not enough, even though that may disappoint you."

Lam nodded. Although she felt a little cold in her heart at this woman's somewhat dry attitude, she also understood that was what was needed - an unbiased voice, even though it might not be pleasant, was still much better than an emotional confirmation that could not stand up to pressure.

Before leaving, Lam couldn't help but ask another question that had been on his mind since the beginning of the meeting. "Miss Ngoc Lam, do you believe what we are saying? Not in terms of scientific evidence, but... do you believe, as a human being, that this could have happened?"

Tieu Ngoc Lam was silent for a moment, her eyes softened a bit, revealing something close to real emotions for the first time. "I've been in this profession for twenty years and have witnessed many cases where copyrights were disputed, stolen, and forgotten. Most of the victims were women, poor people, and people who had no voice in society at that time. So to be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if your story is true. I just don't allow myself to believe too soon, because my profession teaches me that personal beliefs are not evidence, and if I let my emotions guide my conclusions, I will lose something." The only thing that makes my words count: objectivity."

That answer, although it did not bring any guarantees, made Lam feel somewhat comforted - at least, behind the cold, professional appearance, there was still a person who understood and sympathized with what she was pursuing.

On the way home, Lam sat quietly in the car for a long time, watching the street scene pass by outside the window. Duy Khoi noticed her unusual silence and asked.

"What are you thinking?"

Lam sighed. "I'm thinking, everything I'm doing - rummaging through the past, confronting experts, looking for witnesses - is so strange compared to the life I've been used to for so long. I'm just a bookbinder, all my life I've only been used to sitting still, mending torn things. Now I feel like I'm being drawn into a world that doesn't belong to me, a world of scholarship, of debate, of things I don't have enough capital to confidently confront."

"I don't think so," Duy Khoi said, his voice sincere. "Because you are a bookbinder, you are the only one who can discover this secret in the first place — not another researcher, not me, not Tieu Ngoc Lam. You have the eyes and hands of someone who understands books from the inside out, understanding what is hidden under the cover that others only see the printed text. That is not an obstacle, that is the reason why you can do what no one else in the entire academic world has been able to do for sixty years."

Lam turned to look at him, touched by those words. "You always know how to say things that make me feel less lost."

"Because I believe those things are true," he replied, smiling slightly, then focused on driving again, but the warm silence between the two of them still lingered all the way back to Do Paper Alley.

When the car turned into the alley, the yellow streetlight reflected on the old brick surface, Lam saw the sign "Vong Chu Shop" from afar, and for the first time in many days, she felt a small peace creep into her heart, amidst all the worries that were still scattered. Although the road ahead is still long and there are still many unforeseen challenges, at least now she has Duy Khoi, her father, and a whole network of people who are silently contributing to her - Mr. Dien, Tieu Ngoc Lam, and soon, perhaps, even her niece named Doan whom she has never met.