Chapter 18 — Old Book Repairer In A Small Alley

Less than a week after the letter from the lawyer's office, a new notice appeared at the top of Do Paper Alley, this time not in faded black and white print like before, but a large, color-printed board with a sturdy iron frame: OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT ON PROGRESS OF LAND RECOVERY AND PLATFORM CLEARANCE OF THE TRA LANG OLD TOWN RENOVATION PROJECT. Below is the specific schedule: within the next three months, households will receive an official land acquisition decision, and have six months to complete relocation.

The whole alley was in chaos. Mrs. Nu closed the tea shop early to run around asking about the situation from house to house. The owner of the watch repair shop stood in front of the sign, his hands shaking, unable to say a word. The old man selling Do paper sat down on the steps of his house, tears rolling down his wrinkled face, looking towards the small stall where she had been for more than fifty years of her life.

"Why so fast?" Mrs. Nu said as she ran to find Lam, her voice panicked. "The people's meeting was just a few months ago, and now the official decision has been made. Normally, these cases take a year, even several years, over here..."

Lam stood looking at the sign, his heart heavy, understanding the reason behind this unusual haste better than anyone else in the alley. This is no longer just an ordinary urban project — this is a calculated counterattack by Ung The Khang, aimed at creating maximum pressure on her through the very neighbors she loves, turning them, even if unintentionally, into a part of a war whose true origin they do not know.

She felt a heavy burden of guilt on her shoulders — even though she wasn't the one who caused the release, she couldn't help but wonder whether discovering the stack of papers in the spine of the book, the process of release would have been accelerated to such a cruel degree.

She walked along the alley, looking at each familiar face gathered in front of the notice board, looking at the children playing carefree, not knowing that in just a few months, their familiar playground may no longer exist. She remembers her childhood afternoons of running around the alley with her peers, remembers the sound of street vendors resounding every early morning, remembers the smell of hot rolls from the shop at the end of the alley every time it gets cold - all those simple memories now suddenly become fragile, can disappear at any time before the power of money and power.

"Miss Lam," a familiar voice rang out from behind her. That was the youngest son of the watch repair shop owner, a young man in his early twenties, who had just graduated from college and returned to help the family. "I heard my dad talk about what you're doing related to a poetry book or something. I think you're doing the right thing, sister. Not many of us kids nowadays know how to appreciate such things anymore. We only worry about making money, buying a house and a car, and few even think about justice for a deceased person."

The young man's simple words touched Lam, like a small ray of light amid the gloomy atmosphere that covered the alley that afternoon.

That evening, an emergency meeting of the alley residents was held right in Ms. Nu's yard. The atmosphere was tense, many people argued loudly about whether to accept compensation or protest. Some older people appeared tired and just wanted to receive compensation to end the matter. Some others, mostly families who had lived here for many generations, firmly opposed.

In the midst of the most intense argument, the owner of the watch repair shop stood up, pointed straight at Lam, and said harshly: "I heard that you and some professor are doing something related to Ung Boi Chau's house. Is that why they accelerated the clearance in retaliation?"

The whole yard was silent, all eyes focused on Lam. She stood up, her hands shaking but trying to keep her voice steady.

"I'm sorry for not telling everyone sooner," she said, then told the whole story — from the discovery of the stack of papers in the spine of the book, to the investigation with Duy Khoi, to the meeting with Ung The Khang and the bribe offer she refused. She hides nothing, including the possibility that her refusal may have contributed to the acceleration of the clearance process.

When she finished speaking, the atmosphere in the yard was silent for a long time, only the sound of the wind blowing through the trees and the chirping of insects in the night. Finally, the old man selling Do paper spoke, his voice hoarse but firm.

"So you're trying to get justice for a forgotten woman. I think it's right, no matter what consequences it entails for me."

"But uncle," another middle-aged woman spoke up, her voice worried, "if because of this, the entire alley was pushed out earlier, where would we have the time to prepare, find a new place to live, change jobs..."

The debate lasted for nearly an hour, many conflicting opinions were given, but in the end, the majority of residents agreed on a common direction: instead of blaming each other, they would find lawyers together, complain about the transparency and unusual speed of the land acquisition decision, and support Lam in continuing the investigation, with the hope that if the truth about Lac Ben Smog is exposed, public pressure can force Ung The Khang to withdraw part of the clearance plan, at least slow down the progress to allow more fair negotiation time.

While everyone gradually dispersed after the meeting, the old man selling Do paper slowly walked up to Lam, holding a fragile stack of Do paper in his hand, the paper still smelling of fresh Do paper. "I'll give you some papers," he said, placing the stack of papers in Lam's hands. "My job, like yours, depends on keeping fragile things from getting torn over time. I used this paper to cover those precious manuscript pages. Do paper is very durable, the ink won't fade even after a hundred years."

Lam received the stack of papers, tears welling up in front of the heart of an old man in his eighties, who had probably lost more than her in this clearance, but still devoted all his energy to thinking about protecting the legacy of a strange woman he had never known. "Thank you," she said, her voice choked, holding the stack of papers in her arms as if embracing a new promise that had just been given.

After the meeting, Ms. Nu pulled Lam to a corner, her voice gentle but full of confidence. "Don't blame yourself. The wrong is not yours, but the person who used an entire alley to take revenge on a young girl just because she dared to tell the truth. I believe you did the right thing."

Lam hugged Mrs. Nu, unable to hold back her tears anymore. "I'm so scared, grandma. I'm scared that because of me, the whole alley will suffer."

"You didn't do anything wrong," Mrs. Nu patted her back, her voice warm and deep like a mother's. "If anyone is to blame, it is the person who chose to punish an entire community for failing to silence one person."

That night, when Lam returned to the shop, he saw Duy Khoi already waiting, his face equally heavy after hearing the news about the new notice board. He hugged her, said nothing, just let her rest her head on his shoulder for a long time, both of them silent in the dark night.

"I just talked to the lawyer," he said after a moment, his voice low. "He said that the unusually fast speed of making land recovery decisions could be a disadvantage for Tinh Hoa Land if it comes to light - the law requires that there must be enough time for comments, surveys, and appraisal of compensation prices to be public and transparent. If it is proven that they intentionally shortened the process unreasonably, a complaint can be made."

"So is there any hope left?" Lam asked, his voice still shaking.

"Always have," Duy Khoi replied, squeezing her hand tighter. "But Ms. Lam, I think it's time we can't wait any longer. We need to announce what we have, as soon as possible, before they can use this alley as a hostage to force you to stay silent."

Lam looked up at him, her eyes determined, without any hesitation like the first days when she timidly walked into his office with a trembling envelope of documents in her hand. "I agree. My grandfather has been waiting for sixty years. This alley has also waited long enough to know who is on the right side. It's time for me to have nothing to lose anymore."

They were both silent, listening to the sound of rain starting to fall outside the corrugated iron roof, a reminder that the real storm, both literal and figurative, was still gathering, not yet at its most violent explosion.