Chapter 20 — Old Book Repairer In A Small Alley

Nha Ky agreed as soon as Duy Khoi presented the plan, without any hesitation. "I've been thinking a lot these past few weeks," she said over the phone, her voice much more determined than when they first met in the library. "My parents initially objected, but when I showed them the photo and the pages of poetry, my father cried, saying that his great-grandfather once mentioned Mrs. Thuc Hien with a voice full of regret, but at that time no one in the family understood why. Now I understand. I am ready to stand up and represent the family, no matter what happens."

With Nha Ky's consent, Duy Khoi drafted an official application and sent it to the conference organizers, requesting to attend as a representative of a relative of an author directly related to the honored work, attaching copies of some documents to prove the connection - although deliberately not disclosing the entire shocking content of the evidence, to avoid being blocked before having the opportunity to present it publicly.

While waiting for a response, the whole group — Lam, Duy Khoi, Nha Ky, and the silent support of Tieu Ngoc Lam, who contacted Duy Khoi again to explain that her previous article was due to pressure from the head of the industry's scientific council, who threatened to remove her from major appraisal projects if she did not write — devoted all their efforts to completing the final evidence file: a full set of documents including chronological appraisal reports, comparative analysis of penmanship, and notes. The declaration was notarized by Mr. Vu Khac Dien, the genealogy confirmed Nha Ky's blood relationship, and the entire contents of the stack of papers found in the spine of the book were carefully digitized.

"I'm sorry for the previous post," Tieu Ngoc Lam said when meeting Lam and Duy Khoi again, her voice had a rare sense of guilt. "I was wrong to let professional pressure overwhelm my responsibility to the truth. This time, I will officially testify as an independent expert, taking full responsibility for my conclusions."

Tieu Ngoc Lam's return, although belated, brought a new vitality to the group. With her professional reputation, and all the evidence that has been consolidated over the past many months, they feel that, for the first time since starting this journey, they really have a chance to confront Ung The Khang's forces fairly.

"I also contacted two other colleagues on the appraisal board," Tieu Ngoc Lam added, "both of whom agreed to independently review your file. If all three of us come to the same conclusion, the scientific weight will be much harder to refute than the opinion of one individual."

Lam heard the news and felt a ray of hope growing in his heart. She spent the next few days at the provincial library with Duy Khoi, reviewing every smallest detail in the file, making sure that no loophole could be exploited by the other side to refute the entire project they had worked so hard to build for many months. Nha Ky, despite being busy with library work, also took advantage of all her free time to find more genealogical documents, even taking a few days off to participate in the final rehearsal before everyone went to the conference venue together.

But just when everything seemed to be going smoothly, an unexpected incident occurred. The conference organizing committee sent a response letter, flatly rejecting Nha Ky's request to attend, citing "insufficient basis to verify the personal relationship in a short time", and also announced that the conference's holding time had been pushed up two weeks earlier than originally planned - suspiciously coinciding with the time the official land recovery decision at Do Giay Alley was expected to be issued.

"They are deliberately racing against time," Duy Khoi said, his voice tense as he read the announcement. "Pushing the conference up early so we don't have time to fully prepare, and at the same time speeding up the land acquisition decision to create more pressure. They want to push us into a corner before we can react."

Lam felt a surge of panic, but she tried to suppress it, reminding herself of what she had learned along the way — about the patience of a bookbinder, about sometimes having to disassemble layer by layer to find the right path, no matter how tight the time.

"If they don't let me in through the main door, I will find another way," she said, her voice unexpectedly determined, surprising both Duy Khoi and Nha Ky, who were participating in the video call. "The conference is a public event, tickets are sold to the public, right?"

"Yes," Duy Khoi confirmed, "most major academic conferences are open to the public to register for the general discussion, although the main presentation is only for invited guests."

"So I registered to attend as a regular guest, sitting in the auditorium like everyone else," Lam said. "At the question and answer session, or the exchange at the end of the program, I will speak up and present evidence on the spot, in front of all the media and academics present. They cannot prohibit an audience member from asking questions at a public event."

That bold plan carries countless risks - maybe they will be invited out of the hall as soon as they speak, maybe the public's reaction will not be as expected, maybe Tinh Hoa has prepared a plan to deal with this very situation. But after many hours of discussion, considering every possibility, all three agreed that this was the best chance, perhaps the last chance, to bring the truth to light before all other doors were closed.

"I need a backup plan," Duy Khoi said, thoughtfully. "If the organizers discover my intentions in advance and stop them right from the entrance, we need a way for the information to still reach the public, even if we can't get through the hall door."

"I'm thinking of inviting a few familiar reporters who have reported honestly on similar disputes," Tieu Ngoc Lam commented. "If they are present at the event, even if you are stopped midway, at least the press will ask questions, forcing the Tinh Hoa side to respond publicly, not letting the matter go quietly."

The group spent another evening making a list of trustworthy journalists, preparing a set of concise summary documents to send in advance, with an invitation to attend as an independent observer, without revealing the entire plan to avoid the risk of premature information disclosure.

Mr. Vinh, when listening to his daughter recount the entire plan one evening, listened attentively to every detail, occasionally nodding in agreement. When Lam finished telling her story, he reached for the notebook and wrote a short line but enough to make her feel much more confident.

"Dad. Will. Go. With. Me."

Lam looked at his father, both touched and worried about his health. "Are you sure, Dad? The road is long and there are many people. Aren't you afraid you're tired?" Lam asked again, unable to hide his concern for his father's already weak health.

Mr. Vinh shook his head affirmatively and added: "Grandpa. Also. Wants. Dad. To. Go."

That answer made Lam unable to refuse, and in her heart, a feeling of completeness gradually formed - for the first time, all three generations of the Khuc family, even though one was only present through old diary pages, would face the truth that had been buried for too long together, stepping out of the darkness of silence that had lasted for sixty years.

"Two weeks," Duy Khoi said, looking at the calendar on the wall, his voice both tense and determined. "We have two weeks to prepare everything as perfectly as possible — from the evidence, to the presentation, to the backup plan if we are stopped midway. There are no mistakes allowed at any stage, because we won't get a second chance."

Lam looked out the window, where the sunset was dyeing the familiar alley yellow, looked at the "Vong Chu" sign that had faded over the years, and in her heart, an iron determination gradually formed, without any trepidation like the first days of discovering the stack of papers in the spine of the book. She looked at her father, at Duy Khoi, who was diligently rearranging each page of documents on the table, and thought to herself, no matter what results the next two weeks brought, at least she was no longer the timid girl who only knew how to bow her head and work behind the window, never daring to think of anything bigger than the familiar four walls of the bookstore.

Part IV of the journey ends with a final, well-timed battle, and there's no turning back for any of them — just two weeks to turn sixty years of silence into a voice loud enough to be ignored.