Chapter 15 — Old Painting Restoration Workshop

Returning to the workshop, Mien Thu rechecked the entire door lock system, reinforced an extra layer of lock for the important document cabinet, and carefully placed her grandfather's stack of diaries in a small safe that the workshop still used to store valuable papers. Thuy Chi helped her, her hands and feet were frantic with worry, constantly asking if there was anything serious going on.

"I can't tell you everything right now." Mien Thu said, her voice trying to stay calm even though her heart was still chaotic. "But I promise, when everything is clearer, I will tell you the whole story. Now, I just need you to help me be more careful in my daily work, don't let any strangers approach the painting when I'm not at the workshop."

Thuy Chi nodded, her eyes were unusually serious compared to her usual innocent look. "I understand, Ms. Thu. I will be careful."

That night, after Thuy Chi returned, Mien Thu sat alone, trying to organize her thoughts. She took out a blank sheet of paper and began writing down what she needed to do in the coming days — not to panic, but to have a clear, methodical plan, the same way she approaches any complex restoration project.

Firstly, complete the restoration of the "Vong Nguyet" surface professionally and on schedule, so as not to create any legitimate reasons for Tinh Hoa Auction House to use as an excuse to terminate the contract or make complaints about the workshop's capacity. Second, continue to collect more solid scientific evidence, especially learning about the remaining three paintings in the series of works considered to be the "final stage" of Tu Binh Son. Third, prepare mentally for the possibility of having to face Chau Vinh Thinh directly, possibly much sooner than expected.

She put down her pen and looked out at the painting "Vong Nguyet" lying silently on the stand under the dim factory lights. The surface restoration work is nearly sixty percent complete — the old yellow varnish has been carefully cleaned from most of the painting, and the original colors now appear much more brilliantly than when the painting first arrived in the workshop. Only the lower left corner — which contained the secret of the fake signature — she intentionally left completely unprocessed, as a way to preserve the evidence until everything was ready.

Her phone vibrated, a text message from Nguyen Vu.

"I just received a strange call. The person did not identify themselves, just said briefly that 'some people don't want to see you continue to dig into the past', then hung up. I think we need to meet soon to discuss further."

Mien Thu read that message, a cold feeling spread throughout her body. She quickly typed a reply, asking to meet him the next morning.

That night, she could hardly sleep. She lay on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, her mind spinning with a series of questions without clear answers. Who called Nguyen Vu? How did they know your phone number? Is this just an empty threat, or a sign of more drastic actions to come?

She thought of her grandfather, of Mrs. Dieu Lan, of the whole heartbreaking story she had just learned. She thought of Nguyen Vu, of his steady presence throughout this turbulent journey. And she thought of herself — a young art restorer who never intended to become an investigator or a fighter for justice, but now found herself in the eye of a storm whose true scale she could not foresee.

The next morning, when she arrived at the rendezvous point to meet Nguyen Vu, he was already sitting there, his expression more serious than usual, his eyes dark because he probably had a sleepless night like her.

"Have you thought it through?" He asked as soon as she sat down, without beating around the bush. “About what we should do next?”

Mien Thu nodded, took out the paper she wrote last night, and placed it on the table. "I think we don't have much time left to continue the investigation quietly. If they have started to apply pressure, it means they feel really threatened, and that could make them act more aggressively to protect this secret — possibly even endangering the workshop, the restoration work, and even Ms. Dieu Lan."

"Do you think we should announce the truth sooner than expected?" Nguyen Vu asked, his eyes searching.

"It's not necessarily announced right away." Mien Thu shook her head. "But I think we need to prepare more thoroughly, faster, so that when the right time comes — perhaps on the eve of the retrospective, or even right at the event — we have enough scientific evidence, Ms. Dieu Lan's testimony, and a clear plan to present the truth in the fairest, most empathetic way possible, instead of letting it be revealed chaotically by other forces with their own agendas."

Nguyen Vu nodded, seemingly agreeing with that direction. "I will contact a few more trusted former colleagues in the art press who can help us when we need to publish information in a professional, verifiable way, instead of letting it become a baseless sensational scandal."

"What about the museum?" Mien Thu asked. "I think it's time for me to talk more frankly with Mrs. Kim, even if I haven't revealed all the details yet. At least she needs to know that something unusual is going on, so she won't be passive if the worst situation happens."

Nguyen Vu pondered for a moment, then nodded. "It's a wise move. Ms. Kim, from what you've told, seems to be someone who values truth and academic credibility more than just pursuing the commercial benefits of a retrospective. She could become an important ally, if we approach it right."

They spent that morning planning in more detail, dividing the work, and determining important milestones before the retrospective opened. Mien Thu felt that, although the anxiety was still there, she no longer felt confused and disoriented like the night before. Having a plan, having a trustworthy companion by your side, makes the burden seem bearable.

Before breaking up, Nguyen Vu looked at her, his eyes carried a seriousness mixed with deep concern. "Miss Mien Thu, I need you to promise me something."

"What?"

"If there are any signs of real danger — not just threatening phone calls, but anything that makes you feel unsafe — you must tell me immediately, regardless of the time. Don't try to handle everything alone."

Mien Thu looked at him, feeling the deep sincerity in those words. "I promise." She said, her voice gentle but firm.

Returning to the factory, she saw Mr. Le sitting there waiting, his expression unusually pensive. He stood up as soon as he saw her enter, his voice somewhat hurried.

"Miss Thu, I need to talk to you." He said, looking around as if to make sure no one else heard. "Thuy Chi told me about the stranger who came to visit yesterday. I... I think it's time for me to tell you what I know."

Mien Thu sat down opposite him, her heart beating fast. "What do you know?"

"I don't know everything, I only know a part." Mr. Le said, his voice was low, full of guilt. "Many years ago, I once saw Mr. Bach Nien burning some papers in the backyard of the factory. His hands were shaking and his eyes were red. I asked him what was wrong. He only said 'there are things, keeping them will only make it more dangerous for the people I love'. At that time, I didn't understand and didn't dare to ask more. But now that I've heard what you're investigating, I think maybe those papers are related to this."

Mien Thu felt a sense of regret mixed with understanding rising in her heart. Perhaps the torn pages of the diary, along with any other evidence that might have existed, had been destroyed by her grandfather long ago, not to hide his guilt, but to protect those he loved from consequences he did not want them to suffer.

"Thank you for telling me." She said, her voice softening. "That helps me understand a little more about him, even if it's just a small piece."

Mr. Le nodded, placing his hand on her shoulder awkwardly but sincerely, like an uncle comforting his niece whom he had watched grow up since childhood. "Be careful, Ms. Thu. I don't know how big this is, but the intuition of an old man who has lived through many events like me tells me that what lies ahead is not simple."

On the way back to her room that night, she clearly felt that the story of "Vong Nguyet", the story of her grandfather, the story of the entire Bach Nien workshop, had now entered a new chapter - a chapter that she could no longer completely control, but also a chapter that she, for the first time since starting this investigation, felt she was ready to face, no matter how stormy the front was.