Chapter 6 — Old Painting Restoration Workshop

The small cafe is hidden in a quiet street about a five-minute walk from the museum. The space is simply decorated with low wooden tables and soft yellow light from a few old-fashioned hanging lamps. Mien Thu arrived fifteen minutes early, chose a table hidden in the corner, carrying a leather briefcase containing close-up photos of the painting, photo files taken under UV and infrared lights printed on paper, and her notebook.

She recognized him as soon as he entered—not because she had seen him before, but because there was something about his appearance that made her certain it was the person she was waiting for. He is tall, has a thin but sturdy figure, wears a simple blue-gray shirt, and carries an old laptop bag with frayed corners. His eyes, as they scanned the coffee shop searching, had a sharpness that reminded people of the eyes of an acquaintance examining every smallest detail - the eyes of a long-time appraiser.

"Miss Mien Thu?" He asked as he approached her table, his voice low and calm.

"Yes, hello." She stood up and shook his hand, feeling the handshake was firm but not too strong. "Thank you for taking the time to meet me in such a hurry."

"Nothing. Your letter made me curious all night." He sat down, ordered a cup of black coffee without sugar, then looked straight at her with waiting eyes. "You said there were unusual technical problems during a restoration project for the Hong Lam Museum. Can I ask which work specifically?"

Mien Thu hesitated a bit. This was the first time she shared her discovery with someone outside the factory, and even though she had mentally prepared herself since last night, she still felt a bit hesitant before letting go of the name that could lead to a series of consequences.

"'Vong Nguyet'." She said, carefully observing his reaction. "The work, believed to be by famous artist Tu Binh Son, is expected to be the center of a major retrospective later this year, a collaboration between the museum and Tinh Hoa Auction House."

There was a very short moment, almost impossible to notice if not paying close attention, when Nguyen Vu's eyes briefly froze. He put down his coffee cup, slowly, as if pondering something.

"I know that picture." He said, his voice more cautious than before. "I saw it when I was working at Tinh Hoa, during an inventory of the Chau family's collection. What did you discover?"

Mien Thu opened the folder, laid out the photos on the table one by one, explaining in detail how she discovered the varnish area glowing differently under UV light, then the image taken with infrared light showing a completely different composition hidden under the surface paint, and finally the faint trace of a different signature and date underneath the official signature.

Nguyen Vu picked up each photo, examined it carefully, sometimes took out his phone to take photos, and sometimes stopped to ask her about technical details — what kind of lights she used, the camera resolution, how she measured the different luminescent areas. She answered each question professionally, and she realized, by the way he asked, that this was someone who really understood the job, not someone who just knew the theory.

"The number hidden under the signature," he said finally, putting down the photo, his eyes becoming unusually serious, "you said it starts with one nine six, but the last digit is obscured?"

"That's right. It could be 1964, 1965, or later. I can't say for sure just from the factory's infrared images, the equipment doesn't have enough resolution."

Nguyen Vu sat still for a moment, his fingers lightly tapping on the table, a thoughtful gesture that Mien Thu recognized as quite similar to her own habit. "If what you suspect is true — that the painting was completed after 1963, the official year of Tu Pingshan's death — then this is no longer a small technical detail. This is an issue that could overturn the entire value and historical significance of the work."

"I know." Mien Thu said, her voice low. "That's why I need an expert to confirm before I report anything to the museum. I don't want to make a false accusation, especially against a deceased artist who no longer has a chance to defend himself."

He nodded, looking at her with a different look — no longer the initial questioning look, but more respectful. "I appreciate your caution. Many people, upon discovering this, will rush to spread the news to attract attention, or conversely, will silently hide it for fear of affecting the contract. You choose the most difficult path — find the truth before acting."

"Can you help me?" She asked directly. "I need a more precise scientific analysis — the age of the paint, the pigment composition, anything that can help determine the true age of the painting."

Nguyen Vu was silent for a moment, looking out the cafe window, where the afternoon sunlight was fading on the trees on the street. "I can help. I'm still in contact with an art materials analysis laboratory that can perform spectroscopic analysis and dating using standard scientific methods. But I have to tell you the truth before we go any further."

"What?"

"I left Tinh Hoa two years ago not because my contract ended, as many people say." He spoke, his voice slow, with a bit of heaviness in each word. "I left because I had doubts about the authenticity of a few works in Tu Binh Son's 'late life' that the Chau family owned — including 'Vong Nguyet'. I asked for a more thorough scientific appraisal, but my request was flatly rejected, and then I realized I could no longer be trusted with important work. I left before I was pushed away."

Mien Thu sat quietly, feeling like an important puzzle piece had just fallen into place. "So that means you were already suspicious about this painting, even before I came to you?"

"That's right. But I don't have the concrete evidence you have. I just have a professional hunch, and a few small details in the provenance records don't add up. Not enough for me to prove anything, just enough to make me look like an unnecessary troublemaker." He looked at her, his eyes became serious. "Do you understand what this means, Miss Mien Thu? If we continue to investigate, and if the truth is as we both suspect, we will be in direct confrontation with one of the most powerful art collecting families in the North. They have lawyers, connections, and money to protect the value of their collection at all costs."

Mien Thu looked down at the photos spread on the table, at the picture of "Vong Nguyet" with the silver moon and the woman with wordless sadness, then looked back at the pile of old diaries in her mind - her grandfather's handwriting, the name "Dieu Lan" appearing between the yellowed pages, the words "I will still do the same" filled with torment.

"I get it." She said, her voice more certain than she thought she could have. "But I also have something to tell you, something more important than the technical evidence I just showed you."

"What?"

She took a deep breath. "I think my grandfather — the founder of the Bach Nien workshop — was a student of Tu Binh Son. And I think he was directly related to what happened to this painting."

Nguyen Vu was silent for a long time, his eyes looking at her with a mixture of surprise and something almost understanding. "So," he said finally, his voice low, "this investigation, for you, is no longer just a professional matter."

"Are not." Mien Thu gently shook her head, her eyes shining with a new determination. "This is about my family."

He looked at her for a long moment, as if reconsidering the whole situation in a different light. "So I have to ask even more carefully before accepting. If I help you, and if the final truth proves that your grandfather was involved in forging the signature, can you accept that result? I don't want you to change your mind halfway and make me stop just because the truth is too painful to face."

That question made Mien Thu pause. She placed her hands on the table, looked down at the old wood grain lines, trying to find the most honest answer in her heart. "I'm not sure how I'll feel when I know the whole truth." She spoke slowly. "But I know one thing — my grandfather was the one who taught me that restoration is not about concealing, but about revealing. If he really had done something wrong, I believe he wouldn't want me to hide it just to protect his reputation. But if he did it for some other reason — a reason I don't fully understand — then I need to know too, so that I can tell the story fairly, and not have people judge him half-way. really."

Nguyen Vu nodded slowly, seeming more satisfied with her answer than she thought. "That was the answer I needed to hear." he said. "Okay, I'll help you. But we have to do this carefully and methodically — don't reveal anything until there's solid scientific evidence, don't reveal that we're investigating, at least until necessary."

"Where do you think we should start?"

"From two parallel directions." He said, took out his notebook, and started taking notes. "One is science - I will contact the laboratory to take samples for analysis, this requires the museum's approval, so it must be done skillfully. Second is history - I will dig up old exhibition records, newspapers of that period, to see if there are any records of Tu Binh Son's 'final stage' works that appeared after his death. As for you - " he paused, looking at her with questioning eyes, " - have you thought about finding out more from Tu Binh's family? Son? If he has any living relatives, they could be the most valuable source of information."

Mien Thu nodded, remembering the name that haunted her all night. "There's a name I found in my grandfather's diary — Dieu Lan. I think it might be Tu Binh Son's daughter."

"I'll look it up further." Nguyen Vu quickly wrote down the name in the book. "If she is still alive, we need to find a very cautious approach. This may be the wound she has tried to bury for more than half a century."