Chapter 8 — Old Painting Restoration Workshop

The Fine Arts Association's library is located in an old building near the lake, where thousands of exhibition catalogs, art magazines and newspapers from decades ago are kept, most of which have yellowed, some of which had to be rescanned because the originals were too fragile to turn over regularly. Mien Thu and Nguyen Vu spent an entire Monday afternoon there, sitting across from each other at a long wooden table in the middle of the reading room, surrounded by stacks of old documents that the librarian had helped them find after hearing a request — "academic research on the final stages of the lives of some painters of the Indochina period," they said, without directly mentioning the names Tu Binh Son or Vong Nguyet.

"Here it is." Nguyen Vu turned to a page of the 1964 exhibition catalog, organized to commemorate the one-year anniversary of Tu Binh Son's death. The book's page lists the works on display, accompanied by a few brief biographies about the artist's life. "He was born in 1908, attended the first course of the Indochina Fine Arts School, became famous in the thirties for his series of Northern mountain landscape paintings, then switched to painting portraits and scenes of daily life during the war. Died on November 12, 1963, during a bomb evacuation in the suburbs."

Mien Thu quickly took notes in her notebook, her eyes scanned the list of works displayed in that memorial exhibition. "'Vong Nguyet' is not on this list."

"Yes, that makes sense if the painting was actually unfinished at the time of his death." Nguyen Vu nodded and turned to another page. "But look here."

He pointed to a short paragraph at the end of the article, a note from the exhibition organizers: "In addition to the works on display, the artist's family also keeps a number of sketches and unfinished works, expected to be completed and published in the near future, as a way to fully commemorate his career."

"'Shall be perfected'." Mien Thu read again, her voice trembling slightly. "Someone had plans to complete his unfinished works as early as 1964, publicizing them in an official exhibition document."

"This changes everything." Nguyen Vu said, his voice was both excited and cautious. "If the completion of the unfinished work had been known and publicly accepted from the beginning, it may not have been a secret deception at first, but a decision that was agreed upon by the family and perhaps even the professional community of the time. The problem is that, over time, that information was forgotten or deliberately erased from the official history of the work."

They continued to look for more related documents, carefully recording every detail. Near the end of the afternoon, Nguyen Vu found a short article published in an arts magazine in 1966, reporting on a small exhibition at a private gallery, introducing "some newly discovered works of the late painter Tu Binh Son, provided by his family". Among the works listed, there was a name that made both of them pause.

"'Vong Nguyet' - oil painting, medium format, depicting a young woman beside a window on a moonlit night." Nguyen Vu read aloud, his voice lowered. "Here it is. The first time this work appeared publicly was in 1966, three years after Tu Binh Son passed away, introduced by a private gallery, not directly organized by the artist's family."

Mien Thu wrote down the name of the gallery, trying to remember if she had heard of it anywhere before. "Is this gallery still open?"

"I don't think so, this name sounds very strange, maybe it closed a long time ago." Nguyen Vu shook his head, then turned to another page, looking for more information about that event. “But here—” he paused at a small paragraph in the article, “—there is mention of the exhibition organizer, or at least the person presenting the works.”

Mien Thu leaned close to the page, reading the small text printed at the end. A name appeared, making her heart pound.

"Mr. Chau Boi Long, owner of Tinh Hoa gallery at that time."

"Chau Boi Long." Nguyen Vu repeated the name, his eyes became unusually sharp. "That is the name of Chau Vinh Thinh's father — who is currently the Chairman of Tinh Hoa Auction House. I heard him mentioned when I worked there, as a founding legend who built the entire Chau family fortune and reputation in the world of art collectors."

Mien Thu sat quietly, trying to piece together the pieces of information. "So that means it was Chau Vinh Thinh's father who first brought 'Vong Nguyet' to the public, three years after Tu Binh Son died, through his private gallery?"

"It seems so." Nguyen Vu nodded slowly. "And if that's true, the Chau family were not simply collectors who acquired the work later. They were the first to bring this painting into the art market, playing a direct role in establishing it as Tu Binh Son's original masterpiece. The Chau family's entire reputation and a large part of its fortune, over the past sixty years, have been built on the authenticity of the very painting we are questioning."

Silence enveloped them both for a moment, only the sound of the old ceiling fan squeaking overhead and the quiet sounds of turning papers from other readers in the library.

"So if this truth is announced," Mien Thu said, her voice low with worry, "not only will Tu Binh Son's reputation be affected, but the foundation of Tinh Hoa Auction House could also collapse."

"That's right." Nguyen Vu looked at her with serious eyes. "And that is exactly why we must be absolutely careful from here on out. Chau Vinh Thinh is not someone who will sit idly by and watch his entire family legacy be threatened. If he knew we were investigating in this direction, he would use all resources to stop it."

They packed up the documents, carefully taking photos of each important page before returning the books to the shelf. Stepping out of the library, it was late afternoon, the orange-yellow sunlight dyed the nearby lake surface into an unusually warm color range.

They walked slowly along the lake shore, no one said anything for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts. Mien Thu glanced at Nguyen Vu and recognized that his face, under the afternoon sunlight, had a look of fatigue mixed with determination that she had never seen so clearly.

"Do you regret it?" She asked softly. "For leaving Tinh Hoa, for choosing this difficult path?"

Nguyen Vu stopped walking and looked out at the lake surface rippling under the setting sun. "There are nights when I wonder if I did the right thing, giving up a stable position, with a good salary, because of a hunch that I can't prove." He spoke slowly. "But every time I think about having to silently watch a truth be buried, just because it's inconvenient for someone in power, I find myself unable to live with that choice. Maybe it's a stupid thing to do these days, but I still believe that forensic work requires a bit of professional integrity, even though the price can be very high."

Mien Thu remained silent, looking at him with a deeper sympathy than she thought. "I understand that feeling." she said. "My grandfather taught me the same thing — that a good restorer is not the one with the most skillful hands, but the one who dares to tell the truth about what he sees under the paint, even if that truth makes someone uncomfortable."

They continued to walk in silence, but this time, that silence was no longer as heavy as before, but carried a strange feeling of closeness, as if two people who were strangers were gradually finding in each other something more precious than the common goal they were pursuing.

"Do you have artistic family?" Mien Thu asked, wanting to know more about the man who was accompanying her on this uncertain journey.

"Not necessarily." Nguyen Vu smiled slightly, a rare smile flashing across his normally serious face. "My father is a history teacher at a high school, my mother is an accountant. I loved painting from a young age, but had no talent for drawing, so I switched to studying art history as a way to still live close to what I love without having to pick up a paintbrush." He glanced at her. "And you, you must have been born to do this job."

"I'm not sure if I was born to do this, or was put on this path at an early age to have any other choice." Mien Thu replied, her voice a bit self-deprecating. "But I have never regretted it. Maybe because every time I hold a restoration brush, I feel closer to my grandfather, even though he is no longer there."

Nguyen Vu nodded and did not say more, but his eyes looking at her at that moment carried a deep understanding, as if he was also carrying a similar loss in his heart that he had never mentioned.

"Thank you," Mien Thu said as they stopped before the turn where each person would go in a different direction, "for not giving up, even knowing how difficult this road would be."

Nguyen Vu looked at her for a moment, his eyes in that moment had something beyond the usual professional seriousness - a sincere warmth that made her heart flutter slightly. "Let's go down this road together, Miss Mien Thu." he said. "It's not just you, and it's not just me either."