Chapter 10 — Old Street Corner Gold Shop

After meeting with lawyer Su Dinh Khang, Vy spent her rare days off with Khoi reviewing all of her grandfather's remaining papers and books. The two met every evening after work, when the shop was closed and the street lights began to cast long shadows on the deserted Ngan Lu street.

"Do you still keep anything from your grandfather besides that diary?" Khoi asked, sitting at the workbench, surrounded by stacks of old papers that Vy brought from the warehouse and carefully arranged by year.

"There are a few order books, some old business licenses, and some family photos," Vy replied, opening another wooden box that she had just found in the deepest corner of the warehouse, a place she had never paid attention to before because she thought it only contained unimportant things. "I hope there's something useful left behind."

Together they flipped through the pages, comparing dates, trying to piece together disparate pieces of information into a seamless timeline. Khoi, with the meticulousness of an appraiser, sorted papers into groups — official business papers, personal letters, and loose pieces of paper of unknown origin. He took out a small notebook of his own, drew a simple timeline on a blank page, and then began filling in each milestone they found — the opening date of the store in 1976, the photo taken with Mr. Doan in the spring of 1978, the unfinished diary entry mentioning "Mrs. Tuong" asking to send jewelry, and the unusual gap in the books at the end of 1979.

"Working this way is exactly like when I built an appraisal file for a business with a complicated history," Khoi said, explaining as he wrote. "It's impossible to believe in a single source right away, we have to compare many directions, find points of agreement and contradictions between different sources. Here, we have my grandmother's account, my grandparents' diary, and the household registration records I found — if all three point in the same direction, the reliability will be much higher than if we only believe in one side."

Vy nodded, admiring his methodical way of working, completely different from the turmoil in her heart over the past few days. With him by my side, everything seems to be more organized, less chaotic.

Near midnight, when both of them were tired, Vy found at the bottom of the wooden box a small, yellowed envelope, inside was a carefully folded piece of paper. She opened it and saw that it was a handwritten receipt, the handwriting was different from her grandfather's - probably the handwriting of someone else, maybe a member of the Uong family.

"Khoi, look at this," Vy said, her voice trembling with excitement, handing him the paper.

Khoi carefully picked it up, slowly reading each line that had faded with time. "This appears to be a temporary receipt, dated November 28, 1979," he said, unable to hide his emotion. "The content says: 'Temporarily keep a set of jewelry including bracelets, rings, earrings, waiting for the owner to come back to receive it. Will return intact upon request.' But underneath there is no signature of the recipient, only a faint fingerprint and a few blurred hastily written words."

Vy picked up the paper again and examined it more closely under the desk lamp. "If this is indeed the receipt that grandfather wrote when he received the jewelry, then clearly he never intended to appropriate it. He clearly stated that he would return it when someone came to claim it."

"That's right," Khoi nodded, his eyes shining with an important discovery. "But the problem is, the Uong family left that night, never coming back to claim it. Maybe because they successfully crossed the border and settled abroad, there was no way to contact them, or..." he hesitated, "or something happened that made it impossible for them to return."

That unfinished sentence made them both silent for a moment, realizing that behind this small receipt was a much larger story, possibly related to human lives in a turbulent period of history.

"But why didn't your grandfather find a way to return it when the situation was more stable? Why didn't you notify the authorities, or find a way to contact the Uong family through other channels?" Vy asked herself, her voice filled with concern.

Khoi pondered for a moment before answering. "Maybe he didn't know where to look. At that time, contacting people who had crossed the border was extremely sensitive, even dangerous. If he openly searched, he might be suspected of being involved in helping to cross the border, leading to much more serious consequences than just keeping quiet. Perhaps he chose the safest way - keeping everything a secret, waiting for their family to return one day, but that day never came in his entire life."

That explanation made Vy's heart ache. She imagined the image of her grandfather, for many years, silently carrying a heavy secret, an unfinished responsibility, but not daring to reveal it to anyone, including his own son, for fear of implicating the whole family. It was not a person appropriating someone else's property, but a person trying to protect a promise under circumstances that did not allow him to fully fulfill it.

"I need to find more evidence to prove this to lawyer Khang and Mr. Chi Thanh," Vy said, her voice regaining some assertiveness. "This receipt is a good start, but not enough to be completely convincing, especially without a clear signature."

"I agree," Khoi nodded. "I will try to find more records related to the inspection and confiscation of assets by the area police at that time, to see if there is any record of the gold shop being inspected on the night of November 28, 1979. If found, it will be key evidence to explain why the jewelry is no longer intact in her family's hands."

Vy looked at Khoi, her heart filled with a feeling of deep gratitude. "Thank you, really very much. Without you, I don't know how I would have managed all of this."

"You don't need to thank me," Khoi replied, his voice gentle but sincere. "I do this not only because of my work responsibility, but because I truly believe that the truth needs to be revealed, for both her family and Mr. Chi Thanh's family. Both sides have suffered for too long with unanswered questions."

It was late at night, the two of them still sat at the workbench, the pale yellow light shining on stacks of old papers, on both of their tired but determined faces. Vy looked at Khoi and suddenly realized that the distance between them had narrowed a lot compared to the first days of meeting - it was no longer a relationship between a customer and a shop owner, or between a borrower and an appraiser, but had become a true companionship, united by a common goal.

Before leaving, Khoi stopped at the door, turned to look at Vy for a long time, his eyes contained something unspoken. "Sister Vy," he said softly, "no matter how this story ends, I hope you know that I will always be here, accompanying you to the end."

Vy smiled, feeling strangely warm amid these stormy days. "Thank you, Khoi. I believe that."

After seeing Khoi off, Vy stood alone in front of the store, looking up at the star-studded night sky, filled with both worry about what lay ahead and a new, warm hope - that no matter how arduous the path to finding the truth was, she would no longer have to walk that path alone.

She went back inside, locked the door carefully, then stopped by her father's room before going upstairs. Mr. Thinh was still awake, sitting next to a small table lamp, holding an old photo look at. Seeing his daughter enter, he quickly put the photo away, but Vy was able to recognize it as a photo of her grandfather when he was young.

"Dad, aren't you sleeping yet?" she asked, sitting down next to her father's bed.

"I keep thinking about what you just told me," Mr. Thinh replied, his voice low. "I lived next to your grandfather all my life, but I never knew he carried such a heavy burden. I blame myself for not asking more carefully in the past, not asking when he was still alive."

"Dad, don't blame yourself," Vy said, holding her father's thin hand. "Perhaps grandpa deliberately did not want anyone in his family to have to carry that burden with him. He chose to bear it alone, so that dad, and later his son, could live a lighter life."

Mr. Thinh was silent, his red eyes looked out the dark window. "If that's the case, then you have to find out the truth even more, Vy. Not so that my shop can escape trouble, but to give you the justice that you never dared to ask for yourself."

Vy nodded, squeezed her father's hand, then stood up to wish him good night before returning to her own room. Lying on the bed, she still couldn't fall asleep right away, her mind kept spinning with the image of the old receipt, lawyer Khang's stern face, and Khoi's steadfast eyes when he promised to accompany her to the end.