Chapter 24 — Pottery Kiln Fire Keeper

On the fourth day of the kiln, as promised, Mr. Chiem Vinh Truong appeared at the event, being pushed in a wheelchair by his nephew, attracting the attention of many attendees who had heard about the dramatic story between the two families through the articles skillfully integrated by Ms. Thuy in the previous media campaign.

He asked to be taken closer to the small stage area, where Ms. Thuy had just finished introducing the history of the craft village to the heritage survey group and a large number of visitors. When he signaled that he wanted to speak, the whole area suddenly fell silent, all eyes focused on the old man sitting in a wheelchair, his face full of wrinkles but his eyes filled with a fierce determination rarely seen at the age of seventy-eight.

— Sorry for interrupting the ceremony, — Mr. Truong began, his voice shaking due to age but still loud enough for everyone to hear clearly thanks to the wireless microphone that Khang quickly brought over. — I am Chiem Vinh Truong, and I come here today to tell everyone a story that I have kept hidden for thirty-five years.

The crowd listened silently as he told the whole story — about the close friendship between him and Mr. Thach Van Tuyen in his youth, about the shared dream called Nguyet Bach yeast, about the fateful stormy night that killed his younger brother, and about the silent sacrifice of his friend who accepted to be unjustly known all his life to protect him from unbearable pain.

— Mr. Tuyen passed away three years ago, taking this secret with him to the grave, — Mr. Truong said, his voice choked, tears rolling down his wrinkled face. — I have been a coward for so many years, allowing resentment to guide my entire family, allowing my children and grandchildren to grow up with a false story. Today, standing in front of everyone, I want to publicly apologize to the Thach family, to Van Khe, and to the soul of my deceased friend, for my cowardice.

The whole area fell into a heavy, emotional silence. Many people in the crowd could not hide their tears at that tragic yet humane story. Van Khe stood next to her father. They were both speechless, with tears in their eyes as they listened to the story that was no longer a private family secret, but had become a part of history made public to the world.

*

— I know, this apology comes too late, — Mr. Truong continued, his voice a bit calmer, — it is impossible to make up for what has been lost, the years the two families have been apart, the misunderstandings that have been ingrained in the minds of many generations. But I hope, from today, our story can become a lesson, that blind self-esteem and cowardice in avoiding the truth only bring prolonged suffering, but truth and sincerity, even if it comes late, still have the power to heal.

He signaled Khang to push the wheelchair closer to where Van Khe and Mr. Vong were standing. In the presence of a large number of attendees, he tried to stand up from the wheelchair, even though his legs were shaking, to bow low to the father and son - a symbolic gesture, showing the utmost sincerity of a person who had carried his sins for nearly half his life.

— Please forgive me, my family, — he said, his voice trembling but full of sincerity.

Mr. Vong stepped forward and supported Mr. Truong, preventing him from bending any lower because he was worried about his health.

— Mr. Truong, stand up, — he said, his voice equally choked. — I believe, if my father were still alive, he would not want to see this scene. He sacrificed his honor to protect you. Surely he also hopes that we can forget the past and move forward together.

The two men, representing two families that had been feuding for thirty-five years, hugged each other amidst the emotional applause of all those present. It was a moment that no article or film could fully capture the historical emotional weight contained within.

*

Van Khe stood looking at that scene, tears continuously falling, not because of suffering, but because of an indescribable burst of happiness. She clearly felt that somewhere, her grandfather's soul must be smiling with satisfaction, witnessing his last wish - the wish for reconciliation that he had silently cherished and recorded in the old diary pages - finally fully fulfilled.

Khang came to her side, held her hand tightly, both looked at the two older men hugging each other, representing a new chapter in the history of both families.

— My grandfather was finally freed, — Khang said, his voice emotional. — After thirty-five years, he can finally rest easy.

— And perhaps, your grandfather too, — Van Khe replied, looking up at the clear blue sky above the gourd tree that was emitting smoke. — Believe me, this is what he has always wanted - not victory against the Chiem family, but reconciliation, healing a wound that has lasted for too long.

That day's event, though not over yet, has become an unforgettable milestone in the history of Doi Sanh village - not only because of the touching story of reconciliation between two families, but also because it vividly proves that, behind every rustic ceramic product fired by wood fire, there are always hidden stories about people, about love, about perseverance, and about the healing power of truth and sincerity.

*

The head of the heritage survey team, an elderly professor specializing in folk culture research, approached Van Khe after witnessing the whole incident, his eyes filled with emotion.

“Miss Khe,” he said, his voice deep and warm, “during more than twenty years of heritage survey work, I have rarely witnessed a story so vivid, so authentic and so rich in humanity. This is not only a craft that needs to be preserved, but also a living testament to the reconciling power of traditional culture. I believe, the profile of Doi Sanh village will be highly appreciated.

Van Khe bowed her head in thanks, her voice choked with emotions piled up from the overwhelming events that had just happened that afternoon.

— Thank you professor for taking the time to come here, — she said. — For my family, no matter what the appraisal results are, being able to tell this story completely and publicly is already a priceless gift.

The afternoon gradually falls, the sunset dyes the sky orange behind the gourd tree that is still burning, radiating warmth and light amidst the festive atmosphere that is gradually calming down after the intense emotions just experienced. Mr. Truong, although exhausted after his emotional speech, still insisted on staying a while longer, sitting quietly in the wheelchair, his eyes following the flickering fire in the furnace as if trying to capture every precious moment of an unfinished youthful dream.

— Khe, — he called Van Khe closer, his voice much weaker than when he spoke. — I want to thank you, for giving me the opportunity to tell the truth, to be freed from the burden that has weighed on my shoulders for many years. I just hope that if this Nguyet Bach yeast is successful, you will name it in a way that reminds you of the two friends who dreamed of it together, so that their story will not be forgotten.

Van Khe held the old man's hand tightly, tears once again fell, but this time they were tears of hope and deep gratitude.

— I promise, grandpa, — she said, her voice firm even though it was still choked up. — Regardless of the outcome, the name Nguyet Bach yeast will forever be associated with the story of friendship, reconciliation, and our two respected grandfathers.

Mr. Truong smiled, a rare smile of relief appeared on his face, which had always looked sad and tormented over the years. Khang pushed the wheelchair closer to the Vong Nguyet furnace, so that he could fully feel the warmth radiating from the burning fire, a warmth that he had probably avoided for thirty-five years because he did not have the courage to face the painful memories associated with it.

— It's been a long time since I've stood so close to a burning wood stove like this, — he said softly, his voice full of nostalgia. — He had forgotten how warm and peaceful it felt standing in front of this fire, when one's heart no longer had to carry resentment or guilt.

Van Khe stood silently looking at that scene, her heart filled with an indescribable emotion. She realized that the fire in the Vong Nguyet kiln not only cooked clay into durable ceramic works over the years, but now, it was also silently healing human wounds that seemed to never be able to heal, like a slow but persistent miracle, true to the nature of the traditional wood-fired pottery craft that her family had preserved for many generations.