Chapter 20 — Profile 9:17

Time is a never-ending flow, bringing with it the pain buried in the past and cultivating new life.

Three years after the historic appeal trial, Ho Chi Minh City has taken on a completely different look. Sea reclamation planning projects that destroy the ecological environment such as Nam Huong have been permanently canceled, and the land that was robbed has been returned to the people. The government apparatus has undergone a major surgery, becoming more transparent and honest than ever. And the biggest symbol of that revival, the clearest proof that good can overcome corruption, is the completion of the super project Tan Cang Bridge.

No longer a project carrying the stigma of corruption and unjust deaths, Tan Cang Bridge was re-started and rebuilt under the strict supervision of independent international experts and a completely new project management board, nominated by the same people who spoke out against the "Council". Most notably, the entire capital of thousands of billions of dong to complete this bridge was taken directly from the Infrastructure Reconstruction Fund - a special fund established from the money confiscated by Do Trong Thang and the "Council's" transnational money laundering network. The person who intended to use this bridge to drain the people's blood, ended up having to use his entire illegal fortune to make up for it.

On the morning of the inauguration day of Tan Cang Bridge, the Saigon sky was clear without a single cloud. The wind from the Saigon River blows coolly, bringing with it the sweet scent of alluvium mixed with the smell of fresh new asphalt. Thousands of people in the city, from workers to intellectuals, flocked to both sides of the river at dawn, eagerly waiting for the historic moment. Bright red banners and flags fluttered along the towering cable-stayed bridge, with white steel spans connecting the two sides of the city like a dragon reaching out to the ocean.

Le Nhu Van stood on the honorary podium reserved for special guests, looking at the magnificent project before her eyes, her heart overflowing with countless complex emotions. She is now a real lawyer, certified to practice, and specializes in free legal advice for poor workers, and participates in the contract supervision board of public projects. Her maturity was forged through red fire, blood and tears, turning her from a student full of hatred, who only knew how to cry for justice, into a powerful, calm and altruistic woman.

"Isn't it beautiful, Van?" A familiar voice spoke up behind her.

Van turned around, smiling brightly. Hoang Minh, now the Editor-in-Chief of a leading prestigious investigative newspaper in the country, is walking forward in an elegant suit. He looks older with a few gray hairs on his temples, but his eyes still retain the courageous fire of a true journalist.

"Very beautiful, Minh. Looking at this bridge, I feel like my father is smiling," Van replied, her eyes directed towards the central span rising high above the deep blue sky.

"I wrote a special editorial for this morning's edition of the newspaper," Minh handed her a newspaper that still smelled of ink. "The title is 'Faith reborn'. He not only writes about the bridge, but also writes about the people who bravely sacrificed their lives to keep these concrete pillars from becoming cloudy."

Van took the newspaper and skimmed through the words filled with emotions. "Thank you. People like your father, and even... Trinh Vu, all deserve to be remembered in their own way."

Mentioning Trinh Vu, the two suddenly fell into silence. Three years have passed, and the talented lawyer who once conquered Vietnam's financial and judicial world is still without a trace. Interpol's red wanted notice is still in effect globally, but no security agency has found any trace of him. Some people say he had surgery to change his face and lived in seclusion in a small town in South America under the guise of a stock investor. Some people say he was purged by international criminal gangs to cover up his clues and prevent him from revealing more secrets of the underworld.

"I still sometimes wonder if Vu is standing in some corner of the world, looking through the TV screen and seeing us cutting the ribbon to inaugurate this bridge," Minh sighed, lit a cigarette and then hastily extinguished it because he remembered the no-smoking regulations in the stage area.

"I believe so," Van said softly. "He is not someone who is easily subdued. Vu is a genius, an old fox who understands the rules of the game better than anyone. Wherever he is, I believe he is still continuing his own fight."

"Isn't it beautiful, lawyer Van?" A youthful, energetic voice interrupted the two's thoughts.

Tuan, a young engineer who had just graduated as valedictorian from Polytechnic University and was one of the members participating in the structural design team of the approach bridge, was running with his face drenched in sweat from worrying about the preparation work. Tuan lost his father in the scaffolding collapse thirteen years ago, and his family fell into extreme poverty. But Tuan is the first valedictorian to receive full funding from the "Le Van Sang Scholarship Fund".

"Very beautiful, Tuan," Van nodded and patted the young engineer's shoulder. "Everyone did a great job. Today is your day."

Tuan smiled brightly, his eyes sparkling with boundless pride. Below the stage, dozens of other young engineers wearing the cog-shaped badge of the Scholarship Fund on their chests are standing in neat rows, ready for the ribbon-cutting ceremony. They are the seeds that Van planted in the land of tears, and have now sprouted, becoming the creators of a new face for the country with clean minds and unstained hands.

The honor guard's brass trumpet sounded loudly, signaling that the most important moment had arrived. The city's leaders and delegates, including Le Nhu Van, who had great contributions to uncovering old mistakes, stepped up to the front of the stage, holding golden scissors to cut off the red silk ribbon. Thousands of colorful balloons were released into the sky, along with the sound of applause resounding throughout the entire river.

Tan Cang Bridge officially opened to traffic. The first cars, solemnly tied with red bows, slowly rolled across the bridge, carrying the hustle and bustle of life. The sound of truck horns and bustling laughter created a symphony of intense life.

When the ceremony ended and the crowd began to disperse, Van asked Hoang Minh for permission to walk alone. She walked quietly along the pedestrian corridor on the edge of the bridge. The river wind blew into my face, causing the white silk ao dai to flutter. She walked to the central span, exactly where thirteen years ago, bridge pier number 4 collapsed, burying the lives of engineer Le Van Sang and dozens of innocent workers.

Now, at that location, on the expanded walking corridor, the city government has placed a monolithic black marble stele. The names of the workers and engineers who died in the accident in the past are engraved on the surface of the stele, serving as an eternal reminder of the price of irresponsibility and greed, and also a symbol of remembrance.

Van stood silently in front of the stone stele, lightly touching the inscription with the name "Le Van Sang" with her fingers.

She took out from her bag a yellowed Do paper envelope with frayed edges from being opened and folded too many times. That was the envelope containing a copy of the bank documents that Trinh Vu sent her, the first piece of evidence that sparked a whole chain of events that changed her life forever, pulling her into a vortex of conspiracy and power. She stood leaning against the bridge railing, looking at the envelope for a long time, recalling everything.

From the extreme confusion on the first day arriving at Trinh Vu's lawyer's office, the sleepless nights running away from the assassins in Di An, the moment of despair when opening the empty safe at Saigon Station, to the shock when discovering Trinh Vu's true identity in The Cliff restaurant. All have now become pieces of a memory that will never fade.

"It's really over, Mr. Vu," Van thought to herself.

For Van, the most important thing now is not hatred or looking into the past. Trinh Vu, despite being a devil serving as a lackey for the Council, fulfilled his historic role in this chess game with a shocking sacrifice. He gave her a weapon, pushed her into a corner so she could learn to stand up for herself, and in the end, she used that resilience to bring light to the city.

Dawn began to appear in the East. The brilliant sun slowly rose from the horizon, dispelling the mist, dyeing the surface of the Saigon River red and casting golden rays of sunlight onto each span of the white steel bridge. The glorious and magnificent scene signals the beginning of a new day, the opening of a new era. The light of the sun seemed to embrace the entire great work, proving the eternal power of truth.

Van smiled slightly. She tore the paper envelope into shreds, dropping the small pieces of paper into the flowing river below. The wind blew pieces of paper flying like light brown butterfly wings, sparkling in the morning sunlight, then slowly falling, blending into the vast water surface, drifting away all the pain, hatred and dark intentions of the past.

She took a breath that filled her chest with the scent of the morning wind, turned around and walked away, blending into the hustle and bustle of people proudly striding on the new bridge. Life still goes on. Darkness may obscure the sun for a moment, but it can never prevent the dawn from rising. The 9:17 profile is now permanent forever closed, sleeping peacefully in the archives of history, making way for a bright and pure future waiting ahead.

(RUN OUT OF)