Chapter 20 — Secret Explosive Burning of Cow Dung

A middle-aged man wearing a tank top was helped out the door. His forehead was torn, his face was full of ash. Hearing Luc Van Da's name, he immediately pointed to the back alley.

“Just now there was a young man chasing someone away.”

“The person who rummaged through the belongings took away an iron box.”

My heart sinks.

“What does an iron box look like?”

The man coughed.

“Iron box containing film rolls.”

“Black.”

I caught him.

“Are you the owner of a photography shop?”

He nodded.

"My last name is Ha."

“This shop was left by my father.”

“Nuu Dai Dung came by this afternoon and said he wanted to buy a used camera.”

“I didn't think much so I put him in storage.”

“Before closing the door tonight, I kept seeing that the corner of the wall in the photo studio looked like someone had touched it.”

“Before I could look closely, the back was filled with smoke.”

Tham Kieu quickly asked the camera to avoid focusing on his wound. I asked: "Is there anything left in the hole in the wall?" Boss Ha shook his head.

“I don't know.”

“The wall has been pried open.”

I turned around and was about to run into the store but was stopped by firefighters.

"The smoke inside hasn't cleared yet, don't go in."

I'm so impatient that I'm dizzy. At that moment, Luc Van Da came out of the alley. His left hand hugged his right arm, his black jacket had a long slit. Blood dripped from between his fingers. I rushed forward.

“Are you injured?”

He glanced at me.

“It's just a skin wound.”

I forcefully pulled his hand away. The wound is not deep, but very long. I was so angry that my voice shook.

“You call this a skin wound?”

Luc Van Da lowered his eyes and looked at me.

“Can't keep up.”

“He jumped on his motorbike and escaped.”

I gritted my teeth.

“Do you even know that people ran away?”

“You think you're very talented, don't you?”

He was silent for two seconds.

“I'm afraid he'll take the box away.”

I was about to continue cursing when boss Ha suddenly spoke up.

“That box may not be everything.”

We simultaneously looked towards him. Boss Ha wiped ash from his face.

“My father used to have a habit.”

“Important films should never be kept in just one copy.”

“If Nguu Vinh Phuc really stuffed things into the crack in the wall of the photo studio, maybe my dad would have taken a copy.”

My heart jumped.

“Where is the photo taken?”

Boss Ha looked up at the second floor, which was obscured by black smoke.

“In the old closet upstairs.”

The firefighters just reported that the smoke had dissipated, and they were able to go inside to get things in a short time. Luc Van Da immediately decided to step in. I stopped you.

“My hand is still bleeding.”

He said: “I'm fine.” I glared at him.

“Luc Van Da, if you say it's okay one more time, I'll break your remaining arm now.”

Finally, he kept his mouth shut. Tham Kieu whispered and told the camera crew to stay outside the door, only sending one staff member to follow us inside. The photography shop had a strong smell of burning. On the wall hang many old photos. There are wedding photos, full month photos, and also black and white ID photos. I walked past the faces of those strangers, feeling increasingly tense. A hole was pried open in the corner of the wall of the photo studio. The ground was littered with brick powder and scorched scraps of paper. Boss Ha opened the old cabinet on the second floor, inside were all tin boxes. He rummaged through one moment, suddenly stopped.

“Found it.”

On the lid of the box was a yellowed piece of paper. *Lien Thuy village, May, baby girl.* I raised my hand to receive it. But the phone rang again at this moment. On the screen is still that strange series of numbers. I pressed the listen button. On the other end of the line, a woman's trembling voice rang out.

“Duong An.”

I held my breath. She sobbed and said: "Don't go into the photo studio."

“There are still people inside.”

15 As soon as the woman's voice ended, the sound of broken glass suddenly rang out downstairs.