Chapter 18 — Shrimp Street Without Name

On Sunday, Hai Yen stopped by her mother's house for lunch as was the habit she had maintained since her return, a fixed time of the week that both mother and daughter tacitly considered neutral territory, where audit work and old secrets were temporarily put aside. But that day, as soon as the rice was served, Mrs. Sau looked strange, her hands shook slightly as she scooped the soup, her eyes avoided looking directly at her daughter.

“Mom, what's wrong?” Hai Yen asked, put down her chopsticks, and observed her mother more closely.

“Nothing,” Mrs. Sau replied, but her voice couldn't hide her confusion. She ate a few bites then put down her chopsticks and sighed deeply. "Yen, I have to tell you something. I can't bear to keep it hidden anymore."

Hai Yen sat up straight, her intuition told her this would be an important conversation. “Mom, tell me.”

“It's about this house,” Ms. Sau began, her voice trembling. "Back then, a few months after your father was arrested, someone came to me and said they would help pay for a lawyer and living expenses for both of us. In exchange, I had to advise your father not to appeal, accept the verdict, and keep everything peaceful."

Hai Yen's hand tightened around the edge of the table. “Who came to find mom?”

“A man, whose real name I don't know, only claimed to be a representative of a group of investors interested in stabilizing the situation in the farming area after the incident.” Mrs. Sau bowed her head, her voice choked. "Mom was in so much trouble at that time. You were still young, had a lot of debt, and the lawyer asked for high fees and you didn't know where you would get it from. I accepted that money, and I advised your father not to appeal."

The room fell into a heavy silence. Hai Yen looked at her mother, feeling both shocked and like the last piece of the puzzle had just fallen into its right place, explaining something she had always wondered about for the past ten years: why her father, a naturally stubborn person, accepted the sentence without appealing, even though he always said he didn't do it.

“Dad, do you know that mom received money?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

“No,” Mrs. Sau shook her head, tears began to roll down her wrinkled cheeks. "I hid it from him. I just told him that the appeal was too expensive, dragging it out would only make it more painful. I'd rather accept it early so I can take care of you. He believed me, he loved me and my child, so he listened."

“Mom lied to dad,” Hai Yen said, her voice shaking with a mixture of anger and pain. “Mom took money from those who harmed dad, then used that money to convince dad to give up the chance to exonerate himself?”

“I didn't know it was like that at the time!” Mrs. Sau burst into tears, her voice broken. "I simply thought that there were kind people helping the family in need. I didn't know who they were, I didn't know what they had to do with the case. Only later, when I saw the Dai Duong company growing stronger and buying up all the land in this area, did I begin to have doubts, but at that time it was over, your father was also gone, what else could I do but keep quiet and continue living?"

Hai Yen stood up, walked out of the dining table, stood with her back to her mother for a long time to suppress her rising emotions. She understood, rationally, that her mother was just a lonely, desperate woman, placed in a situation with no good options. But emotionally, she couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal, even though she knew it wasn't fair to her mother.

“I need time,” she said, her voice trying to stay calm but still shaking. “I don't blame you, Mom, but I need time to digest this.”

“Yen—” Mrs. Sau stood up, intending to hold her daughter's hand, but Hai Yen had already walked out the door, without turning back, letting her mother's choked cry ring out behind her.

She drove aimlessly for a long time, finally stopping at a dike overlooking the river mouth, where the sea breeze blew strongly, bringing with it familiar salty air. She sat on the hood of the car, watching the small waves crashing against the rocky shore, trying to sort out all the chaotic emotions in her heart.

If what her mother just told is true, it means that from the first days after her father's arrest, an invisible hand actively intervened to ensure that the sentence was upheld, with no chance of being reviewed by any higher court. That was not the action of a company that just happened to benefit from the collapse of the Kenh Ba cooperative, but the action of a pre-calculated force, ready to spend money to extinguish any possibility of the truth being exposed through the official legal route.

Her phone vibrated, a text message from Kien asked if she was okay after not seeing her reply to the afternoon text message as usual. She looked at that text for a long time, then typed out a short sentence: "I'm fine." My mother just told me a big story. I need some time alone tonight, I'll tell you about it tomorrow.”

She sat there until it got dark, the sunset dyed the river surface into a brilliant orange-red strip, in complete contrast to the heaviness weighing on her heart. Before leaving, she called her mother back, not to continue the unfinished conversation, but just to say a short sentence.

“Mom, I'm not angry with you. I just need time. Mom, go eat, don't wait for me."

On the other end of the phone, Mrs. Sau choked up and thanked her daughter, her voice still filled with tears. Hai Yen hung up the phone, looked out at the river that was gradually sinking into darkness, and in her heart, besides the pain that had just opened up, a new determination was also gradually forming: she would not only find out the truth for her father, but also for her mother, who had to carry this secret alone for ten years, paying the price with her own torment of conscience that no one knew about.

Returning to the motel room, even though she told Kien that she needed an evening alone, Hai Yen still couldn't resist calling him. Just a few minutes after lying down on the bed, sleep still refused to come. Kien picked up the phone on the first ring, as if he was also waiting for her to call.

“I thought you needed to be alone tonight,” he said, his voice gentle and not reproachful.

“I thought so too,” Hai Yen replied, her voice tired. “But I think I need to tell someone, otherwise I'm afraid I'll think too much and won't be able to sleep.”

She told the entire story her mother had just confessed, her voice monotonous as if she were narrating a case file rather than her own family story, a way to keep herself from breaking down again. Kien listened silently, not interrupting, only occasionally letting out a sympathetic sigh.

“So from the beginning, someone actively suppressed the possibility of appeal,” he said when she finished telling her story. "That further strengthens our speculation that this was not a spontaneous incident, but was carefully prepared and monitored by the other side."

“I keep thinking about the man my mother mentioned,” Hai Yen said. “Mom said she doesn't know her real name, but there must be some way find clues. Tomorrow I will ask my mother more about her appearance, the way she talks, any small details she can remember.”

“Be careful not to put more pressure on your mother,” Kien reminded. "She just let go of a burden she had hidden for ten years. If you ask too many questions, it might make her shrink back."

“I know,” Hai Yen replied, her voice softening. “I will let you rest for a few days before asking again.”

They talked for a while more about what to do next week: continue to search for information about buying cheap land after the cooperative collapsed, find a way to contact Ms. Nam Thin's son who is doing business far away, and wait for the results of the ship log comparison that Kien is still quietly doing. Before hanging up, Kien said one more sentence that made Hai Yen feel warm in the middle of a tumultuous day.

“Sister Yen, whatever happens next, you are not alone in this. I believe it's not just me, but also Mr. Tam, Ms. Tuyet, Mr. Bay Correct, Ms. Nam Thin, all the people you've met in the past few weeks - each in a small part, but combined, you have more people on your side than you think."

Hai Yen smiled in the dark, even though her eyes were filled with tears. “Thank you, Kien.” That was the first time she called him directly by name without the word "you" after it as a polite distance, and both of them noticed that small change, even though neither of them said it out loud.

After hanging up the phone, she lay quietly in the dark for a long time, listening to the chirping of insects outside the window mixed with the fading sound of traffic on the road in front of the inn. She thought of Kien's words, of the images of discrete people who had appeared one after another on her journey over the past few weeks, each carrying a small piece of truth that they had hidden out of fear. She wondered if one day all the pieces were completely assembled, would the final picture be strong enough to change anything, or would it just sink into oblivion like many other stories of a land accustomed to remaining silent to survive?