Chapter 39 — Shrimp Street Without Name

During the next two days, Hai Yen tried everything to keep a normal appearance in front of Kien and others, while inside, she silently struggled with the new discovery about the audit records eleven years ago. She asked Mr. Duc for permission to review all the original documents, citing the need to compare them for another professional purpose, and he agreed without the slightest doubt about her true motives.

She read and re-read that old audit file many times, trying to find any detail that could be explained in another way, some interpretation that could erase the doubts growing in her heart. But no matter how hard she tried, that signature, along with the note about the shipment suspected of having increased chemical residue, was still clearly and irrefutably present.

She decided to meet Mrs. Tuyet again, the only person who could remember details about that period, and also the person who had avoided this question from her before. This time, she did not make an appointment by phone, but went straight to her house one evening, bringing a photocopy of the old audit file.

Mrs. Tuyet opened the door, saw Hai Yen's serious expression, and without asking, immediately understood the purpose of this meeting. She quietly invited her into the house, made a pot of tea, then sat down opposite her, waiting.

“Miss Tuyet,” Hai Yen said, placing the photocopy on the table, her voice trying to stay calm even though her hands were shaking a bit. “I need you to tell me the truth, about this shipment, about my father's signature on it.”

Mrs. Tuyet looked at the paper for a long time, then sighed, a sigh containing a burden that had been suppressed for too long. “I predicted this day would come,” she said, her voice slow. “Okay, I will tell everything, no more hiding anything.”

She recounted, her voice even, as if she were recounting a story that she had replayed in her head countless times over the years: about a year before the major poisoning incident, there was an inspection that detected unusual signs in a small batch of goods from one of the farms close to the cooperative. Mr. Tien, at that time, was under great pressure: that farming household was in heavy debt, if the shipment was rejected, their whole family was at risk of complete bankruptcy, while the level of exceeding the threshold was only very slight, according to the technical assessment at that time, not enough to cause serious harm to consumers' health.

“Uncle Tien struggled a lot,” Ms. Tuyet continued, her voice low. "Finally, he decided to sign an additional confirmation, allowing that shipment to pass, on the condition that the raising family would commit to never repeat the offense, and that he would personally supervise more closely in the next cases. I remember him telling me, the general idea was, sometimes absolute justice must give way a little to compassion, as long as no real harm is done to anyone."

Hai Yen sat silently, imagining her father, in a moment of weakness, choosing between absolute principles and human love, and choosing human love, a choice that could be understood, even sympathized with, but was undeniably a compromise with the very principles he had always preached to her.

“So does that shipment have anything to do with the later poisoning case?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

“No, absolutely not directly related,” Ms. Tuyet affirmed. “Those are two different batches, from two different farms, nearly a year apart. But she thought, because of such a concession, Uncle Tien felt even more pressured to prove he was a person of integrity when he later discovered a more serious problem. Perhaps that is also the reason why he so strongly wanted to denounce the entire chemical mixing network that he later discovered, as a way to atone for his own sins."

That explanation, despite its painful logic, partly helped Hai Yen rearrange the disparate pieces in her mind. Her father was not a completely innocent accomplice who was absolutely falsely accused, nor was he a greedy mastermind like what the old verdict had stated. He is a human being, with limitations, times of weakness, but also with a conscience strong enough to ultimately choose to stand up against what is wrong, even at the cost of his own life.

“Thank you for telling the truth,” Hai Yen said, her voice choked but much calmer than when she first entered. “I need time to think about all of this.”

“What will you do with this information?” Mrs. Tuyet asked, her eyes filled with worry.

Hai Yen was silent for a long time before answering, an important decision gradually forming clearly in her mind. “I won't hide it,” she said, her voice firm even though it was still shaking with emotion. “If you want complete justice, you cannot only ask for the part that is beneficial to your family and hide the part that is disadvantageous. The truth must be the full truth, even if it makes the image of the three children more complicated in the eyes of others."

Leaving Mrs. Tuyet's house, Hai Yen drove straight to Kien's house instead of going back to the motel, feeling she couldn't continue to carry this burden alone another night. He opened the door, saw the look on her face, immediately realized that something serious had happened, and quickly invited her into the house.

She recounted everything, from Mr. Duc's discovery to Mrs. Tuyet's explanation, her voice was steady, trying to suppress her emotions but still could not avoid the choking silence. Kien listened silently, did not interrupt, just held her hand tightly as a strong fulcrum throughout the story.

When she finished, he was silent for a moment, then spoke, his voice gentle but full of weight. “Do you remember what I said once, you will always choose the right thing, no matter how high the cost is?”

Hai Yen nodded, tears rolling down her eyes.

“I still maintain that belief,” Kien said. “And what you just decided to do, to announce the full truth even though it complicates your father's image, is the clearest proof of that. My father and I, even though we were once weak-hearted, finally chose to stand up for what is right. You, now, are also choosing the more difficult path, instead of the easy path of hiding the unfavorable truth."

“But if I publish this,” Hai Yen said, her voice filled with worry, “Dai Duong's side could use it to smear the whole incident, saying that my father is also guilty, obscuring their true responsibility.”

“Maybe,” Kien admitted. “But if you hide it, and they later find out for themselves, the consequences will be much worse — not only will you lose public trust, but you will also lose the very integrity with which you have been confronting them all along. The truth, however complex, is always a stronger foundation than any edited story, no matter how No matter how skillfully it is told.”

Hai Yen looked at him, feeling a deep relief spreading in her heart, not because the burden was gone, but because she no longer had to carry it alone. She leaned her head on Kien's shoulder, letting the last tears fall in silence, before together they began to think about the best way to face this complicated truth in the coming days.

“I think the most important thing right now,” Kien said after a moment of contemplation, “is that you need to talk about this with your mother first, before anyone else knows. Uncle Sau deserves to hear this from his own daughter, not from some other source."

“You're right,” Hai Yen replied, sitting up straight and drying her tears. “Tomorrow, I will talk to my mother. No matter how difficult it is, she needs to know before I decide on the next step.”

Before Hai Yen left that night, Kien walked her to the door and held her hand one last time. “No matter what tomorrow brings, I remember that the way I choose to face this truth, even though it is complicated and painful, only proves that I am worthy of being the daughter of the man who taught me to value every number, every truth, more than anything else.”

Hai Yen nodded, smiled slightly between tears that had not yet completely dried, then drove back into the night, her heart heavy but also much lighter than when she left Mrs. Tuyet's house a few hours earlier.

That night, before falling asleep, she texted Kien one last message: "Thank you for listening, and for never letting me feel alone." He answered immediately, just a short sentence but warm enough to make her smile before falling into a deeper sleep than she thought: "Always, Yen. Always." She put the phone down on the table, pulled up the blanket, and for the first time in many nights, fell asleep without hearing the sound of unanswered questions lingering in her head.