Chapter 1 — Sunlight on the Red Book

The ferry carrying Do Ha Vy and her old motorbike slowly parted the water, taking her across the wide river to Con Sen commune, Tan Hoa district. The river breeze blew coolly, carrying with it the familiar smell of alluvium that she had not smelled for nearly twenty years, since the day her mother took her away from this land to live in the city after her father passed away.

Ha Vy looked out on both sides of the river, where the coconut trees tilted their reflections into the sparkling water in the morning sunlight. Faded childhood memories gradually returned to her mind - images of her grandmother's small riverside house, laughter with friends in the neighborhood, the fragrant smell of ripe longan every summer. All of these things, which she thought had been buried over the years, now came back strongly when she received the decision to be transferred to work in this very place, as a commune cadastral officer.

"You're Ha Vy, a cadastral officer who just returned, right?" A voice rang out as she brought the car to shore. It was a woman about her age, with a fresh face, waiting at the ferry terminal.

"Yes, that's right," Ha Vy replied, a bit surprised that someone came out to greet her. "You are...?"

"I'm Mai Anh, I work in the same commune cadastral office as you," the woman introduced, a friendly smile clearly visible on her face. "The Head of Department told me to come pick you up, I was afraid you were in a strange country and lost your way."

The two women quickly started a friendly conversation on the way to the commune committee headquarters, a spacious four-level house located among cool green trees. Mai Anh enthusiastically introduced Ha Vy to the unique features of Con Sen commune - a rich land with immense coconut and longan gardens, where most people live by gardening and fishing.

"Our commune is very peaceful, but recently there has been a rather complicated land dispute waiting for me to handle," Mai Anh said, her voice somewhat low. "The dispute between the two Lam brothers was about the coconut garden and the longan garden covering several hectares along the river."

"What is the dispute about?" Ha Vy asked, her professional curiosity aroused.

"Mr. Lam Van Duc, their father, passed away two years ago, leaving the garden to his two sons without a clear will, only a handwritten land division paper from the nineties," Mai Anh explains. "Now the eldest brother named Dang Phong wants to sell the land to a tourism company, while the youngest brother named Dang Khoa absolutely refuses, demanding to keep the garden for agriculture. The two brothers quarreled so fiercely that they even dragged the whole commune into action."

When arriving at the commune committee headquarters, Ha Vy was personally welcomed and assigned her first task by Mr. Tran Quoc Hung, Head of the District Department of Natural Resources and Environment, who happened to be present to inspect work at the commune. "Miss Vy, the first file I gave you was the Lam family's land dispute that Mai Anh probably told about," he said, his voice serious but no less friendly. "This is a quite sensitive case, requiring absolute caution and objectivity. She just came back and doesn't know anyone in the commune. I think that's an advantage, to ensure fairness in the handling process."

Ha Vy received the thick file, quickly flipped through the first few pages, clearly seeing the complexity of the case - many complaints back and forth between the two brothers, unsuccessful conciliation records many times at the commune. "I will try my best to resolve it satisfactorily, uncle," she replied, her voice filled with determination even though she was nervous about this first challenging task.

That afternoon, after settling into a small motel arranged by the commune, Ha Vy decided to visit the disputed garden before officially starting to process the documents. The dirt road leading into the Lam family's garden was lined with coconut trees and fruit-laden longan trees, creating a strangely peaceful scene, in complete contrast to the tension of the dispute she had just heard about.

While standing looking at the garden, a young man with a sturdy build and tanned skin typical of someone who often works outdoors walked out of the garden, holding a pair of pruning shears in his hand. "Sorry, who are you looking for?" he asked, his eyes somewhat searching at the stranger's appearance.

"I'm Ha Vy, commune cadastral officer, newly assigned to handle your family's land records," she introduced, showing her work card.

The man's eyes flashed with surprise, then softened. "Ah, so you're the one who's going to handle this," he said, his voice deep. "I'm Dang Khoa, the youngest child in the family. I wonder how much you've heard about the dispute between me and my brother?"

"I've only heard it briefly," Ha Vy answered honestly. "But I think the first thing I need to do is measure the field, compare it with the original records, to have the most objective view before drawing any conclusions."

Dang Khoa nodded, his eyes somewhat approving of the seriousness of the young officer. "I welcome that," he said. "Honestly, I hope someone really honestly reviews this entire incident, not simply dividing the land in half according to anyone's request."

At that moment, another man, a few years older than Dang Khoa, with a more neat appearance but tired eyes, walked out of the main house into the garden. "Who is Khoa?" the man asked, his voice somewhat gruff when he saw the stranger standing in his garden.

"The commune cadastral officer, Mr. Phong," Dang Khoa replied, his voice remaining calm. "She will be the one handling my land records."

Dang Phong looked at Ha Vy from head toe, his eyes were somewhat scrutinizing, even a bit wary. "You just came back? So you probably don't understand the situation yet," he said, his voice unable to hide the impatience. "I hope this case is resolved quickly. I have a land buyer waiting, it can't drag on forever."

"I will handle it according to the correct process, ensuring fairness for both sides, sir," Ha Vy replied, her voice gentle but decisive. "But before making any decisions, I need to do field measurements and fully compare the original records first."

Dang Phong frowned slightly, seemingly dissatisfied with that answer, but did not say anything more, just turned and walked back into the house, leaving behind a somewhat stuffy atmosphere. Dang Khoa looked at his brother's shadow and sighed softly. "Mr. Phong has been under a lot of pressure lately, don't take it to heart," he said to Ha Vy, his voice somewhat apologetic on behalf of his brother.

On the way back to the commune committee headquarters, Ha Vy stopped by the old cadastral records storage room, which Mai Anh had shown her before. The room is small, damp, filled with stacks of paper documents that have become yellow over the years, arranged according to each period of the commune's cadastral survey. She searched for records related to the Lam family's garden, carefully flipping through each worn page.

In the file, she found a hand-drawn cadastral map from the survey in the year one thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine, with the ink faded but still readable. Preliminary comparison with the current cadastral map saved in the system, Ha Vy noticed something unusual - the western boundary of the Lam family's garden on the old map seemed significantly narrower than the current boundary, even though it was just a small, subtle difference, easy to miss if not observed carefully.

"What's strange?" Mai Anh asked when she saw Ha Vy attentively looking at the two maps, her face full of contemplation.

"I'm not sure yet," Ha Vy replied, her voice cautious. "But it seems like the land boundaries have changed somewhat over time, which I need to learn more about before concluding anything."

That night, lying in the small rented house, Ha Vy couldn't sleep, her mind kept wandering with images of two maps that didn't match. She looked out the window, where the moonlight was shining on the river quietly flowing through Con Sen commune, wondering if the peaceful land of her childhood was hiding a story much more complicated than she could have imagined.

She took her phone and called her mother in the city, wanting to share a few things about her first day in office. "Are you back at Con Sen?" Her mother's voice rang through the phone, mixed with some emotion. "I thought I would never go back to that place again in my whole life."

"I think this place is very beautiful, Mom, just like in the stories you used to tell me when I was little," Ha Vy replied, her voice gentle. "But your first job is not simple at all."

She briefly told about the dispute, not mentioning the new doubt that had arisen in her heart about the old map, fearing that her mother would worry unnecessarily. After hanging up the phone, she flipped through the notes she had copied from the archives, trying to sketch out in her mind all the events that might have happened more than twenty years ago, when the boundary of the Lam family's garden was first measured and established on official documents.

She remembered Mr. Tran Quoc Hung's instructions in the afternoon about the sensitivity of the case and the need for absolute objectivity. If there really was a discrepancy in the land boundaries more than twenty years ago, this would no longer simply be an internal dispute between two brothers, but could be related to the rights of another family, which may have been silently suffering for all those years without even knowing it.

"I will find out the truth," she told herself, closing the file, her eyes steadily looking out the window, where the quiet night of the river countryside was covering the entire Con Sen commune, as if quietly waiting for something to be awakened after more than twenty years of sleep.