Chapter 10 — Tailor Shop at the End of Third Alley

An and her father brought the appendix to Ms. Thao. She didn't read it for her, just asked whose permission they asked for when copying it. An's father signed the permission form, then placed the original in a locked bag. Chau writes the page number, Ngoc writes the recipient. Tung received the copy under Hanh's supervision.

One clause reads “temporary benchmarks can be adjusted according to the field”. An asked who adjusted it. Tung said there must be records and witnesses. An's father remembers that in 2014 there were no witnesses from the community. They wrote it down as a point to check.

At the shop, Mrs. Van sewed lining into a blue suit. The hem of the shirt is one centimeter off and becomes a marking line, which cannot be straightened. Chau asked if it was necessary to leave it askew. She replied because it was a sign that someone had touched the file.

At night, Chau and An sat outside the door. An said he didn't want to choose between money and the store. Chau said no one should force him to choose in one day. They agreed to find more witnesses, so they wouldn't be pushed into a corner.

An and his father read the appendix at the car repair table. Each term is underlined in a color, like a map. Penalty clauses in red, deadlines in blue, contractor's rights in purple. Chau realized how markup helps a long text to breathe.

An's father told him about the time Khai left. He went to the construction site, put the map on the hood of the car and asked why the path was changed. The middleman said it was just a technicality. Mr. Thanh wanted to continue asking, but at that time the worker was waiting for his salary. He signed, thinking he would fix it later.

“Did anyone remind you afterwards?” Chau asked.

"Yes. Khai reminds me every day."

An asked why dad didn't listen. He said it doesn't sound difficult, it's difficult to dare to lose your job. He didn't answer, just continued to mark the paper.

At the shop, Ms. Van showed Chau a box of threads left over from 2014. Each thread has a date, fabric type and user. The red thread in the suit is of the same quality as the thread used at construction sites. This does not prove who cut, but joins the material.

Hanh Bao Phuc wants to deliver the appendix on the day of the survey. He was afraid to show his face, but was willing to send the original. Tung said he would make an agreement to protect his identity within the scope of the law.

An returned to class the next day. He was asked by his friend if his father sold land. He said his father received money to repair the house, but did not sell the land. The other person was silent, then apologized. Chau saw that one question really didn't solve the problem, but it was able to cut off the lingering rumors.

Khoa placed the camera at the classroom door and asked An if he agreed to film. An refused. Turn it off, then note not to record. Chau looked at him, realizing he was learning to respect space.

At the end of the day, the shop's generator was temporarily repaired. An and Chau tested machine number three together. The needle moved steadily, but the blue suit was still on the table. In the hem of the shirt, the red thread extends to the letter P.

Chau said there would be no time to fix it tomorrow. An replied that they would bring their suits to the meeting.

Before going to sleep, Tung's text message came: **The person whose name was crossed off the list is Pham Quang Tung.**

At the construction site, An must learn to distinguish good materials from cut-down materials. His father gave him two wooden sticks, one new, one that had been exposed to the rain. An tapped lightly, hearing different sounds. He said the techniques for repairing furniture and repairing houses are the same: you can't tell by looking at the outer layer how long the inside will last.

Chau sat downstairs, reading the contract. She didn't fully understand the terminology, but realized that the appendices all referred to a "technical adjustment" clause. She used a marker pen and wrote questions in the margin. An told her Read the contract like reading a seam, looking for places where the fabric is pulled.

An's father doesn't want me to participate. He told the adults who signed and that children should not suffer the consequences. Chau asked why adults let children have to live with the consequences. He didn't answer, just gave her the helmet.

That afternoon, the company asked to remove a model house door. An's father must sign the handover record. An stood next to him, looking at the signature. His signature trembled at the end, like a thread lacking strength.

Khoa called and said the store's video had been downloaded by a strange account. Ngoc told him not to reveal his identity, but needed to record the time. Chau asked Hanh if she knew the account. Hanh said it could be the project communications department, but did not have the authority to confirm.

An asked his father to come home early to meet the group. His father didn't keep it, just said he had to sign the addendum tonight. An replied that he would read along, if his father allowed. He nodded, for the first time not telling his son to avoid adult matters.

At the shop, Mrs. Van placed the blue suit on the table. Chau and An removed the hem and discovered a purple thread stuck into the lining. The nose just holds a piece of receipt smaller than a fingernail. On it is written the number of the old school's archive room.

Chau wanted to leave right away, but Ms. Thao reminded her old school to close after six o'clock. They had to wait for Ms. Van's referral. An was upset and said time does not wait for paper. Ms. Thao replied that paper does not slow down time, but helps them enter the right door.

An's father came with the appendix. The group sat around the table, no one claiming to be a lawyer. Hanh called the neighborhood consultant, and Ngoc made a list of questions to ask. Chau read the sentence "Party B is responsible if progress is hindered by a third party".

“Who is the third party?” An asked.

The consultant said it could be a resident. An's father looked at his son and understood that if he signed, all objections would turn into his debt.

He did not sign.

His phone vibrated continuously. The caller said the company would keep the money, but he put the phone down. An did not hug his father, just gave him the pen. He said, "This time, read it all and then sign."

That night, Chau received Tung's email. He sent a diagram of the old school's archive room and said he needed to arrive before nine o'clock tomorrow morning. There was a warning line in the letter: **The person holding the key is not the person keeping the records.**

Chau closed the machine. Outside the alley, the sound of iron stakes rang out again. One meter of land is being counted with very clear sounds.

An's father's house repair contract

An did not come to class the next day. Ms. Thao called his father but no one answered. Ngoc removed An's name from the table duty list, Chau sat looking at the empty chair as if looking at an unfinished seam.

Khoa said An might be delivering. Chau asked why delivery needs to take a whole day off. Khoa said there are very long orders, for example delivering a refrigerator to the sixth floor. Ngoc told Khoa not to make up stories to lighten the atmosphere.

In the afternoon, Chau cycled to the address in the application book that An had written down for customers: a house under renovation at the beginning of the street. The door opened, the sound of drilling rang out. An's father stood on the scaffolding, his shirt stained with lime. He looked at Chau, not asking who she was. Perhaps he recognized her from the milk box An brought home.

“Safe inside.”

He was sitting downstairs, holding a set of contracts. Chau stood one step away from him.

“I didn't come to ask about your father.”

“I know.”

“I came to give you a list of shirt repair orders.”

An received the pad of paper and looked at the numbers. He laughed very softly.

“You can say frankly that you want to know.”

Chau sit down. The sound of drilling overhead vibrated through the stairs.

An said his father signed a contract to repair the roof and doors for the project company's model house. There was a shortage of materials delivered, the company fined him, and his father had to borrow money to pay the workers. The contract has a provision that if the neighborhood is cleared on schedule, the debt will be deducted from wages. If residents object, he must compensate.

“So your father supports clearance?”

"My father wants to repay the debt. The two things are not the same."

Chau thought of Mrs. Van. Adults are often placed into contracts where for each choice someone else suffers.

“Does your father know Khai?”

An looked at the contract. "Dad said Khai left because he was afraid of responsibility. But Aunt Huong said he was forced to sign a document without reading it."

“Who do you believe?”

“I trust the paper before I trust the narrator.”

At that moment, a truck backed into the yard. The truck carries new wall panels, with the company logo printed on them. A man came down and asked An's father if he was ready to remove the old wall.

Chau recognized him as the person holding the envelope the day before.

“Tomorrow they start building stakes,” An said. “If dad doesn't do it, the company will keep the money.”

Chau looked at the car, then looked at the contract file. She doesn't want An to have to choose between her family and the shop. But life rarely offers two separate things.

They returned to the shop just as it was getting dark. Mrs. Van placed an old blue suit on the table. The hem of the shirt was off by exactly one centimeter, purple thread running along the inside. There was no label, just a bag sewn shut.

An removed the stitches. In the bag was a copy of his father's house repair contract, but the signature had been cut off.

Chau looked at An. “Where did this contract come from?”

An does not touch the paper. “I don't know.”

Outside the alley, there was a dry sound of an iron stake being driven into the ground. The company's people started setting up the boundary earlier than announced.