Chapter 11 — The Alley Is No Longer On The Map

There are years that pass without leaving any clear milestones, just a series of days that repeat so much that people forget how to count them. For Khanh, thirteen years after Vy left Gieng Chung alley, it was a series of mornings opening the shop at six o'clock, evenings closing it at dark, in between were countless wheels being patched, countless screws being tightened exactly the way his father had taught him.

Uncle Hai Moc's lung disease did not get worse as quickly as the doctor had warned, but it also never got better. He gradually reduced his work, switching to just consulting and directing, letting Khanh do all the heavy work. Some afternoons, he sat on an old rattan chair in front of the shop, watching his son crouch next to a broken car, his skills far surpassing what he had taught him. His heart was both proud and a bit bitter because he knew his son had to sacrifice many opportunities to stay and keep this job.

When Khanh was twenty-four years old, one unusually cold winter morning, Uncle Hai Moc could not get up from bed. Acute respiratory failure came on so quickly that the ambulance could not get there in time. Khanh held her father in her arms, feeling her last breath weaken and then stop completely, between Mrs. Vui's sobs and the neighbors' calls echoing throughout the alley before she could wake up.

Uncle Hai Moc's funeral was one of the biggest events that Gieng Chung alley had ever witnessed. The whole neighborhood, from old to young, came to pay their respects, bringing not only wreaths but also stories about a kind-hearted car mechanic who had countless times repaired cars for free for families in more difficult situations than his own, and who had re-dug the common well to save the whole neighborhood through the fierce drought that year.

Khanh, dressed in white mourning clothes, stood next to his father's coffin for three days straight, welcoming each person who came to pay his respects, trying to maintain his spirit even though the inside had completely collapsed. He texted Vy to inform Vy as soon as everything happened, a brief message that couldn't have been shorter: "My dad passed away." He waited, not hoping she would return in time - he understood the geographical distance and visa procedures were not simple - but just hoping to receive a call, a sincere greeting.

Vy responded two days later, when the funeral was almost over, with a longer message than usual, full of guilt and confusion: "I just saw the message, sorry for the late reply, I've been overloaded with work/study lately. I'm so sorry about you. I ordered a wreath to be sent through the service, but I couldn't get home in time, I hope you understand." Attached is a photo of a wreath order receipt from an online service, a white wreath delivered on time, politely placed in the corner of the yard next to dozens of other wreaths from neighbors.

Khanh looked at that photo of the wreath for a long time, not angry, just feeling strangely empty. He understood, rationally, that Vy could not abandon everything to fly back in a few days, understanding that her life was now closely tied to deadlines and commitments that he could not fully imagine. But there was a very human part of him, a part that didn't care about reason, just silently noting that his once best friend was now represented by an online flower order receipt.

He did not reply to that message immediately. When he replied, three days later, he simply wrote: "Thank you." Nothing more, nothing less. From then on, the messages between the two became less frequent to the point of almost completely disappearing, not because of any argument, but because both of them, in their own way, implicitly understood that something had changed and could not go back to the way it was.

*

After the funeral, Khanh officially became the sole owner of the car repair shop, keeping the sign "Car Repair — Hai Moc" even though his friends advised him to change the name to suit the time he owned it. He refused, only saying briefly: "Let's just say dad is still here."

In the years that followed, the auto repair shop gradually became something more than just a place to make a living. Khanh began to provide free vocational training to orphans or children in difficult circumstances in the neighborhood. In the afternoons after official closing time, he opened a "hands-on" class right at the common well yard, teaching the children how to patch tattoos, change oil, simple but practical skills so that in the future they could make a living for themselves even though they did not have the conditions for a high education.

"Uncle Khanh, why don't you collect tuition?" A child asked, innocently.

"Because in the past, there were people who taught spells for free." Khanh replied, still instructing the child how to properly remove the wheel. "Now I give it back to the world, consider it a debt of gratitude."

Khanh's reputation gradually spread throughout Dong An ward, not because he was rich or successful in the usual sense, but because he became a reliable fulcrum of the whole community - the people in the alley, every time there was a big or small problem, came to him to discuss, from repairing the common water pipe, to reconciling conflicts between two neighbors arguing over noise.

Little Vo Ngoc Lam, the granddaughter of Mrs. Nam Xoi, is one of the children who is most attached to Khanh. Lam's mother went to work as a worker away from home, leaving her child to be raised by her grandmother, and Khanh gradually became an older brother and an unofficial teacher to the girl, teaching her to repair bicycles and tutoring her in Math in her free evenings.

"Does Uncle Khanh ever have a girlfriend?" Lam once asked, his voice innocent, like a curious ten-year-old child.

Khanh paused for a second at the unexpected question, then laughed, still continuing his unfinished work. "I'm very busy, I don't have time."

But deep inside, he knew that wasn't entirely true. There were a few times when friends and relatives made matches and introduced him to a few girls in the area, but never once did he feel moved enough to go beyond a few social meetings. There is a corner in his heart that, even though he doesn't want to admit it, still retains the image of a girl who once sat next to him by the edge of the well, sharing every little story of her poor childhood.

*

In recent years, rumors have occasionally spread in the neighborhood about this area being planned, but no one has taken it seriously - planning rumors have appeared countless times over the past twenty years but have never come true. Khanh, like most residents, listened and ignored it, continuing with her daily life.

Until one morning, not long ago, when a group of ward officials and a few strange people wearing business suits appeared at the beginning of the alley, holding a planning map and measurement boards, and posted an official notice on the electric pole at the end of the alley - where in the past, a life-changing scholarship notice had been posted.

Khanh stood silently looking at the notice, reading each line in bold: "Notification of land acquisition to implement the Dong An New Urban Area Project". Below is the name of the investor and project development consultant, a name he has never heard of: Tan Nguyen Urban Development Investment Joint Stock Company.

The news spread quickly throughout the alley in just a few hours. In the afternoon, the public well yard gathered more heavily than on any normal evening, people gathered together to talk and were visibly worried.

"Is it really cleared? I've heard rumors for ten years, but now I see proper papers." Mrs. Nam Xoi lamented, her hand still rubbing the hem of her shirt out of worry. "So where can my family and Lam go?"

"The compensation should be quite good, Mrs. Nam." Uncle Bay Thoai spoke up, his voice pragmatic as always. "I've calculated, the market price of this alley's surface land is not low now. After compensation, it may be enough to buy a more decent house somewhere else, so I don't have to live in this cramped alley anymore."

"You say it so lightly, but this is the place my grandparents left behind, it's not like I want to leave it." Another person objected, sounding annoyed.

Khanh stood in the middle of the crowd, listening to all kinds of conflicting opinions, his mind full of thoughts. He understood the thoughts of both sides - people like Uncle Bay, who was already old, just wanted enough money to spend their old age in a more convenient place; and people like Ms. Nam Xoi, who have spent their whole lives attached to each brick and each tree, cannot imagine life if they had to leave this place.

"Okay, let's wait for the official people's meeting to decide." Khanh spoke up, his voice loud enough for everyone to pay attention. "The discussion now doesn't have complete information, it's just more confusion. Let me go to the ward to ask clearly about the compensation and resettlement plan, then we'll meet again to discuss further."

No one told anyone, but from that moment, the whole neighborhood implicitly understood that Khanh would be the one to represent their voice in the upcoming negotiations - not because he was rich or had any position, but because over the past decade, he had proven himself to be the only person in the alley willing to shoulder responsibility for others without asking for anything in return.

He did not know, and could not know, that in an office nearly twenty kilometers away, the main person in charge of this project, who was about to return to the very alley he was standing in, was the girl he had not contacted for nearly a decade.