Chapter 20 — The Code in the Tangerine Garden

The tangerine crop ended with a morning that no one called a ceremony.

Six households brought their cars early. The packing house opened, the boxes of tangerines were divided into three types: old varieties, grafted varieties and fruit that did not meet the standards for making jam. There were no banners, no speakers. There is only one new sign hanging by the gate:

“An Loc Garden – shared waterway, shared tangerine season.”

Below are seven names. Ms. Luu's name is placed in the middle, neither bigger nor smaller than the other names.

Mrs. Man held a red pen and wrote the name Nguyen Van Tan in the maintenance book. Thu looked at her.

“Father is not named in the six households.”

“His name is on the paper holder,” said Mrs. Man. “Now the paper is no longer just in his hand.”

Quan walked back from the tank, holding a water pressure board. The pipeline has had two joints replaced, the valve cover has a new lock, and the key is divided into three parts: one part at Thu, one part at household representatives and one part sealed at the commune. No one opens the valve on their own unless it is an emergency.

“The water is fine,” he said. “The north branch is back about the same as last year.”

Na sat on a wooden box, counting colored labels. After the first treatment, she still had to be re-examined but was able to run in the paths between the trees. He drew his grandfather's symbols on tangerine labels: leaves for seeds, drops of water for watering days, circles for batches with many households contributing.

“You are not allowed to carve on trees,” Quan reminded.

"I know. I engraved it on paper."

Thu is checking the income and expenditure books. The cooperative group returned Huy's mother's reservation fee, refunded valid expenses, and set aside a separate amount for Na's treatment. That amount is not the water fund; everyone clearly stated that the support was urgent, time-limited and not in exchange for voting rights.

Quan reads the board.

“I will pay in installments.”

“No one owes you money.”

“I still want to pay.”

“So it's a voluntary, interest-free refund.”

Quan looked at her and laughed. “You turn even your relationship into a model.”

“The form keeps no one guessing.”

Lam came out of the packing house, camera in hand. He finished editing the first version of the film, but did not show it outside before six households approved it. There is a part where Mrs. Man asked to cut it because it was too private; There is a part where Huy asked to keep it because it was what he said about his father; Quan left out a scene of himself crying at the hospital; Thu kept the scene of her sitting and counting money all night.

“Why are you keeping that scene?” Quan asked.

“Because not everyone who keeps a garden stands in the sun.”

Huy arrived last, no longer wearing his company shirt. He took a job at a small agricultural logistics unit, in charge of transportation routes. The cold storage company is still working with lawyers, but the industrial well project is on hold. Ms. Van was transferred from the local file, and Khai had to explain how to get the documents. Dung was fined for trespassing and breaking the book, and also signed a commitment to repair the ditch according to the labor schedule.

Huy put down a box of components.

"New valve. No funds taken."

Open book letter. "Source?"

“I advance the money.”

“Write it down.”

"I know."

Huy no longer asked to stand aside. He signed on the line of people contributing supplies, stating clearly that his family still had the right to receive water but did not have the right to make decisions alone.

Mai arrived with a photo of her mother. She placed the photo next to the board. Mrs. Luu in the photo is younger than everyone remembers, holding a shovel in her hand and her hair tied up in a bun. Behind is an unfinished dirt ditch.

“My mother doesn't like taking pictures,” Mai said. “She said he couldn't carry water.”

Thu looked at the photo. “But it reminds people who did the digging.”

At noon, everyone opened the valve according to the new schedule. Each household elects one person to stand at one point. Thu is at the main valve, Quan is at the tank, Huy is at the north branch, Mai is at the checkpoint named Mrs. Luu. Na holds a small board that records the time.

When the water flows through all six branches, the ringing sound is not loud. Just a few claps, then everyone went back to their own work. Truly lasting stories often begin with quiet sounds.

After that, Thu went into her father's old office. The room still has the map on the wall, but the plant beds have been updated. She took down the old map and kept it in the storage box. On the wall hangs a new map signed by six households, including the tank, the fruitless tree and the sixty-six steps area.

The third drawer is empty. The black cover notebook is placed in a glass cabinet, along with the original paper copy. She didn't lock it with a single key. The locker opening code consists of three parts, each part is held by one person.

Lam stood at the door. “Dad will say we're overdoing it.”

“Father did something wrong.”

“Are you still angry with him?”

Thu looked at the empty chair. "Yes. But I don't want to use anger to control."

Lam nodded. "Me too."

Quan walked in, holding a box of tangerines. He put down the box and took one for each person. Thu's fruit has rough spots, Lam's fruit is greener, Quan's fruit is ripe and yellow.

“Dad once said the best tangerine is the one that hasn't been forced to ripen,” Quan said.

“Dad also used to say a lot of things to avoid being blunt,” Thu replied.

All three laughed. A smile doesn't erase the years of separation, but it makes the room less cold.

In the afternoon, they came to the tree that had no fruit. After fixing the water line, the plant began to flower. There are no fruits yet, just small white flower clusters shaking in the wind. Na ties a board with cloth string:

“The tree of people standing off the map.”

Lam asked: "Do you want to write down Mrs. Luu's name?"

Na shook her head. "The name is already on the gate. Here for people to ask."

Thu looked at the board and understood that this was a child's way of keeping a secret without turning it into a trap. The final password is not for anonymity. It's to force people who come later to ask.

At the end of the season, the company sent a plan to rent the southern area. Smaller cold storage, using reclaimed rainwater and a circulating system. The contract clearly states not to touch the tank, not to go through the protected area without a water representative, and to pay maintenance fees based on output. Quan has not yet decided whether to sell the southern land or not. The letter said you could keep it or sell it according to general conditions. Lam suggests saving all contracts in a public repository.

No one gets a completely clean finish. Huy's family still has to pay the support. Dung has to go to court. Khai has not admitted his mistake. Huy's mother is still sick. Na still has a treatment schedule. The garden still needs money and people.

But for the first time, those difficulties have names, numbers and people who share responsibility.

When the sun went down, Thu took one last lap through the tree beds. On the first tree trunk, the leaf symbol has been kept intact, no one has shaved it. The water drop mark next to the well was repainted in blue. The packing house's circle is slightly open, leaving room for future buyers.

Lam put down the camera.

“Do you want to say a closing sentence?”

"Are not."

“So who said?”

Thu looked at Quan, Huy, Mai, Mrs. Man and Na standing below. “Let the garden speak.”

The wind passes through the tangerine trees. One fruit fell to the floor, not hard, just loud enough.

Na bent down to pick up the fruit and placed it in her palm. There are no markings on the peel.

She took a pen and drew an open circle.

Then he gave the fruit to all three brothers, each holding a portion.

Thu did not eat right away. She placed the fruit on the table, used a knife to cut it into three equal segments. Quan said his fruit should be more because he works hard. Lam protested that the person holding the camera also had to eat. Na smiled, taking another slice from her portion.

“I divide it according to work,” she said.

“What is your business?” Quan asked.

"Miss."

Mrs. Man stood not far away, looking at the first flowers on the fruitless tree. Huy repaired the gate sign, adding the country's phone number and reception hours. Mai took a photo of her mother's name, then put the original in her pocket.

Thu thought of her father. She no longer wanted to ask why he chose a code instead of a meeting. She knew the answer wouldn't make him right. He was afraid that his family would be destroyed before they could understand, so he set the whole family on a hunt. What he didn't know was that living people needed to be trusted before being assigned tasks.

Quan stood next to her. “Are you going back to the city?”

“Yes. I still work there partly.”

“What about the other part?”

“I come back every time I open the book.”

Lam said the movie will end with everyone signing the new schedule, not with the company signing the contract. He wants viewers to understand that protecting the garden is not a war where someone wins and goes home.

Huy asked if it was necessary to film the scene of him leaving the company. Lam said no, if he didn't want to. Huy replied, just spin, but don't turn the cut-out employee card into a symbol.

“It's just a card,” Huy said. “What matters is where I go after that.”

Na held an orange pen and drew an open circle on the small board. She placed it next to Mrs. Luu's name and said:

"This is a place for future buyers. Those who use the water must learn the story first."

The letter corrected the subject line on the book: “No one owns a stream of water.”

The wind passes through the tangerine trees. One fruit fell to the floor, not hard, just loud enough.

Na bent down to pick up the fruit and placed it in her palm. There are no markings on the peel.

She took a pen and drew an open circle.

Then he gave the fruit to all three brothers, each holding a portion.

This is how their family's last tangerine season ended: not with one person keeping the garden, but with no one being able to sell a stream of water on behalf of all those who dug it.