Chapter 17 — The Final Flip: When I No Longer Have Patience

Seeing two policemen standing in front of the door, I was not surprised. I opened the door.

“Are you Tu Cam?” The first person to deliver the documents.

"We are part of the economic investigation team of the city police, related to the misappropriation of property in the green tree project three years ago, and need your coordination."

“I understand, please come in.”

I invited them into the house and poured water. The interrogation lasted nearly two hours, every detail was dissected, each question was like a knife testing the truth of memories. I recounted everything, from the time Chu Minh asked to process the money, to the fact that I repeatedly requested the invoice but to no avail, did not hide it, did not avoid it. The text messages I kept became evidence. When they stood up, their eyes were different.

“Thank you for your cooperation, your testimony is very important.”

“I'm just telling the truth.”

The door closes. The room was empty again. But this time… it's no longer heavy. Chu Minh... there's no way. The fire he lit to burn me... eventually turned back to burn himself. A very round circle. The next day, my brother called. His voice was full of gloating, unable to hide it.

“Do you know what I saw today?”

“Chu Minh was handcuffed and led out of the inn!”

“The whole village came out to watch, his mother ran after the police car crying like the sky was falling!”

"I heard that Chu Le was also called to testify."

“That house… is really finished.”

No pity. Just felt... light. They are like a stain that once stuck to my shoes. Now I have cleaned it. And move on. A week later, boss Truong called back.

“The tax authorities have officially confirmed my innocence.”

"The police have also concluded that Chu Minh admitted to misappropriating thirty thousand."

“Most of that money went to gambling, the rest was given to my mother and sister.”

“The company will sue to get it back.”

He stopped for a moment.

“Also… do you want to go back?”

“Old position, plus one more level… financial director.”

I smiled.

"Thank you."

“But I want to start again.”

Not because of resentment. But because I don't want to go back to my old life anymore. I want to live… for myself. I turned on the computer. Book a plane ticket. Go south. Go to a place with mountains, sea, and sunshine. I want to let the wind blow away all the dust in my heart. Before leaving, lawyer Ton called.

"The house procedures have been completed, the money has been transferred."

“More than two hundred and fifty thousand.”

“Congratulations.”

I laughed.

“Wishing you… a good life.”

“You too.”

Everything... is over. I carry a suitcase. Step on the plane. Outside the window. The sea of clouds stretches. The sunlight was so bright it was blinding. Like life ahead. And belongs to me. I stayed in Yunnan for three months. No schedule, no plan, just following my emotions like flowing water, if I want to stop then stop, if I want to stay then I stay, as if I have finally learned how to slow down. In Dali, I stayed in a small motel for half a month, every day learning to make flower cakes with the landlady. The smell of flowers and flour mixed together was so fragrant that it made people's hearts calm. In Lijiang, I sat in a small bar, listened to folk music about distant lands, and drank until the alcohol made all the memories lighter and no longer as heavy. In Shangri-La, I rode a horse on the steppe, chasing the sunset. Sometimes I really felt like I was flying, flying away from what I once held. I meet a lot of people. There's a girl who quit her high-paying job in Beijing to open a boarding house, there's a painter who carries an easel across the mountains and rivers, there's a homeless student. Love comes here to forget a part of life. We talked, drank, and told each other stories that had not yet ended. No one asked me who I used to be. No one cares where I'm going. Here, we are just travelers, passing through each other's lives, then leaving behind a little warmth. My last stop was Xishuangbanna. In a Thai village, I was drawn to an ancient craft called the “slow turntable,” which required such patience that every second had to be lived slowly so as not to break it. I accepted an old lady as my teacher, playing with the soil every day, shaping small bowls, letting my heart calm down little by little. One afternoon, as I bowed my head and attentively shaped a teacup, a gentle voice rang out from behind me.

“May I ask… is this a place to experience pottery?”

I'm back. Under the sunlight, a man stood there, tall and thin, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, a white shirt, so clean that he seemed to have just stepped out of another world. He looked at my muddy hands, slightly stunned, then smiled.

“Sorry, I disturbed you.”

That smile... is as light as a spring breeze.