Chapter 12 — The House Without Me

“No matter how far I go, I always remember the first snow of winter in my hometown.”

That's ridiculous. Since childhood, Duong Chi has lived in the Duong family's villa with a stable floor heating system. She considers this place hers, it's really only been for a few days.

“Who allowed you to come in here?”

My voice is not loud. But everyone in the room stopped. The person in charge of the exhibition walked quickly over.

“Miss Duong, you're home.”

"Ms. Duong Chi said the opening time was pushed up early, we needed to collect exhibition materials as quickly as possible."

“These old objects bear the mark of time, very suitable for the Quy Huong theme.”

I stared at him.

“I ask, who gave you permission to pry open the door?”

He looked awkward, looking behind me. I don't know when Duong Chi arrived.

“It's me.”

She entered the side room, her voice gentle.

“Sister, there is less than half a month left until the opening, the propaganda team is waiting to film and take photos.”

“I originally intended to contact you, but you are in a meeting with Mr. Wei.”

“I think just putting things out first, it won't damage anything.”

I looked at the lock thrown on the ground.

“Won't it damage?”

Duong Chi's face turned pale.

“I can pay you for the money for the lock.”

Pay me. She's always like that. Breaking into my room, there was a lock. I'm sorry for destroying my old wall. Take my things, then ask me how much money I need. It was as if as long as her attitude was soft enough, every boundary could be converted into a bill. I walked to the long table and picked up my grandmother's needle and thread basket. The contents of the basket were rummaged around. At the bottom is a piece of blue rag. It was a piece of fabric left over when my grandmother made me my first school uniform. The exhibition curator pointed at it and excitedly introduced it.

“We intend to turn these pieces of fabric into installation art.”

“Using a thread to connect Ms. Duong's works through many periods, symbolizes her coming from her homeland to the world.”

I raised my head to look at him.

“Miss Which way?”

He was dumbfounded.

“Of course it's Miss Duong Chi.”

I burst out laughing.

“This piece of fabric is leftover fabric from when my grandmother made clothes for me.”

“The person in these photos is me.”

“The height measuring line on the wall is also mine.”

“You took my life to create a Quy Huong exhibition for her?”

The room fell silent. The person in charge's face became unsightly. Obviously he doesn't know the details behind the real-fake story. Duong Chi quickly walked in front of me.

“Sister, I don't intend to impersonate you.”

“The exhibition needs a complete story.”

“The issue of our identity is not convenient to make public, so the crew is handling it artistically.”

“Furthermore, the old house is now my gallery, the memories here will also become a part of the gallery.”

I looked at her.

“The house is for you.”

“So the days that happened inside there, are also yours?”

Her eyes quickly filled with tears.

“I didn't mean that.”

“So what does that mean?”

“I just want to make a good painting exhibition!”

Her voice finally rose.

“Why do you have to say all these harsh things?”

“Self Because of how much money I spent on this project, my parents also helped me contact many people."

“Just because of a few old photos, do I have to let everyone's enthusiasm go down the drain?”

Some old photos. During my childhood, for twenty years, my grandmother and I relied on each other. In her mouth, there are just a few old photos that can be borrowed and used at will. Chu Tu Bach walked in. Seeing the furniture scattered in the room, he frowned slightly.

“What's going on?”

Duong Chi immediately turned his face and wiped away his tears.

“Nothing.”