Chapter 19 — The House Without Me

Personal belongings, emptied. Furniture drawing by Tham Xuan Hoa, sealed. Project documents of the Chu family, transferred. The furniture in the newlywed's house has been disassembled. Only the last two entries remain. Divorce agreement. Leave.

“The old house is about to open.”

I calmly said: "The furniture is left at home, not convenient for work." This reason is not sublime. But Chu Tu Bach was so confident that I wouldn't leave. There was silence for a moment, his voice softened.

“Go home tomorrow.”

“I cook your favorite dishes.”

“What happened recently, let's talk again.”

“I'm not free tomorrow.”

“The day after tomorrow?”

"I don't have time either."

“So when will you be free?”

I looked up at the calendar on the wall. The 17th is four days away.

“After the opening ceremony.”

I hung up the phone. Uncle Luong sat on the doorstep smoking a pipe, not asking what we were talking about. A moment later, he looked at the empty side room.

“Is it all cleaned up?”

“There's still one left.”

“What?”

I crawled under the bed and pulled out a wooden box covered in dust. Opened, inside was an old ink tube. The wood has been polished smooth by human hands. The side has a very small inscription engraved. *The house receives the pillars, the person receives the heart.* This is an object that my grandmother has used all her life. I have searched many times. Uncle Luong once said that before she became seriously ill, she gave this ink cartridge to an old carpenter who no longer lived in her old house. Now, it lies quietly under the bed.

“Uncle?”

Uncle Luong tapped his pipe.

“My grandmother built it.”

“Before she left, she called me over and asked me to fix the roof for her.”

“Then put this ink cartridge under the bed.”

“She said, wait until you really know where you want to go, then give it to you.”

I clutched the ink tube tightly, my fingertips trembling.

“How did you know I would come back to look for you?”

“She doesn't know.”

Uncle Luong looked at me.

“She just felt that sooner or later there would come a day when I wouldn't know where I should be.”

My nose suddenly stings. I bowed my head, tears falling onto the ink string. In the past few days, whether the old house was given away, the apricot tree was cut down, or my life was impersonated, I have never cried like this. But when holding this ink tube tightly, all the resentment suddenly found a way out.

“Uncle Luong.”

“The house is no longer there, where can I go now?”

You were silent for a long time.

“My grandmother has been fixing houses all her life.”

“More than half of the old houses in this town have pillars repaired by her.”

“But she never said which house belonged to her.”

“Why?”

I did not answer.

“Because she stood there, the house didn't collapse.”

Uncle Luong put his pipe aside.

“Me too.”

“If the house is lost, it can be repaired.”

“A person who tries to keep a house, only to bury himself and rot in it, is truly homeless.”

I clutched the ink tube tightly. It was dark. The lights in the side room were not turned on. The height mark was sanded smooth on the wall, leaving only a faint shadow. I finally understand. What grandmother left behind was never just an old house. It's the hands that know how to distinguish between bones and teeth, and know how to repair this broken pillar. It's the kind of bravery that no matter where you go, you can rebuild a house that's about to collapse.

“Uncle Luong.”

I wiped my tears.

“Hac Son is lacking a vocational teacher carpentry.”

“The salary is not high, the accommodation is also old.”

“Are you going?”

He snorted.

“Old is new.”

“It's so new I'm complaining there's nothing to fix.”

* On the sixteenth day, the old house completed the final safety acceptance stage. I handed over the last maintenance manual to Wei Chengli. He turned to the last page.

“Personal memories, completely cleaned up.”

He read the text aloud.

“Is this also considered maintenance content?”

“Yes.”

“Are you afraid they'll put it on display again?”

“Whatever they do in the future has nothing to do with me anymore.”