Chapter 7 — The Lantern That Never Goes Out

In the following days, Han Thien Vu became a familiar guest of Van Nguyet workshop. He came almost every day, sometimes carrying a camera to record each stage of making the lights, sometimes just sitting quietly observing, recording in a small notebook the details he considered noteworthy for the cultural performance of the festival. Mr. Khoan was initially cautious when he learned that Thien Vu was Mr. Vuong's son, but after a few conversations and seeing that he was polite, knowledgeable and truly respected his profession, he gradually became less wary.

"Where did you learn design?" Mr. Khoan asked one afternoon, while Thien Vu was sketching the structure of a hexagonal lamp on paper.

"I studied in Saigon, majored in industrial design, then worked for several large event companies," Thien Vu replied, still drawing. "But the more I do it, the more I see that the flashy and expensive events I used to organize sometimes lack something that truly touches people's hearts. Maybe that's why when I heard that the Nguyet Giang festival needed someone to organize the traditional cultural part, I immediately accepted, even though I knew there would be a conflict with my father's company."

"Does your father know you accepted this job?" Mr. Khoan continued asking, his eyes searching but no longer harsh.

Thien Vu smiled slightly, the smile was somewhat bitter. "I know. I'm not very satisfied, but I don't forbid it. Maybe I think, let me go around on my own and then I'll return to the company's direction. But I don't think so." He stopped writing and looked out at the yard where Uyen Chi was stretching silk for a new lamp frame. "The more I learn, the more I see that the things my company is doing, even though they are convenient and cheap, are taking away something much more valuable than what it gives back."

Uyen Chi, even though she was focusing on her work, still clearly heard the conversation between the two people. She felt a bit surprised by Thien Vu's frankness when talking about her family's company, but at the same time she felt the sincerity in every word he said. She stepped closer, still holding the half-stretched silk frame.

"Do you want to try?" she asked, pointing to the silk still half-stretched on the frame.

Thien Vu looked up, his eyes bright like a child invited to play a new game. "Is that okay? I'm afraid I'll ruin it."

"It's okay, this is just a training frame, not the real thing," Uyen Chi reassured, giving him a piece of scrap silk and a small frame. "First, you have to apply glue evenly on the edge of the frame, not too thick and not too thin."

She guided him step by step, her hands gently placed on his to correct his movements, a completely natural gesture at work but made them both pause for a moment, realizing that the distance between them was closer than they thought. Uyen Chi quickly withdrew her hand and continued to give verbal instructions, trying to keep her voice calm.

"Pull the silk from the center out, evenly, don't be in a hurry. Silk is very fragile, just an uneven force and it will wrinkle immediately."

Thien Vu followed attentively, his fingers were clumsy at first but gradually became more confident. The final result wasn't perfect — there was a corner of the silk that was a little loose, a line of starch that was a little runny — but he looked at his work with excitement as if he had just completed a masterpiece.

“It was a lot harder than I thought,” he said, rubbing his slightly tired wrists. "Looking at what you did, it seemed simple, but who knew it required such concentration and ingenuity."

"That's why each handmade silk lamp has its own value," Uyen Chi said, unable to hide a bit of pride in her voice. "Not just because it's beautiful, but because behind it are hours of concentration and failures before getting a finished product."

Thien Vu nodded, his eyes stayed on Uyen Chi's face for a moment longer than necessary, making her a bit confused, she quickly turned away to continue her unfinished work. But in her heart, a strange warm feeling had begun to creep in, completely different from the initial wariness when he first entered the workshop.

That afternoon, after finishing work, Thien Vu invited Uyen Chi to take a walk along the river so he could take some more landscape photos for festival promotional materials. Uyen Chi, after a moment of hesitation, agreed, partly because she was curious to know more about Thien Vu, partly because she also wanted to take the opportunity to ask more about his family, about the relationship with her grandmother.

The riverside road in the late afternoon is always beautiful in its own way, when the sunlight begins to soften, dyeing the water surface into sparkling orange-yellow streaks. The ancient houses on both sides of the road reflect on the river, creating a picture that is both real and virtual. Thien Vu stopped many times to take photos, his lens pointed at the mossy tiled roofs and old lanterns hanging in front of the houses. His eyes clearly revealed the passion of someone who truly appreciates traditional beauty.

"You take photos very professionally," Uyen Chi commented when she saw him carefully adjusting the camera angle to capture the moment of sunlight filtering through the foliage onto the water.

"It's a hobby since childhood," Thien Vu replied, lowering the camera and turning to look at her. "When I was still here, before my family moved to Saigon, I often wandered around this old town taking photos of everything, from small street corners to street vendors. Later, even though I lived in a big city with all the modern things, I still always remember those images."

"So why did your family move away?" Uyen Chi asked, trying to keep her voice natural even though the question carried many hidden meanings.

Thien Vu was silent for a moment, his eyes looking far away toward the end of the river. "I don't know all the reasons, I was too young at that time. I just remember, one day, my father decided to sell the family's old lamp factory and move it all to Saigon to open a larger-scale manufacturing company. He said it was an opportunity to develop, so that the family's profession wouldn't be lost in the new era. But every time he mentioned the old factory, about his grandfather, his tone was always a bit heavy, as if he was trying to avoid something."

Uyen Chi listened, increasingly certain in her heart that the story between their two families was not simply an ordinary business rivalry, but contained an old wound that had never been healed. She looked at Thien Vu and saw a similar concern in his eyes, as if he was also looking for a solution to his own family story.

"Maybe," she said softly, "we should figure things out together, instead of letting the doubts hang in the air forever."

Thien Vu looked at her and nodded slowly. "I think so too. Whatever the truth is, I think I need to know, to better understand myself and my family." He paused for a moment, then added, his voice softer. "And also to better understand why I feel so close to this place, to your lamp factory, even though we've only met for a few days."

Those words made Uyen Chi blush slightly and quickly turned away to look at the river to hide the emotions rising in her heart. The sunset at that time dyed the whole sky into a brilliant orange-red strip, reflecting on the water, creating a breathtakingly beautiful scene. The two stood quietly together, no one said anything more, but in that quiet atmosphere, it seemed that an invisible thread had begun to connect them together, overcoming all the conflicts and secrets that lay ahead.

On the way back, they passed by the night market that had just begun to light up, small stalls selling all kinds of snacks, souvenirs, and of course, cheap colored paper lanterns for children. Thien Vu stopped in front of a stall selling star lanterns, picked up one, and looked at it.

"This type of lamp is completely different from the silk lamps of your factory," he commented, "but still has its own place, still loved by children. Perhaps, it's not just about handicraft that has to confront industry, but the important thing is who can keep the soul of the product they make."

"That's right," Uyen Chi nodded, "but the problem is that your father's company not only wants to sell plastic lamps alongside silk lamps, but wants to occupy the entire main display space of the festival, pushing workers like us to the sidelines. That's what makes the whole street worried."

Thien Vu pondered, placing the star lamp back on the counter. "I understand. I will try, within the scope of my work, to ensure that cultural performances are given their rightful place, not pushed to the margins. That is what I can do right now, even though I cannot change the big decisions of the Management Board or my father's company."

Uyen Chi looked at him, grateful for that promise, although there were still doubts in her heart that could not be completely erased. They continued to walk along the lantern street, the warm light from the silk lanterns hanging in front of the doors of the old houses fell onto the paved road, forming successive pools of pale yellow light like a miniature galaxy in the heart of the old town. The sounds of sales, the laughter of tourists, and the sounds of traditional musical instruments from somewhere blend together to create a lively atmosphere that only Nguyet Giang old town can have every evening.

"Do you think," Uyen Chi suddenly spoke up when they stopped in front of the old ferry wharf, where a few small boats were swaying gently in the water, "that if your grandfather and my grandmother hadn't had a disagreement in the past, perhaps our two families would be making lamps together now, rather than standing on opposite front lines like this?"

Thien Vu was silent for a moment, his eyes following the ripples on the water surface. "It's possible," he said quietly. "But I think, instead of regretting the past, maybe we should think about what we can do right now, so that our generation's story doesn't repeat the mistakes of the previous generation." He turned to look at her, his eyes steady in the fading sunset light. "I want to try, if you give me the chance."