Chapter 29 — The Last Seed Keeper

The water exchange was completed by mid-morning, slower than expected because of a series of cumbersome counting procedures that Khe Mien suspected existed only to remind the group of their position—tolerated, not welcomed, guests.

The water tanks were filled under the supervision of two Binh Diem soldiers, each liter carefully recorded in a thick notebook, and when the person in charge finally confirmed the transaction was complete, Bach Lam did not waste another minute.

"Let's go now," he said, signaling the group to pack up quickly.

But as they were preparing to leave the guesthouse, another soldier—younger than the ones they had seen before, with a flicker of concern in his eyes that his comrades seemed to have long since lost—approached, his voice lowered to almost a whisper.

"You're good people," he said quickly, constantly glancing back to make sure no one else was listening. "I heard about the bag of water left last night. I didn't report that."

Khe Mien and Bach Lam exchanged a wary look, unsure whether this was a trap or a sincere warning.

“We don't know what you're talking about,” Bach Lam said, his voice remaining carefully neutral.

“I don't need your confirmation,” the young soldier said, his voice shaking slightly. "I just want to tell you that not everyone in Binh Diem agrees with the way Lord Diem runs this place. But we also need food, we need water, we need a safe place for our families. We don't have more options than ordinary people."

He paused, as if considering whether to say more, then continued, his voice quieter still. "The King of Hell has sent someone to monitor your party since last night, after hearing reports of the Green Dome's Seed Keeper reacting too strongly during the audience. He suspects you are carrying something more valuable than what you declared. I advise you to leave immediately, and do not take the main road leading to the west gate — there will be someone waiting there."

"Why are you telling us this?" Khe Mien asked, her voice both wary and emotional.

The young soldier looked at her for a moment, his eyes carrying a deep sadness that was hard to describe. "Because my sister was also punished for a similar reason as the woman yesterday, two years ago," he said. "She didn't survive the quota cuts that followed. I couldn't save her. But maybe, today, I can help you avoid the same fate for others." He didn't wait for a response, turned around and walked quickly, blending into the crowd of soldiers moving in the middle of the square.

Bach Lam did not waste another second. "Let's change route," he said, already opening the map for a quick check. "There's a side gate to the east, less used, used for transporting mining supplies. It's further, but safer if what he says is true."

The whole group moved quickly, trying to maintain the normal appearance of the guests leaving on schedule, but inside, each person was extremely tense, eyes constantly scanning around for signs of surveillance.

They were nearly at the eastern side gate, a much narrower passage than the main gate, when Ngan The Binh suddenly signaled to stop, his body pressed against the nearest wall.

"There's someone," he said quietly, pointing towards a group of three soldiers standing near the exit, not on normal patrol but clearly waiting for something, their eyes constantly scanning the path leading to the guesthouse area.

“They are waiting for us,” Khe Mien said, her voice shaking.

Bach Lam thought quickly, his eyes scanned around to find another way out. “There is a lower section of wall on the north side, near the old abandoned salt factory,” he said, recalling the map he had studied carefully before entering the Arch. "Not the official exit, but if we can climb through, we'll avoid both checkpoints."

They weaved through winding alleys, staying away from crowded areas, Khe Mien's heart pounded with every step, her hand tightening the strap of the seed box like an instinctive protective reflex. Kien, although his legs were still a bit limp, tried to keep up with the group's pace without a single complaint.

The old salt factory area appeared before them—rotten wood and metal structures, long abandoned, and behind it, just as Bach Lam remembered, a section of fence that was much lower than the rest, probably hastily built during the Dome's expansion phase and never completed properly.

"Hurry," Bach Lam said, already starting to help Diem Quynh climb over first, then Kien, carefully supporting his injured leg over the rough wall.

Just as Khe Mien was about to climb over, a loud shout rang out from afar — not from the side gate they had avoided, but from another direction, perhaps another patrol had discovered the group's unusual absence at the intended exit.

"They found out," Ngan The Binh said, his voice final. "Go, now!"

Bach Lam lifted Khe Mien over the wall with a strength she did not expect, then he himself climbed over right after, and Ngan The Binh went last, not taking his eyes off the direction of the shout until he was on the other side of the wall.

The whole group ran, not walked, through a clearing covered with salt chips that crystallized white under the hot sun, straight toward Dong Tro expanding before them, not stopping until the Salt Dome had receded far behind into a faint shape on the horizon.

Only when they were sure no one was chasing them did the whole group stop to rest, panting, sweating under protective clothing even though the morning wind was still cool.

"Is everyone okay?" Bach Lam asked, checking each person quickly.

"It's okay," Diem Quynh replied, although her voice was still shaking. "Just... scared."

Khe Mien sat down on a nearby rock, her heart still beating fast, but mixed in with the fear she had just experienced was a deep sense of relief, and behind it, a sadness that was not easy to name — sadness for all those who remained behind that wall, those who had no choice but to continue living under the hands of Confucius Ba Truc.

“We escaped,” she said, her voice small. "But they don't."

Bach Lam sat down next to her, saying nothing for a while, just letting the silence share the weight of that sentence. "We can't save everyone, Khe Mien," he said finally, his voice gentle but sincere. "But what you did last night, the package of water and medicine you left for that family — that still had meaning. Not because it changed the system, but because it reminded a family that there are still good people out there, even if they've never met them."

“That young soldier was the same,” Khe Mien said, remembering his sad eyes. "Even in such a system, there are still people who can maintain their conscience."

"That's probably the only thing that keeps me hopeful about places like Salt Dome," said Ngan The Binh, standing nearby, his eyes still scanning warily behind even though the danger seemed to have passed. "That no matter how bad a system is, it can never completely extinguish every seed of conscience in every human being living under it."

Kien, walking next to Diem Quynh, broke the heavy silence with a question he had probably been holding back all morning. "Sister Khe Mien," he called, "can the Sand Dome also be like the Salt Dome?"

That question made the whole group pause in their minds, even though no one's steps stopped. Khe Mien turned to look at him, trying to find an answer that was both honest and wouldn't make the young man more confused in the midst of a journey that was already full of challenges.

"I don't know for sure," she said finally, deciding honesty was the better option. "Sand Dome has been a trading partner of Green Dome for many years, and everything I've heard about it has been positive. But after what we've just seen, I think we'd better go into any new place with open eyes, rather than assuming it will be exactly like what we're used to."

"That's a good lesson to take away," Bach Lam said, nodding in agreement. "Not to doubt everything, but to never stop observing closely before trusting completely."

The group continued on their way immediately after, not wanting to risk staying too close to Salt Dome any longer than necessary, heading straight back to the original route leading to Sand Dome. Khe Mien walked, her hands still clutching the box of seeds, but her mind carried something much heavier than when they entered the Salt Dome two days ago—the image of the woman with her hands tied, the feverish child, the young soldier with the sad eyes, all blended into a lesson she knew she would never forget, even though she wished she had never had to learn it this way.