Chapter 7 — The Mask Isn't Real

The address Nha Uyen gave led to a small hamlet on the edge of town, about forty minutes by motorbike from Yen Lieu village, where old four-level houses were close together along a narrow concrete road, with bananas and water spinach on both sides.

The house with the number written on the piece of paper Nha Uyen gave had now changed owners, a young family with two small children was drying clothes in the yard. The young woman shook her head when Uyen Nhi asked about the Phan family who used to live here, saying she had just bought this house six years ago and did not know where the previous owner went.

"You ask Mrs. Sau Dien across the street." The woman pointed towards a small house with a gourd trellis covering the gate. "She's been in this neighborhood for a long time, she knows everything."

Mrs. Sau Dien is sitting on the porch, her hands quickly stripping each fiber to weave a basket, her white hair tied neatly at the back of her head. Hearing about Phan Khac Tuyen's family, she stopped and looked at the two strangers with a questioning look before inviting them in to sit.

"What are you to Tuyen?" She asked, her voice still wary.

"I am a student of artist Dang Ba Tuyen, who once taught Mr. Tuyen the craft." Uyen Nhi answered truthfully, thinking that with older people, straightforwardness is often more effective than roundabout words. "I need to find him to ask about a few things related to his job."

Ms. Sau Dien was silent for a moment, her old hands still continued to strip the rice, even though her eyes stopped at Uyen Nhi's face. "When it comes to Mr. Tuyen's name, Tuyen probably doesn't want to hear it. In the past, he admired him very much, treated him like a father, and studied harder than his own son. Yet he was fired just because of a batch of damaged goods. You know, he went home and cried for several nights in a row, not because he missed his job, but because he didn't understand why the person he trusted the most believed the rumors more than he believed him."

"You know that so well?"

"His house and my house are separated by a hedge of Malabar spinach. I don't know what's going on." Mrs. Sau Dien sighed and put down the bundle of salt. "After being kicked out, he wandered around for several months, working at all sorts of jobs, from mason's assistant to porter at the market. At one point, he was so broke that he had to sell the entire set of mask-making tools he had brought with him from when he was still at the factory. Then he got married and gave birth to a son. It was thought that life was gradually stabilizing. Who knew that the boy was born with weak kidneys. The older he got, the worse his illness became. He now has to undergo regular dialysis three times a week at the provincial hospital."

Uyen Nhi felt her chest tighten. She looked at Nhat Vu and saw that he had also quietly taken out his notebook to take notes. There was no longer the excitement of investigating like the first days, but instead there was a clear calmness.

She looked around Mrs. Sau Dien's yard, a gourd trellis with a few young fruits hanging above her head, the sound of hens clucking somewhere behind the kitchen, the idyllic scene was in complete contrast to what she had just heard. A child who had to undergo dialysis three times a week, a father whose skills his teacher trusted most now had to sell his tools cheaply to make ends meet — that story was unlike anything she had imagined when she began this investigation. She thought she would find a greedy, opportunistic person who took advantage of other people's reputation for personal gain. Now, that image has faded, replaced by a father trying to survive, with the hands that were once taught the kindest.

"His wife left a few years ago, unable to bear the poverty with a sick child." Ms. Sau Dien continued, her voice slow as if she was retelling a story she had memorized because she had told it too many times. "Since then, he has moved out of this neighborhood, rented a house somewhere near town, and occasionally comes to visit me, bringing a few paper replicas he made himself as gifts. They are very beautiful, just like real artisan products. He said that now he only has this job to earn extra money, maybe enough money for dialysis for his child."

"Do you know his current whereabouts?" Nhat Vu asked, his voice gentle.

"I don't know the specific address, but the last time he came here, about two months ago, he mentioned that he was working in a factory somewhere on the riverbank. He said the salary was much better than before, enough to cover his child's hospital bills." Ms. Sau Dien frowned, seemingly trying to remember details. "He seemed happier than before, but I noticed his eyes kept avoiding looking directly at me when talking, unlike Tuyen in the past, who always looked straight at people and spoke."

Uyen Nhi remembers that detail — the avoidant look, a sign of guilt, of someone hiding something even from the person she trusts.

"Do you remember the name of the factory, or the specific location?" Uyen Nhi continued asking.

"I don't remember the name, but it said it was near a large reed grass field, along the Day River, about half an hour drive from town. It said it was a workshop making handicrafts for export, needing skilled people." Ms. Sau Dien suddenly stopped, her eyes became much more serious. "Is there something wrong with you looking for him? I think you asked too carefully, not like a normal acquaintance visiting."

Uyen Nhi and Nhat Vu looked at each other for a moment. In the end, Uyen Nhi decided not to hide it completely. "I think that factory might be doing things wrong, grandma. But I didn't come to harm Uncle Tuyen. I just want to understand everything before deciding what to do."

Ms. Sau Dien was silent for a long time, her hand picked up the bundle again, but did not continue to strip it, but just rotated it in her hand as a way to keep calm. "Tuyen is not a bad person, aunt and uncle. I've lived next door to him since he was little, and I've never seen him take a piece of silver from anyone that didn't belong to him. If he does something wrong now, I'm sure there must be a very pressing reason for him to do so. You found him, please listen to what he has to say before concluding anything."

"I promise I will." Uyen Nhi replied, her voice sincere.

Mrs. Sau Dien looked at her for a long time, then nodded slightly, as if she had just decided to trust these two strangers. She stood up, went into the house, and returned a moment later with a small papier-mache figure of a squatting rabbit, the color slightly faded from being left on the altar for a long time to collect dust. "This was given to me by Tuyen last year during Mid-Autumn Festival. You should see if his craftsmanship is still the same as before."

Uyen Nhi picked up the paper rabbit, her fingers slid over each line, feeling the smoothness of the lining, the evenness of the eye brush strokes. The workmanship is still intact, even more refined than some of the works she has seen from young artisans today. She put the paper rabbit back in Mrs. Sau Dien's hand, her heart feeling even heavier.

She stood up, bowed her head to thank Mrs. Sau Dien, then left with Nhat Vu, her heart much heavier than when she arrived.

When they reached the beginning of the alley, Nhat Vu spoke up, his voice lowered. "Reed grass along the Day River, half an hour drive from town. I think I can look up a few suspicious areas on the map, there are a few old factories that have been abandoned for a long time, suitable for a discreet production place."

"Can we go tonight?" Uyen Nhi asked, her voice somewhat urgent.

Nhat Vu shook his head. "Going at night to a place whose terrain you don't know well, where no one knows where you are, is not a good idea. Let me research the location carefully first. Tomorrow we go early in the morning, while there is still light, observe from afar first."

Uyen Nhi nodded, even though she still couldn't wait to leave. She looked back at Mrs. Sau Dien's small house with a trellis, thinking of the image of a man who was once his teacher's best student, now having to secretly make fake goods in the dark to have money for dialysis for his child, avoiding even his closest neighbor. This story, she realized, would not have a simple answer — it was not a matter of clear right and wrong, but a maze of forced choices, where everyone was both a victim and partly responsible.

On the way home, the two stopped by a roadside restaurant to discuss plans for the next morning in more detail. Nhat Vu opened the satellite map on the laptop he brought with him, zoomed in on the reed grass area along the Day River that Ms. Sau Dien mentioned, and delineated a few clusters of old factories with dull corrugated iron roofs, located completely separate from residential areas.

"The three most suspicious locations." He pointed at the screen, his finger stopping at a cluster of factories near a river bend. "This seems most reasonable, because there is a trail leading straight to the riverbank, making it easy for small trucks to go out at night without having to go through crowded residential areas."

Uyen Nhi stared at the satellite image, trying to imagine the real scene behind those dull corrugated iron roofs — where there might be a man painstakingly building up layers of paper, mixing streaks of color, using his well-trained hands to create copies bearing the name of his former teacher. She closed the notebook, looked out at the dark sky, both scared and impatient waiting for tomorrow morning.