Chapter 4 — The Photograph Without a Third Person

The city library stores old newspapers in a quiet corner on the third floor, where pale yellow light from large glass windows shines down on rows of shelves of microfilm and old microfilm readers. Ha spent all of Monday morning there, tracking down every piece of news related to the name Phan Gia Bao that she could find.

The first article, published in a specialized construction magazine five years ago, introduced Phan Gia Bao as the youngest chief engineer ever appointed in charge of construction quality at Phan Group, famous for its almost extreme rigor in testing construction materials. The article quotes him: "A project is not just profit numbers on a financial report. It is a place where hundreds of people will live and pass by every day. I cannot accept any errors that could threaten their safety."

That sentence made Ha stop for a long time, reading it over and over again. It didn't sound like the tone of someone who had something to hide. It sounds like the tone of a person with very clear life principles - almost identical to the professional principles that Ha is always proud to pursue.

The second article, four years ago, was much shorter and had a very different tone. It was a small news article posted on the local news section, announcing "an unfortunate traffic accident" that killed engineer Phan Gia Bao, thirty years old, on the highway while driving home after work late. The news report was only six lines long, had no photos, and no detailed information about the accident location or specific cause. At the end of the article, it only briefly states: "Phan Group organized an internal memorial ceremony for the talented young engineer."

Ha reread the news three times, a cold feeling rising in her chest. A promising chief engineer, mentioned with respect in professional circles, died in an accident that the press devoted only six lines to commemorating — no pictures, no interviews with his family, not a single line of emotion from his colleagues. For a corporation with good public relations like the Phan family, this way of reporting is too cold, almost intentionally minimizing attention.

She searched further, but after that six-line news story, there was no longer any trace of the name Phan Gia Bao in any media. There was no longer memorial article, no information about the funeral, no official obituary in a major newspaper — unusual for the death of a figure with an important position in a large corporation.

She left the library with her mind spinning with hypotheses, deciding to stop by Minh Tuan's law office on the way home, even though she had not made an appointment.

***

"What are you looking for me for that makes you look so tense?" Minh Tuan asked, pulling out a chair to invite Ha to sit in his small but neat office, where stacks of files were neatly arranged in different colors on the shelves.

Ha recounted the whole story, from the strange photo, the meeting with Ms. Kim Oanh, to the discovery of Phan Gia Bao at the library this morning. Minh Tuan listened without interrupting, only occasionally jotting down a few lines in the notebook in front of him.

"If what you say is accurate," he said when Ha finished, "then this may not simply be a matter of family keeping secrets from each other. The fact that a death was reported so poorly that it was unusual, coupled with the family's willingness to spend large sums of money to erase evidence of that person's existence — sounds very much like a deliberate set-up, not a random accident."

"Staging for what?"

"There are many possibilities. Avoiding debt, avoiding legal responsibility, or..." Minh Tuan paused, considering each word. "Or to cover up a more serious incident that this engineer knew so well that he had to be removed from the public picture."

Ha remembered Phan Gia Bao's words in an old article - about the safety of the people who will live in the project he is in charge of. A chilling thought gradually formed in her mind. "Do you think it might have something to do with the quality of the construction? Like... a certain construction wasn't up to standard, and he was the one who discovered it?"

"That's a reasonable hypothesis," Minh Tuan nodded. "But you need to be careful. If it's true that there's a serious incident being covered up, and a large corporation is capable of even staging a fake death to cover up clues, then those involved will not hesitate to do anything to keep that secret buried — even if a photographer accidentally takes a photo that shouldn't exist."

Minh Tuan's warning made Ha feel a cold chill running down her spine, but at the same time also strengthened her determination. If the man named "Nam" is really Phan Gia Bao, and if he has been living incognito for four years because of a secret that was not caused by him, then it is no longer simply someone else's story. It is an injustice waiting to be exposed.

"Can you help me learn more about the projects that Phan Group implemented during the period before Gia Bao 'passed away'?" she asked. "Especially projects with quality problems, even if they are just small rumors."

"I will try," Minh Tuan replied, writing a few more lines in the notebook. "But Ha, I want you to promise one thing. Don't directly confront the Phan family yourself before we have enough solid evidence. If they're ready to stage a death, they could do much worse to protect that secret."

Ha nodded, even though in her heart she knew that commitment would be difficult to keep completely once she was so deeply involved in this story. She thought of the tired eyes of the man named Nam at the car repair shop, of the old scar on his wrist, of the way he stood quietly watching the bride throw flowers in the photo - a man living between the thin line of existence and disappearance.

She wasn't sure what was waiting for her ahead. But she knew one thing: she couldn't turn her back on that photo anymore, even at the cost of her own safety.

Before leaving the office, Minh Tuan called her back. "One more thing," he said, his voice low. "If you plan to meet that man again, don't tell him you found out your true identity right away. A person who has had to fake his own death to survive for four years certainly has a very high defensive instinct. If he feels exposed, his first reaction will be to run away, not open up his trust."

"You're right," Ha nodded, taking that advice to heart. "I'll be careful."

On the way home, she stopped by a small cafe near the studio, sat alone by the window, ordered a cup of hot tea but didn't touch it. Her mind kept returning to the image of Phan Gia Bao in the old article - a young, enthusiastic engineer who absolutely believed in the safety of the projects he was in charge of. Then she thought of the man named "Nam" with greasy hands, tired eyes, living quietly in a small alley, doing a job completely opposite to the profession he once pursued.

What could make such a talented person give up his entire identity, career, and perhaps even his family, to live in hiding for four years? The only answer Ha could think of, based on everything she knew up to now, was a fear so great that continuing to live under her true identity was scarier than disappearing from the world completely.

She pulled out her phone and searched for the phrase "Phan Group project incident" online, but couldn't find any notable results - it seemed like all negative traces had been cleaned up a long time ago. She turned off her phone, sighed and looked out the window of the cafe, where people were still rushing back and forth as if there were no secrets silently existing in the heart of this city.

"If I can't find it from the outside," she told herself, "then I have to find it from within."

And in her mind, there was only one person who could be the starting point for that journey - the man repairing a car in a small alley, with the fake name "Nam", but perhaps carrying in his heart all the answers she was looking for.

She paid the bill, walked out into the street, feeling the cool afternoon breeze brushing her face. There was a strange feeling creeping inside her—not purely professional curiosity anymore, but beginning to blend with something closer to personal concern for the strange man. She dismissed the thought as soon as she realized it, reminding herself that her only goal right now was to find the truth, not to get involved in something more complicated.