Chapter 3 — The Promise of a Demobilized Soldier

In a small house at the end of a quiet alley, little Vu Bao An lay curled up on the bed, his ears still ringing with the sound of strange men standing in the yard talking to his mother in the afternoon. Their voices filled with every word, making him scared even though he didn't fully understand the meaning. Mom then came into the room, hugged me, pretended like nothing happened, but her hand shook when stroking my hair, and her eyes were red even though she tried to smile.

Bao An is nine years old, but old enough to notice the difference in the family atmosphere these days. Since my father passed away, my mother smiled less. In the evenings, she often sat alone at the table, flipping through sheets of paper with dense numbers, sighing. One night I woke up and saw the desk lamp still on, my mother sitting there, her head resting on her arms, her shoulders shaking in silence. I didn't dare ask, I just quietly snuggled into the blanket, pretending to sleep again, my heart choked with an immature sadness that I didn't have enough words to name.

I still keep my father's old phone in my bedside drawer like a treasure. It was a regular phone with a scratched screen that my father used to contact his warehouse accounting job years before he fell ill. During the last days in the hospital, when he was rarely awake in the midst of pain, his father called him to his bedside, placed the phone in his hand, his voice whispering weakly but unusually serious.

"An, you keep this for me. I have saved a very important phone number in there. In the future, if something scares you or makes it too difficult for your mother and you don't know what to do, just dial that number. It's uncle Phong, my best friend, the person who saved my life on the battlefield. He will come to help you and me, remember?"

Bao An then just nodded, not fully understanding the gravity of his father's words, just remembering it as a sacred promise between father and son. Since my father passed away, I kept my phone carefully, occasionally secretly charging it, opening it up to look at some of the old photos my father kept in there, photos he took with my mother, with me, and an old black and white photo of my father and a few other soldiers standing in front of a military vehicle.

Tonight, after my mother thought I was fast asleep and quietly went out to the living room to answer the phone, a quiet but worried voice came through the door, Bao An got up and leaned close to the door to eavesdrop. I vaguely heard words like "repay debt", "land", "don't make me stress", a strange man's voice rang through her mother's phone, sharp and full of threats. Then the mother's voice, trembling but trying to stay calm: "Mr. Chan Long, my husband never borrowed anything from you, this is a mistake..."

The call hung up suddenly. Bao An heard his mother sigh deeply, then her mother's footsteps walking towards the bedroom, stopping in front of her child's door for a long time as if she wanted to hug her but stopped, afraid of waking her child from her sleep.

Bao An lay still in the dark, his heart pounding. I don't fully understand the adult story, but I understand one thing: Mom is scared, is carrying something too much on her own, and she doesn't want to let me know. The thought of my father's phone suddenly became clearer than ever in my mind. Father's words echoed back: "If anything scares you..."

I waited until the sound of my mother's footsteps in the next room had completely stopped and the light in her room had turned off, then I gingerly opened the drawer and took out my old phone. My hands trembled as I pressed the power button, the screen lit up dimly in the darkness of the room. I went through my phonebook and found the name my father had told me, a simple name that just said "Uncle Phong".

The little finger hesitated for a long time before pressing the call button. The bell rings, one, two, three times. I put the phone close to my ear, my heart was pounding, both scared and hoping someone would pick up.

On the other side of the city, in a small apartment above the company office, Thanh Phong was sitting thoughtfully next to a wooden memorabilia box, his mind still lingering on the memories he had just turned over. His phone rang suddenly, an unknown number appeared on the screen. He intended not to pick up the phone because it was late, but an indescribable premonition made him pick up the phone.

"Hello." He spoke, his voice low and a bit sleepy.

The other end of the line was silent for a few seconds, except for the sound of a child's rapid breathing. Then an immature, trembling voice rang out, making Thanh Phong's whole body immediately tense.

"Uncle... are you Uncle Phong? I'm An, Khang's father's son."

Thanh Phong jumped up from the chair as if he had been electrocuted, his hand tightening on the phone. "An? It's me, it's Uncle Phong. What's the matter? Tell me, don't be afraid."

"Uncle..." Little An's voice choked, as if trying to hold back tears. "Someone called my mother, threatened her, talked about money or something. I heard her talking to people about land. My mother was very scared, uncle. My mother cried all these days but did not dare to tell me. My father told me, if anything scares you, call me, I will come and help you and my mother..."

Every word the child said was like a knife cutting into Thanh Phong's heart. He closed his eyes, and the image of two strange men standing in Bao Chau's yard the previous afternoon appeared more clearly than ever. His hunch was correct. Something bad was happening to his deceased comrade's family, and he, over the past four months, out of respect for Bao Chau's dignity, had not been drastic enough to intervene sooner.

"I heard what you said." Thanh Phong tried to keep his voice as calm as possible to calm the panicked child. "Don't be afraid, don't tell anyone you called me, let me make the arrangements myself. I will come, I promise you. Is your mother home, are you okay?"

"My mother is in the room, she probably thought I was asleep. I'm fine, it's just... I'm afraid my mother will be too sad to say anything." Little An's voice was less shaky, perhaps because she heard the certainty in Thanh Phong's voice.

"Okay, good child, now put your phone away and go to sleep, don't let mom know you stayed up late on the phone. I'll come by tomorrow morning, I'll find a way to talk to your mom, don't worry anymore, I'm here." Thanh Phong said, trying to suppress his rising emotions so that his voice would not tremble in front of the child.

"Yes, thank you." Baby An whispered, then hung up.

Thanh Phong sat silently for a long time after the call, his hand still clenching the phone with the screen turned off. Outside the window, Tan Hoa's night was still quiet, but in his heart, a storm was forming. He remembered Khang's promise at his deathbed, his friend's steadfast eyes at the end of his life, and now, that promise was no longer an abstraction, but had become an urgent order that could not be delayed another moment.

He stood up, quickly put on his coat, put on his shoes, and walked out of the room. Even though it was past eleven o'clock at night, even though he could still wait until morning tomorrow, the soldier in him did not allow himself to hesitate any longer. Someone was threatening the wife and children of the teammate who sacrificed part of his body to save his life, and he wasn't going to let it continue another night.

He started the car and drove off into the night, with only one thought: he had to get there, he had to know what was really going on, and he had to face directly anyone who dared to touch his deceased friend's family.

The road to the small neighborhood where Bao Chau lived was deserted at nearly midnight, with only yellow streetlights shining down on the frost-covered asphalt surface. Thanh Phong drove slowly as he neared the end of the alley, turned off the headlights so as not to alert him, then stopped a distance from Bao Chau's house and sat quietly in the dark to observe. The house had turned off all the lights, only the dim light shining from the bedroom door. Perhaps Bao Chau still couldn't sleep after the threatening call just now. He didn't want to knock on the door at this hour, for fear of scaring her more or waking baby An up after just telling her to sleep peacefully. But he couldn't turn back the car and leave the mother and child alone to face that fear all night.

He pulled out his phone and called Ben even though it was late. Ben's sleepy voice rang out after a few rings. "Mr. Phong, you're still calling at this hour, what's going on?"

"Bang, wake up, it's urgent." Thanh Phong spoke briefly, his eyes still not leaving the house in front. "Ms. Chau's family, Khang's wife, is being threatened by someone about money and land. Baby An just called me and overheard Ms. Chau talking on the phone with someone named Chan Long or something."

The other end of the line was silent for a second, then Ben's voice became completely serious. "Chan Long? I've heard that name vaguely in the wholesale market, the traders are very scared, I heard they control the whole Tan Thoi area. What are you planning to do?"

"I don't know the details yet. Tomorrow I'll meet Ms. Chau and ask for more details. But do me a favor and quietly ask my fellow veterans to see if anyone knows about this name Chan Long. The more detailed the better. I have a feeling this isn't simple." Thanh Phong advised, his voice regaining the familiar calmness of a commander.

"Okay. Don't worry, I'll take care of it." Ben replied briefly, then hung up.

Thanh Phong sat a while longer in the car, his eyes watching the dim light in the bedroom window until it completely turned off. Perhaps Bao Chau had fallen asleep from exhaustion. He let out a long breath, feeling relief mixed with sadness. He didn't go into the house that night, just quietly sat watch for another half hour before turning on the engine and returning, telling himself that tomorrow morning he must find a way to talk frankly with Bao Chau, no matter how many times she refused. The promise he made to Khang did not allow him to step back another day.