Chapter 5 — The Snow Melts, The Sun Shines On The Green Mountains

When the meeting ended, more than half of the people had signed their names, but there were also people who held their pens in front of the paper and couldn't put them down. Ba La is one of them. She didn't know many words, so she flipped the contract over and over, her fingers kept stopping on the words "risk".

"Chieu Tinh, I believe in you. But what's written here is that you might lose money. If you lose money, will people take your house?"

There were people in the yard who were impatient for her.

"Whoever wants to take your two old houses, just sign first."

I took the pen from Mrs. La's hand.

"If you don't understand, don't sign. Whoever urged you today, will that person pay you back in the future?"

The other person immediately fell silent. I pulled a low chair to sit next to her, slowly explaining the capital contribution method, the conditions for withdrawing from the cooperative and the worst case scenario. She was still hesitant, so I told her to bring the contract home and ask her grandson who was working in town to look at it for her. Before leaving, Ms. La asked me in a low voice if I blamed her for not supporting me.

“When I was little, you made me a quilt, do I still have to sign my name to be counted as loving me?”

Her eyes turned red, she picked up the contract and hit my arm.

“Stop coaxing her. Wait until she understands and then come back.”

I do not advise further.

"Those who want to do it can start first. When the project is successful, others can join at any time according to regulations."

Luong Thu Nghia sat in the first row, waiting for everyone to leave before putting down his stick.

“Aren't you disappointed?”

“Why be disappointed? The number of people who agreed to do it was more than I expected.”

“When I was little, I wasn't that calm.”

“What would you have done as a child?”

“Lock everyone who doesn't agree into the village headquarters, starve them until they sign.”

I thought for a bit.

“It really works.”

He used his stick to tap the toe of my shoe. Project registration is more difficult than expected. The file was returned for correction several times. The financial regime is not complete, the planning must also be redone. After fixing one place, a problem arises elsewhere. I don't remember how many times I ran to the district. During that time, as soon as I smelled the smell of plastic in the long-distance car, I would instinctively touch my document bag, afraid that I had forgotten some form at the village headquarters. Someone advised me to ask someone I know. I replied:

“Wherever the file is wrong, correct it there, until it meets the requirements.”

The old leader at the company helped me write a purchasing proposal, but also said something unpleasant in advance.

“The quality is unstable, I still return the goods as usual.”

"If you don't pay, I won't even dare to sign."

Before fall, the project passed the first round of approval. But the road repair got stuck. The optimal route in the planning must go through the old rice drying yard east of the village. Next to the drying yard there is a hundred-year-old Ao dai tree, under the tree is placed the merit stele of the first people to reclaim Thanh Thach Ao. Luong Quoc Dong was the first to object.

“Roads can be detoured, targets cannot be touched.”

The engineer opens the drawing.

“If we go around, it will be one kilometer longer, increase the cost by nearly two million, and the slope will also exceed the standard.”

“Then don't fix it anymore.”

I closed the drawing.

“Dad, listen to the plan first.”

“There are no options.”

"The beer will be moved to the new square, restored to its original state. The tree will be moved by a professional team, they say it is possible. very high vitality.”

“How high is very high? If the tree dies, who will bear it?

“Any option has risks.”

He stood up and left.

“You were taught how to calculate money, but don't bring your ancestors into the calculation.”

That sentence was like a rock being pounded down, making the whole yard not dare to move. I chased it to the door, the words were on the tip of my tongue, but in the end I swallowed them back. That night, I went to the rice drying yard to look at the drawing. Under the tree there is a flashlight. Luong Quoc Dong was squatting in front of the stele, using a wet towel to wipe every bit of mud in the stone crack. His father's name is engraved on the stele. Only then did I remember that my eldest father lost his father when he was sixteen years old. Reclamation, digging ditches, carrying stones, stories I had only read about in village history were the life he actually lived through. I wanted to move a rock, but what he heard sounded like someone wanted to take his father away again. I didn't step forward, just stood behind the tree for a while. The wind blew the drawing making a flapping sound. He raised his head to see me, but didn't ask me why I was hiding there.

“Does the road have to go through here?”

“The engineer said this route is the safest. The detour is too steep, it freezes in winter, big trucks can't get up.”

He wiped the corner of the beer one more time.

“How many times did you fall when you were in school?”

“I don't remember.”

“I remember.”

He wringed the towel dry then stood up and left. The next day, I invited engineers and cultural preservation staff to the village headquarters and presented all the options. Costs, risks, future maintenance, anyone with questions can ask directly. Luong Quoc Dong still had a black face, but no longer said "don't fix it". People in the village showed up one by one. Before voting, Trieu Khanh Phat picked up an old wooden box and placed it on the table.

“This is what my grandfather left behind.”

Inside the box is a donation book to repair yellowed roads. ### 7 The donation book dates back more than forty years ago. At that time, Thanh Thach Ao wanted to fix the first motorized road. Each family contributes money and contributions. The numbers recorded in the book are not large, after some people's names there are even only a few baskets of food. On the last page is an application that has not yet been sent. Above is written: Roads are not clear, goods cannot get out, children have difficulty going to school, and sick people have difficulty getting down the mountain. Several decades have passed, what the people in the village want are still just these things. ## Chapter 5 Trieu Khanh Phat scratched his head.

“My grandfather was the bookkeeper that year. I used this thing as a table leg before, but I took it out last night and saw it."

Luong Thu Nghia flipped to the last page, his finger stopped there for a long time.

"That year there wasn't enough money, so in the end it couldn't be fixed."