Chapter 3 — There Are Wounds That Only Truth Can Heal

Lam Tinh concluded immediately.

"Those two people agreed to testify before."

She looked at me seriously.

"Van Ninh, I have to say something, don't be angry."

"His mother-in-law..."

"I've known her for more than ten years."

"She's not the type of person who suddenly calls just to comfort her daughter-in-law."

"Today's call..."

"It's to speak for someone."

I quietly peeled the sweet potato. Do not respond. Lam Tinh lowered his voice.

"Do you think..."

"Does your husband know the boy's biological mother?"

"I don't know."

"But you're suspicious."

I don't deny it.

"So what are you going to do?"

"Wait for the file."

"Waiting for the results of the assessment."

I calmly replied.

"Before everything becomes clear..."

"I won't conclude anything."

"I also won't let anyone know how far I'm investigating."

Lam Tinh looked at me for a long time. Then break the sweet potato in half and stuff the larger part into my hand.

"You're so calm."

"So calm that no one can guess what's going on in your mind."

She sighed softly.

"I will wait with you."

"If you need anything, just open your mouth."

A few days later. The pharmacy is still open as usual. I still import goods. Consulting customers at the counter. On the surface, life seems like nothing has changed. Tran Dich stopped by once. He asked when the health examination results would be available. I said the appointment hasn't arrived yet. Tell him to come back and wait. He nodded, turned around to leave. But as soon as he took two steps, he turned back. He took out a yellow paper envelope from his backpack.

"This is what grandma left me."

"She told..."

"After finding the person whose name is listed in the household registration book..."

"Then show it to that person."

I take it. Don't open it right in front of him. Wait for him to leave the shop. I just locked the office door behind me. Only then did I take out the envelope. Inside there are two items. One is a black and white photo. In the photo, a young girl is holding a newborn baby. Eyes red from tears. But the corners of his lips smiled. The remaining item is a handwritten piece of paper. The shaky handwriting of an old person. Written on it:

"Dich Dich.

My mother's name is Tran Nhuoc Mai. She's my father's girlfriend, Tran Quoc Binh. When I was born in 2007, my father passed away in an accident. My mother gave birth and raised me alone, but later died of a serious illness. My household registration is because my mother asked an acquaintance to do it for me. That person used the name of a kind person. She also never knew who that person was. When you grow up, if you find someone whose name is in the household registration book... Please replace your mother and say thank you to that person." I read that piece of paper three times in a row. Use the name of a kind person. It's not like I registered myself. It's not like I agreed to lend my name. Someone arbitrarily used my identity to create a household registration for a completely strange child. Who is that person anyway? Wednesday morning. The county archives called me.

"Miss Co, the original civil registration records for the period 1900 to 2007 that you requested have been extracted."

"You can come and look up."

I put down the accounting book. Tell Tieu Tang to look after the store alone this afternoon. Then put on your shirt and go outside. The records reading room is located on the third floor of the archives. If you want to see documents, you must present identification. Photography is not allowed. Only handwritten notes are allowed. The staff brought a thick original file book in front of me. The time period has been marked need to look up. I turned to the civil registration section of 2007. Slowly looking through each page. It took about ten minutes... I finally found it. The page has yellowed over time. All written with fountain pen. The handwriting is neat. The seal of the officer in charge is stamped in the lower right corner. The first line clearly states: Head of household: Co Van Ninh. Added household member: Tran Dich. Relationship: Eldest son. Date of birth: April 22, 2007. Signed by applicant: Co Van Ninh. I stared at that signature line for a long time. Not my signature. In my writing habit, the last stroke of the word "Ninh" is always raised upwards. It's a habit I've had since middle school. It hasn't changed in so many years. But the signature in the file... The last stroke of the word "Ninh" goes straight down. That point alone... Is enough to prove everything. I asked for a blank piece of paper. Right in the file reading room, carefully copy the entire signature structure. Every stroke of the pen. Each direction of each stroke. I recorded not a single detail. Then turn to the last page of the profile. The name of the person directly handling the matter is clearly visible before your eyes. Kim Ba Group. Date of procedure: May 14, 2007. Doan Kim Ba... I also copied that name. As soon as I arrived at the pharmacy, I immediately texted Lam Tinh.

"Do you know anyone who used to work in the archives or civil status department? Preferably someone who is retired and worked around 2007."

Lam Tinh responded almost immediately.

"Yes. A regular customer at my spa, her husband used to work as a civil registrar at the police station, and just retired last year. What do you want to ask?"

"Help me ask if a person named Doan Kim Ba ever worked in the system in 2007."

"Okay. I'll answer tonight."

The next day, after getting the medical examination results... The DNA assessment was also sent to me. The conclusion is very clear. There isn't any ambiguity. Exclude blood relations. Tran Dich and I... have no mother-son relationship. I put the results in the cowhide envelope containing the handwritten letter from his grandmother. Then place it next to the copy of the signature you just copied from the archive. That day, Ha Kien Minh came home nearly an hour earlier than usual. Just changing his shoes at the door, he asked:

"Do you have the results of the assessment?"

He walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa. On his face appeared an expression that was difficult to describe. Not sure if it's tension... Or waiting.

"What was the result?"

I looked straight into his eyes.

"Not my child."