Chapter 25 — Wedding Day Without Bride

Khuong Van raised her head. Ta Nghien Chu did not stare into her eyes, nor did he ask the questions that she was tired of hearing. He just gently pushed the painting onto the table:

"If it's fake, I hope you'll just say it frankly. The father is old and the most taboo is being deceived by others."

Khuong Van looks at the picture:

"The painting is real, but the title was added later. The value will be halved."

Ta Nghien Chu nodded:

“I understand.”

Deputy Nhat Ninh mumbled next to him:

"Why doesn't this guy argue back a couple of times? It doesn't make up for the people in Bac Thanh who jump up every time they hear it's fake."

Ta Nghien Chu heard this and laughed softly:

“If you keep arguing with a fake, it's not sincere, and if you're real, you're not afraid of people criticizing you.”

Khuong Van also smiled. Aunt Lam stood outside the door and saw it, quietly retreating out. * Days in Nam Thanh are starting to get busy. During the day Khuong Van appraises paintings, at night restores the notes her mother left behind. Her eyes couldn't look at the light for too long. Every time Ta Nghien Chu brought documents, she would conveniently pull the curtain to block out the light to a moderate level, but never say a single unnecessary word. Pho Nhat Ninh looked at him and blinked continuously:

"Miss Khuong, does he mean something to you?"

Khuong Van folded the manuscript:

“Are you done packing the box yet?”

Deputy Nhat Ninh immediately shut up. A month later, Pho Thinh Lan sent a letter. Not a request for a reunion, just an invoice and a short sentence: *"I will pay off all the debt on time. I wish you a peaceful life from now on."* Khuong Van stuffed the letter in a drawer, without reply. Pho Nhat Ninh poked his head in and asked:

“Are you really not answering?”

Khuong Van took her mother's green stone seal and stamped it on the last page of the appraisal book that had just been edited:

“Not answering is also a kind of answer.”

Pho Nhat Ninh thought for a moment and nodded:

"Then I understand. He pays, you receive. He apologizes, you don't need to accept."

Auntie Lam walked in carrying tea, heard this sentence, and rarely spoke up in praise:

"It's not a waste of time to carry the box. Carry it until your brain clears."

Pho Nhat Ninh immediately straightened his back:

“Auntie Lam, can I carry two less boxes today?”

“No way.”

Outside the yard, Aunt Trieu's laughter rang out. * Half a year later, the verdict for Hua Tri Ha and Do Minh Vien was implemented. Hua Tri Ha was sentenced to prison for theft, extortion and document falsification. The conversation history that Hua's mother released also made it impossible for Pho's mother to escape guilt. Pho's mother was convicted of inciting and intentionally causing injury. The woman who once loved face the most, ended up being avoided by her old relatives outside the courthouse. Do Minh Vien was expelled from the Academy of Fine Arts, and all exhibitions with his name were removed. What he feared most was not going to jail, but the fact that no one would call him "Teacher Do" anymore. After selling the gallery, Pho Thinh Lan rented a small office in Bac Thanh, specializing in arranging paintings for people to earn money to pay off debts. Lao Chau occasionally came to Nam Thanh to deliver documents and said that now he rarely speaks, every time he sees the Khuong family name, he washes his hands before daring to touch the documents. Khuong Van just said: "Just pay your debt on time." Autumn, Institute of Fine Arts Nam Thanh organizes an exhibition of Khuong Van Duong's relics.

"Xuan Son Vu Hau" is hung in the main hall, next to the portrait of the other 16 year old. The young girl in the painting is sitting under a pomegranate tree, her eyebrows are radiant, as if she had never been imprisoned by darkness.

On the opening day, there were a lot of people. There were veteran collectors, there were people who were skeptical of Khuong Van, and there were also many guests who came all the way from Bac Thanh. Pho Nhat Ninh wore the uniform of the Academy of Fine Arts, stood outside the registration door, and was so busy that he was sweating profusely