Chapter 7 — When the Wind Crosses the Porch

Seven families living around the embankment no one wanted to sit at the same table. Some say Mai's father helped them, others say he just kept the money. Another person doesn't remember what he signed. Mai went from house to house, carrying a copy of the notebook and no promises.

The first person is Mrs. Lai, who has a letter of thanks. The woman sold dried fish on the porch, her hands dark with salt. She listened to Mai's words, then took out a plastic box containing the hospital receipt from the refrigerator.

“Your father pays my grandchild once,” she said. "He didn't say whose money it was. The person who came to collect it later was named Hau."

“Did you give it back?”

"Yes. Hau said it was borrowed money. She gave all her savings."

Mai opens the book, the expense is written "Jasmine - medicine, non-refundable". Mrs. Lai looked at the handwriting, her eyes were red. “So he didn't make you pay?”

"Are not."

“How do you know?”

“Because you wrote it.”

Mrs. Lai was silent for a moment, then gave another small slip. The collector stamped the boat upside down. She kept it because she thought one day she would need to prove she had paid it.

The second family is Mr. Dat, a boat mechanic. He was bent over removing a water pump. When he heard Mai's father's name, he immediately said: "I don't want to get involved."

“Have you ever received money to repair a computer?”

“Receive and return.”

“Pay to whom?”

“For the woman to wear glasses.”

“Good?”

Dat nodded. "She said that if she didn't pay, the land would be transferred. I thought it was money her father advanced. Later I found out my name was on the land sale list."

He took out a goods book and pointed to the date. Hao came to collect money twice, each time accompanied by someone. The other person wore an ankle-shaped ring.

“Do you see his face?”

"Not sure. But he sounds like someone from the cooperative."

The third house, Ms. Tam, closed the door. Mai called many times, no one answered. At night, she texted that she didn't want to talk. The last message added a sentence: "Your father saved me, but I cannot save him again."

Mai replied: "You don't need to save him. You just need to say what you know."

Ms. Tam called back ten minutes later. "I have a recording of the meeting. But if I hand it over, my husband will lose his job."

“You can send it to the lawyer anonymously.”

“It's anyone's guess.”

"I don't promise to cover all risks. I just promise not to let you stand alone."

Ms. Tam remained silent, then arranged to meet at the abandoned church at the end of the neighborhood.

Quan went with Mai, but stood far away when Tam arrived. She handed over a memory card, saying it recorded a meeting about changing land boundaries. The old headmaster's voice asked to "take the seven households out with a power of attorney". Vinh objected, saying the signature was invalid. Hao asked who would be responsible. Another, calmer voice replied: “No one will if the list has been sealed.”

That voice belongs to Luu Van Thanh.

“Did Vinh try to stop you at that time?” Mai asked.

“Yes, but he still signed the delivery form.”

"Why?"

"I do not know."

Ms. Tam held Mai's hand. "Your father knew about it. He said if we kept quiet, our children would not have a place to return to in the future."

“Why is everyone still quiet?”

Ms. Tam laughed, very softly. “Because we think people with money will win, and people with children in school are not allowed to be heroes.”

Mai couldn't refute. That statement is true for her mother.

That night, the seven households met for the first time in many years at Sau Luu's house. Some people sit close to the door, some people sit near the lights, no one looks directly at each other. Mai placed the map in the middle of the table.

"I don't ask everyone to sue right away. I need to confirm each payment, each signature, each collection."

Mr. Dat said: "If confirmed, will the land return?"

"I don't know yet."

“So what do we get?”

Mai answered truthfully: "Maybe I only have the right to say my name correctly in the file."

Mrs. Lai nodded first. “I sign.”

The others looked at each other. Ms. Tam raised her hand and placed it on the map. Mr. Dat finally signed the confirmation list, but told him not to put his name in the newspaper.

Sau Luu gave each person a copy, clearly stating that it was not an official complaint. Quan checks ID numbers and dates to avoid errors.

While they worked, Hanh did not speak. She sat on the porch, her ankle ring under her sleeve. Mai saw it but didn't ask.

Near midnight, a strange man stood at the gate. He was about sixty, wearing a white shirt, combed back hair, and thin glasses. He introduced himself as Phuc, son of the former head of the cooperative and currently deputy director of Huong Duong.

“I want to talk to Miss Mai privately,” he said.

“Say it here,” Mai replied.

Phuc looked at the people in the room. "You're dragging the whole neighborhood into a fruitless case. I can help you back out."

“With money?”

"By keeping the house for your mother. We will exchange it for another land."

“Where is the land?”

“Resettlement area.”

“There are seven households left?”

“They will receive compensation.”

“Follow the wrong map?”

Phuc smiled. "You're more like your father than you think. He also believed that papers could save lives."

"Documents don't save people. Only those who edit documents do harm."

“Do you know your father received money from me?”

“I have a receipt.”

"The receipt says he received it. How are you going to explain that?"

“By handing over money.”

“The notebook was written by him.”

“Then let's find a recipient.”

Phuc looked at the seven people in the room. "Who will stand up and speak? Mrs. Lai? Mr. Dat? The people who received the money and then returned it? You guys are forcing yourself into a fraud."

Mrs. Lai stood up. "I'm not very literate, but I know my nephew's medical money is not borrowed money. If you want to say I'm cheating, just say it to my face."

Phuc did not reply. He turned to Mai: "You have three days. Then the company transfers the file to the inspector. No one likes to be investigated, including your mother."

Mai said: "Send it in writing. Don't use words."

Phuc walked out, leaving behind the scent of cold perfume. Hanh is still sitting on the porch. When everyone left, Mai came over.

“Whose mother's ring is it?”

Hanh hides her hand. “Mother's.”

“It looks like the one in the picture.”

“Mom bought it at the market.”

“Since when did you wear it?”

Hanh is quiet.

“Since the night Dad died?”

Hanh took off the ring and placed it on the table. The ring face has the shape of a fish facing the circle. The inside is engraved with the letter “P.”

“Phuc brought me,” she said. “He said it was a thank you gift for mom signing.”

Mai heard the sound of blood rushing in her ears. “Mom, did you accept his gift?”

"I didn't know it was a gift. He said to keep it for me."

“Like dad keeping money for others?”

Hanh slapped herself very lightly, as if trying to wake up the person in the mirror. "I thought if I took it, they would leave you alone. I was wrong."

Mai wanted to be angry, but saw her mother's wrists shaking. She picked up the ring and put it in her file bag. “From now on don't keep anything for them.”

Hanh did not object.

Lawyer Thu called and reported that he had seen seven confirmations and advised the establishment of a community representative group. She needs a local person to take charge, she can't just let Mai do it.

Mai tells the story of Phuc. The letter said: "Don't meet in person anymore. All communication is by email or with a third person. And check the ownership of your mother's house before they make a fake deposit."

“They haven't gotten the signatures yet.”

“They can get it by making you think you have no choice.”

Mai looked at the sealed tape that had been removed, then looked at her mother. She understands a home is threatened by more than just an excavator. It is threatened by fear, by each person thinking they are too small to speak up.

That night, seven households agreed to form a contact group. Duy creates a shared folder, each file has the date it was taken and the original holder. Quan checked the topographic map. Mai writes a list of questions for each person.

At the bottom of the list, she wrote: “Who was there at 9:17?”

Hanh stood behind and said: "Mom."

Mai is back. “Mom is in the warehouse?”

"Mom stood outside. But I heard someone say: 'If Hanh doesn't sign, she will lose her scholarship.'"

“Whose voice?”

Hanh looked at the ring in the file bag. “Phuc.”

Mai did not expect that the answer was already right in her house. She opened her laptop and created a new timeline. 8:41 enter school. 9:17 open warehouse. 9:23 Meet dad at the measuring station. 9:36 left the warehouse. At 10:02, an ambulance was called from an unknown number.

The gap between 9:36 and 10:02 was twenty-six minutes. Hanh said her father walked toward the embankment. No one knows who he met.

Mai put her finger on the time 9:17. “Tomorrow look for emergency call records.”

Quan replied: "And find the person who called."

Outside in the yard, Duy's radio suddenly made a hissing noise even though the battery was removed. A sentence mixed in with the noise, only two words could be heard: "Original."

Mai looked at her mother. Hanh closed her eyes, as if she had heard that sentence somewhere, seven years ago.

Mai doesn't go to sleep right away. She and Sau Luu set up a table on the porch and wrote down the names of each person present at the meeting. No one is recorded with a general role such as “household” or “witness”. Mrs. Lai wanted her name to include her middle name, Mr. Dat wanted to write the correct name of the factory, and Ms. Tam wanted to add her husband's name because he was the one holding the receipt. Those seemingly small details make the list slower, but make it a list of living people.

Hanh brought out a tray of tea and placed it in front of each person. She did not apologize further. She just asked them which address they wanted the copy to be sent to, whether they needed larger letters, and whether they wanted someone to read the terms again. Mai watched her mother work, understanding that the first correction was not a new signature but a way to ask if the other person understood or not.

That night, Mai wrote in the timeline: “9:17 — everyone started on the same side, but no one was forced to think the same.” She sent the recording to Thu, then turned off the phone. Outside the gate, the ankle ring lay in a file box, no longer a gift or a threat. It's just a piece of evidence waiting to be called by its right name.