It was mid-summer, but there was no sorching sunlight, as one might have expected in the typically tropical weather of Southeast Asia. Instead it featured lower temperatures found at this high altitude. Additionally, the abundant trees offered ample canopy, providing shade to the ground and further cooling the heat. Sometimes, it felt like a slice of heaven, with a gentle breeze that carried a refreshing touch of coolness. The atmosphere on the ground seemed disconnected from the sweltering heat of the sun. This was the typical summer weather in mountainous areas, and Lung Cu was no exception. Situated at the northernmost point of Vietnam, it was remote enough to deter any potential adversaries from attempting to track you down.

In a quiet corner of the forest, a babbling brook meandered through, splitting the open area into two. The brook, albeit small with a span of merely five meters, possessed shallow yet crystal-clear water that spilled gently across the terrain, revealing rocks scattered along its bed. When the water ran so clear, fishing could prove to be quite the challenge, an undeniable truth for most, unless you had a unique technique. Fortunately, Dinh was no ordinary angler; in fact, she was quite the master.

She had lived with her grandpa in this remote haven for twenty years, gaining fithteen years of experience in such skills. Dinh boasted a medium build with a slender frame, yet her shoulders were surprisingly broad, and her limbs quite long and strong. Observing her effortlessly wield a lengthy spear for hours and manage two gigantic bundles of firewood heaped along the brook's bank, collected earlier in the morning for fuel, might have conjured an image of masculinity. However, this perception faded upon casting one's gaze upon her face.

She possessed quite elegant features, you might say – an oval face framed by watery big eyes, a straight nose bridge, and round lips. Her shoulder-length, shiny black hair was tied behind her neck in a simple tail, exposing her slender neck, which seemed pale as porcelain under the relentless sunlight. As the day grew hotter, beads of sweat formed, and her cheeks took on a rosy hue, making her appear even fresher than a peach. Yet, this girl had no concept of beauty or any preconceived notions about human appearance. The only person she had ever known was her grandpa, who had raised her in this secluded place. His words about Tu'ancestral artistry echoed in her mind now. According to him, this artistry boiled down to just two words: 'Focus and speed.' And he believed that these were the keys to success in any endeavor, or at the very least, to catching fish. Dinh was about to put this into practice. She stood as still as a statue, her gaze locked onto the fish, her body as rigid as if she were an inanimate object. She waited patiently until the moment came when the targeted big fish drew near, and then, with lightning-fast speed, she struck. The water erupted with a 'splash,' and her spear found its mark in the fish's midsection. She caught seven in total, more than enough for the day. With her catch secured, she decided it was time to head home.

It took her 2 kilometers from the stream to her home, a small bamboo house nestled in the heart of the forest. The house was isolated from the touch of human civilization, surrounded by vast fields where they grew crops and vegetables. During the fall, the air turned dry, and the fields were adorned with soybean plants, their lush greenery stretching for miles. Dinh found immense satisfaction in the sight of those fields. Her grandpa used to prepare soybean soup for them, a dish he claimed to be unique in the world and a part of their Tu'ancestral artistry. He took immense pride in every aspect of their way of life, attributing it to this mysterious artistry. Although Dinh had no one else to confirm these claims, she had diligently learned and mastered these skills over the years. But now, in the midst of summer, soybeans were nowhere to be found. Instead, she longed for a refreshing cup of rice milk, her customary snack after a day's work in the great outdoors.

As she headed to the garden in front of the house, she called out for her grandpa, but there was no response. She continued her search, thinking he might be somewhere in the garden, but there was nothing. Upon reaching the door, she was taken aback to find a large rectangular box positioned right in the center of their small living room. Intrigued, she circled around it, taking a closer look. The box measured 2 meters in length and 1 meter in width, its surface meticulously polished and adorned with lotus and fish motifs—her grandpa's favorite images. Dinh couldn't contain her curiosity and asked herself, 'God, what is this thing called?' With trembling hands, she lifted the lid of the box. Suddenly, her grandpa's face appeared, and a shriek escaped her throat, piercing the silence. The figure inside the box sprang up, startling her grandpa awake:

'What's going on? Is it an earthquake, a thief, or a tiger?' He looked around frantically to find his niece crouching on the ground.

"'Grandpa, what is this for?' 

'Of course, it's my coffin, my new home in the other world.' 

In her limited understanding of her people's customs, this concept was unfamiliar to her. She vaguely recalled hearing about this type of box in a fairy tale, but it was meant for the deceased. Disturbed by the idea, panic crept in and she blurted out: 'Oh, you're crazy. You're as strong as the strongest person in the world.'

 'I'm just preparing for when the time comes.'

'Please, God, get rid of it.'

'No, it's my treasure. I want to display it in the living room where I can see it all the time.'

'Wow! You scared me.'

'Don't talk about it like it's disposable. Remember, it took me years to select the finest wood and months later to craft it to perfection.'

'That explains your mysterious disappearances after meals. You told me you were going to clear more land for the next soybean crop,' Dinh scolded him for his lies.

'Oh, yes. I needed a quiet place to work on my final masterpiece,' Mr. Tu responded calmly.

'Oh, Grandpa, don't scare me with that word,' Dinh said, she was intimidated as she heard the word 'final.' It felt like her grandpa could die at any moment, threatening her with fear and uncertainty, tears welling up in her eyes.

'Haha, it's in the distant future, not now, my girl. Grandpa is just preparing his final resting place ahead of time,' Mr. Tu reassured her as he gently changed the subject.

'Look at how many fish you've caught today, Dinh,' her grandpa said as he ruffled her hair and peered into her basket.

'You must be hungry, Dinh. There's some cold rice milk in the kitchen; have some. Let me prepare the fish for lunch—fried or steamed, my princess?' Grandpa asked.

However, Dinh didn't answer; her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of death, and she couldn't savor the taste of her favorite rice milk or the upcoming lunch. Even as her grandpa compromised to store the coffin, she couldn't shake off her feeling of unease. She remained quiet for the rest of the day.

Death was something vague and distant to a girl like Dinh, who lived in the mountains and rarely made contact with other humans. She had only encountered the reality of it once when she was six years old; her grandpa had wanted to purchase some Cordyceps.

It was a type of fungus that thrived in the winter when the larvae of specific insects were born. These larvae became exposed to the Cordycep fungus, rapidly growing and absorbing all the nutrients from it, transforming the fungus into a dry body. This process usually concluded in the summer when the fungus emerged from the lifeless chrysalis, giving it the appearance of a chrysalis with a mushroom on top. In Vietnam, Cordyceps was known as 'Dong trung ha thao,' signifying its transformation from larva-like in the winter to plant-like in the summer. It had been used for centuries for its immune-boosting properties. While various types of Cordyceps existed worldwide, according to Mr. Tu, the highest quality Cordyceps could be found in Lung Cu. The unique soil composition, the Earth and Sun life force had gathered in this region since the dawn of life on this planet, all of that conditions created the most precious medicinal Cordyceps. This was the most critical ingredient in his tonic recipe. Mr. Tu would combine Cordyceps with some secret herbs and then wait for six months of soaking. Then, every freezing morning in the winter, they would start the day with a small cup of that magic drink to counteract the harsh winter in this mountainous area, where the temperature would drop to zero degrees, and sometimes it had bitterly cold fog. Because of its precious medical value, Cordyceps was exorbitant to the Tu's family. They had to save for months to afford it, usually purchasing it only once a year in the local market. Periodically, they ventured to the market only a few times a year, a ten-kilometer journey for trade. The market occurred just twice a month and drew various minor ethnic groups scattered throughout the region. There, they sold colorful fabrics, fresh local produce, household goods, and some exotic delicacies. But this time, they arrived at the market late because her grandpa had been busy removing Dinh's two baby teeth. By the time they reached the market, it was almost closing, and all the Cordyceps were sold out. However, a kind seller informed them that he had some at his home and offered to lead them there. Since the man's house was on the way back home, her grandpa decided to accompany him.

After walking for two hours, they finally arrived at the man's house, which was situated on the hillside and elevated on stilts with many chickens underneath. The man invited them in for tea and assured them that the Cordyceps were right behind his garden.

Mr. Tu immediately inquired about the origin of the Cordyceps. 'Are they cultivated?' he asked.

'No, they are wild. I found them deep in the farthest forest. They were immature, so I dug up their entire colonies and brought them home. We Ede people never lie. If you don't believe me, you can come with me to see for yourself,' the man confirmed.

Mr. Tu expressed his surprise, saying, 'Oh, I thought you were Mong people. Why are Ede people living here?'. Ede was one of the minority groups residing in Tay Nguyen, the Central Highlands of Vietnam.

The man responded irritably, 'We can live wherever we like.'

Mr. Tu continued his inquiries, asking, 'Alright, but how long will it take for this process?' He glanced at his niece, suspecting her concern. The man reassured him, saying, 'Don't worry about your niece; she can play with my kids. It will take just a short while.'

Finally, Mr. Tu agreed to follow the man, and they descended to the front yard. The man introduced Dinh to his four children, who were about her age and were running around the yard, playing house-building games. At first, the five children eyed each other curiously, but like children everywhere, they quickly bonded with each other, greatefully playing together. Mr. Tu felt reassured as he followed the man to his field.

As the kids grew bored with one game, they decided to play hide and seek. Unfortunately, a little boy ended up being the seeker, and the other kids quickly scattered to find hiding spots. Dinh felt perplexed, trying to decide where to hide. By the time the boy had almost counted to 50, halfway through the hiding time, she spotted what seemed like a house to the north end of their play area. It was nearly invisible, hidden by the dense branches of trees surrounding it. She dashed towards it, opened the door, and frantically scanned for a hiding place, but found nothing.

Inside the house, a damp atmosphere hung heavily, and the low ceiling seemed to stifle any sense of life. The house was almost empty, except for an altar in the center, upon which stood a small statue. However, this statue was far from ordinary; it had an intimidating, ferocious face and an unusual posture. Its two hands were pressed close in front of its chest, resembling a prayer, yet it stood on one leg, while the other formed a 90-degree angle with the standing leg. Dinh couldn't tear her gaze away from the statue for a moment, and goosebumps began to rise on her skin. Desperate to find a hiding spot, she tried to look away.

That's when she noticed several large boxes standing vertically in the corners of the room. They were all painted black and each about a meter tall, quite narrow in width, but just enough to fit a child. With determination, she approached one and lifted the lid. It was tight and firm, but to a girl accustomed to chopping big trunks for fuel or carrying heavy water buckets from the stream to her home as part of her daily chores, this was no challenge at all. After a second try, the heavy lid sprang open. However, in her panic, a figure resembling a person but devoid of flesh popped up from the box. Its skull was encased in a cavern of eyes, and its mouth stretched grotesquely wide, almost spanning the entire face, with two hollows on each side. Frightened by this wrathful demon, a blood-curdling scream escaped her lips before darkness overcame her, and she fainted. For hours later, she was in a daze until someone called her, and as she opened her eyes, she found herself in a bed surrounded by her grandpa and the man's family. The man seemed in his tantrum; he stared at her and roared:

'I can't tolerate this anymore; How disrespectful to my family'

'I'm truly sorry for what happened; please forgive my innocent niece. She didn't know about it' her grandpa apologized, his eyes conveying sincerity and deep regret.

'I'll pay you double for the Cordyceps as a heartfelt apology,' he added honestly.

Turning to Dinh, her grandpa signaled for her to apologize to the man. Dinh didn't fully comprehend what had happened, but she could sense the tense atmosphere. She stood up, crossed her arms in front of her chest, and nodded her head, displaying the utmost respect of saying sorry.

The man seemed relieved and even showed kindness by offering her a warm cup of honey with cinnamon to calm her down. He then escorted them to the gate for their departure back home. As they returned home, Dinh felt safer. Her grandpa explained to her that the figure she had referred to as a demon was actually a skeleton from the man's father. Their tradition involved storing the remaining skeleton, with the belief that they would maintain a spiritual bond and seek guidance from the deceased. It was the first time in her life that she had heard about death, but the horrifying sight of the skeleton overshaddowed its meaning. Coupled with the winter meals lacking red meat as a consequence of the splurge on Cordyceps. That was all she had about death. This memory had seemingly been forgotten but was now brought back to her by her grandpa's coffin. The thought of her grandpa eventually becoming a skeleton sent shivers down her spine as she was hardly drifting into a rough sleep.