''Dinh, wake up!' her grandpa's voice echoed around the house at around 5 pm. After waiting for a while without a reply, Mr. Tu went to her room and knocked on the door relentlessly. 'Tu Dinh Doan Dinh, the sun is up and now it's going down. Why aren't you up yet?'
'Yes, Grandpa,' she replied.
But after 5 minutes, there was still no sign of her coming out of her bedroom. Her grandpa came to wake her up again.
'Do you want to lie till night or become an owl? Get up, lazy bones!'
'Yes, Grandpa,' she responded.
'Bring your 'Yes' to the garden, or I will split your bed into wood fuel,' he threatened.
A minute later, Dinh stood up in the garden for her martial arts training, a custom she had followed since she was 6. Despite the weather, she would practice under her grandpa's supervision. According to Mr. Tu, the Tu family boasted 1000 years of martial art skills. Unfortunately, her parents had passed away earlier, leaving no nephew for him but only a niece. Thus, she had to maintain the Tu family tradition as the sole descendant, which also involved defending against wild feral creatures in the deep forest.
Typically, she would run 2 rounds in the nearby hill, but today she needed a break due to a hard night's sleep.
'That's because of your coffin, Grandpa. I slept around 3 am,' she explained.
'Don't blame my beautiful box. Okay, I'll grant you a break today.'
Instead of running, Mr. Tu allowed her to practice archery, which aligned perfectly with the Tu family's slogan, 'Focus and Speed.' It was ideal for shooting the flying bird, but they didn't always have birds in the sky during their training sessions. Mr. Tu coped with the situation through his invention. He set up a rack with a wheel at its bottom and hung various objects on it. The distance for Dinh to shoot could be flexibly adjusted, from 5 meters to the furthest spot in the garden, up to 100 meters. Mr. Tu believed it was essential to shoot at moving targets, simulating real-life scenarios. He would pull the string tied to the rack and run around the garden, sometimes up the hill, challenging Dinh to trace and shoot. Her training only stopped when she hit 5 targets, but today everything wasn't going smoothly.
'Ten fails in 20 minutes! Don't you want your breakfast?' Mr. Tu measured her work based on food, indicating that if she was lazy, there would be no meal for the day.
'It's because of sleeping problems, Grandpa. I'd rather sleep than eat breakfast,' she replied.
'Fine, do what you want, as long as you show up for the training in the afternoon.'
Normally, Dinh would eat breakfast and then do her daily work after the morning practice, such as gathering wood for fuel or tending to herbs and chores, before the afternoon practice a t aroun d 4 pm. But today, there was nothing she could do but sleep until 2 pm. When she woke up, she felt much better, although her mind occasionally wandered back to the issue of the nigh before, she urged her grandpa to set up practice earlier to shake off these irritations.
'Okay, go,' her grandpa said.
They would go to the nearby mountain, where Mr. Tu had set up a large board on the even slope of the cliff. The board was covered with different pictures of cooking ingredients. The exercise involved kicking a ball to these pictures, with the dinner being based on the exact number of cooking ingredients Dinh scored.
Mr. Tu would throw a ball to Dinh from different directions and distances each time. She had to track the ball to get it and then kicked it to the ingredient she wanted for dinner. The exercise resembled kicking a shuttlecock, but with multiple times the difficulty. The ball was about a pound and moved unpredictably, making it challenging to strike. She didn't realize her training surpassed that of world-class football players. However, if she hit 5 ingredients, it would mean a scrumptious supper. In many cases, she got nothing after 2 hours of training, which meant they would have no dinner that day.
If she claimed that her grandpa changed the practice because eating nothing made it hard to sleep, her grandpa would argued that he was old, so skipping dinner would be a healthy option. It also did a good thing for her — helped with weight loss. Then, their quarrel would like:
"But I don't need to lose weight," she retorted.
"So try harder next time; at least you should catch a dried fish. We'll then have plain rice and simmered fish — it's enough for dinner when life depends on a failure like you. Oh, how dare I look at our ancestors when I'll meet them in heaven with your performance. Why do I have a bad descendant like you?" her grandpa scolded.
"Grandpa, don't worry; who would ensure that you will go to heaven?"
"God, baster!" Her grandpa chased her around the mountain with his long cane.
Consequently, Dinh struggled to sleep during those days with her empty stomach. She woke up in the middle of the night, assuming her grandpa was asleep and sneaked into the kitchen, rummaging for food. However, as she opened the kitchen, a light turned on, revealing her grandpa's angry face. He beat her continuously with his cane, and the attack transformed magically under his masterful technique. Dinh struggled to avoid it. 'Stubborn! You're a loser and dishonest! I have to tear your bottom,' he shouted while beat her. Dinh had to evade his attacks and dart around the kitchen seeking an escape route. She jumped around the stove like a mouse sneaking into the kitchen and being pursued by a cat. Her eyes occasionally fixated on a dumpling on the dining table, only to receive a blow somewhere on her body the moment she bent down to grab the cake. She had to utilize all her skills to successfully flee there. Later, she realized that her grandpa's method was a way of providing her dinner, albeit through additional training. It was daunting; she normally ended up with a bottom canvas — bruises with an artistic flair, carefully curated by her grandpa bamboo cane. So, she dared to train harder to earn her meals rather than having dinner in this manner.
Bringing her mind back to the present with unwavering determination, she diligently aimed for the objects. Despite not having lunch that day, she managed to hit 5.
'Well, 5 potatoes, nothing because they are all nearby.'
'What could you expect? I haven't had anything in my stomach since breakfast.'
'Alright, training dismissed, potatoes for three days in a row. You want to torture this old man,' her grandpa exclaimed.
'The rules that you set, how about we change the practice?'
'Change your performance first, that's just an excuse for your laziness.'
Dinh shook her head to easily avoid his cane, realizing her grandpa's speed had slowed down and his strength had weakened. This frightened her deeply. She would have preferred to be beaten by him rather than witness his decline.
Then the next days unfolded exactly as the proverb foretold, 'Here today, gone tomorrow.' Dinh gradually shook off the incident, even amidst the busyness of her daily life. She had recently become caught up in the busiest season of the year: the Cheo mushroom harvest.
These mushrooms were named after the canopy of trees under which they grew. They had a taste like heaven and were used in numerous delicious recipes, from meticulous stews with various herbs simmered for hours to grilling them over an open fire, all of which would make your mouth water. Their crisp texture and rich umami flavor made these mushrooms unbeatable. Recently, people had discovered their medicinal values, causing their prices to skyrocket. Harvesting them became the main source of income for the Tu family each year.
These mushrooms appeared during the interseason period from summer to fall and existed for only one week, contributing to their scarcity. To harvest the most delicious mushrooms, timing was crucial. Mushroom pickers had to start early in the morning, collecting the mushrooms before their caps fully opened; otherwise, they were of subpar quality. Dinh typically woke up around 4 am during these days. She equipped herself from head to toe with waterproof gear, including a hat and bamboo raincoat, deer skin boots she had bought from an elderly Mong man, and of course, a sharp knife for clearing her path through the bush and for protection against any potential wildlife beast. While tigers or cheetahs weren't known to inhabit this region, in case she encountered a snake, the knife would come in handy. Dinh was the only one who knew precisely where to find the highest quality mushrooms and where they were most plentiful.
Crossing a long stream on the outskirts of the forest, she headed westward until she reached a small waterfall streaming down an area filled with Giang Giang trees and bushes. Dinh climbed up a rock, approximately 2 meters from the ground, where the water cascaded before continuing to flow downward. Without a moment's hesitation, she disappeared behind the curtain of water.
When it came to Cheo mushrooms, people usually searched for Cheo trees, neglecting that they also grew under Helzanut trees. This truth remained hidden until Mr. Tu accidentally stumbled upon it. One day, while he was collecting fuel in the forest, in the midst of those Giang Giang trees, he was thirsty, and his water bottle was running low. In his quest to find water, he ventured further into the forest, where he heard the sound of water clearly. He found a small waterfall with cold water that quenched his thirst instantly and tempted him to take a shower. Accidentally, he tripped over a rock and fell into the waterfall. Instead of crashing into a cliff, as he had expected, he landed on hard ground. Struggling to get to his feet, he found himself in a cave. It was almost dark, but only the light streaked through the cave on the other side. Curiosity, he followed the light until his eyes were momentarily blinded by the bright scene outside - a vast area densely populated with Helzanut trees. To his astonishment, Chao mushrooms were flourishing there.
Since that discovery, with each Helzanut or mushroom season, he brought his niece along to collect either mushrooms or Helzanut grains. On top of that, he wanted to ensure she learned the ropes of foraging in the jungle for the days when he would become too old for such a task.
Dinh was no stranger to the mushroom seasons, having ventured into the forest several times before. Arriving at the spot, the rising sun had yet to disappear the lingering fog, which draped a delicate, silvery curtain over the forest floor, the lower canopy of trees, and of course, the clusters of mushrooms. With careful hands, she plucked the bountiful mushrooms and deposited them into her woven basket. As the sun ascended higher, around 8 am, the remaining mushrooms burst forth from the earth with their caps fully formed, prompting Dinh to decide to head back home.
Approaching the gate, her ears caught the familiar call of her grandpa. 'Dinh, how did it go?' Mr. Tu asked expectantly.
'Great, grandpa! I managed to collect 5 kilograms today. I plan to return tomorrow for the rest,' Dinh replied, her satisfaction evident in her voice.
'Well done, well done,' Mr. Tu praised her, his face beaming with delight.
They made their way back to the kitchen, where she set aside a small portion of the mushrooms for her grandpa to make their lunch. Afterward, she took the basket to the fountain on the left side of the house to wash them. Given that the market was not open on the day of the harvest, she had to dry the mushrooms after each collection. Slicing the mushrooms into thin pieces, she laid them out to dry under the warm embrace of the sunlight. This meticulous process took several days, ensuring that the mushrooms were safeguarded against the perils of moisture-induced spoilage.
In the days that followed, while she embarked on her harvesting journeys, her grandpa dutifully looked after the mushrooms and greeted her with her favorite dishes upon her return. The mushroom season whisked by like a fleeting breeze, and after a week, they had accumulated 7 kilograms of dried mushrooms, ready to be sold in the upcoming market session. Over the years, Dinh had taken over the trading responsibilities, as her grandpa's ability to walk had diminished. Thus, on that particular morning, like countless others, she bid her grandpa farewell and set off for the market.
The mushrooms were highly sought after, so it was no surprise that they sold out quickly. This time, they helped her earn a thick wallet, she was on cloud nine. As it was still before noon, she decided to wander around the market for some shopping. Everything seemed to attract her. She thoroughly enjoyed the bustling sound of the market, with vendors energetically shouting out their wares and haggling over prices. The buzz of activity, combined with the sheer variety of colorful goods on display, made her excitement palpable. Moreover, there were brocades with intricate patterns adorning clothes, crafts, and accessories, all displayed along the street. Sparkling jewelry was in abundance and surprisingly affordable. Fresh vegetables and various types of meat were also on offer. Livestock added to the scene, with the exaggerated clattering sound of sheep and goats. The experience was further heightened by the aroma of numerous delectable foods, including fragrant five-color sticky rice, deep-fried sticky rice cakes, and other delicacies, all causing Dinh's stomach to rumble with hunger. She decided to indulge in two cakes and then stopped by a fabric stall run by a Muong's sister. There, she encountered a gorgeous display of sheer cloth, vividly reflecting the sunlight.
Choosing two pieces of cloth, she intended to make shirts, a bright red one for herself and a deep blue one for her grandfather. She also purchased an intricately designed scarf that displayed meticulous craftsmanship, as well as a leather hat for her grandfather. Reaching the gate of the market, she found herself drawn to some fresh bamboo shoots being sold by a young boy. She carefully chose the two plumpest ones. On her way back home, she couldn't help but think about the new clothes and how they would flatter her, along with the pleasure her grandfather would derive from the hat and the savory dishes she could prepare with the bamboo shoots.
The exhilaration shortened her journey as she entered the garden, sprinting towards the house and calling out for her grandpa. But there was no reply. Stepping into the living room, she hurriedly dropped the heavy load to the ground and raced through the house, her calls echoing off the walls. The silence that greeted her frantic cries, intensified her desperate search for her beloved grandpa. And then, in his bedroom, she found him. He lay peacefully on his bed, dressed in his bright yellow gown meant for the New Year's celebration. That, it was around noon, he should have been bustling about, preparing their lunch. The shocking absurdity of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks. Swiftly shaking his shoulder, she called his name over and over. But there was no response except her own echo. Trembling with terror, she reached out to touch his nose, only to find no sign of breath. His hands were as cold as ice. The unbearable reality crashed over her - her grandpa had passed away.
In disbelief, she wailed and shrieked for help, but no one was within earshot of their remote home. Exhausted, numb, and overcome by shock, she collapsed to the ground, her anguished cries tearing through the sky. Not knowing how long had passed, as the sounds of birds chirping and the glare of sunlight filled her eyes, she stirred. It was the following day. Clambering up, she staggered to her grandpa's bedside, hoping against hope that it had all been a terrible dream. But the brutal truth remained - her grandpa still lay there, motionless and lifeless. Slowly, she began to accept the reality, sitting quietly by his bedside, gazing at his serene and benevolent face. His peaceful countenance hinted at a gentle departure, but the pain of his absence and the overwhelming sense of abandonment engulfed her, leaving her teetering on the brink of despair.
Dinh didn't have a clue how she managed to pull off the funeral for her grandpa. There she was, sitting in front of his grave in the far garden, under those old peach trees. Everything seemed to blur together. She shuffled back to the house, wolfed down some food without really tasting it, then took a quick shower before wandering into her grandpa's bedroom. It felt like just yesterday they were having dinner in the same room, but now it was like they inhabited two different worlds.
The house was a constant reminder of him, and the weight of it all was starting to become unbearable. She sat on his bed, staring blankly, when she noticed a crumpled piece of paper perched on his pillow. How had she missed it before? It must have fallen during the chaos of his passing. She reached out and unfolded the letter, and there it was - a message from her grandpa.
'Dear Dinh,
Well, it looks like it's my time for a little cosmic stroll. The heavens have been sending me some pretty obvious signals, and I think it's about time I follow the divine trail. If you happen to stumble upon this letter, it means I've already taken my leave. No need for tears now, my dear! Rejoice, for I've managed to snag the coziest coffin in town. No more aching bones for this old man!
Oh, and here's a little surprise for you: your long-lost parents are alive and well, chilling in Saigon! I kept it under wraps to spare you the headache of their gigantic debt, 1 billion VND—crazy, right? But fret not; they're doing just fine now, and it's about time you joined the family reunion. Keep honing those Tu ancestry skills and artistry of yours. I've got a feeling you're bound for millionaire status, my girl. Trust me, our family's got some top-notch wizardry up its sleeve.
With all my love, Your Grandpa,
Tu Trung
P.S. Remember, our artistry is the key to your prosperity.'
Folding the letter, Dinh's face underwent 50 shades of color, shifting from pale green to stark white. One moment, she felt a sense of fulfillment for her grandpa, and in the next, a fiery rage consumed her as she confronted his lie. Her parents were alive - how was she supposed to wrap her head around that?. Memories of her childhood came flooding back, reminding her of the times she'd go to the market and see other kids with their moms and dads. She'd feel a pang of jealousy as she witnessed those kids begging their parents for toys or being carried around on their mothers' hips. During those moments, when she asked her grandpa about her own parents, he'd always say they died in a car crash. Now she knew it was all a lie.
The realization that her parents had abandoned her due to debt without even a single visit boiled her blood. It all suddenly made sense—the grueling exercises her grandpa put her through when she was young, from the rigorous living skills and daily housework to the relentless training in traditional martial arts every night. It was all supposed to prepare her for a life in the city, not a life in a remote place where she'd need to defend against the wild, as her grandpa lectured every time she practiced. The frustration and irritation seeped into every inch of her body, leaving her feeling utterly powerlessl. Living in that house had become unbearable; the constant loneliness was suffocating her. She felt like a mere silhouette in her own house, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, grappling
with what she should do next. However, moving to the city, stepped out her comfort zone to join her family was a daunting prospect. They had abandoned her once, and finding them in the vast metropolis seemed like an impossible task. However, the isolation had become too much to bear. Looking at the only picture of her parents for hours, snugly placed in a photo frame on the altar in the living room—the picture that she'd gazed at, their faces a comfort as she talked to them countless times before. Carefully, she took the picture out of its frame and slipped it into her purse. The next day, she set her sights on the city. They might not care about her, but they were the only family she had left on this planet.