The street is full of horse-drawn carriages, their wheels and hooves grinding through the mud, mixing with the jingling bells to evoke the charm of a European town. Yet, this is a nameless town in Cambodia. Poor women walk back and forth, holding various fruits and vegetables, near each dilapidated little restaurant. Their men are either gambling or drunkenly lounging in the tavern at the end of the street. And I am one of them. Of course, my woman is not among those selling plants along the street.
I sit surrounded by familiar faces, and when they drink enough to get tipsy, burping loudly, they start talking to me. "Horse, I heard you're half-Chinese, half-Korean, right?" Horse is my name, and many men like to talk about my heritage, but none of them show any interest in their women selling vegetables in the street. "Yes," I reply. "My mother was from South Korea. When she was a young girl, she ran towards my father's trench, strapped with explosives. But my father, this tough guy, tackled her and extinguished the fuse with his palm."
"They say she fell in love with your father because he saved her?" they ask eagerly, wanting to hear more. I chuckle and shake my head. The men around the table glance at the tavern owner, as though only he can prompt me to continue. "Horse, come on, tell us more! I'll give you an extra plate of peanuts as a snack," the tavern owner says. He's particularly fond of me, always filling my glass to the brim. It makes me feel warm inside, though I'm not sure if he treats me like the tavern's star or if I've come to think of this place as my home.
"Alright, fine," I say, "add this to your tally. You owe me twenty-two plates of snacks." As I finish, the tavern bursts into laughter.
"The fuse was extinguished, and my father's palm was burned. He told the girl, 'I lie on your land to protect my people and my country. This is my battlefield, not your war. You need to survive and hold on until it ends. If you wish, I, as a soldier, swear this to you.'"
"Ah, I see. But why are you in Cambodia? Why not go back to your country?" I smile and reply, "I don't have a country or nationality now, but I've come to think of this muddy little town as my country."
"Haha, that's an interesting answer! How did you end up in Cambodia?" I enjoy talking to them and being genuine because I'm grateful to their women. Many of them are attractive, and while these drunks go home and vent their frustrations on them, I can buy vegetables and invite these women to my room to sleep with me for a while. They thank me profusely afterward. So, I don't mind this town's poverty and mud.
"I was eight years old, playing in the mountains along the China-Vietnam border when I accidentally stumbled upon a drug caravan. They chased me with machetes and shot at me. But I didn't die. I could never return to China. Over the years, I wandered, and ended up here, in Cambodia, in this muddy town."
"Haha, that's funny. When will you go to sea, Horse? Can you really leave that woman from the tailor shop? She's got such a round, soft bottom, it makes any man drool." I smile faintly, knowing they're not mocking me, just curious about my life. I've had an affair with the widow from the tailor shop for a long time now, and it's well-known in this town, especially among the men at the tavern. I often get drunk, my vision blurry, and in a haze, I stumble to find her. Every time she sees my red, drunken eyes, she quickly ushers out the other customers, shuts the door, and helps me to her bed, where I release all my frustrations on her full, enticing body. No one in town is surprised anymore. It's become routine.
I'm the town's vagrant. The only difference is, I rarely leave. Only during the fishing season do they think I'm working.
"I might leave within a week," I tell the man who asked.
The tavern owner, a small old man with exaggeratedly rolling eyes, says with a teasing tone, making it easy to answer any uncomfortable question. "Horse, didn't you get engaged to Zadawa's sixteen-year-old daughter? What about the woman from the tailor shop?"
I reply, "The woman from the tailor shop knows about it. She thinks she's incomplete and can't give me what a young girl can, so she's happy for me. The only thing that saddens her is whether I'll still come to find her."
"Oh! Will you continue to meet with her, Horse?" they ask.
"I definitely will," I say. "The sixteen-year-old girl is beautiful, and she's a virgin. Zadawa's family can't afford to raise her, so they want me to take her. Her innocence and purity can give me perfect love. But the woman from the tailor shop has a different kind of beauty—flawed, irreplaceable. I like the way she pleases me in bed. She is my hellish pleasure."
"Haha…" The drunks in the tavern laugh.
I tell them, "I plan to set sail for the Crozet Islands soon. I'll trade dried fruits and furs for rare metals. If the journey goes well, I'll buy drinks for everyone for a week when I get back." The others cheer and exchange joyful glances, as if I've just returned and will start buying them drinks right away.