Haunted by strangers

Dalat back then wasn't as bustling and noisy as it is now. The city streets were still small and winding, filled with wildflowers and lingering mist. It was still "winding roads intertwined with old pine trees," as in the lyrics of Lam Phuong's song "Sad City." The city's inhabitants were quiet and unhurried, pursuing peaceful occupations such as tourism services, vegetable and flower farming, and small-scale trading. The women of this mountain town, with their rosy cheeks in the cold mist, also practiced a very gentle, quiet, and romantic craft: embroidery, a tradition they've maintained for many years.

Illustration: Phan Nhan

Then, in the early 1990s, a doctor who had left his profession, along with his wife from Hue , founded a company specializing in embroidery. They and their colleagues dedicated themselves wholeheartedly and invested countless hours in gradually building a team of outstanding artisans with numerous branches throughout the country and even abroad. Every year, the Ancestor Worship Ceremony for the Embroidery Craft becomes a vibrant festival with many activities imbued with spiritual and cultural significance. Da Lat embroidery gradually became famous and sold in many places. But they never allowed themselves to call these embroidered paintings commodities; instead, they insisted that everyone refer to them as works of embroidered art. This shows just how dedicated and respectful they were of their embroidery craft.

Linh, a young woman and single mother, is around twenty-six years old. She follows the family tradition of embroidery, having been taught the craft by her mother since elementary school. At twenty-six, she has nearly twenty years of experience in embroidery. Linh was also among the first group of embroiderers in Da Lat to be honored as an embroidery artisan by the company during a ceremony commemorating the founding of the embroidery craft.

The mother and daughter lived in a small but charming wooden house in a flower-filled garden at the end of a small slope. Linh's parents had both passed away, leaving her a substantial bookshelf, a collection of vinyl records, and an old but durable gramophone with a sweet sound. From a young age, Linh lived in an atmosphere of fairy tales and classical music , with poignant yet elegant love songs from a peaceful time in her parents' arms. Linh was tall, fair-skinned, with rosy cheeks and the gentle voice of a girl from the dreamy city of Da Lat. Linh's husband, a childhood friend, had also died in a traffic accident on the Bao Loc pass about three years prior, leaving behind a young daughter of about six years old. Since then, Linh had become even more quiet and withdrawn, always introspective, but her delicate and refined features could not be hidden on her face. Everyone liked Linh from the first meeting, especially her friends in the portrait embroidery group. The portrait embroidery team, home to most of the company's honored artisans, is often tasked with embroidering the most challenging and artistic pieces, such as double-sided embroidery or portraits commissioned by the team.

That year in Da Lat, the rainy season arrived late. Usually, it's at the beginning of April in the lunar calendar each year, but that year, the first afternoon rains didn't come until the end of April, followed by a gradual roll in of fog. One afternoon after work, I stopped by the school to pick up little Mai and rushed home, only to find the alley completely shrouded in fog.

That morning, Ms. Thu, the deputy director of the company, called Linh to her office. After a cup of hot artichoke tea, she gave Linh a portrait of a man in his late teens. In her sweet, pure Hue accent, she said:

- This is Professor Minh, a close friend of Quang's; his birthday is this September. Quang wants you to embroider this portrait as a gift. Focus on embroidering it beautifully and with soul.

Yes, ma'am, I will do my best.

- We know and believe that you will succeed in this embroidery. We sincerely hope that you will turn this embroidered portrait into a masterpiece. We have considered this very carefully and decided to entrust it to you.

Mr. Quang is her husband and also the director and founder of the company. Holding up the portrait, she looked at it for a moment, then handed it back to Linh. Ms. Thu continued:

- Take it home and focus on examining it carefully today. This afternoon, the design studio will also finish the process of tattooing the image onto the fabric. You should also go back to your room and prepare your embroidery frame and all the necessary materials. Tomorrow morning, you can go to the design studio to pick up the embroidered fabric and start. - Yes, ma'am! Goodbye, I'm going back to my room now…

Having said that, Linh stood up, picked up the portrait, and went back to her embroidery room. Thu watched Linh with affectionate and trusting eyes.

Linh's embroidery room, shared with two other friends, was about twelve square meters, a charming wooden structure with a tiled roof. Large windows flooded the room with light, but in the afternoons, during the rainy season, they still had to turn on the lights. The wooden house, painted a light purple with dark purple window frames, nestled in a small garden filled with roses, hydrangeas, and heather. To the left was a crystal-clear fish pond teeming with adorable koi fish. The sound of water trickling from the rockery was a soft murmur. Surrounding the pond were four other embroidery rooms like Linh's. But it was very quiet; only soft, gentle classical music played in each room. At nine thirty, during their break, the girls from the other embroidery rooms would rush out to feed the fish. That's when the clear, cheerful sounds of laughter and conversation filled the air. The embroiderers in each room wore traditional ao dai dresses in different colors. These women from Da Lat, in their flowing ao dai, appeared gentle and demure, yet also lively during the fish-feeding time. Many tourists happen to pass by at this time of day. They stand still, stunned, gazing and feeling the scene, speechless. The sight of the women in their traditional dresses, sometimes with a thin woolen cardigan on cold days, all working in the same company but possessing an artistic soul. Many tourists feel as if they have wandered into a heavenly paradise. Linh had never met anyone who loved Da Lat and embroidery as much as Quang and Thu. For them, embroidery was like a religion.

On her way back to her embroidery room, Linh stopped by the shrine dedicated to the patron saint of embroidery, Mr. Le Cong Hanh. Respectfully, she placed the portrait she had been given on the altar and lit incense. With sincere devotion, Linh knelt and prayed to the patron saint for his blessings so that her embroidered portrait would be successfully completed.

That day, Linh only had to focus on the portrait of Professor Minh that she had been assigned. She had to look closely, scrutinize every detail, and immerse herself in the task so that when she started embroidering, each movement, each stitch, each delicate thread carried her heart and soul. Only then would the embroidered picture have a soul and truly reflect the character of the subject.

Let's see, Professor Minh is around sixty years old. Based on her knowledge of physiognomy, gleaned from many books her father left behind, Linh began to envision the character she would embroider. A slight upward curve of the lips suggests an optimistic personality and unwavering willpower in all situations. A high and broad forehead, with the upper lip thicker than the lower lip, indicates a determined individual who can endure hardship and always overcome obstacles. High, bright cheekbones signify steadfastness and a strong desire for progress, fame, and wealth. High, slender eyebrows indicate a fortunate, intelligent, and kind person. Bright but somewhat cold eyes. A straight nose suggests a positive, optimistic personality and a high sense of responsibility.

Actually, embroiderers don't need this knowledge. But as an embroidery artist, specializing in embroidering portraits of important clients, Linh's knowledge of physiognomy helps her grasp the essence of the subject very quickly. Therefore, Linh usually embroiders faster, and the quality almost always satisfies Mr. Quang and Ms. Thu. Linh's finished embroidery pieces, when submitted to the quality control department, are perfect. They only need to be cleaned and framed before delivery to the clients.

The next morning, upon arriving at the embroidery room, Linh saw that the embroidery fabric was finished and hung on the embroidery frame. Beside the desk lamp was a tray with needles, spools of colored thread, and a small pair of scissors. After finishing the cup of coffee already prepared on the table, Linh gently sat down behind the embroidery frame and softly placed the first stitch.

For the next three months, Linh became like family to Professor Minh. She meticulously embroidered each stitch, using threads of the appropriate colors for each part and position on the face. The background was simply a distant mountain, seemingly Lang Biang Mountain. Day by day, the large-scale embroidery, built upon Linh's careful and affectionate stitches, gradually took shape. Now, Linh had almost memorized every feature of Professor Minh's face. His face, shaped like the Chinese character "Shen," reflected a strong, independent personality, stemming from a difficult and arduous childhood without family support. To achieve the success he had today, he must have started from scratch and faced many hardships and obstacles on his own. One wonders if he possessed the same possessiveness in his emotions as depicted in physiognomy?

Naturally, Linh found herself inexplicably close to Professor Minh, a man she had never met. She confided in him about everything, big or small, in her daily life. Then she wondered, if Professor Minh were in her shoes, how would he handle this situation?

This morning, the motorbike broke down again. It was the old one her father bought her for her when she started her final year of high school. It wouldn't start no matter how hard she tried. Early this morning, little Mai wouldn't wake up, and when she checked her forehead, she had a high fever. The bike wouldn't start, and Linh panicked, feeling helpless. Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought, if it were Professor Minh, how would he handle this? Then, she calmed down. The rickshaw driver who usually waits for customers at the top of the hill went up to check. Luckily, he was still sitting on his bike, half-asleep. Linh called him to take both her and Mai straight to the hospital. She also gave him the house keys, asking him to take the bike back for repairs. She had to take the day off work. After calling the company to ask for leave, Linh returned to feed Mai porridge and give her medicine. Then she called the school to request Mai's leave of absence. For the next three days, Linh still had to take work off, and Mai still had to miss school. After being discharged from the hospital, Mai worried about not being able to keep up with her studies, while Linh worried about not finishing her embroidered portrait on time. Now I understand why every woman needs the presence of a man by her side to lean on and rely on. In this case, his image had calmed Linh down, even if it was just a small thing; if she hadn't been calm, she probably would have just stood there crying. Thank you so much, sir!

Finally, the embroidered portrait was finished. The company had set a deadline of ninety days. But in the end, it took Linh almost a hundred days to deliver the portrait of Professor Minh to the quality control department. Mr. Quang and Ms. Thu personally inspected the portrait, as it was a gift for the professor. They were very pleased, shook Linh's hand, and promised to honor and reward her at the company's year-end party.

"Goodbye, Mr. Quang, Ms. Thu," Linh said, bidding farewell to her embroidered portrait. She went to the ancestral altar to light incense and offer thanks, then returned to her embroidery room. Her steps were uncontrollable. Feeling slightly dizzy, she managed to lean on the door frame. Regaining her composure, she looked at the empty embroidery frame and suddenly felt like crying. It wasn't the first time she'd given her embroidered portraits to the company. But this time, the feeling was so different. No character she'd embroidered before had ever given her this feeling. A feeling of closeness, familiarity, as if she'd known him for a long time, and a deep intimacy. Or maybe she'd fallen in love with him. It couldn't be. Linh dismissed the thought. For over three years, she'd been a widow, and many men had been with her, both at and outside the company, but she'd never felt affection or attachment to anyone. After work, she'd pick up her child, and the two of them would cuddle in their cozy, charming wooden house. Life had been peaceful like that. But for the past three months, things had changed. Sometimes, while cooking dinner, little Mai would hover around her mother, but Linh's mind seemed to be elsewhere. Mai would call out two or three times before Linh would startle and turn around, sometimes startling the little girl. But other times, the child would giggle and tease her mother: "Mom, who are you thinking about?"

On Saturdays, the company usually closes early. Linh took the opportunity to run to Da Lat market to buy some extra food. As she passed the market's escalator, Linh suddenly froze and stood still. Before her eyes was him – Professor Minh, in flesh and blood. He was with a very elegant and beautiful woman. Linh's lips trembled, her hands shook slightly, and she stood motionless, then suddenly stammered out his name:

- Professor... Mr. Minh. Hello!

He didn't seem to hear. Or maybe Linh was calling someone else. Linh panicked and called out again: "Mr... Mr. Minh! Professor Minh...!"

At that moment, he looked directly into Linh's face with a cold and distant gaze. He still said nothing, but his look lacked the warmth or friendliness Linh had expected. Linh was flustered. Then, the woman next to Mr. Minh turned and pulled him into a sweater stall. Mr. Minh looked at Linh again, still with that unfamiliar and cold gaze. Linh trembled, suddenly feeling embarrassed and unable to move. Turning back up the market stairs, Linh whispered, her lips trembling and freezing in the rainy Đà Lạt afternoon.

The fog had rolled in, enveloping every house, alley, and pine grove. Linh walked aimlessly and dejectedly. She just kept walking without knowing where she was going, only knowing that she needed to go. The Da Lat fog was like a companion, protecting and comforting Linh.

Source: https://baolamdong.vn/van-hoa-nghe-thuat/202504/am-anh-nguoi-dung-448075e/