Every day, people see the young couple, the owners of the property, diligently tending to their garden. The husband's name is An, and the wife's name is Tho; their names together form the name of the homestay. Their love story alone is fascinating to many. Tho graduated from a reputable university with a degree in English, while An only studied up to the ninth grade before staying home to farm. After graduating, despite having many job opportunities, Tho chose to return to work in the garden with An, as she says, to "match" her husband. Well, it's a choice, after all; who can say that farming isn't a profession, and a respectable one at that?
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| Illustration: Dang Minh Quy |
Many people lamented the wasted effort Thơ put into her four years of schooling. But then, they realized she was right; it wasn't a waste at all. Thanks to her fluent English, An Thơ homestay attracts many foreign guests. Once, an American tourist saw the charming house and wanted to visit. The guest, around seventy years old, had fair skin, gray hair, and could speak a few broken Vietnamese sentences. He introduced himself as Wilson, a former American soldier who had fought at Khe Sanh and was now returning to visit his old battlefield.
The first time he met Tho, the American veteran paused for a moment. After a few words of conversation with the young hostess, Mr. Wilson decided to change his schedule, not returning to Ho Chi Minh City that afternoon, but staying here for a day. Tho arranged for Mr. Wilson to have the room with the best view, with two large windows on either side fitted with clear glass. From here, guests could gaze out over the vast hills that were once a battlefield, but now were covered in lush green trees. Several American veterans who had stayed here told Tho that sleeping in this room allowed them to reminisce about the painful times from half a century ago, but just seeing the green reminded them how lucky they were to be alive.
- Thank you for letting me stay in this meaningful room. But you know what, I had a very strange feeling when I first came in here. Or rather, when I met you, young lady. So, excuse me, could you spend the night with me tonight?
Thơ was taken aback by the guest's offer. Or perhaps she had misheard; how could such a vague and confusing proposal be made? Seeing the change in her expression, the veteran nervously pointed to the two wooden chairs on the porch, trying to explain himself.
Oh, sorry, maybe I didn't explain clearly. I mean, could you sit and gaze at the moon with me tonight, even if only for a little while?
It turned out the American veteran also knew the lunar calendar, and that today was the full moon. And it was hard to refuse such a sweet offer.
The night on the hill was cool and breezy, the distant croaking of frogs echoing in the distance. Thơ brewed two cups of hot ginger tea and placed them on the table. The moon rose, the sky was clear, and she sat chatting with her guest, but mostly listening to the American veteran speak.
During the war, Wilson got lost in the woods all afternoon, and then, unfortunately, was bitten by a snake, leaving him too afraid to move. As dusk fell, Wilson wanted to call for help but feared being discovered, so he lay still, resigned to his fate. Apparently, the snakebite was venomous; the soldier felt unusual symptoms in his body, then gradually lost consciousness. In his exhaustion, with his vision blurry, Wilson looked through the leaves and saw someone approaching. Wilson risked a weak cry for help.
- That girl saved me that day. She knew how to administer first aid and found some kind of leaves to crush and apply to the wound to detoxify it. When I regained consciousness, the moonlight was just beginning to illuminate the forest, and I saw her face—so beautiful and kind. I consider it my first love, because for the first time in my life, I—a soldier from the other side of the globe fighting a war—was moved by a Vietnamese mountain girl.
Thơ sat listening to Wilson's story. As the owner of a homestay in a former battlefield, she had heard many stories from foreign guests reminiscing about the place, but Wilson's story moved Thơ and piqued her curiosity. Wilson continued to tell the story of the night he got lost in the forest during the autumn war, the night he and a Vietnamese woman spent together. After sleeping one night at the homestay, Wilson woke up early the next morning to watch the sunrise on the hill and saw Thơ and her husband watering and pruning the old rose bushes in the garden. Wilson leisurely walked over to Thơ and happily recounted his dream from the previous night, a dream full of wonder but breathtakingly beautiful.
An deliberately moved a little further away to allow his wife and the guest to converse naturally. Besides, he felt somewhat insecure due to his lack of formal education and his inability to speak English. Everything An knew about the foreign guest came from Thơ's accounts. From a distance, An noticed Thơ occasionally smiling at the veteran; during their conversation, the old man looked youthful and somewhat naive.
That afternoon, before parting ways, Wilson showed Tho a tiny, black-and-white photograph that fit in the palm of her hand. Time had caused some blemishes on the picture, but the girl's face was still clearly visible—kind, lovely, and strangely, Tho felt as if she saw herself in the photograph.
"There are many people in the world who are alike. It's quite normal. Why bother getting so worked up?" An said, after the guest had left for a while, while Tho sat stunned in her chair.
- But I don't have any photos of my mother, so when I saw the picture that looked so much like me, I just imagined...
From a young age, Thơ didn't know who her parents were. Her adoptive mother found her on the roadside while she was going to the market early in the morning and took her in, raising her like her own child. When establishing this homestay, An also told his wife that he would make it famous, hoping that it would be an opportunity for Thơ to reunite with her biological mother.
***
Wilson returned home, and after a while, Tho and her husband occasionally received some money from the other side of the globe. According to Wilson, it was a small contribution to buy flowers to beautify their homestay. Tho also received gifts on holidays, festivals, and even Valentine's Day. This annoyed An.
In addition, the American veteran's phone calls to Tho from the other side of the border sometimes lasted for hours. It's unclear what they talked about for so long. Often, when An asked, his wife would just laugh and say it was just everyday conversation, a "friendship" of different ages.
But I think it's more than just friendship.
They both exchanged knowing smiles.
Once, Wilson suggested that Tho should name the rooms in the homestay instead of using meaningless numbers as they had been doing. She thought it was a good idea and discussed it with An, choosing some meaningful names like "Peace Room," "Dove Room," etc. As for the most beautiful room that the veteran Wilson had ever stayed in, Tho decided to name it "Moonlight Room." Of course, she didn't reveal the secret behind that name to An, fearing he might overthink it.
Hoang Cong Danh
Source: https://baoquangtri.vn/van-hoa/truyen-ngan/202509/anh-trang-tren-doi-e1b41bb/
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