At Da Nang airport on the night of the second day of Tet (Lunar New Year), everyone was excited to be greeted by their relatives. Although he was an overseas Vietnamese, no one came to pick him up. That was because he wanted to return secretly and unexpectedly, without letting his relatives back home know beforehand. He would take a bus to his hometown in Quang Tri on his own, but wouldn't go home immediately. He had one important task that he didn't know when he would have to complete if he didn't do it tonight.
Now sixty-five years old, he doesn't have many opportunities to return to his hometown, and the Bich La village market only meets once a year, from the night of the second to the early morning of the third day of Tet. He wants to find someone at that market.
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| Illustration: Tien Hoang |
As the car drew closer to his hometown, his heart grew increasingly restless. He opened his wallet and took out a heart-shaped piece of paper. Carefully, he slowly unfolded each fold, and in an instant, the paper heart unfolded into a pink banknote. It was a 50-cent note issued in 1985. Nowadays, hardly anyone keeps this note; it has become an antique, no longer having any value in circulation. Yet he had kept it, carrying it with him for decades while living abroad.
That night, it was spring raining, and the air grew chilly late into the night. Forty years later, he still hadn't forgotten that late night of the second day of Tet (Lunar New Year). Right at the entrance to the temple where the market was held, the spring rain soaked the red and pink remnants of firecrackers. The fragrant scent of incense permeated the entire area. On either side of the path, kerosene lamps of vendors selling New Year's blessings blazed. Behind each lamp stood a vendor with a basket piled high with bundles of green tea leaves and several packets of sea salt. Everyone going to the temple market bought a sprig of tea for good luck and a packet of coarse salt to take home. The kerosene lamps, though flickering, created a hazy, ethereal glow, like a garden of falling stars, because there were hundreds of them.
He was then a young man in his early twenties, youthful, strong, and full of dreams. He heard that the Bich La village market wasn't just a place where people went to pray for peace, good fortune, and wealth, but also for love. Well, he decided to go and see for himself.
At midnight, the village festival begins. Several elderly men from the village council, dressed in traditional turbans and long robes, offer incense and bow in reverence. The sounds of gongs, drums, and cymbals create a vibrant atmosphere, making the spring night truly lively. Legend has it that a golden turtle once lived in the lake next to the Bích La village temple. Every year, on the night of the second day of the Lunar New Year, the turtle would surface, bringing favorable weather and a bountiful harvest. However, one year the turtle did not surface, causing hardship and misfortune for the villagers. From then on, the village organized a ceremony and a fair to summon the golden turtle.
This year, will the sacred turtle show itself? People whispered to each other, curiously flocking to the market late at night. It's Tet (Vietnamese New Year), so what does time matter? The young men whispered to each other that there were many beautiful girls at the market, village girls from the surrounding area bringing lucky charms to sell. And then there were the girls out enjoying the spring festivities. Plenty to admire, plenty to make acquaintances.
He walked past several oil lamps, the lively calls of vendors calling out their wares. Then he suddenly stopped in front of a young girl's stall. She wasn't as effusive as the other sellers. In the dim light of the oil lamps, her face radiated a simple, pretty charm. Her smile captivated him. He stood there for a long time, only managing to speak after a while.
- Oh, please give me a sprig of tea as a lucky charm.
- Happy New Year! Wishing you good luck.
She took a bundle of tea leaves tied with banana fiber and offered it to him. He awkwardly or perhaps deliberately took her hand, causing her to lower her head shyly. He pulled out a one-dollar bill from his pocket and gave it to her.
- Just five cents, sir.
- I don't have fifty cents, just take this, consider it a New Year's gift.
Thank you. But no, that would ruin your luck. Wait a moment.
She rummaged through her cloth bag looking for change. But no matter how hard she searched, she couldn't find a single fifty-cent note. The old man lingered, not to get his change, but to stand there a little longer to admire the saleswoman.
Suddenly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a pink fifty-cent note folded into a heart shape.
- Luckily, I still have these five cents left. Please accept them gladly, okay?
If it had been a regular fifty-cent note, he might have hesitated. But the cleverly folded note surprised and delighted him, and he couldn't refuse.
On top of her salt basket, there was a bamboo carrying pole propped up. Glancing over, he saw a painted mark on the end of the pole inscribed with the word "Dao," probably to mark it so it wouldn't be mistaken for someone else's.
- Thank you. I'll come back here to see you at dawn... Dao.
- Do you know my name?
Behind him, people were jostling and pushing. He didn't answer, just smiled faintly and awkwardly walked away. He'd be back later anyway, as he'd promised.
He wandered around the fair, observing the buying and selling interspersed with folk games. An old woman, chewing betel nut, sat selling incense, gold leaf paper, and betel nuts for people to buy as offerings at the temple. On the other side, a round wooden wheel, painted in alternating colors like a fan, had a rotating axle in the center, driven into a tree trunk. Players threw darts with feathered ends at the spinning wheel. When the wheel stopped, people cheered excitedly as the dart landed in the betting square.
He also tried his luck with darts. The bills were pulled out and placed on the wooden table, followed by murmurs of disappointment. Having run out of money, he placed the heart-shaped fifty-cent note the girl had just given him as change on the table. As the wheels slowly came to a complete stop, he vaguely sensed that this last round would be another loss. So he snatched the note and ran. He couldn't afford to lose that fifty-cent note.
Amidst the shouts and chases demanding the capture of the cheat, he ran headlong into the crowd and hid in a thick bush in the distance. Only when dawn broke did he dare return to look for Dao, but she was no longer there. The market only met at night, just one night a year, and now it was all over.
That was the first and only time he ever went to the Đình market. After that Tet holiday, his life took a wandering turn, eventually leading him to live in America. Forty years have passed, and from a vibrant young man in his early twenties, he now has gray hair.
He recognized the familiar path to the market, as if this village had retained its peaceful and charming atmosphere for the past four decades. The only difference was that now there were electric lights, making the scene much brighter. Finding someone in the market would surely be easier now.
Tonight, the market at Dinh Pagoda is experiencing a spring rain. People are saying it's very lucky; whatever you pray for will come true. He walked straight into the ancient pagoda in the middle of the market, lit an incense stick, and mumbled a prayer. The large incense burner, densely packed with incense sticks, caught the flame, causing his incense stick to burst into flames. He bowed repeatedly as if thanking the spirits for his prayers being answered.
He walked very slowly, trying to find the spot where he had met the girl years ago. There stood an old, ancient tree there, now a huge tree with a canopy spreading over a large area. He slowly passed the rows of vendors selling lucky charms for the new year, carefully observing each face. If he were to meet her, his girl from years ago would now be over sixty; he would hardly recognize her.
Then he stopped in front of a girl who bore a striking resemblance to her. A strange feeling made him uneasy. He noticed the bamboo carrying pole propped up against her basket. Although the writing on the pole was faded and illegible, he had circled the area three times already; it was the only carrying pole available. These days, hardly anyone uses carrying poles anymore.
The market was crowded and noisy, making it inconvenient to ask the girl anything at that moment, and he still didn't know what to ask. He went to the children's toy stall opposite and sat down to rest. Picking up a clay figurine and blowing on it, he felt like he was back in his childhood. He struck up a conversation with the old woman selling the goods, casually discussing village matters, and then he casually inquired about the girl selling lucky charms in front of him.
- Ah, that's her daughter, I think they live nearby. Every year, the two of them carry their tea here to sell as a blessing. I don't know why she didn't come to the market this year, or maybe she'll arrive later. It's still early, the market has only just started.
He was lost in thought, a mixture of joy, excitement, and anxiety swirling within him. He took out the five-cent banknote and caressed it. A pink heart, he still kept, even though after decades it had become nothing more than a crumpled piece of paper. But what did it matter? Memories were priceless.
He will sit here and wait a little longer.
At the market that day, the spring rain was still falling lightly.
Short stories by Hoang Cong Danh
Source: https://baoquangtri.vn/van-hoa/202602/bua-ay-mua-xuan-e475811/
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