The bike wound its way along the hilly roads, flanked by towering pine trees, the scenery tranquil, broken only by the gentle rustling of the wind. To be honest, there were times I felt a chill when I looked around and saw not a soul or a shop in sight, and the sky began to drizzle.
Luckily, after getting past the second slope, there was someone walking ahead with an umbrella in the same direction. I slowed down the bike until it came to a complete stop, just enough so as not to startle them.
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| Flower basket and bicycle - Photo: TT |
- Get in my car, I'll give you a ride.
The umbrella was lowered to an angle, revealing the young woman's face. A natural, simple, and gentle face, yet one that also suggested caution.
- Yes, thank you.
After hesitating for a moment, the girl still refused to get into the car, her eyes looking as if she were scrutinizing her.
- I'm a person, not a ghost, so don't be scared. Besides, the weather is nice and cool, the car is free, and the scenery is beautiful; it would be a waste to travel alone.
Only then did the girl smile naturally and agree to get in the car. I adjusted the rearview mirror so I could see her face sitting behind me. The road was quiet here, so I wasn't too worried about driving safely. After a short while, she finally started a conversation:
- What do you do for a living that you're traveling down this road?
- I work as a journalist.
No wonder he speaks so eloquently. Which newspaper is that, sir?
- "Life's ups and downs." That means I'm unemployed, so I'm wandering around for fun. And you, are you married yet to be on this road?
She giggled.
- Only lonely people walk this way, sir.
- She responded quite well. And it's true, I haven't seen anyone on the road so far.
- With the rainy season approaching, this place will become even more deserted. Those passing through might think it's romantic, but staying here for a while is quite depressing.
After another bend in the road, we arrived at my destination. I stopped the car in front of the wooden gate with the words "Homestay An Nhien" on it and said to the girl:
- I've arrived here. But let me drive you to your destination and then come back. If you're going to be kind, be kind all the way.
- Oh, that would be too much trouble for you. It's not necessary; you can just drop me off here.
After saying that, she got out of the car and quickly went to unlock the door. She flung open the two wooden doors so I could bring my motorbike in.
- Thank you for giving me a ride. Thank you again for choosing to stay at this homestay. Now, it's my turn to serve you.
I don't know if she's the owner or just an employee at this homestay. I booked the place through a social media app after briefly looking at the pictures posted online. Photos always look better than reality; that's a given in advertising. The homestay I saw now looked sadder than what was posted online. But anyway, I had a pleasant, chance encounter with the girl.
She led me to a room with a window overlooking a distant lake. The place seemed quite picturesque and had good feng shui. The entire ten-room accommodation complex, with its well-maintained grounds, perennial trees, and wooden viewing platform, was inexplicably deserted.
Am I the only one here today?
- I'm not sure either. My house is at the foot of the hill, and whenever a guest books a room, the owner calls to let me know so I can come up here to serve them.
After saying that, she went out into the garden and picked up a broom. It must have been a few days since it had been swept; yellow and dry leaves were scattered all over the yard. I sat on the wooden bench on the porch and watched the scene. Her figure was slender, and she swept steadily with each stroke of the broom, then leisurely picked up the leaves from the stone paving of the garden path.
The night in An Nhien was tranquil, truly living up to its name. A crescent moon hung low in the sky, a few distant stars faintly visible. The nighttime light was just enough to see the tall pine trees, now a solid black silhouette with their slender branches. Suddenly, frogs and toads began croaking excitedly, as if playing a symphony. I remembered it had rained earlier that afternoon. That damp, humid air seemed to delight the amphibians even more.
I strolled across the cobblestone paths. A wooden plaque nailed to a tree trunk bore a cheerful inscription: "This place will help you heal." At the end of the path was a brightly lit kitchen, where a girl was washing glass cups and stacking them on a rack. Through the window, I could only see her from behind, her long hair accentuated by a striking turquoise butterfly-shaped hair clip. Oh, that hair clip! It must have been twenty years since I last saw it. So many memories flooded back, preventing me from continuing my walk.
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| Illustration: HH |
The girl was still washing the cups, slowly, attentively, humming an old song softly. A moment later she turned around, startled to see me standing there, lost in thought:
What do you need?
- Oh no. I noticed you have a strange hair clip.
- That's an antique, sir.
She replied, giggling, and then continued cleaning the kitchen counter.
During my student years, I bought a hair clip like that to give to my classmate. It was a cheap clip, readily available in the market. I just knew her hobby was collecting butterflies and she often wore blue clothes, so I wanted a symbolic gift. Every day on my way to class, I kept the clip in my bag, waiting for an opportunity to give it to her. But then I did something silly and sneaky: I waited until just before class ended and secretly placed the gift box in her bicycle basket.
For several days afterward, I didn't see her using that hair clip. But occasionally, while studying, I would glance over at her and notice a different look in her eyes. Each time this happened, my heart would flutter, I didn't know if it was because I liked her or because I felt shy.
On the last day before graduation, I still didn't have the courage to go up to her and say something. Oh, the shyness of youth. It seems some old man once said: "I wish I could be twenty again and have the experience I have now."
Since that day, we haven't seen each other again. Life swept me away, and I don't know if she still keeps that hair clip after twenty years. Yet, today, suddenly, a blue butterfly like that appeared before my eyes. An antique, as she said, that clip must be from the 2000s, back when we were students.
- Someone gave me this hair clip a while ago.
- Probably a boyfriend/girlfriend?
Her gaze was distant and vague, tinged with sadness. She didn't answer, only asked me a question in return:
- But, you seem to be paying attention to the hair clip? Or maybe journalists tend to notice details.
Seeing it suddenly reminded me of an old girlfriend.
Where is that person now?
It's been a long time since we last contacted each other.
Why didn't you look for it?
- For what?
- If we can meet again, we should do it at least once. It's for "healing," after all.
- Did you ever see the person who gave you the hair clip again?
- We'll never see each other again. He's gone. Gone, far, far away…
As night deepened, the rain began to fall steadily. Drops of water trickled down from the tiled roof onto the railing, in a rhythmic, regular motion. I sat on a chair on the porch, gazing through the rain at the kitchen, where the yellow light still shone.
Occasionally, as the girl walked past the windowpane, her hair clip would flash like a tiny butterfly in the rainy night.
Hoang Cong Danh
Source: https://baoquangtri.vn/van-hoa/202605/canh-buom-tren-trien-doi-0d56078/
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