The lost bird

BAC GIANG - People still say that Han is the most beautiful girl in Ngu hamlet, and perhaps even in the whole commune, few can compare to her.

Possessing striking beauty, Hân became the center of attention. From a young age, Hân had to get used to admiring and longing glances whenever she went to the market or passed through the village gate. The young men in Ngụ hamlet didn't hesitate to tease and flirt with her. Gradually, their words became more casual, and their gazes more brazen. Every time she walked past the group of young men gathered at the tea shop at the edge of the village, Hân would hear whistles and suggestive calls. Sometimes, they would pretend to bump into her, then laugh at her embarrassed expression. At those times, Hân would just lower her head and hurry along, clutching her dress tightly. One day, the news that Hân had passed the flight attendant exam caused the entire Ngụ hamlet to erupt in joy.

Illustration: China.

A girl from the mountains, raised on red dirt paths, familiar with morning mist and soft mud, was now about to don an elegant uniform and stride through glamorous airports. Hân's mother was overjoyed, turning the acceptance letter over and over as if afraid it was just a dream. Neighbors came to visit, some congratulating her, others wide-eyed with surprise. The boys who used to tease Hân suddenly fell silent; some forced a smile, others looked regretful. Hân didn't care. She only looked ahead, a new horizon beckoning, where the deep blue sky awaited her with countless unfulfilled dreams.

From a young age, Han dreamed of flying in the sky every day. Each time she looked up at the airplanes soaring across the vast blue sky, she would excitedly exclaim, her eyes shining as if she had seen a miracle. In this mountainous region, things like trams, skyscrapers, or airports were all foreign. In Han's innocent heart, that dream had long been kindled. Every afternoon, accompanying her mother to the fields, Han would quietly gaze at the horizon, where the fiery red sunset blended with the soaring birds. Once, she softly asked her mother:

- Mom, the plane is flying so high, can you see our village?

The mother smiled gently and stroked her daughter's head.

- When you grow up, fly on your own and see for yourself!

From then on, Han always harbored a strong determination. While her friends were still struggling to choose a stable career path, she diligently studied English, took care of her appearance, and honed the demeanor of a future flight attendant. No one believed that a girl from the countryside could achieve such a dream. On her first day in the capital to start her job, her mother busied herself preparing everything, constantly worried that her daughter would lack everything while far away. She packed a little dried fish, some wild bamboo shoots, her familiar jar of sesame salt, and even a few sets of clothes hastily bought from the district market, repeatedly reminding her:

- It's not like back home, son. Everything is expensive there, so bring plenty to eat. And remember to take care of your health!

Hân laughed and hugged her mother, saying that there was nothing lacking in the city, but her mother still tucked a bottle of medicated oil into her bag, as if afraid her little daughter would get lost in a strange world with no one to care for her. Her father went to the ancestral altar, lit an incense stick, and whispered a prayer. When Hân got into the car, he stood at the bus stop watching her, his eyes shining with a mixture of pride and worry.

In the beginning, when flights were infrequent and her work schedule wasn't too packed, she still maintained the habit of packing her backpack and taking long-distance bus trips, eagerly returning home to visit her parents. Each time she came home, her mother would ask about everything, from work and meals to even her sleep. Her father would add more firewood to the stove and personally pick out the best piece of fish for her. Han knew how much he missed her. But then, her work became busier. New relationships gradually emerged. She began to get used to the fast pace of life, to late nights in the sky and long days traveling in foreign lands. The trips home became more and more infrequent, until she suddenly realized she hadn't been back to her hometown for months.

People in the neighborhood whispered to each other that Hân had changed a lot, no longer the simple country girl she once was. On social media, Hân had over 300,000 followers. Each photo she posted attracted thousands of likes and countless flattering comments. There, people saw a completely different Hân, a glamorous girl in designer dresses, stepping out of luxurious hotels, or appearing radiant at dazzling parties, surrounded by famous faces from the fashion and entertainment world.

- Life has truly changed for the better; nobody would recognize Mr. Lam's daughter anymore.

- It used to be beautiful, but who would have thought it would be so luxurious now?

- Being a flight attendant must be great, meeting only rich and wealthy people.

With the money, Han renovated her parents' old house, replacing the leaky roof tiles with a new set of bright red ones, leveling the floor tiles, and building a kitchen so her mother no longer had to cook in the dark corner of the house. On the day the house was finished, her mother paced back and forth, touching each newly painted door, sighing with admiration. Her father remained as quiet as ever. He leaned back in his old wooden chair, lit a cigarette, and slowly exhaled a hazy smoke. Although he didn't say a word, Han knew he was very happy. Besides renovating the house, Han also provided for her younger brother's studies abroad. On the day she saw him off at the airport, her mother's eyes welled up with tears, a mixture of joy and worry, and she held Han's hand tightly, whispering:

- Thanks to you, Hai has this opportunity. Our family is poor; in the past, my parents never dared to dream of sending their children far away to study...

Watching her younger brother disappear through security, Han suddenly felt a sense of relief. At least, she felt that the hardships and pressures she had endured in the city hadn't been in vain. She vividly remembered her first flight, the nervous feeling of putting on the flight attendant uniform, the smile on her face despite her sweaty palms. After a short time, she realized that this profession was not as easy as she had imagined when she was a child. Before officially flying, Han had to undergo rigorous training. Gone were the romantic dreams of flying; instead, she spent months learning about flight safety, first aid skills, how to handle emergencies, and even how to extinguish fires, escape, and provide first aid to passengers in mid-air.

There were training exercises that left her exhausted. Once, during a simulated emergency drill, Han had to learn how to open an emergency exit door in less than 90 seconds and climb down a floating bridge under simulated emergency conditions. Speed, composure, and precise skills were prerequisites for passing. Those who were slow or panicked would be immediately disqualified.

The most memorable experience was training in a low-oxygen environment. With only minimal oxygen remaining, her head was spinning, her vision blurred, but she had to try to remember the procedure for putting on the mask and instructing passengers. Only after completing the test did she collapse into her seat, her heart pounding. At that moment, she understood: Being a flight attendant is not simply about serving passengers in the air, but also about protecting the safety of hundreds of passengers on each flight.

Hân returned to Ngụ village on a sunny day, when the golden sunlight shone brightly on the trees, filtering through the moss-covered tiled roofs, enveloping the entire countryside in a peaceful light. In the late afternoon, Ngụ village gradually sank into the brilliant hues of sunset. The crimson sun cast long shadows of the kapok tree at the edge of the village. Hân's mother sat silently on the porch. An old newspaper lay untouched on the table.

She gazed towards the dirt road stretching into the distant fields. That road, years ago, Hân had left with so many dreams; would it one day bring her daughter back? As soon as she saw her daughter's figure, Hân's mother exclaimed warmly, "You're back?" Her affectionate gaze swept over Hân, from her slightly disheveled long hair to her simple jeans and plain shirt.

Three years ago, during the same season when the kapok flowers bloomed, Hân's mother and several neighbors were sitting on the porch, chatting animatedly about village affairs, when they were interrupted by Tính, the neighbor's son, rushing in breathlessly, his hands trembling as he held out a newspaper: "Dismantling the underworld of a high-flying madam." The whole group's eyes focused on the article, then fell silent. In the blurry photograph, that delicate face, though partially obscured, was unmistakable. Although the name was abbreviated as TTH, everyone in Ngụ village knew who it was.

That was Tran Tu Han – the girl who used to sit under the banyan tree at the edge of the village, her smile as clear as the autumn sunshine. They couldn't believe that Han – the flight attendant once the village was proud of – was the mastermind behind a 4.0 prostitution "underworld," where young girls were lured and manipulated like pawns in the hands of a controller. When arrested, Han was managing over 30 prostitutes, including famous flight attendants and models, charging exorbitant prices.

Not stopping there, Hân also devised a way to turn the girls in her prostitution ring into "uniform goddesses"—making them wear flight attendant uniforms from various airlines, taking photos to send to clients to increase their appeal and raise prices during transactions. The newspaper trembled in her hand. Hân's mother was speechless, the betel quid on her lips had lost its flavor and fallen to the ground without her realizing it… The neighborhood was once again abuzz with breaking news. The madam who had once soared to the heavens had made an emergency landing in the clutches of the law.

Now, the village remains the same, as peaceful as ever, only her heart has changed. After months of mistakes, she returned not only to find herself but also to start over. The next morning, Han went to the market with her mother. Under the old market roof, some people looked at her with pity, some nodded in greeting, and some silently turned away. Han understood that trust is not something that can be regained overnight.

Gradually, people became accustomed to seeing Hân busily helping her mother sell goods at the market, or quietly sitting under a kapok tree, diligently writing in her diary, writing about the past, about the lessons life had taught her through the most painful falls. One afternoon, while Hân was washing the small potted plants in front of the house, Tính ran up, holding out a newspaper with the headline: "When a lost bird finds its way back to its nest." Once again she appeared in the newspaper, but this time not for her crimes, but in an article about change, about the strength to rise above her mistakes.

Hân smiled softly, looking up at the vast sky. The wind still blew, the sun still shone brightly. The past might have held her back for a while, but it couldn't stop her from moving forward. Ahead, a new journey awaited, with sunny days and unexpected rain showers, but this time, she wouldn't get lost.

Short stories by Linh Chau

Source: https://baobacgiang.vn/canh-chim-lac-loi-postid414415.bbg