I was excited, remembering the cluster of flowers like clouds floating amidst the vast forest in the picture Lan sent, and I was also captivated by the winding roads where mountains leaned against mountains and clouds nestled against clouds. Now that the carefree flowers were blooming along the stream, if I couldn't go now, I'd wait until next year, Lan hinted… How could I hesitate any longer?
"It's true, the tung blossoms are blooming white in the forest," Lan said, exclaiming in amazement. "For over twenty years I've been admiring tung blossoms along the Truong Son mountain range, and I've only dreamed of touching a cluster of flowers," Lan said. "Just pick them, it's easy!" I said confidently. But tung blossoms are a strange species; their flowers bloom from the tips of the branches, and the branches reach high, so from afar, they look like clusters of fluffy white clouds floating on the gentle green of the leaves.
Illustration by: Van Nguyen
We parked our bikes by the curb, looked around, and finally found a cluster of flowers that weren't too high. But how to reach them was a whole different story for us. We took off our shoes and helmets, jumped around, but still couldn't figure out how to touch the "white dream," so we sat down, resting our chins on our hands, longing for them. Suddenly, a pickup truck stopped abruptly, its window rolled down, and someone asked, "Need help, young lady?" I was taken aback for a moment, noticing our pathetic state, and chuckled shyly. Just then, the other car door opened, and a man stepped out, bare-chested and weather-beaten. Quân… I gasped in astonishment. Was it him? Was it really him? Our eyes met, and Quân almost lunged to hug me.
The charming rest stop couldn't hold us back long. Quân pursed his lips, tilting his head back as if contemplating something. "Get the car in, let's go," Quân said. I shook my head. "Lan can't stand cars, and I also want to admire the mountains and forests…" Quân pondered for a long time. "The mountain road is very long, you know." He seemed about to say something more, but then stopped. We both fell into a void, enough to hear the wind whistling through the abyss. Looking at the winding roads shrouded in clouds, I knew it wouldn't be easy for a young man as eager to live as him. Or had he found some mountain girl to hold him back? I looked at Quân suspiciously. He slightly curved his lips, his smile becoming enigmatic—an unhealed wound, an escape, or something else entirely, something I lacked the ability to comprehend. In truth, I had never truly understood him, just as our separation earlier in life had never been a formal farewell, only tears—tears for me and his silence.
When we left the cafe, Lan had a bunch of delicate, pure white hydrangeas in her hand, her smile radiant. "Look, look!" Lan exclaimed excitedly like a child receiving a gift, her mouth uttering exclamations and her eyes sparkling. I held the bunch of flowers, which resembled a cloud-like hydrangea, and before my eyes, the fully bloomed flowers had deep pink pistils, while the newly opened ones had eye-catching creamy yellow pistils, each blossom like a shimmering star.
"Thank you so much," Lan waved goodbye. The young man who had just helped pick the bunch of flowers was now behind the wheel. "See you at Dinh Que!" I glanced at Lan. "You know me?" "This is my place," Lan grinned, a victorious smile. Quan looked at me as the motorbike carrying him sped away in the howling wind. A gust of wind swept across my side, making my jacket billow. Layers of wind chased each other through the mountain crevices, creating a sharp, sweet sound. Clouds gathered, then seemed to be flattened by the wind, drifting lazily like veils embracing the mountain's neck. The tung blossoms swayed gently in the thin sunlight. The space seemed to be eroded by the wind, vast and boundless, without a point of support, even though the mountains were before me. In that boundless direction, I could reach out and touch Quan. No. I didn't think I'd meet Quan here, right at the top of this Windy Hill, when everything seemed to have fallen asleep.
"Our paths haven't diverged yet," Lan said, her voice echoing in the rushing wind. I clung to Lan's waist, a natural reflex of someone unfamiliar with mountain passes, my head spinning from the wind. Was Quân and I truly still destined for each other? I thought the flame of my heart had died down, and that men, whether intentionally or unintentionally, hadn't truly wanted to rekindle the flame of love within me. Was I not good enough, or was my luck insufficient? Whatever the case, I remained the same person I was in the old days, full of pride.
You can absolutely love someone, for yourself, Mom, your children—they all have their own lives. Living long enough, I realize that everything eventually fades into oblivion, including us, so don't hesitate any longer, just love. Lan urged. "Who should I love?" I asked, unsure if I was asking Lan or myself. I once witnessed a single friend fall in love with a married man; he was unhappy, couldn't get a divorce, and so on. I looked at her, reflected on myself, and realized it was too much to bear. That man, of course, was still with his wife, maintaining the image of a perfect family. And what about the woman? Well, she just had to accept it; who told her she was so unlucky? I felt bitter, always telling myself that men should be like "underwear" to me—not something to show off, but good enough to make me feel comfortable, and most importantly, not something to share with anyone else.
I don't know how many mountain passes we'd crossed, a continuous uphill and downhill climb. The kilometers-long stretch of road signs overwhelmed me; the border was right here, the inscribed characters telling me so. Unfinished construction sites, with swirling dust obscuring my vision. I watched in horror as the trucks sped through the dust, not a single horn sound to warn oncoming vehicles on the bends. "You're used to it," Lan said, her voice blending with the wind. "Notice it," Lan said, "only city cars and unfamiliar vehicles honk here. No one here does. These are all hairpin bends; honking would wear out your horn." Lan pointed out the clumps of silver butterfly bushes along the road, small plants growing close together, their yellow flowers and white sepals resembling butterflies fluttering in the endless green of the forest. High above, a cluster of fiery red flame trees stood proudly and defiantly. "I don't know why, but I find it as lonely as a spider lily," Lan burst out laughing, "I've never heard anyone make such a comparison before."
Again, steep slopes, windy roads, and sharp bends; our voices muffled through our masks. The mountains, layer upon layer, stood majestically, clouds drifting like a fairy tale landscape. The only problem was that the A Vuong River had been dammed, its bottom a dry, barren expanse of rocks facing the sky—oh, how heartbreakingly sad this once poetic river, so beautiful in Bach Lan's poems. I imagined a tung tree standing by the riverbank, its petals falling like scattered pearls onto the tranquil water, their shape intact, swirling in the cool water. Now the river was like a dried-up stream; where did the petals drift? Where did the petals drift? I blurted out. Lan didn't speak. I couldn't look into her eyes at that moment, but the feeling of regret was probably hard to hide in her helpless shake of the head.
Since when have I always felt sorry for withered flowers? Since when have I become so disheartened by things that seem so obvious in life? Who am I, and where do I stand in this world? A loveless marriage, a home that isn't warm enough for my children, and what else? Living unhappily is already a sin against oneself; let go, Lan keeps reminding herself.
I remembered my daughter's questioning, "Mom, why don't you just pull it out? That damn wisdom tooth, it's not wise at all, it only causes pain." I laughed, "Keeping it makes my face look fuller." I thought, "If I pull it out, my gums will shrink, my cheeks will sunken, and I'll look old and ugly." Is beauty really that important? Just to look presentable, I have to endure constant pain? I'd rather get rid of it all," my daughter pouted. I just laughed. When did I start harboring such crazy thoughts? Keeping a loveless marriage is more painful than keeping a tooth that doesn't serve its purpose.
Still steep. Tay Giang treated me to steep slopes, slopes, and wind. This season is bearable, but the rainy season is terrible; you could fly from one mountain to another like a bird without wings," Lan joked. I looked at the mountain slope, picturing the arched backs catching the wind, the sudden gusts and twists in the deep ravines, the steering wheel wobbling in the thick rain. The rain in Tay Giang was persistent, like the tears of parting with a deeply loved one, Lan said, deliberately teasing, as if poking deep into my heart. Face it, either stop all emotions, or give each other a chance if there's still enough fate and destiny. I feel tired for the two of you.
Quân was divorced, and of course, it wasn't my fault. I had left his life until we met again, a surprising reunion of two defeated souls. And although I tried to help him do something for his children, it was useless. Quân had gone somewhere, for a very long time, for years we hadn't seen each other, as if he had vanished from my life, and then suddenly, just now, in a strange place I never imagined, we met again.
Nothing is accidental; not a single drop of rain falls in the wrong place, it's a convergence of fate, you have to believe it! Lan said in the wind. I don't know if I'm truly ready for this meeting. I don't even know where to go to avoid meeting him when the majestic Tay Giang River is just one road away. When I came here, I never thought I needed to prepare a wholehearted heart to do something.
"Maybe... maybe we should turn back." I hesitated, tapping Lan on the shoulder. The wind seemed to lessen my tap; Lan kept her grip on the throttle, shifting gears. The bike paused briefly before speeding off, blending into the wind, leaving no time to catch the faint scent of wildflowers.
Source: https://thanhnien.vn/doc-gio-truyen-ngan-cua-ho-loan-18526041819471525.htm
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