Silk River

He immersed himself in the moonlight, surrounded by the intoxicating scent of mulberry leaves, as if fearing that the Thousand Fragrance region would soon be plowed up. Suddenly, Hinh felt as if someone was whispering to him. "What are you doing out here so late? Go home and rest; you can pick leaves tomorrow." Then, the moonlight lured him into a mystical realm, both dreamlike and real. "Oh, my dear, I am a 'standing-eating' person, living the life of silkworms and silkworms. If we love each other, let's go spin the threads and weave silk. Later, with beautiful silk, we can sew clothes together and weave our dreams of peace." Hinh stretched out his hand to catch the moonlight, the wind whipping against his face. He stumbled, unexpectedly losing his footing and his body swaying…

Late at night. The cold mist descended. He dragged himself home, shivering. Those days of picking mulberries, his mind wandering, filled with a vague, undefined longing. Yen Chi had left with a merchant on a trip back to the village to get supplies; he heard he was incredibly rich. She was his first love, but she had left behind a desolate, empty place for Hinh. He wished the wind would blow steadily, soothing the pain and comforting the mulberry field, still green amidst the weary waiting. The village was becoming increasingly deserted. Young people were flocking to the city to find work, some joining the bustling industrial zones. Some parents were burning their looms and working as laborers in the city. The houses in the countryside were quiet and silent. The village lanes were melancholic, reminding him of the prosperous days when bundles of silkworm cocoons and silkworms were sold far away. At the edge of the village, the once huge shops selling intricately woven silk were now dwindling. Mr. Dai had a talented daughter who used to sew traditional Vietnamese dresses, but now she's moved to the city to make a living. Yen Chi is no more in the village. Nor are there any more of those hardworking, tall girls, whose hands were still delicate and whose cheeks rosy with charm despite the hard work. Mr. Dai now keeps the craft going with a few apprentices to ease his nostalgia, not for profit. In his youth, he was a close friend of Mr. Hinh's father. That year, Mr. Hinh's father went to the battlefield, and after two years of studying fine arts, Mr. Dai also joined the fierce fighting. Mr. Hinh's father died before the country was reunified. Mr. Dai was discharged from the army and returned to his hometown to make silk, no longer pursuing his fine arts studies.

Whenever Cả Đại felt lost and alone, he would call Hinh over for tea and conversation. He could read the sadness in Hinh's eyes, a man burdened by sorrow, remaining in the village, immersed in the world of silkworms and busy work. Sometimes he would sigh and say, "If only I had known back then, I would have married Giang to you." He said this because he didn't know the depth of Hinh and Yến Chi's feelings for each other. Hinh would pour tea for himself and the man, trying to ease his own unease. Then, the man would break the heavy atmosphere with an encouraging remark: "Well, at least the village still has a few people like you and me. That's enough to keep the flame of our craft burning."

Hinh felt a bitter taste in his mouth. In this age of technology, everything changes at a dizzying pace, and a smoldering fire is nothing compared to that.

After the tea ceremony, Hinh arrived at the village crossroads and met Yen Chi's mother. Mrs. Thuoc invited him to her house. "My husband is also home," she said. Hinh replied, "Yes, ma'am." Since he was feeling anxious that day anyway, he followed her. Mr. Than and Mrs. Thuoc were fond of Hinh. The story of him and their daughter filled them with silent regret. They had only heard from their daughter that she was trading silk in the city, but it was silk from other villages. Hinh tried not to let out a sigh. Their daughter had gone with someone else; happiness was nowhere to be found, and she hadn't even bothered to come home for a whole year…

***

The room was desolate. Hinh sat browsing the internet in the quiet night when he suddenly recoiled at a Facebook page displaying silk products bearing the Tan Long brand. He wondered: These samples were from his village, not Tan Long. Who was the one "hanging a goat's head and selling dog meat," mixing his village's silk with that of a newly rich village? Only about ten households in the village still made silkworm cocoons and spun yarn, with a few dedicated individuals still clinging to the craft. Only a few customers came to buy from them. Could it be that they were the ones who took his village's silk, labeled it Tan Long, and sold it? The next day, piecing together the information, Hinh finally learned that the person behind the merchants who still came to the village to buy goods was Yen Chi. Yen Chi had brazenly betrayed the village, engaging in illegal trading, and surely the man called the silk tycoon was pulling the strings from behind. His meeting with Yen Chi became incredibly awkward. His former girlfriend suddenly seemed distant, her words laced with pragmatism. All the way home, he still couldn't understand why he had loved and missed someone so much.

Mr. Ca Dai was shocked to hear this news. He and the other honest artisans had spent their lives preserving the brand and clinging to their craft, hoping that one day the flame would be rekindled. Who would have thought that a young woman from the village, chasing after profit, would tarnish the village's traditions and the exquisite techniques passed down through generations? The entire village closed its doors to the old traders. The clan leader sent Hinh and another young man to the city to investigate the tricks of the merchants. Hinh knew that by mixing the village's silk with silk from other places, they could sell it at a much higher price.

As soon as Hinh returned, Mr. Dai came to see him, his face serious. He invited Hinh and the skilled craftsmen who had put away their looms to a meeting at the village hall. A few days later, Mr. Dai and Hinh packed their bags and traveled to several southern provinces to meet with fellow craftsmen and artisans who were diligently building a brand. After a ten-day trip, Hinh envisioned the path forward for the village. The village still had many skillful hands, just waiting for a new impetus to continue their work, diligently and tirelessly like bees. He befriended a few well-known contacts to create opportunities for the village's silk. Then the village built a showroom for visitors to admire the beautiful silk fabrics, nurturing the dreams of those who love their homeland. The young people who remained created additional channels on social media, with images and videos that were simply stunning. The village built its brand, and its name was included in tourist itineraries on scenic routes. The roads aren't wide, but they're wide enough for vehicles to line up, bringing visitors from far and wide to admire the scenery, the river with its flocks of egrets soaring, the lush green mulberry fields, and the many small flower-lined paths connecting the fields and villages.

The silk exhibition room in the corner of the communal house, under the canopy of a two-hundred-year-old kapok tree, stands as a witness, reflecting on the countless efforts of our ancestors in establishing the village… Visitors from afar say the silk village is rapidly transforming. Mr. Dai, the village elder, says the revival is due to the villagers learning how to sew appropriate garments, learning from others and doing good for the village and for the silk industry. Several families who had started businesses in the South returned to replant mulberry trees, raise silkworms, and buy spinning machines. They accumulated capital and built spacious workshops. Hinh was happy because among them were brothers and friends who now shared the same vision and rolled up their sleeves to contribute to this great endeavor. He was busier, but his joy also increased. The village was bustling, from the houses and alleyways to the green mulberry fields. The village's reputation grew, and several silk villages from far away came to learn from it.

***

One day, a car pulled up in the village square. The owner, a wealthy businessman who owned a large silk trading company and was said to have helped many places prosper, had come to see Mr. Dai. Mr. Dai called Hinh over. After an open conversation, they all agreed on an order that would breathe new life into the village. The village's silk would be exported more widely, to major cultural regions. Mr. Dai called Giang back. His daughter, who had lived with low self-esteem for years because of her failure with silk, was now restarting her business at a time when the village was on the rise. Hinh worked tirelessly, so he delegated the task of picking mulberry leaves to others. He was cheerful during the days when he introduced the exhibition house to visitors from near and far, who came to take commemorative photos. Giang's weaving and sewing workshop was right across the road, so the two could easily chat, and their feelings for each other deepened without them even realizing it. Occasionally, Hinh would take Giang to the moonlit riverbank. The moon was as gentle as the silk of the village, cool and soothing. Thanks to her foreign language skills and fluent speaking ability, Giang can converse smoothly with international delegations visiting the village. The guests are captivated by the scarves and blouses adorned with intricate floral and botanical patterns that she skillfully embroiders on silk. The village is proud to have Giang.

***

The sun was blazing. Roses and frangipani blossoms filled the courtyard. Hinh had just finished entertaining a group of foreign guests when Mrs. Thuoc passed by. Seeing Hinh, she stopped to confide in her. She said, “Yen Chi’s life is so miserable, my dear. She’s gone with that man…” Then she recounted her story. The man Yen Chi was with had gone bankrupt. He gambled, was dissolute, neglected his work, and was cheated by his subordinates, leaving him almost penniless. He beat Yen Chi and then chased her out of the house. Even after leaving that house, which reeked of cigarette smoke and alcohol, Yen Chi still had no identity. She was like a water hyacinth clinging to a rotten tree, and when the current was strong, she was swept away. “She said she regretted abandoning me and selling her conscience for trusting someone.” After saying this, Mrs. Thuoc stood up, her eyes welling up with tears. Hinh felt a lump in her throat.

The village held a feast to express gratitude to those who had contributed to the silk industry. The river flowed gently, its breezes murmuring softly. Among the guests were those who would carry silk scarves far and wide. Late in the afternoon, Hinh sat down to rest and have tea when he received a handwritten letter from Yen Chi. She wrote: “For the past few days, I’ve only dared to look at you from afar, and I see that your life is going very well. I am an outcast, I have made a great mistake, and I don’t deserve forgiveness. But please let me continue my work, so that later I can buy silk from the village to make clothes. I have borrowed money from you and your wife to open a small tailor shop in the district. I will also make clothes, to remember a time gone by and to atone for my mistakes…”

Hinh put the letter down, his heart sinking. A cool breeze blew in. Yen Chi had left him feeling restless and pensive. Giang's voice brought him back to reality. She proudly showed him a new pattern she had just created for a silk dress, a very beautiful one...

Short stories by Que Phuong

Source: https://baophapluat.vn/song-lua-post545842.html