Master Ngo is gone! - Short story by Truong Van Tuan

The old and experienced uncles of the market area direct the calling of funeral services, cooking services, dismantling walls, cleaning the yard, arranging tables and chairs, etc. The young men, women and children follow suit in an orderly and solemn manner.

Illustration: Van Nguyen

At 8:30, the official funeral drum sounded . The funeral service continued to arrange more flowers and decorate the shrine. Teacher Ngo was an old man and was respected both in school and in life, a teacher on the podium and in the lives of every villager, so the shrine had to be splendid and neat to be worthy of his stature.

When the funeral drums stopped, Thanh returned home and stretched out his legs on a hammock to rest. Thanh's restaurant was closed today, but his parents and wife were still helping with the funeral.

Opening the phone, Thanh guessed each message with sad and panicked expressions.

- OH.

- Anyone going home?

- Mr. Quoc, what do you think, Mrs. Hang?

- Just the other day, I didn't have time to have a drink with the teacher...

…

Teacher Ngo has been teaching for over 40 years, he has taught most of the children in the market area and the whole commune. Last month, some of his contemporaries and fellow students gathered to eat and drink at Thanh's house. They walked to his house to say hello out of courtesy. But that day, he was busy attending a distant funeral, so he couldn't come over to sit with his former students.

It didn't show on their faces, but maybe everyone was glad the teacher was busy.

Partly because of the generation gap, partly because of the fear of meeting the teacher and asking about work - everyone felt that they were still poor, unfinished, and didn't want to share, partly because they didn't want to hear the same old stories the teacher had been telling over and over again for many years.

Among them, the story about saving a group of children from a swarm of hornets is the one he tells most often.

That day, a group of about nine or ten children, both young and old, boys and girls, skipped their afternoon nap and ran out to play in the empty lot at the end of the market. Some cut reeds and tied them into bunches, some rolled leaves into trumpets, some imitated adults setting traps to catch fish, some simply brought out candy and sat down to munch on them for fun. Next to that was a coconut tree nearly ten meters high, with a wasp nest as big as two adult hands, built right into the leaves that had turned yellow-brown, their tails curled down to the trunk. Van felt he was light, so he tried swinging on the coconut tree to see what it would be like.

Whoosh… The leaves fell, taking with them the hornets’ nest that was clinging to it. It was truly a broken hive! They rushed out and began to draw their swords to defend themselves.

The children shouted:

- Run! Hurry!...

Only two children remained: Van stood staring at the broken beehive, the other stood looking at Van.

- I stood on the other side of the ditch, I saw the two of them motionless. I thought to myself: it's over.

Master Ngo told the story in a thrilling way, a hundred times like the same thing.

- I flew over immediately. I pushed one of them down into the grass hole, took off my shirt and covered him. I said: lie still . As for Van, luckily he was tiny, I hugged him tightly, holding him against my chest. I ran straight... jumped the ditch... sneaked past some reeds, grass... The bees were smart but very stubborn, chasing after them, they landed on my head, on my back, making a sound of "bon, bon" ... I ran to the cement bridge and I didn't know anything anymore...

At that moment, the teacher really did not know anything. People rushed out, holding brooms, holding fires, holding insect sprays to chase away the remaining swarms of bees. Van was stung twice on his legs and arms, and had a fever for several days. Teacher Ngo had many wounds on his head and back. He was hospitalized and lay unconscious for several days, then discharged amid cheers welcoming the hero. He was a benefactor to Van, the children, and dozens of families.

The story of how the teacher saved Van was told by the teacher for 20 years. Van went to work far away and died of illness at the age of twenty-eight. At his funeral, the teacher told it again.

Before, people also wondered who the person under the teacher's cloak was. But no one admitted it. Thanh also did not admit it.

Some kids only got scratches from running and falling, some got a sting or two on their head or back. Everyone was afraid of being beaten by their parents for being naughty and that it would be reported to the village and the neighborhood, so they kept quiet and simplified the situation: that day they were just standing far away or accidentally passing by and got stung by a bee. They had little to do with the life-and-death story that was told over and over again, except for Van.

But every time Mr. Ngo told a story, it aroused in them a sense of guilt about the mistakes and foolishness of youth. Every time Mr. Ngo appeared as a hero, Van shrank back into a small, foolish figure, illustrating his helpless image when he stood in front of the broken beehive waiting to be rescued.

Teacher Ngo has been a teacher on the podium for many years, so he is well-versed in astronomy and geography. In everyday life, he is also a teacher to everyone.

Chinh, two years older than Hoa, was also a student of the master. They got married. On the day of the bride's wedding, the two families were holding the ceremony when the master suddenly shouted:

- Nonsense! The bride has to sit on this side, the groom has to go this way, sit on that side… The bride has to come out from that door.

The ceremony was then stopped, the bride and groom stood up and changed seats, the bride hesitantly walked in and then walked out.

The main house was next to the teacher's house. When the couple's love for each other was less intense, they often argued. The day before they argued, the teacher came over the next day to lecture them more about the relationship between husband and wife, the relationship between a daughter-in-law, and how to behave properly.

- If Mr. Ngo hadn't been there last night, I would have beaten Mr. Chinh.

Hoa said that while having breakfast and telling Thanh's mother about Chinh losing nearly a hundred million on soccer betting. Wanting to teach her husband but being bound by formalities, it was really frustrating.

In the neighborhood, when someone was naming a child, building a house, buying land, etc., the teacher would enthusiastically give advice and guidance. When someone had a funeral, the teacher would come to direct and arrange it according to the correct procedures and standards. Some people followed, but others just nodded.

Last time, there was a young man in the village who started a business with dried agricultural products. When customers, local leaders, and the commune radio station came to the tea party, he was also invited to sit in.

The teacher is very pleased with the idea, flavor, and packaging of the student's product, but still wants to give more comments:

- This product is good, but it still lacks…

The young entrepreneur suddenly writhed and dropped the teapot on the ground, so he didn't hear what the teacher said.

- I'm old, son. I appreciate what I teach.

Thanh's parents often warned him when they saw him sighing and getting bored.

Thanh's major was also chosen by his teacher. At that time, people said:

- No! Let the kids do whatever they want. If we don't guide them properly, we will create bad karma.

- No! We have to guide parents and children - The teacher immediately corrected his thoughts.

Thanh dropped out of college after two years and went home to help out at the restaurant. His teacher seemed disappointed and came over less often for breakfast and lunch than when Thanh first got into a prestigious school in Saigon.

A few years later, Thanh got married and had children. The teacher gradually calmed down and stopped giving advice.

Young people in this market area rush in all directions to make a career, earn money, and meet many types of people. Somewhere there are people who deify their expertise and field into a forbidden area, a towering peak that not everyone can enter or reach. Somewhere there are seniors who have lived for many years and have turned themselves into the standard of all values.

Therefore, during the holidays in the countryside, there are middle-aged and young people who meet Mr. Ngo again and are not surprised to hear his advice and guidance - hearing his correction over and over again becomes an addiction. But there are students who come back from far away from home and meet him again, feeling more depressed and bored, and exclaiming:

- Born and abused by grandparents, come home and meet teacher Ngo!

After 10 o'clock, the funeral decoration service left. Master Ngo passed away suddenly, so he didn't have time to give instructions for his own funeral. But if he knew everything, he would have been reassured: the service could take care of everything. The service nowadays is both fast and skillful, whether you want it beautiful - luxurious - modern - classic - colorful - clear - popular or high-end, it's all available.

The group messages were bustling again, making appointments:

- Do you accept cigarettes?

- How many visits?

- I'll transfer the money, I can't go home.

- When will Mr. Chinh and Mrs. Hoa come back?

The dialog box said Hoa was composing a message. It took her a long time to compose, but it turned out she was hesitating.

- We divorced a long time ago, grandma - Hoa replied.

- Really… Sorry. I don't know.

- It's okay. How would I know if I hid it?

The chat box was quiet for a while for private messages. Hoa and her husband had been working away from home for a year before officially going their separate ways. They kept their personal matters to themselves, saying anything would only invite gossip and criticism. Now that things had settled down and become a thing of the past, Hoa shared.

- Hey, who was the one that teacher saved with Van back then?

A text message broke into the silence.

It's Thanh.

That year, Van stood still, while Thanh stood looking at Van, determined to wait for his friend to run with him. Then suddenly a strong hand grabbed Thanh's shoulder, pushing him down into the grass. Teacher Ngo tore his shirt open and covered Thanh's face.

The feeling of seeing a swarm of bees flying up threateningly as soon as they landed was not scary at all. But when someone else's opaque shirt was draped over his head, it was scary: before Thanh's eyes was a hazy, dimly lit curtain, outside the silhouettes of big, strong bees taking turns landing on the cloth, rolling around, flying up, and landing again... How many? When would they stop attacking?

Suffocating, breathless and scared!

Can't wait!

Thanh reached down to his feet, took off his plastic slippers and held them tightly in his hands. Thanh threw off his shirt. Ran. Thanh jumped over the broken beehive. Thanh used his slippers to slap a bee that was rushing towards him, with miraculous precision and decisiveness like someone playing tennis.

Run and run, don't look back.

Thanh swung his arms, threw his sandals to the other side of the bank, then jumped into the deep ditch. At nine years old, Thanh did not know how to swim yet. But he calmly stepped on the mud, waved his arms to find grass, and pulled himself up to the other side. Thanh quickly ran home to shower and change clothes, but the scratches could not be hidden.

The boy did not dare to tell the story. He was afraid that his mother would beat him for his unforgivable crimes: wandering around and playing around, almost dying from a bee sting, jumping into a ditch when he did not know how to swim. He was afraid that the story of saving himself would not be as interesting and thrilling as the story of saving someone by Mr. Ngo. And he was afraid that it would be repeated over and over again. Just like that, the story of who was under Mr. Ngo's shirt faded away with time.

- Please send my regards.

- Transfer money.

Visitors gradually arrived. Drums and trumpets sounded continuously.

Thanh wanted to lie down and laze a little longer, rest while answering messages from friends asking for help, then go help out in the afternoon. The restaurant was closed, no customers came to eat, his parents, wife and children were away - so he had a rare feeling of peace.

Teacher Ngo has been a teacher for over 40 years, teaching from father to son.

He was 82 years old.

Some students came to visit, some didn't.

Source: https://thanhnien.vn/thay-ngo-mat-roi-truyen-ngan-cua-truong-van-tuan-185250510194937305.htm