The Ho Chi Minh City convoy carrying the first batch of people to reclaim land, including Hai Huan's family, stopped at the intersection in the middle of the forest. It was late afternoon. A brief announcement was made: - We have arrived at our new homeland, everyone! Please get off quickly so the vehicle can return in time for the next trip tomorrow morning.
During the journey, Hai Huan's mother, who was over sixty years old, suffered from motion sickness. Her face was pale and she sat with her head resting on her daughter-in-law's back. Hai Huan was also in a state of lethargy and nodding off. Suddenly, there were several loud knocks on the door. Startled, he quickly lifted his mother, who was limp like a pickled cabbage, up by her armpits and hobbled down the car.
Looking up at the sky with dark clouds, looking to the side of the road, seeing the empty house with mud walls and a newly thatched roof, he decided to go in. Let his mother lie down on the bed made of green bamboo trunks.
Seeing that it was safe, he went out with his wife and son and pulled the trunk and a few bags of stuff down from the roof of the car when it started to rain heavily. Estimating that the rain would continue, the head of the executive committee ordered the whole group to shoulder their belongings and march with him to receive the house.
Arriving at Hai Huan's place, he saw the old lady bending over and vomiting, and a pile of wet belongings. He also saw Hai Huan limping, feeling sorry for him, he pursed his lips and gave a verbal order: - Let's give this house to you and your wife. Hai Huan obeyed and thanked him profusely.
A close friend who worked as a tricycle driver on the same street whispered to him: - You're so stupid, in the middle of an empty intersection like this, if the Cambodians attack you, you'll die. Not knowing what intuition told him, Hai Huan replied curtly: - Do you think you'll die that easily? He let out a long sigh and then walked away, stuttering. He even turned his head and cursed curtly: - Stupid, hard to teach!
Nearly twenty years later, this place became a town, a district-level political and economic center. The old forest road intersection became the center of the district town, lit up all night long. Opposite Hai Huan's house, a commercial and service area was built on the scale of a huge market house that could accommodate several hundred small traders.
From dawn to dusk, the crowd was dense. The district reclaimed the land in the remaining two corners to build several towering office buildings. The garden plot at the corner of Hai Huan’s intersection and the houses along the street fronting the street were kept intact as a residential area. Many people sighed and regretted, wondering why they hadn’t quickly reserved the house at the beginning of the plot.
Having been accustomed to living a modest life under the subsidy period, in the first few years of transition to a market economy, everyone was scrambling to keep up with the dizzying changes. Households with land along the road like Hai Huan competed to divide it into pieces large enough to build a townhouse, then started buying and selling, exchanging the width of the land for the height of the buildings.
The friend who used to say he was stupid now laughed and said: - Hai Huan has become Hai Hen. Sitting with his legs spread open and counting gold in the safe, how fun! In response, Hai Hen also laughed, neither happy nor sad.
Ten years later, the old new economic village had no trace left. On both sides of the road, on all four sides of the intersection, people were bustling up and down the street, every house had opened a shop and made a profit like water. Only Hai Huan's garden, with two square fronts facing the two main streets, was still green with fruit trees and shade, covering the old, rusty three-room house with a tin roof.
Many people drooled over that land that produced gold, begged, pleaded, and forced, but Hai Huan remained steadfast in his stance of not selling. Now, in everyone's eyes, Hai Hen had turned into Hai Ham Ty Do. Deep down, Hai Huan was also saddened by that reputation. He also wanted to express his deepest feelings about why he wanted to keep this land as pure as it had been and is still as pure as it has always been.
But whenever he was about to speak, all he saw were greedy eyes and mouths that opened for money, gold, profit and loss. He felt that they were not worthy to share the confidences that he had so respectfully cherished in his heart.
Because for nearly forty years, his whole family has lived and worked peacefully on that piece of land, eating and sleeping there, breathing the pure air that surrounds it, and his children have grown up to be decent people from there. To him, it is a sacred land that must be protected and preserved so that no one, no thing can defile it.
His father died early, Hai Huan's mother carried her young child with her one arm and sold rice cakes and rice cakes in every nook and cranny of Saigon with the other. At the age of five, Hai Huan suffered from a fever that almost killed him. He survived but one of his legs was atrophied.
From then on, every step he took was limping. Although he had a slight defect, the rest of his body developed wonderfully. He was as strong as a ball of rice. At the age of seven or eight, he could grind flour and work hard all day helping his mother make cakes. At the age of ten, he was strong enough to ride a tricycle to transport hundreds of things for the street vendors. Then he got married - in the same situation as him, wearing a short shirt and a torn shirt, like his mother, also carrying a load on her shoulder, selling all kinds of things at the beginning of the alley and the end of the street.
A year before Saigon was liberated, his son Han, who was not yet old enough to be drafted, was released because one of his eyes was opaque. So, thanks to his disability, he and his father escaped the crime of holding a gun without knowing who the enemy was.
The day her nephew brought home the certificate of exemption from military service, Hai Huan's mother smiled with a twinkle in her eyes but with a few tears in her eyes and said: - This family is so miserable, the father is crippled and the child is blind. Hai Huan's wife smiled brightly: - Don't you see the house of Aunt Tu next door, her husband died in battle, and her son just announced his death. Now she goes in and out alone.
In the first few months of liberation, unemployment was high in Saigon. The ward government encouraged people to go to the new economic zone with many incentives. Hai Huan, with the whole family's consent, enthusiastically registered for a place. He did not regret handing over his ragged house to the ward.
But in the wild forest, whether his family would be well-off or not, he was a little uncertain. The first night in the strange house with earthen walls, surrounded by the constant creaking of geckos calling to each other, strangely enough, he did not feel the slightest bit worried or restless.
It was as if someone had told him it was fate, that he was returning to his place from long ago. That night, amidst the incessant sound of the rain, neither awake nor asleep, he vaguely heard the rustling of the forest wind, sometimes far away, sometimes very close, the shouts of one, two, three, four… and many footsteps running past the house.
I guess there was a military camp nearby. Near dawn he crept across the street and sat at a table with some old men who were drinking early coffee. It was still very early, the night was pitch black.
The dilapidated thatched hut had a few low bamboo tables and chairs. A few duck egg lamps flickered with a few yellow halos. After a few minutes of socializing, he asked about the shouts in the rain last night, but the men didn't seem surprised at all. Then the oldest man whispered: - There's no military camp here. But we hear it all the time. This intersection was very fierce back then. We sacrificed a lot. The other side also died a lot.
How pitiful. Every rainy and windy night, you could hear the rumbling of movement like that. But in the morning, there was not a single soldier. This land was sacred. Behind the house he had just received, about five hundred meters away, was the frontline first aid station of the Liberation Army during the war. And this road at that time was just a liaison trail leading troops to the Central Bureau stationed nearby, about ten kilometers away.
So there must be many martyrs' remains under this ground. With that thought flashing through his mind, when returning to the new house, Hai Huan unconsciously walked cautiously, afraid that he would accidentally step on something very sacred lying buried in the grass.
Early in the morning, Hai Huan walked around the garden he had just been assigned alone. Several large tree stumps with whole trunks oozing sap protruded from the ground, scattered among termite mounds as big as haystacks. Here and there, clumps of bamboo shoots sprouted.
For some reason, in the middle of the garden there was only one wild star fruit tree with a trunk so big that a person could hug it. All over the branches and leaves, there were golden fruits hanging. Hidden in the canopy of leaves, a few little birds pecked at the ripe fruits.
He vaguely heard the giggling of many girls. Raising his head, many pairs of bird eyes opened wide, blinking at him as intimately as human eyes. With a machete in hand, he cleared the weeds around the tree, thinking to himself that perhaps back then the Liberation Army girls had come here to pick each cone and eat it together, giggling together, and longing for the taste of their homeland.
Who knows, maybe some of them are still lying here, their souls still coming back to giggle together under the shade of this ancient tree. A week later, when clearing the grass at the end of the garden, the father and son discovered a mound of earth about two meters long and less than a meter wide.
Remembering the old men's words the other day, suspecting it was a martyr's grave, he and his son dug the soil and filled it squarely. That very afternoon, he set up a sacred altar on top of the mound and offered incense and flowers, praying that if this was the resting place of any martyrs, please let me know in your dreams, I will do everything I can to contact you so that your remains can return to their homeland.
After praying three times, he saw three incense sticks glowing unusually and three pieces of incense ash curving around to form a three-petaled flower. From then on, every full moon and the first of every month, his family never forgot to offer incense and flowers.
At the end of that year, Hai Huan's wife gave birth to a daughter. When the child cried out at birth, the name Hong Lien flashed in his mind and his wife also softly told him to name the child Hong Lien. Hong Lien's full month birthday coincided with the second of September.
His mother killed a chicken, cooked sticky rice, celebrated National Day and paid homage to the baby's midwife at the same time. Of course, the old lady did not forget to offer sacrifices at the sacred altar at the end of the garden. That afternoon, with a little wine in hand, Hai Huan draped his shirt over his shoulder and walked out the gate, intending to have a cup of coffee to make himself happier.
Suddenly a military jeep screeched to a halt in the middle of the road. Opening the door, a female Liberation soldier got out. She smiled brightly under her floppy hat, and walked over to shake his hand, as if they had met after a long time.
Then he pulled him into the car and said the unit respectfully invited him to attend the party. He silently obeyed like a machine. The car sped away towards the distant forest for about ten minutes and stopped in front of the barracks gate. The yard was packed with soldiers walking back and forth. About a dozen girls rushed out to greet him.
Each girl wore a conical hat, sandals, and a green military uniform. Their eyes sparkled and their hair was long and jet black, but the color of their clothes was faded by the sun and rain.
As if sensing his pity and pity for the lives of female soldiers, an older woman said: - It's been years since we've been issued military uniforms. We have to sympathize with our country's poverty.
Then they all pulled him into the party. The party had beef and pork, all prepared in the Northern style. That night, the girls took turns inviting him to drink. It was so much fun, so touching, the host and guests all drank a lot.
Then the girls sang, laughed, and hugged each other, crying, making him shed tears. While he was in a daze, he heard them talking to each other: - Will he recognize us coming to pick star fruit in the garden every day? And Lien has to take care of him enthusiastically. Your house is warm and cozy thanks to him.
In the late afternoon, the girls chattered as they saw him off to the car, some crying, some smiling with affection. When the car reached the gate, Lien sat still, leaning on his shoulder, sobbing: - Honey! I miss my mother so much. It's been ten years since I've been home with her. In response, he could only cry with her. They reluctantly said goodbye. He staggered up and down, and before he reached the door, he heard the whole family exclaim: - He's awake! He's awake! His mother's voice: - What a weakling, after just a few drinks he's already drunk all night. Opening his eyes, he found himself lying on the bed surrounded by family members and neighbors. He regained his composure, saying nothing. He just silently pondered the strange party he'd just had.
The next morning, he quietly went to the District Team to report about the mound at the end of the garden. He also did not forget to tell the story that was both real and unreal the previous afternoon. About a week later, a group of soldiers collecting remains came to the place where he had set up an altar. They dug about a meter deep and found a green-colored sheet. Carefully opening it, inside was a small skeleton intact. On the head was a long, shiny black hair. Next to it were still two porcelain bowls, tightly fitted together. When he opened the bowl, he saw a picture of a girl in a nylon bag, showing her chubby cheeks, a bright smile, and two rows of teeth as even as corn kernels. Strangely, just a few seconds later, the picture was just a blank sheet of paper. But Hai Huan still recognized that it was the female soldier who had fallen on his shoulder, sobbing, missing her old mother in the North that strange afternoon. In the bowl was a bottle of penicillin containing a piece of paper that, although blurred, still readable, read: Nguyen Thi Hong Lien, hometown... died on... After the remains of martyr Lien were transferred, Hai Huan felt extremely empty in his heart, bewildered as if he had just parted forever with his beloved little sister. That same afternoon, he sent a letter to inform Lien's family in the North. Restlessly, he took a bus to the foot of Ba Mountain to have the stonemason make a stele with the words: This was once the resting place of martyr Nguyen Thi Hong Lien, hometown... died on... . Then he brought it back and solemnly erected it in the middle of the land that the soldiers had just excavated. Still not satisfied, he and his father painstakingly found some small eucalyptus trees to plant at the four corners of the stele, silently praying that this land would be the place to return to, the place to stay for the souls of martyrs who had not had the chance to return to the homeland they always missed so much.
About half a month later, the eldest brother of martyr Hong Lien got off the U-oắt-as-a-bầu parked in front of Hai Huan's house. Witnessing the whole Hai Huan family's love for his sister, he left a picture of Hong Lien for Hai Huan to put on the altar. After spending the night together, they opened their hearts to each other and he felt love for Hai Huan like his own younger brother. When they said goodbye, they hugged each other warmly. He said: - Hong Lien has accepted you as her older brother. So you are also my younger brother. My mother has been waiting for this day for many years. Lien will return to my mother in a few days. On behalf of the family, I thank you very much. Being speechless, Hai Huan could only hold his brother's hands and cry. The following month, suddenly the District Committee sent someone to make a file and decided to recruit Han as a clerk. From then on, Hai Huan's son had a monthly salary, plus a rice ration, so Hai Huan's family didn't have to worry about daily food. Without asking, Hai Huan secretly guessed that his older brother in the North had a very important position that he entrusted to his daughter, so that she could be so proud. Later, when his daughter Hong Lien finished university, she applied for a job at a branch office in Ho Chi Minh City and was immediately hired. A few months later, the department head told her that Deputy Minister H… was asking about her nephew, Hai Huan then learned that his sworn brother was currently the Deputy Minister of Department X.
Now Hai Huan is old and decrepit. His mother and then his wife have left him one by one. His son Han is married. His wife has a stall selling cosmetics in the market. He never pays attention to housework, all day long he is busy painting his fingernails and eyelids. Afraid that having many children will make him age quickly, he only gave birth to one grandson. This year the boy is in the fifth grade. Currently, Hai Huan's eyes are dim, his legs are more limp. Twice a day, he wanders around the garden with his cane, sweeping away the leaves and cleaning the stone benches he placed under the roots of the old oil trees that have now become large trees, spreading their shade over the tombstone marking the place where his younger sister Hong Lien used to rest. The benches are always filled with couples whispering and confiding. Every morning, old people come to sit and sunbathe, meet and exchange feelings. The star fruit tree in the middle of the garden has a trunk larger than a person can hug. All year round, it bears a lot of fruit. Many times he looked up and saw familiar birds from the past chirping and pecking at ripe star fruit. Now each pair of eyes was still wide open and twinkling like human eyes. But the mischievous look was gone. One day they folded their wings and stood next to each other, absent-mindedly. Every time he heard someone faintly mention Miss Lien who had not come to visit for a long time. There were also many whispers calling for their mother. He could only stand there hugging the tree and crying. The people who saw that scene whispered to each other that old man Hai Huan was too old and had become crazy.
Last night he heard Han and his wife arguing. The wife said: - Tell him to cut down the star fruit tree and build a house to open a cosmetics shop. It's a golden opportunity but he didn't know how to take advantage of it. The husband growled: - Shut your mouth! Touching the star fruit tree means touching my father's life. The wife let out a long sigh: - He's about to die but he's still clinging to his money. This afternoon his nephew came home from school and said sullenly: - You bought me an electric bike. He patted his head and mumbled: - You don't have that much money. The nephew became more flexible: - You sold a little bit of land and bought a lot of things. That's what my mother said!
Hearing his nephew's innocent advice, Hai Huan absentmindedly leaned on his cane and went out into the garden. He painfully rubbed the stone tablet, tears welling up as he hugged the old star fruit tree. He knew that the day he would return to the world of his mother, his wife and Hong Lien, who were still present, was coming soon.
What will happen to this sacred land? Worrying and insecurity all afternoon kept him from sleeping. In the middle of the night, he suddenly remembered a story from ten years ago, a Chinese or Taiwanese guy stayed at his house all day. He mumbled: My destiny is very compatible with the feng shui of this land. No matter what price you give me, I will be satisfied immediately, money is not an issue. If I can open a supermarket here, I will be very rich, I will not forget you... Too annoyed, he told him: - Then go to the base of the star fruit tree and pray to the gods to see if they approve. He hurriedly lit incense and went out to the garden to pray. A few minutes later, his face was ashen as ink and he came back stammering: - I am very scared, very scared. He said, took out a handful of money and asked you to buy a roast pig as a thank you. Then he ran away.
So he knew for sure that the heroic spirit of the martyrs would forever exist on this sacred land. God, please show his descendants the bright path.
The next morning, not seeing his father wake up early like every day, Han went to his father's bed and saw his father lying with his legs stretched out, his hands clasped together in the middle of his stomach. Bending down low, he heard his father's chest not heaving. Spreading his hand on his father's face, he felt as if he was touching a cold stream of air from his half-open eyes and his pale forehead with a few veins. He quickly knelt down and sobbed: - Dad! Please rest assured, as long as I am alive in this world, no one will dare to touch the Sacred Land of our family. And there are also your grandchildren. Please trust and leave in peace.
Looking up, he was surprised to see his forehead relaxed and his eyelids closed at some point.
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