Mr. Dang opened the two doors wide, stretched and did some exercises, then stepped out into the yard. Hearing that he was determined to return to his hometown for a while, his sons had asked someone to clean up and tidy up the family garden before Tet, although there were still people watching and sweeping every month. Tet was over, but spring still felt like it had just begun. The garden of flowers and leaves wafted around the house, giving off a warm, sweet scent in the spring breeze. Young buds covered the branches with a glossy, mulberry pink color, like hands outstretched in greeting. He suddenly felt his heart soften in a strange sense of peace. It turned out that he had been too careless to forget that it had been a long time since he had been back here without being in a hurry because of work and family. He had to stay and rest, sit quietly in front of a cup of fragrant tea with the scent of wood and wolfberry, or walk on the path covered with rotten leaves, to be able to leisurely live with himself, leaning his shoulders to let go of the heavy burdens that had passed not long ago. He went back in to light incense and sit pensively on the wooden table and chairs that had not been warmed by human touch for a long time. Yesterday, his eldest son drove him home with a small amount of personal belongings that barely filled a suitcase, but he only sat with his father for a short while before having to return to the city to prepare for a trip with his small family.

After Mrs. Dang passed away, he retired a few years early. And even though he had a nanny to look after the children, he still spent a lot of time with his grandchildren, seeing it as a way to make up for the lack of their grandmother's care. It is natural for old people to love their grandchildren. To be fair, Mr. Dang is not considered old. It is just that many personal and public reasons forced him to choose to leave the officialdom. The time he spent sitting in front of the computer has been reduced. He struggled to keep up with the mischievous footsteps and laughter of his grandchildren, but it seems that he is still not satisfied with his children and their families. Partly because they raised their children in a way that is still called modern. Moreover, in the past, his family was also middle class, with people working all year round, he did not have to do any housework, so now he is also clumsy and tired. Being dragged into so many nameless trivial jobs, for him now, the rain, the sun, the moon and the stars and the wonderful changes of nature are almost too far away, only for idle people. In his head and ears, there are always funny and lovely children's songs. The funniest thing is that it has become familiar and makes him feel comfortable, sometimes even addicted. Friends who occasionally meet him are surprised at how much and how quickly Mr. Dang has changed.

When the children went to kindergarten, he had time to read books or meet some old friends for coffee, chatting for a few minutes about old and new stories, enough to forget the joys and sorrows of life. Only when his close friend suddenly passed away did he feel a sense of loss. He should have been the first to go, because after learning that he had fallen ill, the death sentence seemed to be hanging over his head, he asked the doctor not to tell his children about this. He went to see the doctor himself and followed the treatment regimen. Only Vu, a colleague in his department, knew clearly and often took him to the hospital according to the appointment. Vu was from the village, when he used to ride his bike with Khue to school in his final years of high school, he sometimes jumped on the back of the bike to hitchhike to elementary school. He often thanked Dang with guavas as big as teapots, stolen from Khue's garden. After all, she was his cousin, so why blame her mischievous younger brother for being so mischievous?

Unexpectedly, Vu later went to work in the province and joined the agency, in the same department where Dang was the head of. The two brothers became even closer than before. They confided in each other about everything, but Vu kept vaguely avoiding the topic of the old village. With Vu, Mr. Dang felt at ease and for some reason, he wanted to return to his hometown. He used the excuse that he did not want to disturb his children's lives to reassure himself. From distant memories, he vaguely felt that only there could he truly return to himself once and for all, at least in the last days of his life.

***

- Ms. Khue, are you going to the market this morning?

Vu had just entered the yard when he loudly called out to the homeowner. A yellow dog from the tea bush next door jumped over and barked loudly, making him turn around and laugh:

- You! You like to flatter your neighbors too?

Ms. Khue walked out from the kitchen porch with a basket of sticky rice on her back:

- Both man and dog, what are you doing making a mess in my house?

The early morning sunlight slanted, dyeing one side of the still silky hair of the older sister, who was already in her twilight years. Vu looked at his sister with a joyful gaze mixed with a bit of concern. For more than thirty years, this lonely woman had only returned to the village twice a year, from December to January and from August of the lunar calendar. Those were the days when she paid respects to her grandparents and parents.

Vu sat down on the porch, scooping handfuls of sticky rice into plastic bags. The grains of sticky rice felt smooth and soft under his hands. The light scent of the fragrant sticky rice took him back to a space, and also to the time of his childhood. On nights when Khue's yard was bustling with preparations for the death anniversary, the aunts and uncles came to sift, pound, and chat until late at night. Her parents died early, but she was the eldest child, so she was raised and educated by her grandmother. Her aunts and uncles also loved their niece, so they didn't let her work hard from cooking to working in the fields at noon. Seeing her and Dang growing up and studying together, Vu secretly hoped that she would have a warm place to rely on after her grandmother passed away. But Khue soon realized the awkwardness between the two families, and in fact, she no longer had a family at that time. So everything had no beginning. After several years of studying and working far away, the first time she returned home to celebrate Tet for the longest time was also the occasion of Dang's family's great joy. On the full moon of January that year, the two sisters sat watching the moon on the porch. Vu was old enough to understand the stormy silence in her sister's heart...

***

From afternoon until dusk, Mr. Dang felt tired from time to time. Ms. Ngo, who helped him with meals and a few housework, had returned home before the moon rose. He wanted to ask her to stay for a while, but Vu had called and said she would come, so he gave up and sat at the small table looking out the window. The garden was immersed in the faint light of dusk and the shadows of the trees were turning dark as if they were about to sink into the gloomy moment of a late, desolate sunset.

But in just a moment, the moon rose from the row of areca trees in front of the alley, full and brilliant. The sky was cloudless but the space was as hazy as mist, making him feel his body was light and flying, flying forever...

- Mr. Dang! Mr. Dang!

He opened his eyes wide, feeling someone's hand lightly touching his face. And the call was as clear as the clear singing behind the tea stalls. The moonlight poured through the window, shining on the delicate face, flickering before his eyes.

- What did you dream about that made you laugh so much?

Vu came and hugged his shoulder and continued, in a lower voice:

- Is something wrong? Should I call a doctor?

Mr. Dang rubbed his eyes and looked around. He had clearly heard and seen something. Was it an illusion?

Vu helped him sit up straight, poured him a cup of warm water, then stepped out onto the porch. He followed the gaze and rubbed his eyes again. In the silvery light of the Lantern Festival, blending the sky and earth into one, he clearly saw a gaze looking at him. Vu laughed heartily:

- I'm sorry I invited guests without asking you.

Mr. Dang stood up, as if he had no such ridiculous tiredness from the afternoon, walked forward and held out his hand:

- Khue!...

She sat down on the chair opposite, still not saying anything. Just like she hadn't said anything for decades. Only the moonlight could help them say what needed to be said at this moment.

Vu was the most nervous. He covered up his nervousness with a bit of worry:

- If you two hadn't come on time, it would have been bad. O Ngo only comes to help during the day, but what can we do at night? I think we should rearrange...

And he walked down to the yard to walk in the moonlit garden. The night of the Lantern Festival in the village was filled with the fragrance of the garden, and in the quiet space was the sound of all creatures bustling with love.

Nguyen Thi Duyen Sanh