Chương 16
Buckwheat Blossom
After Thiet Nam follows the girls serving the dishes, he places a wine jar at the center of the hall and sticks several bamboo tubes into it to invite the guests.
Since the opening of the Caravanserai, the place has only ever had women and maidens. Now, suddenly, a stranger appears—a man who kept his hands moving, tending the kitchen and serving plates—drawing the curiosity of all the diners. Thiet Nam raises the fighter's wooden plaque he obtained a few days ago and says:
- I am the cousin of the landlady, from the countryside, here to attend the martial contest.
The guests gasp and all agree that the landlady is fortunate to have such a talented relative.
Luu Tinh laughs:
- My girls are going to the martial contest too.
Everyone in the hall cheers. A bald man points to his mouth jokingly:
- Don't worry, the landlady. Everything of mine is small, except this big mouth of mine.
Laughter shakes the Caravanserai. A young man at a nearby table raises his voice:
- I wish the tournament could start tomorrow.
Those who are content with their lot pray only for tranquility:
- May the tournament go smoothly, unlike the chaos at the ethnic market.
The young man waves his hand:
- No need to worry; the Guardian of Justice types will surely handle everything.
The cautious man points at the big-mouthed fellow, but the young man shakes his head and laughs:
- I don't mean him. I mean the one who caused trouble at the ethnic market a few days ago.
There were many who witnessed Thiet Nam restoring order that day. Seeing him buried in the kitchen, handling dishes and cleaning utensils, they were all astonished that the hero was in fact the Caravanserai's cook.
Admirers were about to reveal Thiet Nam's true identity. They initially assumed the hero would thank them, but he instructed them to keep it secret, fearing he might become a shared target of all fighters. The crowd has felt his humility even more, and their respect has grown stronger.
Guests eagerly recount how the Guardian of Justice assisted the imperial court, cleared out gamblers, and kept the peace for the villagers. Every minor detail is embellished.
Everyone flatters him, yet Thiet Nam feels uninspired. He is forced to stay back and send subtle glances, worried someone might reveal his true identity. Suddenly, Thien appears among the crowd, and Thiet Nam is startled. The boy's face is excited; he shouts, drawing everyone's attention:
- What's the matter, boy?
The guests do not notice Thiet Nam's discreet gesture. He frowns slightly and shakes his head, yet the clever boy catches the meaning and chuckles:
- Hey, I think that hero… — he pauses dramatically, smiling with a playful glint — is truly remarkable…
He covers his mouth to stifle laughter, disturbing Thiet Nam for a moment. The hero quickly regains composure, returning to his usual calm. Luckily, no one notices anything unusual.
The crowd continues talking and laughing, while the boy cracks jokes to distract them further. Thiet Nam rubs his forehead, helpless at the antics of this spirited child.
The teacher, standing beside his disciple, secretly takes delight in the boy's innocence and keen intelligence; though spirited, he is sharp of mind and bears himself with wisdom beyond his years, surpassing the children of his age. Their joy is doubled upon once again encountering a familiar one.
The old man and Thiet Nam pretend not to know each other. The elder maintains a composed expression, quietly listening to what the others say.
A man who toils for the ancestral land without thought of reward grows weary of the praise heaped upon a hero utterly indifferent to fame. Before long, the man who busied himself with the affairs of all for the common good becomes a hero in the eyes of everyone.
The female guests listen especially intently. Young girls are full of fantasies, and the girls who have come of age dream even more. Though appearing shy, deep down, who does not wish for a worthy partner?
The maidens of the Year-Star Caravanserai have heard such talk before, and they half believe it. Seeing everyone compete to praise him, their belief grows stronger.
Although they admire his skills, their feelings remain admiration only. They have only heard his name, never seen him in person, and thus no romantic thoughts arise.
The mountain girls and their sisters favor heroes who are indifferent to fame and fortune, willing to risk their lives for righteousness. Hearing of such feats, they cannot help but smile.
When the maidens heard the hero boldly converse with the Grand Chancellor, their eyes shone. Such fearless words against tyranny earn their respect.
The girls smile instinctively, eager to inquire further, yet fearing their admiration might be mistaken for affections. They bite their lips to preserve decorum.
This time, the maidens make no excuses to leave; their faces are bright, far from the flushed red they have when running a fever. Each maiden busies herself, thinking of ways to provoke Thiet Nam.
Vile men are always compared with heroes; it goes without saying how miserable a lecher he is. The Great Lecher stands beside the beautiful virgins, and naturally, they pull him forward as a sacrifice:
- That man sacrifices himself for righteousness, a true hero! Not like someone else, who always looks for excuses to offend, utterly without courtesy!
Another maiden sneers:
- Who would have the audacity to liken a hero to a lecher?
They deliberately lower their voices so that only "that someone" can hear. The lecher lets out a soft chuckle. Under the virgins' contemptuous gaze, his annoying laughter and lewd demeanor sway together, making their eyes itch. The woman nearest him stomps on his foot hard, pressing it down several times, and grits her teeth:
- What are you laughing at? I'll cut out your tongue this instant!
The lecher stays impassive, teasing in the same low tone:
- Why are you revealing your hearts to the lecher? Could it be…
The women hiss:
- Could it be what?
- Speak quickly!
Thiet Nam touches his nose and smiles:
- The maiden says love is hatred, the maiden says hatred is love. Could it be… you like this lecher?
The maidens purse their lips and roll their eyes, but seeing several others watching them, each of them composes a graceful smile and nods politely to the guests. When the visitors look elsewhere, the boldest women secretly punch him in the sides. The lecher shows a face thought to be lewd, making the virgins blush furiously.
Luu Tinh has traveled across the five lakes and four seas for half her life and has never encountered such strange things. It is hard to believe that in this cruel and selfish world, a Guardian of Justice could be so wildly insane.
This legend captivates the audience, yet the excitement is interrupted by the nonsensical chatter from behind. The landlady gestures for them to stop murmuring.
Whenever she is angry, Luu Tinh raises her hand to cover her mouth and clears her throat. No one dares to joke during her serious mood.
Everyone obeys quietly, listening to the landlady's orders. Satisfied, Luu Tinh nods and focuses on the story, unaware of Nguyet—the one she always pays attention to.
Nguyet feels the same as the mountain maidens; she admires that hero. He not only transformed into a savior of the needy, from a Guardian of Justice to a hero, and then from a hero to a performer of song and dance. He was a man of endless transformations, taking on countless forms, bringing hearty laughter from the onlookers.
Nguyet covers her mouth, unable to restrain her laughter as she listens to his antics dancing and singing with the songstresses. Luu Tinh notices the expression. The innkeeper nudges her shoulder and whispers:
- So? Compared to that lecher, you prefer the Guardian of Justice, huh?
Luu Tinh shrugs:
- Indeed. How could the lecher ever compare to a hero?
Hearing the hero mentioned, Nguyet's face turns crimson. When the lecher is mentioned, she shifts uneasily with her hem. A hero deserves respect, and so she feels. This is the only sentiment she harbors for the man standing behind her, yet she is completely unaware.
But toward the lecher, it is entirely different. Whenever someone has mentioned him, she has been unable to control herself, involuntarily feeling ashamed. Every time she has encountered him by chance, she has already shyly found a place to hide, trying to conceal her flushed cheeks.
Her behavior has been strange. Whenever their eyes have met, Thiet Nam has already been more flustered than the shy girl. Before she has been able to look away, he has already turned elsewhere. Nguyet's mood falls into an ineffable state, until the narrator announces:
- And thus ends the story of the hero!
Nguyet and some young maidens seek the landlady's permission to return to their chambers. Luu Tinh nods in agreement and says to Thiet Nam:
- Rest early, for tomorrow we ascend Mau Son!
Thiet Nam bids the guests goodnight and takes his leave. He watches with a light smile as Thien skips joyfully back to the room, each step accompanied by a verse from a folk rhyme brimming with childish mirth:
The sky serves as a blanket, the earth as a pillow
The sun and moon hush me into a dream of celestials
Deep in the night, my limbs grow weary, yet I dare not stir
The teacher chuckles softly, the disciple giggles, shifting to a playful tone to continue his chant:
Lest the bed-canopy tear and mosquitoes bite my flesh!
Bursts of laughter spring forth within the Caravanserai; Thiet Nam too cannot help but smile. Little Thien mimics the rhythmic sway of the bong-drum dance, leering with a mischievous grin to provoke Thiet Nam until the teacher and disciple vanish from sight.
The jocular nature and persistent jests of Thien for a moment banish the anxieties and vexations from Thiet Nam. He feels that his Heaven-ordained fate to shoulder the buffalo-horn clarion for the world is truly… amusing.
Thiet Nam shakes his head, smiling to himself at that sudden burst of spirited whim, then swiftly passes the scullery, and sees at once that the medicine bottle is gone. Guests of the Caravanserai throng in, yet none have the leisure to tread there.
These days, the mountain maidens have ceased to secretly scratch their thighs. Thiet Nam smiles faintly, relaxes his whole frame, stretches himself out with a long yawn, and returns to his room to pack his bundles.
At the third watch of the night, he shoulders his pack, hies to the rear courtyard to check the provisions, and then climbs onto the wagon. Luu Tinh scrutinizes the wares for the martial contest and waves for Nguyet. The girl hesitates for a moment; the landlady gives a knowing smile and casts a glance at the young man.
He breathes a sigh of relief and strides down. Luu Tinh rests her chin on her hand, her gaze following the two, as if taking in every gesture. Thiet Nam casts a sidelong glance, absently avoiding the girl who is fitfully twisting the hem of her bodice.
These days, they have become an awkward, inescapable pair, yet they ever remain as far apart as East and West. Falling once more into that difficult dilemma, Nguyet bows her head and walks, but accidentally treads upon a stone and loses her balance.
The landlady fervently hopes the pink shadow will fall into the arms of the "Prince." Yet the 'White Stallion' treats Nguyet as though she were invisible; he bothers not to steady her, nor does he ask a word, hieing straight into the nearest wagon. The maidens swarm to support Nguyet, clamoring in reproach that he is less than a man.
Luu Tinh rubs her nose, smiling to herself with a wry pout, watching Thiet Nam drive the wagon straight into the distance. The wagon rolls along the edge of the farm, soon slowing lest it strike a flock of herd-boys leading water buffalo back to the village.
The buffalo suddenly bolt, rushing into the fields, trampling the pastures and mulberry groves. The children dash in a panic to stay the buffalo from destroying the gardens.
Not far off, husbandmen squat to cut grass, calling to one another as they seek to drive the livestock back to the bank. The children receive the herd back, crossing their arms over their chests in apology.
The elders and dames fear the buffalo might grow temperamental, so they send folk to drive them back. The crowd walks smiling toward the provisions wagons parked by the road. The rear convoy of wagons gradually arrives. Luu Tinh draws the curtain and asks:
- Is it finished?
An elder woman replies:
- Yes, all awaits the landlady's command.
Luu Tinh smiles with satisfaction, rewarding each with a silver ingot. They demur, not daring to accept. The elder woman wipes the soil upon her garb, draws a coin pouch from within her folds, and says:
- Pray, the landlady, the reward-money from the past ten days is not yet spent.
Luu Tinh smiles and says:
- Lately the Cold Dew falls frequently, you have labored hard to spread manure; it is only right that I grant a few more ingots!
Luu Tinh threatens that if they do not accept the silver ingots, she will fling the money into the river; the women have no choice but to accept the reward. The landlady commands the convoy to hie toward the bamboo bridge-lattice near the vast buckwheat blossom fields of Quynh Son village.
In Bac Son, the soft-stemmed flowers that cluster there had long been forgotten. Some years past, the ways of the world shifted. In the lands of the Thai folk of Tuyen Quang, the chieftain abolished the terraced fields to fashion a garden like unto paradise."
"One rumor became ten, ten became a hundred; the purple-pink buckwheat blossoms drew folk from all quarters.
The chieftain, unwilling to miss a chance for fortune, set a guard to collect a coin for entry. As folk from across the realm thronged to behold it, the price of entry rose with each passing year. Those who came to admire the flowers were as a vast sea of folk, yet they still scrambled to throng into the garden.
A dweller of Lang Chau in Binh Gia District came forth out of curiosity to wander and behold, and was deeply enthralled by the beauty and fragility of the buckwheat blossoms amidst the morning dew.
With respect for the past, he determined to restore the famed blossoms of Binh Gia. Soon, the folk followed suit, eagerly planting vast fields of pink buckwheat at the foot of the mountains.
They grafted the branches and pruned the leaves, letting the blossoms lean gently against the boundless rice fields, like a pair of lingering lovers. The fragrance of the flowers clung to the scent of the grain, enthralling the guests who traveled from afar.
The folk busily explored the paths linking Lang Chau, Binh Gia, and Bac Son, once again admiring the flower clusters dotting the mountain road and the blossoms that continued to bloom toward the jagged heights of the mountain slopes.
Since then, at every hour, the stream of those coming to behold the flowers was unceasing, surpassing even the throngs at a great festival.
Fame reached the capital. Perceiving this to be a windfall from the heavens, Yen Van suggested that the commoners of Tran Yen and Long Dong join with the villagers of Quynh Son to contribute their stakes toward this undertaking of fourfold profit.
Each household adorned the rocky plateaus with fields of pure white buckwheat, interspersed with pale pink. Flowers and stones intertwine, leaves and blossoms cling together; the stems spread and the branches reach from the silver plateaus down into the Tran Yen valley.
The wind and mist bury every bud nestled upon the petals. From afar, it appears as a meteor shower passing through the wind and the hazy shroud, heralding the end of the flowering season.
The buckwheat blooms from the golden autumn until the end of winter, its span depending on the time of sowing. Thus, according to the year, some places are in full bloom while others find the flower shadows sparse. If the moment is missed, the chance to behold them is lost.
The wind and mist scourge the air, causing the skin of the face to sting, yet they cannot stay the footsteps of the travelers. The multitude comes with private intent to wander, yet only the flower-infatuated refrain from lightly touching those fragile petals about to drift from the branches.
The distant space remains shrouded in the dark of night; Thiet Nam focuses on sketching the rising dawn. The myriad flowers brighten alongside the morning light, dispelling the cold dew.
The howling gale of a moment ago now dances quietly with the fragrant petals. The ever-shifting landscape causes his urge to wield the brush to soar. From time to time, he gazes into the distance, where the maidens are mesmerized by the blossoms.
Luu Tinh nudges someone's hand, remarking that a man was painting in secret. The mountain maidens look at him with resentment, rolling up their sleeves to seek a reckoning.
The landlady lets out a whistle and glances toward the neighboring shack. The maidens shyly discover that he is sketching an old man with a staff sitting quietly beside an old crone.
The two elders chew betel nut with a smacking sound, lamenting their vanished youth while silently watching the talented youths and fair maidens walking side by side.
Nguyet covers her mouth to suppress a laugh. The mountain maidens knit their willow-brows, glancing askance at Nguyet, then look at one another and bow their heads to hide their crimson cheeks. Luu Tinh laughs until her shoulders tremble, eyeing the dazed girls who wish only to sink into the earth from shame.
At this time, a middle-aged man arrives at the expanse of buckwheat blossoms to meet Luu Tinh. Thiet Nam faintly hears the two discussing the buckwheat trade. After some haggling, the man pays the coin to Luu Tinh and whistles for his servants, driving a wagon to cart away nearly half the expanse of buckwheat blossoms.
After a mere half-hour, another party in the field disturbs his inspiration. At this time, a fair-faced young master arrives with his house-servants to seek Luu Tinh.
The landlady casts a sweeping glance; the young master is clad in exquisite raiment of finest Hangzhou silk, his topknot tidily arranged, his attire impeccable. In his hand, he holds a folding fan inscribed with verse and painted scenes, adding several measures of scholarly grace. He folds the fan and joins his palms to Luu Tinh in greeting, asking softly:
- Pray, are you the owner of The Year-Star Caravanserai?
A man's humble courtesy toward a woman often wins favor, thus the young master respectfully bows to Luu Tinh. This is common etiquette, yet Luu Tinh loathes such hypocritical displays. The more polite and circuitous the opponent, the more she feels contempt.
Luu Tinh remains silent, while the young master introduces himself as Bui Giai—the son of Bui Ho, the middle-aged man who met Luu Tinh earlier. The landlady merely gives a brief acknowledgment, paying him little heed.
Bui Giai ignores her rudeness. This hypocritical fellow is busy letting his soul pursue the silhouette that resembles a virgin celestial. His wanton gaze glides down and coils upward along her supple form, darting in brief strokes, pausing at each, then slithering swiftly onward. When his gaze halts, this lecher is unwilling to leave those forbidden places burning with heat upon those bodies in their youthful bloom.
This lecher greedily steals his way into the paradise of the deities, peering with lust at the succulent peach garden hidden beneath the hems of the round-collared robes. His gaze, at last, slides down toward that secret place.
He casts furtive glances, yet cannot sate the craving of his lust; thus does Bui Giai's lecherous nature flare like a rising fire. This lewd rogue, scorched by a multitude of wrathful eyes, swiftly thrusts his lust back behind the mask of ritual decorum and speaks to Luu Tinh:
- This junior has heard from his honored father that the price is excessively high; a thousand taels of silver would not suffice to purchase even half a field of blossoms. In truth, such a price is not fitting. Though my honored father spoke not a word, his gaze remained fixed upon those carts laden with blossoms; this junior understands that he is not content with this bargain. Yet my honored father has instructed that the lady not be disturbed. As a son, how could I allow my honored father to trouble his mind and spirit over this matter? Thus, this junior can only, with shameless countenance, come forth to entreat Your Ladyship to lower the price.
A scholar of sanctimonious mien must speak in the tongue of Confucian rites. Luu Tinh has long been accustomed to this brood who spit pearls and jade, their mouths full of the words of sages, while their souls have become engorged with carnal lust, mingled with the filth of greed, wrath, and delusion hidden beneath their sacred texts.
All such men who delight in discoursing upon virtue, yet whose manner of living reeks fouler than a woman's loins, do ever prattle in words more pleasing than chimes, even as does Bui Giai.
To the denizens of the Viet realm who still remember their roots, such cultivated speech is passing strange. And a woman of heroic mettle like Luu Tinh loathes hypocrisy above all; she does not even deign to grant him a direct glance:
- I have told Bui Ho that the folk and the flowers have eaten the wind and lain amidst the dew, meticulously manured day and night, before such a wondrous field could be brought forth. Many who have been stricken by the bitter chill have taken months to recover their health. A thousand silver pieces is not the price of flowers. Your father's entrails may have writhed with regret for the coin spent, but what you have deemed unworthy is, in truth, the meed for the blood and toil of those who have tended the blossoms. Because of them, there are flowers for folk to behold; because of the flowers, there is buckwheat cake and stew of goat bone and flesh, the very things Bui Ho seeks to use at the martial contest to fleece coin from all under Heaven.
The proprietress sneers:
- Bui Ho understands not this simplest of truths, or perchance he feigns ignorance. Regardless, he displayed a manly front and returned home in high spirits, unlike his so-called "worthy son" who is overcome by beastly cravings!
Luu Tinh has long adorned herself in attire of an allure beyond the vulgar world, having delighted in flitting about with flirtatious banter. Yet, she has strictly forbidden young maidens from dressing in such a wanton manner as she does. Her daughter, now in the full bloom of her prime and at a marriageable age, has struggled to withstand the wagging tongues of those who have always preached morality.
The young maidens lack the fortitude to regard all things as though they were unseen; thus, Luu Tinh must suppress her heart and allow her beloved daughters to live lives made uniform—a hundred people as one—dwelling within the world's prescribed order, those stale tenets imposed upon every soul by those who lurk in the shadow of the sages.
Luu Tinh is loath to let her daughters remain forever as dim shadows, living in the desires of those long since turned to mouldering bone centuries or millennia ago. Thus, of late, she purposefully jests of the wind and moon, seeking to match the maidens with Thiet Nam.
Those teases and sways are meant to forge a stout heart in the innocent girls, but she never permits lecherous knaves to insult them with gazes of carnal lust.
Toward a lewd rogue disguised as a gentleman, Luu Tinh grants no quarter. Bui Giai feels the sting of humiliation, and his pack of hounds draw their blades with a roar:
- Old hag, you seek your death!
- You refuse the wine of honor; you crave the wine of punishment!
One who is struck to the heart by words touching his hidden faults is naturally startled; Bui Giai puts on a mask of rectitude and restrains his guards. The young maidens are incensed, ready to draw their steel, but are stayed by Luu Tinh's signal.
The proprietress scoffs at those talons, who have steeped themselves in the habit of bickering, like a pack of curs feigning the air of upright gentlemen. No, they are not even fit to be compared to those "Fan Gentlemen" and speak ever of benevolence and righteousness.
- Like master, like hound!
Likened to a beast, Bui Giai's true form is instantly revealed; he strips away the mask of his disguise, exposing the beastly visage of his nature.
- You do not shed a tear until you behold the coffin! Why do you all still stand idle in this place? Let not a single petal remain to offend my sight.
Footnote
[1] Through the span of long-enduring ages, Ha Giang was a frontier realm, dwelling within the jurisdictional power of various local chieftains and loosely tethered to Dai Viet.
Upon the coming of Ly Dynasty, its name was changed to Binh Nguyen Phu, subjoined to Phu Luong Phu.
In the early days of Tran Dynasty, the region of Ha Giang and Tuyen Quang was known as Tuyen Quang Phu, belonging to Quoc Oai Lo.