Chapter 18
The Legend of Mau Son[1]
Chi Ma frontier bordereth upon the realm of Song, lying obliquely toward the Northeast of Lang Chau; and there is the sacred land of Mau Son, a high mountainous region stretching in a gentle ridge along the East–West axis, within the domains of Cong Son and Mau Son communes (Cao Loc District), and Mau Son Commune (Loc Binh District)[2]. Of late, travellers have but newly turned their attention unto this land, renowned as the Roof of the Northeast.
Of late, this land, hailed as the "Roof of the Northeast," has drawn the realm's aspiring souls and travelers to flock hither in endless streams.
Mau Son is silent, like a solitary jade in the rough, hidden among the northeastern heights. Day after day, it awaits to be polished into a priceless pearl. This place is cloaked in mist throughout the year, shrouding the deep forests. Mist and vapour wind about as though in gentle companionship with the host of fourscore mountains, great and small, rising in uneven heights. Each lesser peak beareth the form of a child, scattered here and there as though at play in hiding, with their companion—the drifting mist—amid the deep and shadowed forest.
The most striking feature is that the greater peaks rise aloft above the dark and dense primeval forest, withstanding storm and tempest, and warding off the sun's burning blaze from the mortal realm. Their mighty form, like unto parents shielding their tender children from sun and rain, leaveth a deep and lasting impress upon travellers from the four quarters.
The folk praise its highest peak as Phia Po, also known as the peak of Cong or Cong Son, which for a thousand years hath faced the heavens directly.
Those of a taciturn disposition perceive this remote and secluded mountain realm as though imprisoned in a somber and oppressive air, weighing upon the unspoken burdens of the mind unto ten thousand ages unending. It is the common way of men to seek joy and shun bitterness, to pursue the auspicious and flee the ill-omened; thus, in times past, few were willing to set foot in this land where demons weep and ghosts grieve.
It was thought that Mau Son would sink into the abyss of oblivion, but who could have known that the Goddess of Fortune would come knocking at the gate, summoning it to receive the honor of hosting the martial contest.
The wise Sovereign had issued an edict, pledging the worth of Mau Son. Of late, the folk of the world have come surging like the tide, all desiring to seek why the Emperor did himself choose this land. The settlements of Lang Chau then raise great works; the thoroughfares gradually grow bustling with life to entice guests from all quarters, seeking to gather wealth from the purses of the world's folk.
Yen Van is the first to arrive. He is firmly persuaded that the Emperor must have a profound intent for entrusting this wasteland with such a heavy task.
He has wandered through every corner, delved into forest ravines and caves, observed the flora, traced the veins of the waters, and gathered knowledge from many sources.
As Yen Van listens intently to the legends passed down through generations, he realizes that this land of melancholy hides a worth beyond measure… much like… a "Princess" sleeping in the woods, whose heart all mortal men yearn to possess.
The "Princess" enjoys the favor of the four seasons; she is endowed with a beauty so enchanting it ensnares the soul. Heaven and earth likewise deal gently with the princess; the wild and silent scene, veiled in somber mist, lulleth her into a deep and tranquil slumber amid the remote forests and shadowed mountains.
Having long laboured in ceaseless deliberation, Yen Van, together with the Grand Chancellor and the Emperor, hath found a means to awaken the princess, that she be not given to sullenness, and that the peerless beauty may yet… shine forth in radiant splendour beneath the gentle light of dawn, soft as the warm embrace of a mother's love.
Of late, countless travellers have lingered in this legendary land, forgetting to return. Whether men or women, young or old, or gifted scholars and fair maidens, they have all lost their hearts to this "Princess," wishing they could make time still to dwell forever in this earthly paradise. Every beauty of this land has her own singular splendour, and each has her most radiant hour within the year.
The Princess of Mau Son is no exception. Her most exquisite time is in the freezing winter: the north wind cuts the skin, the drizzle falls incessantly, and the cold mist pierces the bone. The Princess dons a robe of pristine snow, her mien noble and high, as she welcomes guests from the four reaches.
She and the mountain folk greet the travellers together, dispelling their weariness from the long journey with Shan Tuyet tea (mountain snow tea), warming the bitter winter with the crisp and mellow spring wine of Mau Son… and… accompanying them with tales of manifold tragedies.
For thousands of years, the folk have said that whenever the sun sinks in the west, a mournful wailing echoes among the Phia Po peaks. That sound is desolate to the bone, disturbing the souls of men. At first, the folk merely complained of restless sleep, but as the years flowed by, this matter gradually took on a supernatural hue.
Worldly rumors say that thousands of foreign invaders once perished here, their corpses strewn in a strange land, their ghosts howling in madness due to their bitter grudges.
Others firmly believe that in days of yore, Mau Son once buried virgins alive as a sacrifice, that they might become the guardian spirit of the treasure.
A throng of those who have never set foot upon Mau Son nevertheless talk nonsense as if they were born and bred there, asserting that the tribes of Lang Chau still maintain this foul custom.
Many, having heard it for so long, grow accustomed to it; their curiosity stirred, they invite one another and set forth unto Mau Son. Yet the moment they encounter the whistling cold wind, they have already fled in haste, never daring to return.
This legend spreads far and wide, drawing folk from all reaches to gather here. On the morrow, the throng is even greater than before. The truth that craveth witness is found in those spirits which drift beneath the shroud of ashen night.
The craven flee in terror. The brave remain to see what manner of wraith this truly is. Though their minds are stout, their bodies tremble without cease.
Cold sweat rises with their dread as the entire throng stands frozen, beholding the beings assume human semblance. They would fain flee, yet stand transfixed, their eyes fixed unblinking upon the uncanny spectacle.
Drifting between the sylvan mists and mountain winds, those "people" cleave unto one another like a family bound in gentle harmony. Yet that humble happiness is shattered at the sight of a "mother" unjustly put to death by a "father." This tragic scene strikes the fearful with mortal horror. A young woman shrieks in dismay and swoons upon the earth.
A vision of a tormented father appears before the multitude, and the woman's cry rouses the onlookers. A group of fellows feels a bitter loss at missing the end of this grievous tale. They curse in fury:
- Damn it, she fears ghosts yet still craves to see them. Truly a woman!
- Cursed luck! If that whore had not shrieked, we might have witnessed the whole matter to its end!
Others shake their heads in helplessness, clicking their tongues as they bear the young woman back to the village at eventide. They frantically burn incense to avert malign spirits.
Whenever someone sees off the spirits of the dead, the villagers know at once: this person has likely encountered a wronged soul upon Mau Son. Whether old or young, man or woman, all bow their heads in somber thought. An old crone, chewing betel nut with a rhythmic thud, sighs in envy:
- You possess great fortune to have met the "Darkling Spirit." We wait fervently day and night, yet our desires remain unfulfilled. The household Buddha is not efficacious.
A group, stirred by her words, vies to ask of the "Darkling Spirit." The villagers shake their heads in sorrow, loth to speak again of the tragedy. They press her again and again before the crone at last giveth her answer:
- Darkling Spirit ah… you come from distant lands, so when you hear this name, it seemeth strange and dreadful. But to us, the folk of this realm, Darkling Spirit is a grievous memory, a mirror wherein we behold our lives to see if we bear shame before all men, before our kin, and before our very selves.
The visitors narrow their eyes, still not understanding. The crone sigheth and offereth her counsel:
- Alas, I am not skilled in the telling of tales, nor do I know how to make it plain. If you would truly know… then go and seek the venerable elder of the village.
The curious folk offer their thanks and set out to find the venerable elder.
Hearing the hurried footsteps without, the old man beckons them enter, saying:
- Pray bid the new-come guests sit beside those already gathered, who hearken unto the telling of the tale.
The crowd shuts the door against the biting wind and offers their salutations.
The host nods, sipping Shan Tuyet (the Mountain Snow tea), closing his eyes to savor the fleeting sweetness. Yet his aged countenance reveals a few furrows as the bitterness sinks deep into his throat. The venerable elder strokes his withered white hair and asks:
- At which passage of the tale do I now stand?
His question brings disappointment unto the company of late arrivals. They wish to beg him to recount it from start to finish, but before the words can take flight, a child interrupts:
- Elder, you have spoken but a few words. You should tell it from beginning to end, so the newcomers may hear clearly.
The earlier guests feel a touch of resentment toward the child. The boy grins at the latecomers. They rub his head and hand him a satchel of pink sweets[1]. The lad smiles wide, crossing his arms in thanks, and as he nibbles the sweets, he listens to the village elder tell the lore:
The Legend of Mau Son
I know not the precise time, only that since my youth, I have heard my grandsire and father recount that an undying legend dwells upon Mau Son. This lore pertains to the highest reaches of the mountain, where the peaks are forever shrouded in mist and mountain winds.
Tis strange, for these mountains are named neither for men nor for flowers or beasts. From antiquity unto this day, the villagers call them in a manner both strange and kin: Father Mountain, Mother Mountain, Son Mountain, and Nephew Mountain.
The legend tells of a household: a father hale and brave, a mother of peerless skill and steadfast virtue who keeps the hearth well, and a brood of dutiful children and nephews. They dwell in peace amidst the peaks cloaked in cloud year-round, where the Ky Cung River winds its course.
One day, outlanders invade the realm. The Father follows the edict of the Royal Court, joining the King's host to defend the rivers and mountains. At that winter's end, the King's army breaks the foe and drives them beyond the borders. The Father achieves great deeds of arms; the King grants him bounty and exalts his rank.
Yet in the throes of battle, the Father sustains a wound to his head, and thus his memories are lost to him. The scrolls recording the folk and hearth of the soldiery are consumed by the fires of war; none know of his origins or his kin.
In this time, he settles the great affairs of the state and purges the realm of grasping officials. After many years, he quells the inner strife. The King that followed, beholding him peerless in both letters and arms, desires to betroth the Princess unto him. But he bows low and declines, saying:
"I report to Your Majesty, my memories have returned, and my wife and children even now wait within my home. I cannot covet glory and riches only to cast aside my kin; I entreat you to grant me leave to return unto my native soil!"
The King praises him for his loyalty and devotion, and grants him the decree to return to his village. Returning amidst the boundless joy of his wife and kin, the Father craveth that his household dwell in bliss for evermore.
During the years of the Father's absence, the servant slowly maketh manifest the foul desire to usurp his master's wife. He maketh excuse, saying that the Father departeth and returneth not, with no tidings reaching his kin, and is like unto one perished upon the field of slaughter; he even dareth to offer unto her his care for the household. But she steadfastly denies him and resolutely casts him from her gates. His suit is spurned and treated with scorn; thus, he turns from love to hate and seeks to ensnare her.
On that day, as if by a stray hand of fate, a stranger suddenly appears within the village. The servant devises a stratagem; he returns to her to pray for pardon and vows that henceforth he shall bear no covetous thought.
Mindful that the servant once saved her husband's life, the Mother feels pity; she compels him to swear a dire oath never to act thus again before she forgives his transgression. He swears an oath of life and death.
A few days hence, he slowly draws nigh and befriendeth the stranger. The man's name is Chop Chai. Due to the meager state of his house, though Chop Chai strives day and night, he cannot escape his poverty and must wander hither and thither to seek his bread.
In a journey that takes him to this place today and another tomorrow, the young man at times fares to Mau Son to ply his trade and aid the villagers.
For many days immersed in his toil, Chop Chai takes no heed of time, nor perceives when dusk hath long since fallen. He fears the long road and the fierce tigers and leopards, thus he prays to tarry at the Mother's house until the dawn breaks.
He is deft in his handling of the household tasks. Both mother and son prize him and often aid his trade. This bond of deep fellowship is by the servant's snare twisted into a crime.
After the Father's return, the servant arranges for the Mother and Chop Chai to meet many times before the Father's eyes. Later, the servant finds a way for the two to meet in a desolate place; he invites the Father to hunt nearby, that he might behold Chop Chai helping the Mother bear her burdens home.
The Father, witnessing with his own eyes his wife and the stranger in close converse, holdeth doubt within his breast and questions the servant. The knave fears that if the three should stand in confrontation, the truth shall be laid bare; thus he secretly sows the seeds of suspicion within the Father's heart.
Days later, Chop Chai comes to the Mother's house as is his wont. He is a thorn pricking the Father's jealous eye. The bitterness of a long-festering knot makes the Father's nature turn cruel and fierce; he berates his wife and children without cause.
The servant is in no haste to strike, but waits patiently for his confederate to bring tidings that Chop Chai has fared afar to trade. Confirming that Chop Chai cannot return to the village, he unleashes his final venomous plot, feigning a craven mien, hesitating many times as if he desires to reveal a secret to his master. The Father threatens him, saying he shall slay him if he hides the truth. He kneels and forges a tale, saying:
"In those years when you fought upon the field, the mistress and Chop Chai conceived a passion for one another. To shroud this matter, she used a pretext to drive me away. But I could not bear to desert my master, and I feared the mistress would follow her lover and abandon your children; thus I threatened to reveal this secret. She yielded out of necessity, yet she nourisheth loathing for me and treateth me with great coldness."
His tears flow in streams as he sobs:
"I feared your house would be shattered, so I chose to remain silent."
The pride of a once-harmonious gate is now a snare of lies, and betrayal is the only truth. The naked fact mocks the Father's pride. He burns with fury and loses all reason, heeding no counsel.
He unsheatheth his keen sword, the edge pressing against his wife's throat, and harshly commandeth that she lead him to seize Chop Chai, for he intendeth to slay the adulterers.
The foe has already vanished, and the Father's wrath pours frantically upon his wife. The Mother explains all to him with tears, yet she cannot stay his curses.
In despair, she places her hands upon her own shoulders and looks to the heavens with a long sigh, then strikes her head with force against the earth, her blood gushing forth:
"Pray, endure for but a moment, and wait until this day reaches its end. If the heavens show me no mercy, then I am willing to suffer the punishment!"
From time immemorial, the folk whispered a tale of steadfast fidelity, telling why the women of Mau Son all bear a birthmark. The mark is plain to behold on every woman. Yet, as fate mocks the world, that mark remains hidden upon the Mother's body. If the Heavens stay silent, so blind and unseeing, the mark shall never reveal itself.
The betrayer, soon to pay the price for her crime, still waits with shameless grace for the mercy and boon of the Almighty Heavens, hoping the children can escape the woe of losing the Mother in their youth. The children, with tears and salt flowing like rivers, fall to their knees, begging the Father to release the Mother.
The Mother cannot prove her innocence; she can only rely helplessly on the lore, pressing her palms together in prayer to the Heavens. To a husband who setteth no store by worldly glory and riches, and holds honor and kin-bonds above all, the Mother's wretched state is naught but an insult that stings his soul.
It pains him that his beloved has betrayed their trust, trampled upon the blessing of their household, and desecrated the legends of faith she once revered. Such shame is more bitter than being deceived by a stranger.
Grief and wrath intertwine. But as the children look on with a vacant look, not understanding why the Father is so enraged, one clings to his leg while the other grasps his sword-hand, pleading for him to forgive the Mother.
He falters; he must give the Mother, the children, and himself a chance to avoid the tragedy of a Father slaying a Mother, for those who bear the heaviest misfortune are the children.
The Father looks up at the dark clouds slowly gathering, as though testing his patience, the sky roiling and surging as if in mockery laughing and jeering… at the Mother's heart, so filled with joy and trembling hope, only to fall into despair… when… Heaven turns its face away from one who trusts with utter devotion… the virtue of the Deity of Mankind… that He shall not fail the pure and innocent soul.
Motionless, the Father waits patiently for the morrow's dawn, but the Heavens remain cold and unfeeling. The Mother cannot defend herself, nor does she have the will left to speak in explanation before a husband who has lost all trust. The Father speaks with a cold and biting voice:
"Miracles are not born for sinners. I cannot forgive those who say they love me, yet engage in lust with another when we are apart. I cannot let the Mother, so lewd, dwell with my children!"
Every word that condemns her conscience pierces her heart, shattering the hope that the Father will be calm for the children's sake and realize that blind jealousy has clouded his mind. Kin-bonds and trust drown in bitter tears. The Father does not believe her, and she no longer desireth to wail her wrongs.
The Mother breaks down in a fit of weeping, entreating the Father to take the children and the nephew away, lest they witness the tragedy of a husband slaying his wife. The Father quietly gathers his children and the nephew in his arms. They shriek and cry out for the Mother. The Father secretly takes the children and the nephew elsewhere.
The unfortunate woman sobs, urging the children not to hate the Father. As children, they must be filial and care for the Father all his life.
In her final moments, the Mother still worries and cares for the Father and the children. Yet the Father feels no stir of heart; he lets his emotions rule his spirit, ending the tragedy of the household.
Her body falls beneath the heartless sword; the Mother's fresh blood turns into a stream, rushing down from the mountain peak to the soil of Mau Son. The stream of blood quietly joins the Ky Cung River—the place where the couple once made their vows. This vision carries the longing for family reunion, passing it unto the Father.
He jolts awake amidst the deafening thunder, as the peals tear through the dim firmament. He looks to the sky, only to find it is but the usual hue of the heavens. Nevertheless, he feels the Heavens roar, trying to stop him, but all is too late. The Heavens have committed a fault, and can only weep in remorse, mourning a cruel fate.
The rain of Mau Son is always cold to the core. Yet on that fateful day, the frozen kin-bond and humanity thaw in a moment when the azure Heavens weep, mourning the Mother and falling upon her motionless corse, while wrathfully pouring down their pent-up grievance upon the Father.
He no longer feels the natural tears mingling with his hot tears of fury… wishing… to burn the ignorant man alive.
The sinner who destroyed the blessing of the household becometh soul-reft. Trembling, he pulls back the Mother's garment, and in an instant, he is stunned, staring fixedly at the peach-blossom mark, yet pristine upon the Mother's shoulder. The mark is the meaning granted by the Heavens to the women of the Thanh Khiet tribe. Since ancient times, this tribe has passed down the legend of the Flower Fairies.
Footnote:
[1]Mau Son is a high mountain range running east–west, located 30 km northeast of Lang Son City and less than 180 km from Hanoi. Mau Son borders the Vietnam–China frontier. The Mau Son mountains span three communes: Cong Son and Mau Son (in Cao Loc District), and Mau Son (in Loc Binh District), covering a total area of 10,470 hectares.
This mountain complex comprises 80 peaks of varying size, the highest being Phia Po (1,541 m, also known as Cong or Cong Son Peak—where Border Marker 42 is located on the Vietnam–China border).
In summer, convoys of vehicles from across the Northern Delta stream to Mau Son for retreats and sightseeing. The route to Mau Son is quite convenient, as the regional transportation system was established between 1925 and 1926.
However, the 15 km road up the mountain is the most arduous and difficult stretch, featuring continuous winding curves and sharp turns. Even the most skilled drivers can travel only at a speed of 15–20 km/h.
[2] The district is located in the east of Lang Son Province. It borders Cao Loc District to the north, Chi Lang District to the west, Bac Giang Province to the south, Dinh Lap District to the southeast, and Guangxi (China) to the northeast.
Pink sweets are a specialty of Lang Son.
The story of the Father's family is inspired by the legend of Mau Son.
The Ky Cung River is the main river in Lang Son Province; it flows into China and is a tributary of the Xi River (Tay Giang).
Originating from the Bac Xa mountain range at an elevation of 1,166 m in Dinh Lap District, Lang Son Province, Vietnam, the river belongs to the Xi River basin of China. It flows in a southeast–northwest direction through Lang Son City.
Approximately 22 km northwest of the city, the river changes direction to flow almost south–north toward Van Lang Town, before shifting again to a southeast–northwest direction and then turning east near That Khe Town.
From That Khe, the river follows a nearly arc-shaped path—initially flowing west-northwest toward the Vietnam–China border near Binh Nhi Thon (平而村). From this point, it is called the Binh Nhi River (平而河) and gradually turns west-southwest to east-northeast, converging with the Bang Giang River in Longzhou Town, Guangxi, China. It then forms the Zuo River (Ta Giang), a southern tributary of the Yu River within the system that forms the Xi River.
The section flowing within Vietnamese territory is approximately 243 km long, with a basin area of 6,660 km². From the Vietnam–China border, the river flows for about 45 km before reaching Longzhou. This is the only river in northern Vietnam that flows in a southeast–northwest direction into China.
The main tributaries of the Ky Cung River are the Bac Giang and Bac Khe rivers, both of which converge near That Khe, as well as the Ba Thin River, which joins near Loc Binh Town.