Chapter 7
Preserve one's honour
The dice-players are held imprisoned. The courtesans are seized and cast into the holding quarters. The rebellion is quelled, and the coins are restored to their cloth sacks. With naught left to await, the villagers resume their marketplace dealings, bartering nigh as aforetime.
Yet in this year, the market divides into twain. Rows of stalls and tents stretch along the leftward path, all full-covered. Opposite them, a throng gathereth beneath the scorching sun, where merchants spread woven carpets upon the earth and set forth their wares in patient hope of trade. But none spare them a glance—for all do flock unto the shaded stalls. A mischief-maker thrusteth forth his head from a tent and with mocking tongue doth speak:
- Compelling the folk brave the burning sun and the ceaseless rain—laying goods upon the ground, selling them to the ants, eh?
Heeding not the jeers, nor the gazes that mark them as strange, they quietly weave a melody most harmonious, which ebbeth and floweth in tones most grave and high with the breath of the sli[1].
Oh friends, ah friends,
What mirth hath there been in the dawning spring of the new year?
I beseech you, share your sentiments.
We have remembered the days of old, when we sang as one.
Kindred spirits have climbed many a mountain.
Though fate hath not endured, let the old affection be upheld still.
Winter hath passed; the moon hath remained cold through three autumns.
Do you yet recall our bond of honour and affection from years long gone?
You and I have grasped the jug of potent wine.
We have waded through streams and crossed mountains to meet.
Why do we stand now face to face, yet our hearts remain afar?
As though you have given me naught but cold water.
I would but utter a few words.
This day, we rejoice in the new festivity—forget not the past!
The sincere lyrics move not the visitors. They that muse upon times long fled are oft o'ertaken with wistful humours, yet shrink from the contempt cast upon fools who clink their cups with ants and consume filth for the promise of long life. Many years have passed, yet those who cherish tradition have still remembered the days when families and friends have gathered about the carpeted stalls laid upon the earth, choosing their goods with care.
At times, laughter hath arisen when folk have chanced to knock their heads together. And on certain days, when The Silk Old Man[2] and The Moon Old Woman have bound the red string, the market hath become as a festival, brimming with merriment for a pair newly bound in wedlock.
The time when each day was a joy hath passed. For years, though they have shared in lingering sorrow, none hath dared return unto the past. The nostalgic and their joyful memories—like a pair of mandarin ducks—have been driven apart by the burden of preserving one's honour.
"The beloved," ever mindful of face since two years hence, hath found the flaw of displaying goods upon the ground too off-putting—it hath wearied the guests, and eight in ten have feared sickness from tainted victuals. Villagers from the Upper Hamlet have sat too near those of the Lower, leading oft to confusion and quarrel.
Five, seven times have shopkeepers fought over patrons; confusions in purchase have escalated into brawls. Guests have stoked the flames of violence, seizing the chaos to plunder treasures. Some among these mischief-makers have even struck those uninvolved.
The repeated disturbances have compelled the Chief Commissioner of Pacification of Lang Chau Circuit[3] to report the matter unto the imperial court. At first, the Emperor hath intended to counsel the people and divide the market into separate quarters. Yet upon conferring with the Grand Chancellor, they have resolved to auction the market districts, granting rule unto the highest bidder for ten years. During this span, the victor may govern as he sees fit, so long as no laws be transgressed. He shall lease the land unto the common folk at fair rates and duly arrange the trading grounds.
In former days, merchants have scorned Lang Chau, and few have deigned to visit. The Emperor hath decreed that a martial contest be held therein. The imperial court hath dispatched talents and resources, restoring scenic sites, carving through mountains, dredging ravines, opening waterways, building streams, and erecting mountain retreats amidst the vast forests. Soldiers and common folk alike have endured manifold tribulations, and have transformed desolate Lang Chau into a maiden of ethereal grace amidst the mountainous wilds.
Visitors from all corners have come in droves, drawing forth a sleuth of old foxes as fragrant blossoms lure honeybees. Poverty and low birth have drawn no gaze; wealth hath prevailed, and many have fawned with eagerness. The Emperor hath ordered an auction; the merchants have plunged into a seemingly endless race for gold and silver. Nguyen Yen Van, master of Venus Tower, hath cast forth a thousand taels of pure gold to claim the victory.
Two years prior, Lang Chau hath witnessed the rise of tap-houses conjoined with hostelries. In both scale and refinement, these tavern-inns have proven no less than those of the imperial city.
During the ethnic market assembly, Yen Van hath proposed renting out land for forty copper coins. The average monthly income of a commoner hath stood around three hundred copper coins, whilst land rental hath customarily cost as much as one hundred and fifty.
The old merchant hath charged less than half of half the customary price. Whilst the people have remained astonished by such a wondrously low rate in comparison to days past, Yen Van hath already commanded his servants to erect stalls, pitch tents, and arrange tables and chairs.
He hath suggested each shopkeeper trade in one or two kindred businesses—such as a food stall beside a fruit stall, for ease in light meals and after-postprandial delicacies. The merchants vending scales and baskets have set up beside the fruit stalls, so that patrons need not trouble themselves seeking wares elsewhere.
The Upper Village hath recognized the opportunity and embraced it, whilst those from the Lower Village have sneered, condemning them as greedy men who betray tradition. Those who have resisted change are destined to suffer loss. The devotees of tradition have carried the sun on their heads and bathed in the rain, awaiting buyers for their goods. Conservative doctrine hath rejected the winds of reform.
The Grand Chancellor and the imperial court have grown vexed by the dilemma, racking their minds in search of remedy. Fortunately, thanks to Thiet Nam's efforts in quelling the unrest, he hath left a good impression upon the people. Thu Do seeks to wield The Guardian of Justice's gift of communion to bind all folk together. The Grand Chancellor also deems this a moment to weigh Thiet Nam's worth, and thus, the old man doth lament:
- A trifling matter it may be, yet it toucheth upon the fate of the realm. Lang Chau remaineth the frontier pass—most invasions from the North have marched through this land. If the people be remaining divided and in strife, the bulwark shall crumble should the foe assail. This malady of preserving one's honour, passed from father to son, doth drive me nigh to madness. As Grand Chancellor of the court I stand powerless — what a disgrace.
Thu Do hath never once let slip a single word that revealeth his own thoughts, yet now he hath blamed himself aloud. His wife seeth through him entire—this is but a game of ghosts and shadows. Weary of his fondness for playing at cat and mouse, she turneth her full attention unto Thiet Nam, eager to behold what he shall do. Outwardly, Tran Thi Dung appeareth sorrowful at the irony of the ethnic market spectacle, her wistful yearning for the past mirroring that of her aging spouse.
The Guardian of Justice doth give no heed to the Grand Chancellor nor his wife. His full attention is fixed upon the spectacle—one knoweth not whether to laugh or to weep. He observeth with care each soul and every detail of the ethnic market.
The folk of the Upper Village and the Lower Village chance upon one another; those of the Upper Village straightway grow vexed and displeased, for they have oft given counsel, yet the stubborn and unlettered folk refuse to hearken.
Each time this hath happened, they have lowered their heads, chopping onions and slicing garlic in silence. The people of the Lower Village are downcast, for their childhood friends, now blinded by greed, had lost all chance of reconciliation.
Thiet Nam letteth out a weary sigh, wearied by the countless chances for reconciliation squandered—all because the fixation with preserving one's honour demandeth they sever ties outright. Owing to their prideful stubbornness born of preserving one's honour, hesitant patrons who would purchase from the traditional stalls fear ridicule and quietly turn away, one after another.
Years ago, Thiet Nam's mother took him and his little sister from their homeland, journeying along the Bac Giang circuit[4] to reach Lang Chau. In days past, shopkeepers were gracious and ever willing to lend aid unto one another. But now, they behave like quarrelsome children. This is no trick of Thu Do—it is the truth. Yet Thiet Nam feigns ignorance and asks:
- Grand Chancellor, is this real or false?
The old man chuckles:
- False—you think it true. True—you think it false. Are you truly wise, or merely false wisdom?
Thiet Nam laughs dryly:
- They do not mind the loss of honour. They merely seek an excuse. I require the Drum Bong Dance troupe to aid me in uniting the villagers.
Though the young man and the old man differ greatly in conduct, their thoughts align perfectly. The Grand Chancellor gives a faint smile, approving of Thiet Nam's remedy. The elder minister, however, frowns deeply and says:
- You make such a sudden request—where am I to find a Drum Bong Dance troupe for you? There is one in Lang Chau, yet they know only the dance, not the art of acting beside you.
Thiet Nam smiles calmly:
- Grand Chancellor, you jest. The soldiers of Dai Viet wield swords in the morning, swing blades in the afternoon, and perform the Drum Bong Dance by night.
Thu Do chuckles lightly before bidding Trung Hieu gather the soldiers. Thiet Nam speaks at once:
- Perhaps there is no need. Yen Van is even now preparing to summon the Drum Bong Dance troupe.
Yen Van hath offered a substantial portion of his wealth unto the court, hath leased land at modest rates, and hath taught the people the art of trade. He shall stand firm in quelling the discord by any means necessary—for only then shall the court regard the master of Venus Tower with favor. Yen Van is paving the path with stones unto the ladder of renown upon the stage of polity.
Similar in opinion, similar in strategy—the Grand Chancellor and Thiet Nam have found the perfect stratagem, so it hath been unlikely that a seasoned and shrewd old fox like Yen Van should throw up his hands in surrender.
For Thu Do, all must be faultless. Naught is ever absolutely precise, and a wise man hath ever kept a contingency at hand. The Grand Chancellor immediately bids Trung Hieu to instruct the soldiers to procure Drum Bong Dance costumes and to move with the tide's turn.
Thiet Nam hath gone unto a place where the Guardian of Justice hath been required. Moments ago, his commotion hath silenced the crowd; they have held their breath, listening intently, completely ignoring the stench he hath carried. Yet once the commotion doth subside, they wrinkle their noses, veil their faces, and hasten to distance themselves.
Thiet Nam clicks his tongue, strips to the waist, and enters the tea house. All raise their brows at the countless welts—like whip marks—carved across his flesh, eyes wide as they behold him scoop water to cleanse the animal stench.
The Grand Chancellor laughs heartily and pays for him, but the teahouse's old mistress hesitates, not daring to accept the coin. Thu Do presses the silver firmly into her hands, his gaze fixed upon Thiet Nam.
The young man takes up a gourd ladle, draws water, and pours it over himself from crown to heel—swift and resolute.
All are amused as they behold the youth, more carefree than a fly. Soft murmurs and loud chatter begin to stir. He heeds not the chuckles, nor the uproarious laughter of those newly arrived at the ethnic market. They mock him:
- Whence doth this savage of the wildwood spring?
- Monkey Cave…
Thiet Nam dries himself with calm, dons fresh garments, and enters a music shop, lifting a rice drum[5]. Tran Thi Dung pays for it and watches as he binds the drum about his belly. He looks up and asks:
- Who hath hot rice? Might I beg a portion?
An old woman hands him rice. Thiet Nam gives thanks, placing the grains at the drum's heart to steady its tone. The rice drum doth resonate, yet lingers not—its voice more plaintive than the erhu.
The newcomers to the market fair, still drinking and reveling, grow vexed by the disturbance and curse aloud. Their companions, splashing water in the rain[6], join in the jeering.
He pays no heed to provocation, but adjusts the rhythm with short beats—his right hand covering the Metal side, his left striking Earth. He shifts the tones: now joyous as reunion with an old friend, now solemn as a sorrowful parting—guiding the souls of listeners toward distant memories. Yet the crowd clings to pride, unwilling to yield, bound by the need to save face.
Glancing at the hesitant yet yearning audience, Thiet Nam perceives their intent—they await his kindling the ether. He chuckles. The villagers of the Lower Village frown and turn, only to behold him more jubilant than a festival-goer, laughing as he cradles Earth and pats upon Metal, lifting the melody to soar with the childhood rhyme song:
You dwell in the Upper Village, I in the Lower Village[7]
You are the daughter of the old man Doan, I am the son of the old woman Ket.
You, the eldest daughter; I, the second son.
You bathe in the river; I wash in the well.
You journey to the Imperial City; I return to the fields.
You wear a conical hat; I tie a cloth scarf.
You sell golden persimmons; I sell wild persimmon.
You hang the tent; I endure the sun and rain.
You follow the times; I honor old customs.
You do not follow me, and I do not follow you.
You return to the plains; I return to the mountain village.
You go take a husband; I go take a wife.
You and I grow apart, each in our own land.
You reminisce about childhood; I cherish the past.
You ride the buffalo; I raise the calf.
We were close as brothers, those days when we bathed in the rain!
The Lower Villagers accompany the folk lyrics with their instruments, their faces alight with joy. Wayfarers exchange glances, waiting in silence. The villagers shake their heads and sigh, disappointed in those who dare not live true to themselves, yet astonished by Thiet Nam.
Even when disheartened, he continues to shift tones and alter melodies—leaning eastward, swaying westward, inviting all to join the revelry. At times, he leaps in circles, watching as if awaiting something.
- Are you still waiting for me?
The deep male voice deliberately turneth shrill, clashing with the distant drumbeats, forming a striking contrast. The source of the mirthful tone was a group of comely men, their faces powdered and rouged, red crow-beak scarves wrapped around their heads, white trousers, and four-panel traditional dress. Over, they wore a traditional silk halter underlayer with colorful patterns.
The men disguised as maidens do don black skirts adorned with elaborate tassels of five colors. Their attire was intricate and meticulously styled—yet none wore shoes, only white socks.
The 'girls' playing the role of songstresses elegantly flicked the hem of their four-panel traditional dress, shyly stealing glances at Thiet Nam. He cast flirtatious glances in return and engaged in courtship singing with the 'young ladies':
Noong oh, noong ah. Chai diep noong!
Chai longs and waits for noong so long!
Why doth noong leave chai so forlorn?
The songstresses stare in bewilderment as Thiet Nam speaks in the Nung dialect, sounding exactly like a native. Each "girl" examines him from head to toe, their rosy lips curl into bashful yet affectionate smiles. While dancing, they tap the Bong drums hanging from their chests. One "girl" swings her arm past the drum's surface, stepping diagonally in long strides toward Thiet Nam:
Chai oh, chai ah. Noong diep chai!
For noong must hide from my parents,
Engrossed in choosing a traditional silk halter underlayer, absorbed in applying powder!
Another "maiden" feigns jealousy, pressing close against the back of her "rival" to pivot and switch places. The lively sounds quickly attract visitors from all around—one tells another that the market fair features men disguised as women, singing and dancing. Curious folk do gather to behold.
Chatter and laughter ripple through the crowd. People whisper, "This girl dances the best, that girl is a thousand times more coquettish!" Everyone joins in lively discussion, watching Thiet Nam display his prowess. He curves his hands into wave-like shapes, swaying his hips in rhythm with the vibrant beat.
Young and old alike burst into laughter as Thiet Nam casts his amorous gaze upon the bashful face of the songstress. The two hesitantly turn their backs to each other before boldly facing one another, locking eyes in deep admiration.
The songstresses encircle him, taking turns to dance, just like lovers madly in love with one another. Paired dancers move in synchrony, their arms and legs aligned, swaying to the handheld drums and the bright clink of small gongs.
As the music reaches its climax, the eldest songstress linketh arms with Thiet Nam and glideth with him across the green grass. At the sight of this "man and maiden" exchanging flirtations, the spectators double over with laughter.
As the crowd revels in joy, another group of young men appears at the ethnic market gate. They are clad in raiment of fine weave, their locks orderly combed, bearing the air of lettered scholars. Finding the scene peculiar, they burst into raucous laughter.
- Men pretending to be women—without shame!
- The madmen!
A child's bright voice rings out:
- You guys know nothing! This is the Bong Drum Dance, handed down from the time of Great King Bo Cai![8]
Angered, the youths search the crowd for the brat who dares expose their ignorance. Before their eyes appears a boy clad in handwoven brocade, his ornate ethnic garment adorned with the motif of a Lac Viet bronze drum upon his chest. His traditional trousers bear patterns of a giao long[9] struggling in river waves.
His head is wrapped in a white scarf densely embroidered with the image of the Lac bird. Eyes wide, the boy can hardly believe they are unaware of something so simple. The young men rush forward, bent upon making strife:
- The whelp, still reeking of milk, doth dare to boast.
- I must break the teeth of the one who defames our ancestors.
The boy runneth from one stall to the next, draweth forth a book from his pocket, turneth to the section on ancient dances, and readeth aloud:
- Ancient Dance Chronicles states: Ere setting out to war, Great King Bo Cai did command his soldiers to dress as women and perform dances to raise morale. Battles were exhausting and did oft lead to vexation. Whilst stationed in Trieu Khuc Village[10], Great King Bo Cai and his court officials did devise this very dance. They selected a few soldiers of graceful and delicate form, dressed them in vibrant women's attire, each bearing a Bong drum before the waist. Accompanying them was an ensemble of handheld drum and bronze gong. The young men did gracefully disguise themselves as women, mimicking the gestures of the ladies.
They chuckle with scorn and do retort:
- The insolent brat doth dare to fabricate falsehoods. Did Phung Hung not know how to bid village maidens to dance, that he must needs compel men to disguise themselves as women?
The boy turneth to the next page and readeth even louder than before:
- The reason women were not permitted to dance was that Great King Bo Cai did not wish to disturb the common folk, nor did he want his intentions to be misconstrued. Therefore, he ordered his soldiers to disguise themselves as women. In time, the Bong Drum Dance became a needful part of festivals in Trieu Khuc Village. The people of old forbade women from entering the communal house area, believing their presence would defile the sacred space. Those who violated this rule were threatened with capture and punishment. This was done partly to preserve ancient customs, and partly because the elders did not wish for their daughters to marry far away, fearing the loss of traditional dances. Due to the prohibition against women dancing before the temple and sacred statues, men were required to dress as women to continue the tradition. Not every man could join the dance troupe. Only unmarried young men—comely, of respectable lineage, filial, virtuous, gentle, well-regarded, without blemish, and from households free of mourning—were selected. Alternatively, men who had both sons and daughters, were virtuous, and had no mourning obligations could participate. If mourning was observed, they had to wait three years before rejoining.
The boy finishes reading, shakes his head, and curls his lips:
- With such a nasty disposition, you lot will never be chosen!
The surrounding chuckles erupt into roaring laughter. Thiet Nam laughs heartily:
- Ho ho, words upheld by scrolls, evidence borne in hand! Kid, you are the cynosure of the ethnic market fair today!
The ignorant fools, humiliated by the book, go mad and charge at the child. The soldiers disguised as commoners rush forward, driving them out of the market. The boy calls out as best he can:
- Next time, don't call our ancestors by their real names—you'll be committing a taboo![10]
He tucks the book into his cloth pouch, then turns back to watch the dance and song. His view is suddenly obscured by a familiar figure.
The boy raiseth his head and giveth a strained smile, seeing an elder with gray hair, clad in dark traditional wide-legged trousers and a cross-collared robe, gazing at him solemnly.
The boy pleadeth in haste:
- I won't run around again. Please, Master—let me stay and watch until the very end!
The elder, seeing the boy's eagerness, granteth his request. The boy, overjoyed, swiftly turneth back to watch Thiet Nam dance. He sitteth upon his master's shoulders, bouncing and swaying, nearly falling several times. The old man intendeth to remind him, but seeing the boy laughing brightly with Thiet Nam, he holdeth back.
The child eagerly clappeth along to the rhythm of the rice drum. Not wishing to dampen the spirits of a student so passionate about his people's culture, the teacher instead steadyeth the boy's footing, letting him cheer and call out to encourage the Bong Drum dance troupe.
Suddenly, the crowd erupteth into excited laughter as they watch Thiet Nam raise his arms high, clapping both hands together, striking the drum with resounding beats:
Noong oh, chai sluong diep noong lai! (Beloved, I love you too much!)
Thiet Nam leaneth back and howleth, his voice echoing in all directions, igniting passion in the hearts of the visitors. Everyone rusheth in to join the revelry—some drape their arms around the "songstresses", dancing gracefully, while others press their backs together before turning to face Thiet Nam, singing in harmony.
The Upper Village folk calmly chop meat and cook their dishes. The Lower Village folk, unwilling to let Thiet Nam's efforts go to waste, taketh the initiative to strike up a conversation with the Upper Village. The Lower Village yieldeth in humility, while the Upper Village chop their obsession with saving face into pieces with blunt words:
- We only know how to chop pork and boil dog meat—we have no clue about singing and dancing!
- What's the point of dancing? It's just a waste of time!
The Upper Villagers wipe the meat scraps from their hands and do hawk their wares on behalf of the Lower Villagers:
- Come, everyone! These are freshly harvested tender wild mountain bamboo shoots from the forest—delicious beyond compare![11]
- Muom fruits gliding down on hanging pulleys—tangy, sweet, nourishing, and priced just right![12]
The Upper Villagers beat drums and clang gongs, inviting one person after another to join. The customers chattereth with mirth, selecting and buying a little of everything. The Lower Villagers reciprocate with a warm welcome, inviting guests into tents and eateries to enjoy the local cuisine. Some grill, others stir-fry; guests ladle the rich broth and doth partake with delight.
The aroma of roasted pork with an essential oil leaf[13] intertwineth with the scent of fresh seafood, cooketh Thiet Nam's stomach into a bubbling frenzy.
The fragrance slippeth through the nostrils of the "songstress" troupe as they watch the chef mix glistening roasted meat into a bowl of thick, tangy noodle soup.
The host of the eatery bursteth into laughter to welcome guests, and inviteth the Grand Chancellor with his wife, with Thiet Nam, and the songstresses to the banquet:
- You guys don't need to be overly courteous!
Footnote
[1] Sli songs are a form of sung poetry—primarily narrative poems—performed in a male-female duet style. These performances typically take place during festivals, market fairs, weddings, housewarming ceremonies, and other communal celebrations. Each duet is often performed by one or several pairs of lovers. The lead singer must possess a clear, resonant voice and respond swiftly and skillfully, demonstrating both eloquence and wit.
[2]In Vietnamese folklore, The Silk Old Man and The Moon Old Woman are two deities who govern matters of love and marriage. Though not husband and wife, they work in harmony to guide destined lovers. The Silk Old Man, the male deity, uses a red thread to bind the feet of two people, creating a new bond.
The Moon Old Woman, the female deity, carries the power of the moon to nurture and sustain that bond. Together, they are seen as a divine matchmaking duo, helping those with fate to meet and become husband and wife. These two deities are culturally analogous to Yue Lao, the Chinese god of matchmaking.
[3] The Chief Commissioner and Deputy Commissioner of Pacification were the highest-ranking officials overseeing a Circuit and a Prefecture during the Tran Dynasty. Lang District, known today as Lang Son, was historically referred to as Chau Lang. Its recorded history dates back to the Ly dynasty. In the 11th year of the reign era Thien Ung Chinh Binh (1242), Emperor Tran Thai Tong reorganized the realm's 24 administrative circuits into 12, though Lang Chau remained an exception and was retained in its original form.
At the time, it was administered by both a Principal Envoy and a Deputy Envoy. By the late Tran period, Lang Chau was part of the Lang Giang Circuit, which corresponds to parts of present-day Bac Giang, Hung Yen, Hai Duong, Hai Phong, and Lang Son. It comprised three districts, while the circuit directly administered five counties:
Long Nhan (now part of Lang Giang)
Co Dung (now Yen Dung, Bac Giang)
Phuong Son (a part of Lang Giang, now known as Bac Giang)
Na Ngan (now Luc Ngan)
Luc Na (now part of Luc Ngan)
The three districts under Lang Giang Circuit were:
Lang Giang District, consisting of four counties:
Yen The (now Yen The)
Yen Ninh (now part of present-day Lang Giang)
Co Lung (now Huu Lung, Lang Son)
Bao Loc (now Lang Giang)
Nam Sach District, consisting of three counties:
Thanh Lam (now Nam Sach)
Chi Linh (now Chi Linh)
Binh Ha (now comprising Kien Thuy and Tien Lang in present-day Hai Phong)
Thuong Hong District, consisting of three counties:
Duong Hao (now My Hao)
Duong An (now Binh Giang)
Da Cam (now Cam Giang, of the former Hai Duong Province)
[4]This region corresponded to present-day Bac Ninh, parts of Hanoi, and Bac Giang. It consisted of three districts, with the circuit directly governing two counties: Sieu Loai and Gia Lam.
Details of the districts:
Gia Lam District comprised three counties:
An Dinh (now Gia Binh)
Te Giang (now Van Giang)
Thien Tai (now Luong Tai)
Vu Ninh District consisted of five counties:
Tien Du (now Tien Du)
Vu Ninh (now Vo Giang)
Dong Ngan (now Tu Son and part of Soc Son, Hanoi)
Tu Son (now Que Vo)
Yen Phong (now Yen Phong)
Bac Giang District included three counties:
Tan Phuc (formerly Da Phuc, now part of Soc Son)
Phat The (now Hiep Hoa, Bac Giang)
Yen Viet (now Viet Yen)
Lang Giang Circuit:
Corresponding to parts of Bac Giang, Hung Yen, Hai Duong, Hai Phong, and Lang Son, it comprised three districts. The circuit directly administered five counties:
Long Nhan (now Lang Giang)
Co Dung (now Yen Dung)
Phuong Son (now Lang Giang)
Na Ngan (now Luc Ngan)
Luc Na (now Luc Ngan)
The three districts were:
Lang Giang District: consisted of four counties: Yen The, Yen Ninh, Co Lung (now Huu Lung, Lang Son), and Bao Loc (now Lang Giang).
Nam Sach District: consisted of three counties: Thanh Lam (now Nam Sach), Chi Linh (now Chi Linh), Binh Ha (now Kien Thuy and Tien Lang, Hai Phong).
Thuong Hong District: consisted of three counties: Duong Hao (now My Hao), Duong An (now Binh Giang), Da Cam (now Cam Giang).
Tam Giang Governorship:
Corresponding to modern Phu Tho, parts of Tuyen Quang, Vinh Phuc, and Hanoi, comprising three districts:
Thao Giang District: four counties: Son Vi (now Lam Thao), Ma Khe (now Cam Khe), Thanh Ba (now Thanh Ba), Ha Hoa (now Ha Hoa).
Tuyen Giang District: three counties: Dong Lan (Doan Hung), Tay Lan (now part of Doan Hung), Ho Nham (now Yen Son in Tuyen Quang).
Da Giang District: two counties: Lung Ban (now Ba Vi in Hanoi), Co Nong (now Tam Nong).
Thien Truong Governorship:
Corresponding to modern Nam Dinh and part of Thai Binh, comprising four counties:
My Loc (now My Loc)
Giao Thuy (now Giao Thuy)
Tay Chan (now Nam Truc)
Thuan Vi (now Vu Thu in Thai Binh)
Long Hung Governorship:
Corresponding to part of modern Thai Binh, comprising three counties:
Ngu Thien (now Hung Ha)
Dong Quan (now part of Dong Hung)
Than Khe (now part of Dong Hung)
Khoai Chau Circuit:
Corresponding to part of modern Hung Yen, comprising five counties:
Tien Lu (now Tien Lu)
Thien Thi (now An Thi)
Dong Ket (now Khoai Chau)
Phu Dung (now Phu Cu)
Vinh Dong (now Kim Dong)
Kien Xuong Governorship:
Corresponding to part of modern Thai Binh, comprising four counties:
Bong Dien (now Vu Thu)
Kien Xuong (now part of Vu Thu)
Bo (now part of Vu Thu)
Chan Loi (now Kien Xuong)
Hoang Giang Circuit:
Corresponding to parts of modern Ha Nam and Nam Dinh, comprising five counties:
Y Yen (now Y Yen)
Thien Ban (now Vu Ban)
Doc Lap (now part of Vu Ban)
Dai Loan (now Nghia Hung)
Vong Doanh (now part of Y Yen)
Truong Yen Circuit:
Corresponding to part of modern Ninh Binh, comprising four counties:
Uy Vien (now Gia Vien)
Yen Mo (now Yen Mo)
Yen Ninh (now Yen Khanh)
Le Gia (now Gia Vien)
Thien Quan Garrison:
Corresponding to parts of modern Ninh Binh and Hoa Binh, comprising three counties:
Xich Tho (Boi River basin, between Lac Thuy and Gia Vien)
Dong Lai (now Lac Son in Hoa Binh)
Khoi (Nho Quan)
Tan Hung Prefecture and Circuit:
Corresponding to parts of modern Quang Ninh, Thai Binh, Hai Phong, and Hai Duong, with direct control over five counties:
Giap Son (now Kinh Mon)
Thai Binh (now Thai Thuy)
Da Duc (now Quynh Phu)
A Coi (now part of Quynh Coi)
Tay Quan (now Thai Thuy)
Three districts:
Dong Trieu District: with four counties: Dong Trieu, An Lao (now An Lao and Kien Thuy), Co Phi (now Kim Thanh and An Duong), Thuy Duong (now Thuy Nguyen).
Ha Hong District with four counties: Truong Tan (now Gia Loc), Tu Ky (now Tu Ky), Dong Loi (now Ninh Giang and part of Vinh Bao), Thanh Mien (now Thanh Mien)
Hai Dong Circuit
Roughly corresponding to part of what is now Quang Ninh, including Yen Bang Prefecture with 8 counties:
An Bang (now Hoanh Bo)
An Lap (part of now Yen Hung)
An Hung (part of now Yen Hung)
Tan An (western half of the old Hai Ninh province, now Mong Cai and Tien Yen)
Chi Phong
Dai Doc (now Cai Bau island)
Van Ninh (eastern part of former Hai Ninh province, corresponding to present-day eastern Mong Cai, Tien Yen, and parts of Guangdong, China)
Van Don (now Van Don)
Quang Oai Garrison
Corresponding to part of what is now old Ha Tay province, consisting of 2 counties:
My Lung (now Son Tay town)
My Luong (now My Duc and Luong Son)
Thien Hung Garrison
Roughly present-day Son La, Lao Cai, and Phu Tho, consisting of 2 district:
Gia Hung District with 3 counties:
Lung (now Thanh Son in Phu Tho)
Mong (part of now Moc Chau)
Tu Mang (part of now Moc Chau)
Quy Hoa Prefecture with 4 counties:
Yen Lap (now Yen Lap)
Van Ban (now Van Ban in Lao Cai)
Van Chan (now Van Chan)
Thuy Vi (now Lao Cai city)
Thai Nguyen Garrison
Covering present-day Bac Kan and Thai Nguyen, including 11 counties:
Phu Luong (now Phu Luong)
Tu Nong (now Phu Binh)
Vu Le (now Vo Nhai)
Dong Hy (now Dong Hy)
Vinh Thong (now Bach Thong, Cho Don, and Cho Moi)
Tuyen Hoa (now Dinh Hoa)
Long Thach (location unknown)
Dai Tu (now Dai Tu)
Yen Dinh (now Dinh Hoa)
Cam Hoa (now Ngan Son and Na Ri)
Thai Nguyen Prefecture
Lang Son Garrison
Roughly present-day Lang Son and part of Quang Ninh, with 7 districts and direct control over 7 counties:
Tan An (now Loc Binh)
Nhu Ngao (part of now Loc Binh)
Dan Ba (The area between Loc Binh in Lang Son and Tien Yen in Quang Ninh today)
Khau On (now Chi Lang)
Ke Lang (now Huu Lung)
Uyen (now Van Lang)
Dong (now southern Huu Lung)
Seven Districts:
That Nguyen (now Trang Dinh), with 6 counties: Thuy Lang, Cam, Thoat, Dung, Pha, Binh
Thuong Van (now Van Quang), with 3 counties: Boi Lan, Khanh Vien, Kho
Ha Van (now Van Lang)
Van Nhai (now Van Quan and part of Vo Nhai)
Quang Nguyen (now Quang Uyen, Quang Hoa, Thach An in Cao Bang)
Thuong Tu Lang (part of now Cao Bang)
Tuyen Quang Garrison
Corresponding to present-day Tuyen Quang, part of Yen Bai and Vinh Phuc. It had 9 counties:
Khoang, Duong Dao, Van Uyen, Binh Nguyen: These four counties correspond to the present-day areas of Ham Yen and Vi Xuyen.
Day Giang (now Son Duong), Thu Vat (now Yen Binh in Yen Bai), Dai Man (now Chiem Hoa), Duong (now Tam Duong in Vinh Phuc), At (now Son Duong)
Thanh Do Garrison
Now Thanh Hoa, with 3 prefectures, with direct control over seven counties:
Co Dang (now Hoang Hoa)
Co Hoang (part of now Hoang Hoa)
Dong Son (now Dong Son)
Co Loi (now Tho Xuan and part of Thuong Xuan)
Vinh Ninh (now Vinh Loc)
Yen Dinh (now Yen Dinh)
Luong Giang (now Thieu Hoa)
Three districts:
Thanh Hoa District: Nga Lac (now Ngoc Lac and part of Tho Xuan), Te Giang (now Thach Thanh), An Lac (part of Thach Thanh), Loi Giang (now Cam Thuy)
Ai District: Ha Trung (now Ha Trung), Thong Binh (now Hau Loc), Tong Giang (now Ha Trung), Chi Nga (now Nga Son)
Cuu Chan District: Co Binh (now Ngoc Son), Ket Duyet (or Ket Thue, now Tinh Gia), Duyen Giac (part of now Quang Xuong), Nong Cong (now Nong Cong and Nhu Xuan)
Vong Giang Garrison
Corresponding to the northern Nghe An region today, known as Dien Chau at the end of the Tran Dynasty, consisting of four counties: Thien Dong (now Yen Thanh), Phu Dung (now Quynh Luu), Phu Luu (now part of Quynh Luu), Quynh Lam (now part of Quynh Luu)
Nghe An Prefecture and Circuit:
Corresponding to parts of modern Nghe An and Ha Tinh provinces, it comprised four districts and was directly administered by a prefecture/circuit that oversaw 8 counties:
Nha Nghi (now Nghi Xuan)
Phi Loc (now Can Loc)
Do Gia (now Huong Son)
Chi La (now Duc Tho)
Tan Phuc (now between now Dien Chau and Nghi Xuan)
Tho Du (now Thanh Chuong)
Ke Giang (part of now Thanh Chuong)
Tho Hoang (now Huong Khe)
Four districts:
Nhat Nam District: Ha Hoang (part of now Thach Ha), Ban Thach (part of now Thach Ha), Ha Hoa (now Ky Anh), Ky La (part of now Ky Anh)
Hoan District, consisting of four counties: Thach Duong (now part of Nam Dan), Dong Ngan (now Dong Thanh), Lo Binh (now Hung Nguyen), Sa Nam (now part of Nam Dan)
Tra Lan District (now western Nghe An)
Ngoc Ma District (now in Laos)
Tay Binh Garrison
Corresponding to present-day Quang Binh Province and part of Quang Tri. It comprised two districts, while the garrison directly oversaw three counties:
Phuc Khang (now Quang Ninh in Quang Binh)
Nha Nghi (now Le Thuy)
Tri Kien (now western Quang Ninh and Le Thuy)
The two districts included:
Bo Chinh district, consisting of three counties: Chinh Hoa (now Quang Trach), Dang Gia (now Bo Trach), Tong Chat (now part of Quang Trach)
Minh Linh District, consisting of three counties: Dan Due (now Vinh Linh), Ta Binh (now part of Gio Linh), Da Do (now part of Gio Linh)
Thuan Hoa Garrison
Corresponding to present-day Quang Tri region. It comprised two districts:
Thuan District: Ba Lang (part of now Cam Lo), Loi Dieu (part of now Cam Lo), An Nhan (now Hai Lang), Thach Lan (now west Hai Lang)
Hoa District, consisting of seven counties: Loi Bong (now Huong Thuy), The Vang (now Phu Vang), Sa Lenh (now Huong Tra), Tra Ke (now Quang Dien), Tu Dung (now Phu Loc), Bo Dai (now Phong Dien), Bo Lang (now the upper reaches of the Perfume River in western Thua Thien Hue)
Summary of Circuits
Here is the list of the 12 circuits during the Tran dynasty, according to historical records such as Kham dinh Viet su Thong giam cuong muc and Lich trieu hien chuong loai chi. These are the two official historical chronicles of the Nguyen dynasty:
Thien Truong
Truong Yen
Hong
Bac Giang
Hai Dong
Lang Son
Tuyen Quang
Nghe An
Thanh Hoa
Dien Chau
Tra Huong
Quang Nguyen
Dong Do Circuit
The area includes the present-day regions of Hanoi, Ha Nam, and parts of Vinh Phuc and Bac Ninh, consisting of:
Dong Do Prefecture: directly managing Tu Liem county and one unnamed county, which during the Ming period was called Dong Quan county.
Quoc Oai District: including four counties: Son Minh (now Ung Hoa), Thanh Oai (now Thanh Oai), Ung Thien (Chuong My and part of Ung Hoa), Dai Duong (My Duc).
Thuong Phuc District: including three counties—Thuong Phuc (now Thuong Tin), Phu Luu (now Phu Xuyen), Long Dam (now Thanh Tri).
Tam Dai District: including six counties—Phu Long (near Vinh Tuong), Yen Lang (now Me Linh), Phu Ninh (now Phu Ninh), Yen Lac (now Yen Lac), Lap Thach (now Lap Thach), Nguyen Lang (part of Phu Ninh).
Tu Liem District: in the western part of Hanoi, on the right bank of the Hong River, including two counties—Dan Phuong (now Dan Phuong), Thach That (now Thach That).
Ly Nhan District: consisting of 6 counties—Thanh Liem (now Thanh Liem), Binh Luc (now Binh Luc), Co Bang (Kim Bang), Co Le (part of Ly Nhan), Ly Nhan (now Ly Nhan), Co Gia (part of Ly Nhan).
Local Administrative Apparatus
At the head of the administrative authorities of a circuit or provincial capital were positions such as the Chief Commissioner of Pacification, Deputy Commissioner, Court Commissioner, Military Governor, and Prefectural Magistrate.
The administrative apparatus of a circuit or prefecture was further divided into departments such as the Dike Department, responsible for levee and flood control; the Waterway Inspection Department, overseeing water transportation; the Censorate, conducting inspections and supervision; and the Agricultural Promotion Office.
The circuits and prefectures were closely supervised by the Tran court. Important ones were entrusted to royal princes.
Below the prefecture and circuit levels were the county (for the delta areas) and the District (for the mountainous regions).
The officials heading the circuits were the Transport Commissioner and the Assistant Judge. The officials heading the counties were the County Magistrate, Assistant Magistrate, and Chief Clerk.
Below the district and county levels was the township. During the reign of Emperor Tran Nhan Tong, the township was renamed the rural canton.
Officials managing the rural canton level included the Senior Overseer or Junior Overseer, who held ranks of the fifth grade or higher. The capital city of Thang Long was divided into 61 Wards.
Historians believe that the rural canton unit during the Tran Dynasty was quite large, roughly equivalent to the rural canton established later during the Nguyen Dynasty.
Beneath sub-communes were communes, each governed by commune mandarins: the Commune Chief, Commune Clerk, and Commune Inspector. Senior officials held the title of Senior Commune Official if of Fifth Rank or higher; otherwise, they were Junior Commune Officials. These were formal bureaucratic positions appointed by the royal court.
Villages and hamlets were not official administrative units under the central court but were under the direct supervision of the commune mandarins. They were responsible for local administration, household registration, and population control.
[5]The Rice Drum (Trống Cơm)
The Rice Drum originated from Champa and was introduced to Vietnam around the 11th century during the Ly Dynasty. It was initially known by the Sino-Vietnamese name "Yêu Cổ" (妖鼓). The name "Rice Drum" stems from the traditional practice of applying a paste of crushed glutinous rice to the drumhead, a technique used to tune the drum and produce a warmer, mellower sound.
According to "An Nam chí lược" by Lê Tắc (13th century), the Rice Drum was originally a musical instrument of Champa before its introduction to Vietnam.
Related Instrument: Similarly, the Mridangam drum of South India also uses a small amount of rice paste to soften its tone.
Historical Use: During the Tran Dynasty, the Rice Drum was used in the Great Music ensemble under the name "Phạn Cổ Ba".
Current Use: The Rice Drum is still used in traditional ensembles such as the Nhã nhạc court music of Hue, Tuồng and Chèo theaters in the North, and the Ngũ âm (Five Tones) ensemble in the South.
[6]Splashing water in the rain is a metaphor for condoning or joining in wrongful acts.
[7]The song borrows several lines from a traditional Vietnamese folk rhyme titled "The Shirt Worn by My Younger Sister".
[8]Phung Hung (Chinese: 馮興; ? – ?), renowned by his title Bo Cai Dai Vuong (Chinese: 布蓋大王), meaning "Great King Bo Cai" in English. However, it should be noted that "Bo Cai" may mean "father and mother" according to some historical sources.
He led a resistance movement during the reign of Emperor Daizong (762-779) of the Tang dynasty, which ruled China and dominated the northern territory of Vietnam during the Third Era of Northern Domination (602–905) in Vietnamese history. At that time, China referred to this area as Annam.
[9]The custom of tattooing dates back to the Hung Kings era in Vietnamese history. The 'Lĩnh Nam Chích Quái' records a story from the Hong Bang period of the Hung Kings:
"At that time, people living near the forests and fishing in the waters were often harmed by the giao long, so they reported it to the king. The king replied:
"The mountain people are different from the aquatic creatures; they are enemies and often harm each other."
Thus, the king ordered them to tattoo their bodies with the image of Lac Long Quan, resembling aquatic monsters. From then on, they were no longer harmed by the giao long. The tattooing tradition of the Bach Viet began here."
Giao long is a mythical ancient aquatic monster in Vietnamese legend.
During the reigns of the Ly and Tran dynasties, from the emperor to the officials and commoners, everyone enjoyed tattooing as a way to preserve their traditional identity.
For royal family members and court servants, tattooing was mandatory, considered a law to be enforced. Military officers tattooed the words "殺韃" (Slay the Mongols) on their bodies to express their determination to resist the Mongol invasions.
The emperors continued the tradition of tattooing dragon images on their thighs with indigo, a practice that lasted until the reign of Tran Anh Tong (1293–1314). Fearing the pain, he sought every possible way to avoid being tattooed by the royal artisans.
The Dai Viet Su Ky Toan Thu records: During the reign of Tran Minh Tong, at that time, soldiers were selected based on their physique, with fair and stout individuals ranked higher. As a result, the practice of tattooing among soldiers ceased from that point onward.
Chewing betel and blackening the teeth were ancient Vietnamese customs, especially among the elderly. Even today, those over the age of 60 may still recall seeing old women and men with blackened teeth.
[10]Trieu Khuc Village in present-day Hanoi.
[11]Name taboo, or 'avoidance of tabooed names' (also called huiji, hui taboo, or name avoidance), refers to the practice of altering the writing or pronunciation of certain words out of reverence or prohibition in the written and spoken language. The practice of name avoidance originated in China long ago. This practice was observed in autocratic monarchies within the cultural sphere influenced by Chinese script and Confucian traditions.
At the national level, all subjects were required to avoid using the taboo names of the imperial family. These names could not be used to name descendants, nor could they appear in written documents or daily speech.
At the family level, due to cultural traditions, descendants might avoid calling their ancestors by their real names.
In social life, superstition could lead people to avoid using certain words. Calling the real names of respected elders was forbidden. During examinations, scholars were prohibited from writing the names of the royal family or high-ranking figures directly. Those who violated this rule would be punished.
[11]Wild mountain bamboo shoots are a unique type of forest bamboo shoot found in Mau Son Mountain (Loc Binh, Lang Son), primarily from the slender drought-resistant bamboo (Bambusa sp.) and wild mountain bamboo. These bamboo varieties have thin stalks, are highly resistant to dry conditions, and grow on steep mountain slopes.
During the scorching summer heat, the bamboo stems become withered and frail, and the leaves turn yellow and brittle. However, with just a single rainfall, the bamboo springs back to lush greenery. As spring rains soak the forest for days, the aged bamboo absorbs the nutrients from the soil, awakening and pushing forth tender bamboo shoots, bursting with life and vitality.
[12]The muom fruit (also known as quả quéo or 'stinky mango') is a juicy berry with a shape similar to a mango but smaller in size. It belongs to the Mango genus (Mangifera) within the Anacardiaceae family. When unripe, the fruit has green skin, which turns yellow-orange as it ripens. Ripe muom fruit has a distinctive fragrance and sweet taste, in contrast to its sharp sourness when green.
Characteristics of the muom fruit:
Shape: Similar to a mango but smaller, typically about the size of a kidney.
Color: Green when unripe, turning yellow or orange when ripe.
Flavor: Sweet, juicy, and aromatic when ripe; sharply sour when unripe.
Other names: Queo, stinky mango.
Differences from mango:
Muom fruit is significantly smaller than regular mangoes.
The muom tree is generally taller and has a rougher, more rugged trunk compared to mango trees.
When ripe, muom fruit has a distinct aroma that differs from mango, and in many regions, it is called "stinky mango" due to this smell.
Distribution and uses:
Muom fruit is found across Southeast Asian countries such as Indonesia, Malaysia, Myanmar, Singapore, Thailand, and Vietnam.
In Vietnam, it is considered a specialty fruit of the mountainous forests in the Northwest region.
Besides being eaten fresh, muom fruit is also used in traditional medicine to treat toothaches and diarrhea.
Actually, it was custard apples gliding on hanging pulleys—a unique method of transportation that is now famous in present-day Lang Son. However, during the Tran dynasty, custard apples had not yet existed, so I replaced them with muom fruits gliding on hanging pulleys instead.
[13]The essential oil leaf, Clausena indica, also known as mountain wampee, monkey root, or Asian false sandalwood, is a flowering plant belonging to the Rutaceae family. The term 'Clausena indica' can be translated as 'sweet fruit' according to the Tay-Nung language.
The Clausena indica tree is a small woody plant, growing between 3 to 7 meters tall, typically found on limestone mountains. It blooms from March to June and bears fruit from July to September.
Uses:
The fruit and young leaves are used as spices.
The leaves and roots are utilized in traditional Eastern medicine.
The leaves are also used for essential oil extraction.
Cultivation:
The Clausena indica tree is resistant to pests.
If grown from seeds, it starts bearing fruit in 5 to 6 years.
If grown from grafted plants, it begins fruiting in 2 to 3 years.
Distribution in Vietnam:
Mainly found in the northeastern mountainous regions, including Cao Bang, Bac Kan, Lang Son, Tuyen Quang, Thai Nguyen, Bac Giang, and Quang Ninh.
When grown in other provinces, the tree often struggles to survive. Even if it does survive, it may not bear fruit or lack the characteristic fragrance found in its native habitat. In some cases, the leaves may turn bitter and become unsuitable for cooking.
Culinary Uses:
Ripe Clausena indica fruits can be eaten fresh or used as a spice in Tay cuisine.
The fruit is also used to pickle bamboo shoots with chili.
Clausena indica leaves have a distinctive fragrance and are commonly used in traditional dishes of the Tay and Nung ethnic groups, such as:
Grilled meat
Braised meat
Roast duck and roast pork, which are famous specialties of Cao Bang, Lang Son, and Bac Kan—these dishes cannot be made without this unique spice.