"Grandpa, can you please look after my friend for a little while? While the sun isn't too harsh, I'm going out to the back hill to plant some corn."
"Don't you worry. I'll watch this young man. It's so hot; come back a little earlier. As long as our family has enough to eat, that's fine. Don't overexert yourself."
I loaded the farm tools onto the handcart and went to the back hill to plant corn. Corn is drought-resistant, and the soil on this hill was dry and barren. It was also far away, so it wasn't possible to haul water to it every day. A few days ago, there were still some elderly folks in the village hauling water to their fields, but the heat these past few days has been unbearable, and no one was wasting their time on that anymore. In this day and age, it was much easier to just spend money to buy grain.
The scorching sun felt like it was burning me. My back felt hot and raw, and wherever the sweat ran, it stung. After finishing planting the corn, I packed up my things and hurried back, wondering if the person lying at home had woken up yet.
I quickly wiped the sweat from my face and quickened my pace. As I reached the bottom of the slope, I saw a slender figure standing at the yard gate.
A secret joy crept into my heart, but it was immediately followed by the thought that in this heat, he was probably about to faint again.
For some reason, I felt a surge of anger. I pulled the cart a few steps until I was in front of him and let out a curt sentence:
"If you're better, you can leave."
Khang's familiar, clear, and cheerful eyes instantly dimmed upon hearing those words.
My heart softened, yet I was also annoyed. I hadn't intended to say that. Why is it that when I open my mouth, the words come out so stiff and hurtful?
I was also a bit flustered and was about to say something more when Khang unexpectedly moved closer:
"Hey, Phuong, don't be so cold. After all, we slept in the same room for four years. Look, I've traveled a thousand miles to find you; how could you bear to be so heartless..."
I shot him a glare, a throb of pain in my temples. This guy was getting more and more out of line. What did he mean, sleeping in the same room for four years? We were just in the same dormitory. If he put it that way, hadn't he "slept" with a lot of people?
Seeing the displeasure on my face, he stopped his nonsensical talk. He just blinked his big, round, sparkling eyes at me, exactly like a little puppy begging for food. This person was still exactly the same as before. Even if I didn't say a word, he could talk enough for the both of us, chattering by my side for a long time. I had grown used to the occasional sound of his sweet, soft voice in my ear.
For lunch, my grandfather made soft stir-fried pho noodles with potatoes and green beans. The fresh pho noodles were mixed evenly with the potatoes and green beans, which had been stir-fried until they were soaked in a rich sauce, then simmered on low heat until the noodles had absorbed all the essence before being served. The aroma was incredibly enticing, and it was a perfect match with a side of crisp, green pickled cucumbers.
At first, I thought Khang wouldn't like such a rustic dish, but seeing him eat with such gusto, holding his bowl and eating cheerfully, I no longer worried about our differences in food preferences.
As he ate, Khang grinned and praised my grandfather:
"Grandpa, your cooking is absolutely delicious! I've never eaten anything with such a rich flavor in the city."
Khang's face was handsome and earnest-looking, making it easy for him to win people's favor. My grandfather, who probably rarely met someone who praised him so directly, smiled happily. While serving Khang more rice, he also placed more food in his bowl:
"It's good that you like it. Eat up; you're too thin."
Khang flashed a bright smile, and as he shoveled rice into his mouth, he chattered on with stories that would please the elderly. At first, my grandfather just smiled faintly, but then several times he burst out laughing heartily, his usually somber face filled with joy.
Actually, I felt quite guilty. I've never been good with words, and being used to silence, I don't know how to cheer up an old person like Khang does. Thinking about it, my grandfather must really enjoy this harmonious and happy atmosphere.
"Phuong, don't just bury your head in your bowl. Say something."
Khang's voice was like a hook, tickling my heart. He propped his chin on his hand and looked at me with a grin.
I was momentarily flustered and mumbled:
"Eat."
Khang stared blankly for a moment, then laughed so hard his eyes crinkled shut, tears almost streaming down his face:
"Oh my god, Phuong, you're hilarious, haha..."
His laughter was contagious, and my grandfather looked at me cheerfully. I paid no mind to the embarrassment and continued to eat my rice.
It had been a very long time since the quiet house was filled with such hearty laughter. My own heart felt unconsciously lighter.
After the meal, Khang insisted on washing the dishes. Seeing him and my grandfather heading into the kitchen in happy harmony, I didn't stop them.
The afternoon sun was incredibly harsh. Outside in the yard, the sunlight was so bright you couldn't open your eyes. For the rice paddy planted outside the yard wall, I had diverted water from the stream to irrigate it, so the soil wasn't too dry. The rice was growing quite well, just a bit wilted from the sun.
Under the shade frames in the backyard, the vegetable seedlings were growing very well. I don't know if it was my imagination, but the vegetable beds irrigated with water from the cave pond were growing extremely well, twice as well as the beds in the front yard irrigated with well water.
Well, it was a good thing regardless. I decided not to overthink it. The vegetable beds in the front yard needed to be fertilized soon.