The dozen or so chicks I brought back couldn't stand the heat either; every single one of them was listless and without any energy. With no other choice, I had to move them into the mountain cave in the backyard.
Speaking of this cave, it was only later, after experiencing unprecedented hardships, that I couldn't help but admire my father's foresight.
My backyard was very large. A row along the fence was for livestock pens, while the other areas were all for growing vegetables and fruit trees. The corner of the fence rested against a high and steep mountain cliff.
A narrow crack in the cliff, just wide enough for one person to squeeze through, led to a vast space inside—a hollow mountain cave. The light was quite dim, but the air wasn't stuffy; instead, it carried the faint scent of green grass.
Deeper inside, a stream meandered down from the cliff face, pooling into a pond half the size of a room, the water so clear you could see the bottom. I wondered if there would still be water in the winter.
It was very cool inside.
The chicks ran and jumped about energetically. Afraid they might drown, I didn't dare let them go too deep, only fencing off a small patch of land near the cave entrance for them to move around in.
It took me three days to clear the vegetable beds in the front and back yards, plan them out into individual plots, and then sow the seeds. I also went to the village to buy some readily available seedlings—tomatoes, chili peppers, bell peppers, cucumbers, eggplants, long beans, green beans... I planted them all. The weather was too hot, so I built shade frames for them, placing woven straw mats on top to block the harsh sun.
After several busy days, just as I finally finished planting the vegetable garden, Uncle Ba brought the goat kids over. The yard suddenly became lively. Fortunately, the yard was large enough, and with the vegetable garden as a barrier, I couldn't smell the odor from the livestock.
Outside the fence, there was also nearly a sào of field, which was also close to the stream's source.
As I had been busy these past few days, I called over a few young men from the village—who, like me, had grown tired of working far away and returned home—to help install water pipes in the house. It was inconvenient to keep fetching water from the well, and it would be freezing in the winter. The pipes drew water from the stream on the cliff. I worked on the backyard myself; my strength was good enough to manage it, though it took some time. For the front yard, I called people over to get it done quickly.
When the village installed tap water, no one was living at my house, so somehow it was missed. But it didn't matter. My house had a well, and I built an old-fashioned hand pump system myself. In short, even without electricity, my house wouldn't have to worry about water.
The weather was getting more and more unusual, and I found myself subconsciously preparing for the worst-case scenario. No matter the circumstances, one had to strive to live.
The goat kids couldn't be cooped up forever. The vast meadow in the valley behind the mountain was perfect for grazing them. While the temperature wasn't yet too high, I took a switch and herded the goats into the mountains.
Along the way, I inevitably ran into a few women from the village. I had a general idea of what they were saying. It was nothing more than:
"A proper university student doesn't stay in the city but comes back to the mountains to farm and raise goats. It's a disgrace to his family."
"My son is doing very well in the city. Just a few days ago, he sent me so many foreign goods, not like him..."
Ever since I came home to farm, I had heard many such words. If they liked to talk, let them talk. I didn't care. One had to humble oneself to do these things, and I had no need for that thing called 'face', nor did I mind losing it. I knew what I wanted, and that was enough.
The valley near my house didn't have many trees, and much of the grass in the meadows had already turned yellow. Since it was still early, I led the goats towards the edge of the forest on the other side of the valley. There was a national highway at the bottom of the valley, and on the other side of it was another village. That side, near the forest, had lush trees, and the pasture was decent enough.
The goat kids, having not been able to run around outside for many days, were extremely excited.
Lying under the shade of a tree, I took the white bead from my pocket to examine it. The bead's surface was smooth. The patterns were so shallow that their shapes were indiscernible. The inside seemed solid, but not quite, an opaque white as if covered in a layer of mist.
After lying there for a while, I felt a bit sleepy. I had been so busy at home the past few days and had been feeling tired lately. I rubbed my stinging eyes. This place was still unfamiliar; I didn't dare let the goat kids run wild.
I stood up and stretched.
Down on the road in the distance, a tall, slender figure was vaguely visible, stumbling along.
Where did a person come from in this place?
I suppressed the doubt in my heart, but before I could take a step forward, the figure fell to the ground with a "thud".
The person I brought back from the mountain remained unconscious for a whole day and still hadn't woken up. The village herbalist came to have a look and prescribed a few packets of traditional herbal medicine. I saw that this person's skin was severely sunburned. His arms were reddish-purple, while the fair skin hidden by his clothes was flushed red, so delicate it looked as if it would break at a touch.
Afraid of hurting him, I didn't dare to use force while cleaning him, only carefully applying the medicine. I thought I was being very gentle, but the unconscious person still furrowed his brow and moaned in pain. I am naturally strong, and faced with someone so delicate, I was momentarily clumsy and awkward.
The person lying on the bed was Nguyen Bao Khang, my university classmate.
Back in school, he would occasionally seek me out for group assignments, chattering ceaselessly in my ear. His beautiful eyes always seemed to sparkle with a smile and boundless energy. Though I didn't want to admit it, I have to say that during that time when I was ostracized by everyone, I was incredibly grateful for his presence.
After graduation, we all went our separate ways. This guy left early, so we never saw each other again. I was usually very indifferent to partings, but at that time, the fact that he left without a word of goodbye truly made my heart a little heavy.
To be precise, he was my only friend in that city. I vaguely knew that his family was well-off and that he lived a comfortable life. Why would he appear in this remote backwater?
The weather was getting hotter and hotter. I feared something must have happened in the outside world.