Seeing that I wasn't engaging in conversation and was only focused on my own shopping, those people quietly moved away. Immediately, I felt the air around me become fresher. I was involuntarily reminded of the faint, cool scent on Khang. Just as I thought of him, I realized he had been gone for almost the entire morning.
I put the things in the car and drove back to the vegetable market, feeling a strange sense of anxiety. The temperature was too high, and there were few people on the road. I found myself speeding up.
In the shade of a distant tree stood a familiar, slender figure in white, with several large plastic bags at his feet.
I got out of the car. Khang's face, flushed from the sun, beamed at me as he said,
"Here, these bags are for you."
After speaking, he wiped his sweat and got into the car to escape the sun.
I nodded and placed the items in the trunk.
The moment I saw Khang, I breathed a sigh of relief.
Contrary to my expectations, he was still standing before me.
I laughed mockingly at myself, surprised that I had reached a point where I placed expectations on someone else.
Khang's fair face was flushed red from the heat. He hugged his water bottle and chugged half of it in one go.
He rested for a moment before speaking:
"This damn weather is killing me. You have no idea how crowded the supermarket was with people fighting over essential supplies. My small body was almost squeezed flat."
He turned to look at me, his eyes sparkling.
I felt a bit awkward for a moment; being stared at so intensely was not a pleasant feeling.
He chuckled.
"Phuong, I just called my friends. They said the drought is terrible everywhere. Their homes have been without water for several days."
I said nothing, waiting for the words he was hesitating to say.
He was silent for a long time, the tuft of his silly haircut drooping as he spoke in a somewhat sorrowful tone:
"They said the situation is only going to get worse. They're all planning to migrate..."
"Where can anyone run to?"
I replied softly.
If things were really as I suspected, where could anyone possibly escape to?
Khang fell silent and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep.
After that, a few more families in the village started digging wells.
Digging a well at this time was likely not easy. The drought had lasted too long, making the ground hard. Normally, you only needed to dig twenty to thirty meters to find water, but given the current situation, it was hard to say.
Judging by their anxious expressions, this method of digging wells was probably not feasible. The drought was more severe than imagined; several families in the village had already come to my house to ask for water.
The tap had started to rust, a sign that the water wouldn't be returning anytime soon.
Since returning from town, Khang had been quiet for a long time and didn't smile as much.
He still did what needed to be done, sometimes stealing glances at me.
I could clearly feel his gaze, but when I turned around, he would act nonchalant as if nothing had happened.
Grandpa also noticed that something was wrong with him and had asked me about it several times. But each time, I remained silent, so Grandpa stopped asking.
In my heart, a thought that astonished even myself kept surging, suppressed to the point of vagueness.
The vegetable garden in the yard, fortunately irrigated with pond water, had cucumber and bean vines that climbed much better than those in the front yard.
I knew this wasn't normal. Luckily, my house was in a secluded place, so I wasn't afraid of anyone finding out.
I took the opportunity to build trellises early, tying the sprawling vines to bamboo poles so they would grow better and yield more fruit later.
It was only the beginning of summer, yet the weather was already unbearably hot.
"Phuong."
A neighbor who had come for water was knocking at the door.
I heard Khang answer and go open it, so I paid it no mind.
Lately, many people had been coming for water. From five or six in the morning, people would call at the door, lining up to get water.
The drought situation was becoming more severe than I had imagined.
I covered the vegetable trellis with a straw mat and closed the wooden gate next to the garden.
Afraid of arousing suspicion from the villagers, I had chopped some wood to make a gate to separate this special vegetable garden from the other areas in the backyard, and also to hide the stream on the cliff face.
Hearing the noisy crowd in the front yard, I noted that it was even larger than in the previous days.
I sighed silently, wondering how much longer this well could last.
This summer was unusually quiet. Even the sound of cicadas had vanished; they must have died in large numbers from the heat.
I scooped water to cool down the kids and piglets. The weather was too hot, and they were too listless to eat.
I was a little worried, afraid they wouldn't make it.
Khang was very fond of the kids, but unfortunately, it was too hot now, and he couldn't stand their smell.
When winter came and the weather turned cold, the smell would fade. The kids would grow up white and soft, and he would surely love them then.
It was easy to get heatstroke in this hot weather.
Grandpa brewed a large pot of cooling tea for the people who came for water.
As we were all from the same village, he was probably afraid that I wouldn't get along with everyone later, that I would be isolated and bullied. He was doing it for my own good.
Although I didn't want him to overwork himself, I couldn't bring myself to stop him.
Khang sat cross-legged in the front yard, watching the people who came to get water, terrified they might step on his patch of bok choy.
This fool was very protective of his food.