Lately, the weather had been getting hotter and hotter. Khang was very sensitive to the heat. Ever since he discovered the stream in my backyard, he had been staying there, refusing to come out, and I couldn't be bothered to manage him.
I went out through the back door.
I had been so busy these past few days that I almost forgot to check on the rice paddy outside the fence.
Fortunately, this patch of field leaned against the cliff behind my house and was hidden by the valley, so it was usually unseen. I was confident that I could protect this rice.
Rice grains are a gift from heaven; to survive, one cannot go without rice.
The weather was getting worse, so any extra food that could be harvested should be stored away.
Thanks to being irrigated with stream water, the rice had quickly headed out with plump grains. It looked like harvesting a few hundred kilograms of paddy from this field would be no problem.
The stout man from down the slope gave me a few strawberry seedlings, saying his older sister had brought them back.
I thought that growing only staple crops wasn't enough, that I should also plant some fruit, so I planted the strawberry seedlings along the edge of the paddy, and they grew well too.
I had already thought it through; it was clear that the well couldn't be protected.
I had previously inspected the route they mentioned, and it was basically impossible to divert the water.
Our household wasn't afraid of having no water; I was only afraid that their reckless actions would sever the water source, leaving everyone with nothing to drink.
I still had no intention of telling outsiders about the stream on my property. I feared that if I spoke up, my family would lose even this place of refuge.
In a few more days, the rice here would be ready for harvest. The yard was large, so I could dry a portion of it then and have it milled into white rice to store in the cellar.
The corn planted early on the mountain was also almost ready for harvest. I didn't know how much I could get in this weather.
All things considered, there was quite a lot of farm work to be done.
After a hard afternoon's work, I returned home to the sound of cooking from the kitchen.
The front yard was quiet again. I went to have a look and saw that the well had been dug up messily.
I shook my head and decided to leave them to it.
After I had showered, Khang came out wearing an apron and carrying a plate of food.
Seeing my surprise, Khang said smugly:
"Today, you get to taste my cooking. After learning from Grandpa for so long, I should have something to show for it."
His expression was so confident and certain that I almost believed he had done a decent job.
Khang looked at me, his eyes not hiding his anticipation for praise.
I gave a consoling smile.
"It's okay, just a little amateurish."
Khang's face fell instantly. His big eyes drooped, and he squatted on the ground without a word.
I was momentarily flustered, hating for the first time my clumsy tongue and inability to coax people.
Just as I was hesitating, unsure how to comfort him, he seemed to have comforted himself. He shot me a glance, a faint pink blush appearing on his fair cheeks.
He turned his head away and huffed.
"I'll get it right after a few more tries."
Using the most arrogant tone to say the most docile words, how could one not find this person endearing?
Khang's mood had been improving recently. He would occasionally cook different dishes for us. Although the taste was average, it was the thought that counted.
I also gradually felt more at ease.
For me, during this period, both externally and internally, I felt for the first time that I was truly living in this world.
Before dawn, I pulled the cart to go harvest the corn, bringing a few plain steamed buns and water to get me through the day.
The stout man's real name was Le Van Bang, but because he was so heavy-set, everyone was used to calling him by his nickname. He didn't mind and was quite happy when people called him that.
Bang brought along a few of his younger siblings with me. Along the way, the chattering children made for a lively journey.
His field was next to my cornfield.
This time, there was no one else in the fields. He winked at me and said:
"Have you heard? Old Man Dinh from the west side of the village traded two hundred and fifty kilograms of grain in town for a woman. His wife has been furious, making a scene at the community hall every day for the past few days. The whole village knows about his family's scandal now."
I frowned. Trading grain for a person... It seemed people in town could no longer buy grain. The situation was even worse than I thought.
Seeing my silence, Fatty Bang continued on his own:
"I'm afraid a disaster is coming. Our place is so remote that news doesn't even reach us. You should stock up on some food quickly. I'm afraid something big is about to happen."
I nodded and entered the cornfield to pick the cobs, an unexplainable panic rising in my heart.
Past eleven in the morning, the sun was scorching. I was used to the sun, so I could still bear it. Fatty Bang worked shirtless, picking corn, while his younger siblings helped load it onto the cart.
Fatty Bang wiped the dripping sweat from his face and suggested taking a break. I set down my basket and took out rice balls to eat with sesame salt.
Fatty Bang had brought a few cold baguettes.
His younger siblings complained that the bread was tough, their dark eyes showing a hint of grievance as they ate. The harvest was bad this year; even if the children didn't like the food, a few words of coaxing from their older brother would have them eating happily again. The village children learned to be understanding at an early age.
I took two of my white rice balls, broke them into smaller pieces, sprinkled some sesame salt on them, and offered them to the children. They looked at me, then at Fatty Bang, their eyes glued to the rice balls, but they didn't dare to reach out.
I said to Fatty Bang:
"I can't eat this much anyway. It's better to let the children have it so it doesn't go to waste."
On Fatty Bang's tanned face were beads of sweat as large as peas. His grateful gaze made me feel a bit awkward. It was the first time I had done something like this, and I was a little unsure of myself.
"Hurry and thank Phuong."
Fatty Bang smiled and ruffled the children's hair.
Hearing this, the little ones called out to me in unison:
"Thank you, Phuong."
Their clear, childish voices carried laughter as they ate the white rice balls in their hands.
The joy of children was always so simple and carefree.