Six years had passed.
Lam Chau was now fourteen — on the cusp of youth.
His mother, however, had grown frail and weary, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening with time. Most of their small trade now depended on her son's shoulders.
As for Old Tu, the kindly elder had passed away peacefully at the age of eighty-four. Since that day, Lam Chau often visited his grave on Mount Thanh Ha, bringing offerings of wildflowers.
Only Dinh Quang Town remained unchanged — dull, gray, lifeless as ever.
It was as if an invisible hand — the weight of a rotten government and the swelling number of local tyrants — had strangled what little hope the poor once had.
One by one, the good people left, fleeing the suffocating decay.
Lam Chau, though older, still looked thin and small. His hair was as messy as before, and his quiet, withdrawn nature hadn't changed. Few spoke with him — fewer still could call him a friend.
At that moment, beside a pot of unsold soybeans, the young boy found himself in trouble again — facing the sharp-tongued Madam Huyen, the local bean-seller.
"Hey, brat! You still owe me thirty copper coins for those beans! When are you paying me back?"
Hands fumbling, Lam Chau stammered. He hadn't sold much lately — where would he find the money?
"Please, Auntie, just give me a few more days," he pleaded softly. "Once I sell this batch, I'll earn over forty coins. After paying the taxes to those thugs, I can give you ten right away and use the rest as capital. In five weeks, I'll pay everything back!"
He smiled proudly at his little plan.
But Madam Huyen only squinted, pointing at the cold pot.
"You said the same thing last week! If you can't sell them, how are you going to pay?"
Lam Chau froze.
Looking around at the empty streets and shuttered stalls, he knew it wasn't just his fault — the whole town had grown lifeless.
"Strange…" he muttered. "Where did all the villagers go? It's like they just… vanished."
Before he could think further, a voice called out:
"Chau, my boy! How's business today?"
"Ah! Madam Vuong — and…?"
It was Madam Vuong, the woman who'd once been bullied years ago — and beside her stood her daughter, Vuong Thu Nhi.
The girl had grown into a young beauty. Her hair was tied in two neat buns, her skin pale as snow, her figure graceful yet lively. Her crimson eyes seemed to shimmer in the light, making Lam Chau's heart beat uncontrollably. She was simple, and yet irresistibly charming.
Years ago, when her family was ruined, Lam Chau and his mother had helped raise funds for them. Since then, the two families had grown close — close enough that the lonely boy finally had a friend: Thu Nhi.
Though now… things were different.
They no longer talked as freely as they once did. Perhaps it was because they had reached that age — when words came with hesitation, and glances meant more than they should. Yet, despite the awkwardness, they remained close at heart.
Lam Chau blinked, realizing he'd been staring.
"It's… going fine, I guess," he mumbled, eyes fixed on the girl instead of her mother.
Thu Nhi's face turned red as she shyly hid behind her mother, who couldn't help but laugh and cough lightly to save the boy from embarrassment. She then stepped forward to help negotiate with Madam Huyen — and soon, Lam Chau's debt was slightly reduced.
"Thank you, Madam Vuong! Without you, I'd be finished. But… why are you two here at this hour?"
"Oh, we were just about to hea—"
Before she could finish, a voice cut through:
"Well, if it isn't Madam Vuong and young Lam Chau!"
They turned to see Old Luc and his wife approaching — alongside the village chief, Li, and two armed guards.
"You're meeting the chief too?" Madam Vuong asked.
"Yes, yes!" the old man nodded eagerly.
"Chief Li, what's this about?" Lam Chau asked.
The man scowled, answering curtly,
"To earn money, of course."
Lam Chau fell silent. He had never liked this man — a greedy official who turned a blind eye to the bullies tormenting the town.
"How odd…" the boy thought. "A man like him, suddenly helping others make money?"
"Your mother agreed already," the chief added flatly. "She's waiting there now. You'll come with me."
"Then let's all go," Old Luc said quickly. Madam Vuong and Thu Nhi followed close behind.
Lam Chau, though suspicious, said nothing. He merely glanced at the chief, then quietly walked after them.
On the Road
As they walked, Lam Chau gave a mocking chuckle.
"How generous of you, Chief Li — helping old folks and women earn money! If you'd only called strong young men or merchants, that might've made sense…"
The chief said nothing, his jaw tightening. Madam Vuong looked at the boy in surprise — he was usually so quiet. Why was he teasing now?
Lam Chau tilted his head, eyes half-narrowed.
"This town's been emptier by the day. So many people gone — vanished without a word. Don't you find that strange, Chief Li?"
"They moved away!" the man snapped.
Lam Chau's heartbeat quickened. Something was wrong — terribly wrong. But outwardly, he just smiled.
"If three more families 'move away' tomorrow," he said softly, "won't that be sad?"
At once, the chief stopped walking. He turned, his face dark with sudden anger.
Everyone froze.
Lam Chau stood still, meeting the man's glare with cold, steady eyes — and for a heartbeat, the air itself seemed to freeze.
A shadow of doubt crept into everyone's heart — Madam Vuong's, Thu Nhi's, and even Old Luc's.
Chief Li was clearly hiding something.