Duong Huong - The Zenith

Therefore, the neighbors held their breath and listened to the confrontation.

That night, everybody poured down from the upper hamlet to the middle one to gather at Miss Vui’s house. Leaving no detail out, they recounted the argument between father and son. After the exchange, Quy had stood on the patio with planted feet for a long while. Mr. Quang and Miss Ngan continued to shake the jute bags, making a thick dust. No one spoke. In that silence, the village chairman quietly retreated.

Someone opined: “Lose this round, win the next. Quy won’t put up with losing!”

Another disagreed: “There will be no next time. I don’t take Mr. Quang’s side just because I drink and eat at his house, but I know he was right ten times out of ten. Since he and his late wife arranged Quy’s marriage, was a sausage or a roll ever brought over for them to eat?”

“Because Quy assumed his father had money. If you can’t rely on a father, who can you rely on?”

“No one should ever rely on others; not even parents or children. If you rely on others, you make a beggar of yourself, so don’t try to lecture others and don’t demand things beyond your fair share.”

“It’s easy to talk, but his daughter is nineteen and Mr. Quang brings home a bride of eighteen: How can Quy stand that?”

“The girl Mo is already nineteen? I am shocked!”

“Have you been sleeping? Master Quy is forty-one this year, not less. Mr. and Mrs. Quang married when she was eighteen; that next year they had a son right away.”

“Now that you mention it, it’s quite awkward. Quy’s wife could have given birth to Miss Ngan.”

“Each eats from his own bowl; each sleeps in his own bed. Life is so different now.”

“No matter how different, when those involved are of the same blood, still sit at the same table, sleep under the same roof, anything unsettling will lead to conflict.”

“What do you mean by unsettling?”

“Unsettling means something out of tune with what we normally see or hear in life. You all just imagine Quy’s wife standing next to Miss Ngan. On one side is a fat sow, with bony neck and breasts sagging down to the belly button. On the other is a tray full of food, a smooth nape like that of a dove, an arm plump like an ear of corn, skin white like a boiled egg peeled. And you would make the old sow call Miss Ngan ‘mother’…it’s beyond laughter!”

“I think your eyes are searching, digging, more than they should. They call someone like you a dirty old man!”

“Being a dirty old man is not too bad; I do not refuse your compliment. But let’s get back to Mr. Quang’s situation; I think Quy is jealous of his father. Whoever wants to see a father bite into a succulent piece of meat, while the son has to munch on a bone? This is the very thing that roasts the soul of the chairman.”

“That’s bullshit! The fire that burns the soul of the oldest son is the estate that he was sure of inheriting. Did you not see, ladies and gentlemen, that after the birth of the boy, Phu, the chairman was elated every minute, every second? Risking Party discipline turned out to be a big win. The father is the firstborn son; his firstborn son is in line to lead the lineage whatever happens when Mr. Quang passes on, and the wealth will flow into his pockets. Even though nowadays the law on paper holds that all children are equal, having equal rights, by common custom people still follow the old law. Now, with an eighteen-year-old stepmother, the dream has dissipated into smoke. For sure, there will be new children born. Miss Ngan could give birth to twelve children, big like stone pillars. Even though he is sixty, with his strength, Mr. Quang could bake five or six kids before he dies. This turns to naught all the efforts of Mr. Chairman to father a son.”

“You are such a jerk! Even if Miss Ngan has ten sons, Master Quy is still the firstborn of the lineage. His son carries on the principal family line.”

“Ah, you all are dead wrong. In very ancient times, the laws turned upside down. There were laws and then there was that which opposed the laws. In royal families, even crown princes were pushed aside; here we talk about just common people. All laws are born in the minds of the people. The mind is connected to the heart. Wherever veers the heart, so, too, goes the mind.”

“Yeah, yeah…you are right!”

“I don’t believe it! Anything can be said; to act, everyone must look to the village, to the nation. The king’s law bows before village rules. So our ancestors have taught for a thousand years.”

“In every period, people looked to the village and to the nation; but they also turned around and looked to the people. Ordinarily they acted accordingly to normal understanding, but when necessary they could step on all criticism. Don’t you think Mr. Quang is that kind of person?”

“Yeah, yeah…you are so right!”

“Now, any doubters left? If so, please raise your hand so that I can count.”

“This is no meeting to elect a co-op chairman or an accountant needing us to raise our hands and vote.”

“I ask again: Does anyone doubt the points I just raised?”

No one had any doubt, but people were still torn by some concern that was hard to express, an impression that was really hard to put into words. Many thoughts, feelings, so convoluted one with another, that they could not be understood thoroughly and eluded the capacity for explanation. The only recourse was to wait. Clarity would come with time!

Next morning, a youngster from the lower section came up to see Mr. Quang, saying that Master Quynh had asked him to fetch his clothes and books; that from now on Quynh would live in the lower section with his maternal grandmother and two uncles. The neighbors heard Miss Ngan ask her husband to receive the guest. Mr. Quang’s reply was pretty rude:

“I don’t know which family you belong to. Lately I made my living in the city and so have not had the opportunity to visit other hamlets. Given this, I can’t turn his belongings over to a stranger. Why don’t you go back and tell Quynh that his clothes, books, and personal stuff were bought with the money from my pocket. If he wants these things, he must bring himself up here to meet me, not ask another.”

Of course, the youngster had to retreat, without any sound or noise, according to the neighbor’s telling. That afternoon, the late Mrs. Quang’s two younger brothers knocked at their brother-in-law’s door. Perhaps feeling scared, they decided to come together, hoping the following song holds true:

“Two against one: if you don’t lose an eye, you’ll break a leg!”

It was time for the evening meal. The neighbors used the excuse of asking for some salt, some lard, to listen in on his affair. The host not only greeted the brothers warmly, he made a new pot of tea and invited them in:

“On the occasion of my wife’s brothers’ visit, please stay for dinner to make us merry. We should prepare many trays and invite the whole world, but following custom, we have to wait until after the first anniversary of the death of my son Quy’s mother. It will be only a month more.”

“Oh no, we dare not bother you that much.”

“No, you do not; in fact it is I who want an opportunity to raise and empty glasses with you all. We are neighbors with adjoining gardens and share the alley; I am away most of the year. Only in winter is there time to get together with people in the hamlet.”

“Fine, since you insist.”

The host called down to the kitchen: “Down there, please pluck two more chickens.”

“Yes, dear; I hear you!” Miss Ngan replied immediately. Ms. Tu was beside her in the kitchen, making rolls and dumplings while stir-frying dishes. She was Mr. Quang’s niece, fifty-nine years old but still a virgin. Her mother died of typhoid fever when she was ten. For two years her father raised her, then he died in a flood. At twelve she was determined to live by herself, not fearing loneliness, ghosts, or spinsterhood. The villagers dreaded the young girl who incorrigibly kept an altar to respectfully remember and honor her father and mother. They said she was a nun who lived at home. There were women in her family on her father’s side who lived single like that; some were temple keepers, some organized occult trance dances, and some were hospital volunteers until their deaths. No one ever heard a word about any romances during her youth. In reality, she had neither winsome charm nor beauty. Her body was small, firm, with an ordinary face but without much of a chin and her mouth was missing some teeth. Her own mother endearingly called her the “mumbler,” which became her nickname. Ms. Tu was neither ugly nor pretty. Her lips were nicely red; her eyes clear like moving water. Many in the village, far less attractive than she, married as expected. She had to accept a life of loneliness. Was this because in some previous life she had been wayward, with multiple husbands or wives, therefore in this life was now having to pay for that excess? Or had the spirits of her ancestors forced her to become a spinster, caring for the family altar and worshipping the ancestral spirits? No one uncovered the ultimate reason, but in their hearts, they respected her. As for Mr. Quang, he truly cared for her in a special way. Even though it was not made public, everything Tu possessed — from furnishings, to the garden, to horse and cow, to clothing, to gold bracelets — had been provided by Mr. Quang. The two were uncle and niece, as well as childhood friends; then they became friends in the same field. It was reported that the first time Mr. Quang went to do business in the city, he bought for his wife only a one-ounce gold ring while he bought for his niece earrings made from two ounces of gold. Mrs. Quang dared not feel jealous. Mr. Quang knew full well in his heart that his niece without beauty was the one who most deserved his trust and confidence, because they were bound by an unusual kinship, both of blood and equally of friendship.