Duong Huong - The Zenith

The construction work went forward in haste. The uncle stayed to supervise it personally. The two-story house emerged as if from a fairy tale. It was beyond what people could imagine. After her house was finished, the teacher’s wife had the courtesy to give to the husband’s uncle, also the current village chairman, half of a truckload of leftover bricks and cement.

The day the new house was inaugurated, the teacher’s wife prepared a twenty-tray banquet for all the relatives. Even though they had been invited, people in Khoai Hamlet were mad because a fairy tale had become real. Why should it come true for an absentminded instructor and not for them? Therefore, they tried really hard to find the truth.

The investigation was not all that difficult because the eight guys who worked on the house had enough time to glance at the hamlet girls and so become smitten with their beauty. Among the workers, two were still single. These two recognized right away the beauty of the girls in a poor village, far away, at the end of a river and at the foot of a mountain. Both decided to conquer, to follow “the old man’s footsteps, the good-looking old man named Quang.” A few meals with wine in a house with some pretty ones was enough for the two guys to spill all the secrets about the love affair between “Miss Ngan and Mr. Quang.” In the end, people were reassured in finding the fairy wand, the wand that transforms all the frogs into pairs of exquisite shoes.

A couple of weeks after the finishing and inauguration of the new house, it was rumored that Mr. Quang and Miss Ngan would come back to the village to register their marriage. If that were to happen, for sure the village chairman would have to perform the procedure personally. As for witnesses, it could not have been anyone but the bride’s mother and her younger brother. Everything went quietly and extremely quickly, so no one outside the event knew anything. Moreover, the village chairman never opened his mouth to say even half a word about it. People could only speculate as they saw the new couple walk to a car waiting for them on the other side of the river to return to the city. Seeing them off were her mother and uncle. Smiling, the village chairman waved his hands together in front of his chest. Miss Ngan cried before getting into the car. She looked a couple of times at the old hamlet, the river, the fields…her birthplace, a place of penetrating pain, a place to which she will never return.

The New Year’s Eve drinking party at Miss Vui’s went past midnight. Firecrackers exploded in all directions but the group of people who were drunk with talking still lifted their cups up and down:

“Is it midnight already? We enjoy talking so much we forget our way home.”

“Not only is nothing amiss, we are able to taste the best rice wine. We have to admit that Miss Vui’s skill deserves respect. She learned secrets from the parents of Mr. Do. The same yeast, the same glutinous rice, but the rice wine made by this family is smoother than mine.”

“Not only do we have good wine, we also have good tea and great stories, too! Hey, Miss Vui, I thought that you were only good at doing things; I had no idea you are good at talking, too. You should be in teaching.”

“I dare not, you are too kind! I just told you exactly what I heard about Mr. Quang and Miss Ngan, nothing added or subtracted.”

“Telling it as it is also requires the tongue to move into the words. There is no lack of people who understand everything quite well but who cannot make any sense when they talk.”

“Well, you guys are just complimenting a prince to his face. She is the secretary of the subcommittee; naturally she must know how to talk.”

“The subcommittee secretary only knows how to publicize formal decisions, play up accomplishments, or announce rules, how could she know how to describe the highs and lows of serious feelings and situations?”

“That is true. It’s very clear that Miss Vui has a talent for storytelling. But one has to admit that this couple’s romance is quite interesting.”

“You are right. Mr. Quang’s love story is quite something. This year is really fun! Because each year we have only one opera. This year we have two. Miss hostess, more wine, please…”

“That’s right. Vui, the story you told was splendid. It was worth a thousand times more than your two banquet trays.”

The hostess brings out two more bottles of rice wine. Whether or not the compliments of the guests are true, her cheeks are bright red, her eyes are shining, and clearly she looks a hundred times prettier than usual. The men continue to pour wine, but the women suddenly stand up:

“That’s enough, it’s the New Year and you eat like monsters, worse than those who went hungry in 1945.”

“What? Let the men be themselves. If on the New Year you have many guests come to eat at your house, in January your business will prosper.”

“Each river has its banks, any garden small or large has its fences. Every banquet will eventually end. Let’s go and let the hostess rest.”

“Let’s go. I am very anxious.”

The men may have had firm dispositions, but, in the end, they had to understand that when the women speak up it means the hour has come. One fellow poured a final cup of wine down his throat and then said, “OK, gentlemen, let’s empty our cups and get going. There is an old saying: ‘A man’s order does not equal a woman’s heft.’ People nowadays add: ‘Wife comes first, then heaven.’ OK, we must look around at the people and follow them.”

“You are really henpecked!”

“I am indeed henpecked, I yield to you to hold your head high. Who else is henpecked like me?”

“Me.”

“Me too.”

“Me also…”

The women clapped their hands in praise, while laughing wildly when they saw their husbands unsteadily stand up. At the end only two unhenpecked husbands were left. They looked left and right and realized that all those around them had stood up, so they were compelled to put their cups down:

“OK, let’s go! Darn those annoying women. It was getting to be such fun.”

The wife of the unhenpecked guy stood behind the other women, silent until now: “The heart of one is like the heart of another, ladies. Unfortunately, our elders taught us that heaven will give you whatever you despise. After enduring awhile, you get used to it…”

“Oh my, today this old broad is pretty gutsy.”

The very-sure-of-himself guy looks at his wife with fierce rolling eyes, half surprised, half threatening.

Encouraged by the views of those around her, his wife becomes angry: “We all have skin and flesh. Other women dare; I have to stand up as well.”

At this moment, the hostess starts to intervene as she senses the atmosphere growing tense. Taking two steps, she inserts herself between husband and wife, smiling more happily than ever before:

“The lady is right; all humanity should sing strongly, sing out loud!”

Then she looked around, smiling. When she saw everyone taken aback by her too literary metaphor she said, “Among all of you men present here, I recognize eight Party members in all. You couldn’t have forgotten the song swearing loyalty to the Party under the Party’s flag, now could you?”

The Party members looked at one another, each trying to trigger the others’ memory, but all ended up with the words stuck in their throats. Then Miss Vui clearly spoke each word and each sentence:

“Rise up all you slaves of the world,

“Rise up all that are hurt and poor,

“We must destroy the old regime quickly…”

“Well, do you remember now?”