Chapter 13
The Misunderstanding
The following day, the mountain maidens feel a profound loathing for Thiet Nam, pointing him out as a man with the "visage of a lecherous rogue." Whenever they encounter him, they feel a shiver of unease and struggle to shun his presence. Among them, one maiden is particularly incensed; amidst her low-voiced curses, she suddenly raises a hand in threat:
- What are you looking at! I will gouge your eyes out this very instant!
At the hour of the midday meal, not a mountain maiden was willing to sit at the same table as Thiet Nam. It so happened that a great throng of travelers had arrived at the caravanserai today, and most of the delicacies were served to others. The remaining fare is scant. In desperation, Thiet Nam and thirty maidens, bearing iron shovels and torches, make their way to the small mountain behind the caravanserai to seek fragrant frogs.
The night is pitch black, not a hand visible before one's eyes, yet by the torchlight, they quickly discover a great many frogs, majestic and stout in form, far sturdier than common frogs.
They poke their heads from their burrows to forage, leaping from place to place in succession, then nimbly springing onto rocky outcrops and flat earthen mounds, their croaks rising and falling in chorus.
Though the frog calls could be heard in times past, the sound today is exceptionally sonorous, far surpassing all that was in days of old. Low echoes from afar respond to one another, as the voices of myriad creatures resound through the mountains and secluded forests.
The maidens have not long resided here and have understood naught of why the frogs' wonted ways have so abruptly shifted; they all grumble in irritation:
- How can these animals cry out so jubilantly?
- I shall cast you all into the pot right now!
Thiet Nam has resided here for several years; he has already become intimately acquainted with the local customs, folklore, and the ways of the myriad creatures. It is the month of June, the very end of the fragrant frogs' mating season. Where the lamplight shines, the frogs' eyes glint with a red light, and even the scenes of their mating are vividly apparent.
Even where people gather, the fragrant frogs fear nothing, continuing to call out freely to sustain their kin. For a long time, the local folk have held this sound of "endearment" as an indispensable prelude to life.
The young maidens blush; one as bashful as Nguyet turns her crimson face away in confusion. Avoiding the melon skin only to collide with the coconut shell, she turns only to meet Thiet Nam bending to catch a frog; their eyes meet for an instant, yet they immediately look away, feigning ignorance.
Finding a pretext, Nguyet returns to the caravanserai, lest the rest should glimpse the crumpled raiment in her grasp. Thiet Nam laughs aloud, intentionally provoking the maidens to distract their thoughts. The maidens are consumed with rage, fuming with indignation. Unhurried, Thiet Nam leisurely captures the frogs that have cried themselves hoarse all alone, his smile a taunting provocation:
- All sentient beings possess feelings; through these feelings, they endure birth, old age, sickness, and death. Procreation is the primordial law of heaven and earth; what is there to be ashamed of? When you wed in the days to come, you too shall bear children...
Thiet Nam deliberately acts "crude" and insolent, causing the maidens to feel deep revulsion. Everything goes exactly as he desires; not only the mountain maidens but everyone present curses him as a lewd and despicable wretch, shouting in fury:
- Die quickly to cleanse our eyes!
Thiet Nam smiles, seeking frogs of brownish-black or lustrous dark hue, their lower necks bearing spines like a crown worn askew. He raises his hand to carefully touch the spiny layer. Yet the frog does not leap in alarm; instead, it folds its forelimbs. He seizes it with the momentum and gently places it into a sack.
The frogs Thiet Nam has caught have already filled his sack, yet the maidens still strike the stone pits with their shovels. He speaks aimlessly, as if to show his insight:
- Pshaw! These thighs are thick as a child's wrist, far surpassing those of common copper frogs, and in no wise inferior to the finest local pullets. This has confirmed what the Red Dao tribesmen have said: the wild fragrant frogs have flourished on the Mau Son for over a hundred years. No wonder travelers call them 'Grandee Frogs,' and peddlers have presumed to name them 'Frog Kings,' raising the price to well nigh tenfold that of plain frogs. Fie, to dare regard a frog as a king is truly insolent. In the Red Dao tongue, they are called 'Tong Keng,' meaning Great Frog; that is the most fitting name. At least one need not worry about the calamity of decapitation.
He speaks incessantly in a long, drawn-out drawl; the girls' ears feel as though they are being tickled by his voice, and after listening for a moment, they cannot help but burst into laughter.Everyone disperses in high spirits, vying with one another to catch the frogs. Once the maidens have all secured their catch, Thiet Nam speaks up to spoil their spirits:
- Ah, no... I think you should be called 'Fragrant Frog Maidens,' for only that matches your beautiful countenances...
Incensed by his mockery, the girls seethe with rage and pelt him with stones. Before Thiet Nam even finishes his sentence, he flees; the rain of stones seems to crash into his wanton laughter.
- You are too slow of hand! I shall eat every bit of dinner myself; if you are hungry, you will just have to endure it...
The maidens have stomped their feet in a fury back to the caravanserai, their voices have risen in a relentless chorus to curse his name as if they were performing a living sacrifice of him, just as they have done in their daily lives. No matter how cautious they have been, there have been moments when the wind has snatched at their skirts, or an unguarded posture while focused on cooking has betrayed them… inadvertently revealing the gateway to the labyrinth, the forbidden realm.
Most absurdly, the bathhouse and the latrine have shared the same quarters. Thiet Nam has encountered the maidens emerging from their baths just as he has headed to the privy. Both sides have stood frozen in awkwardness and embarrassment. The girls have mistaken his presence for a calculated ruse to spy on them; they have shielded their shame with a barrage of curses and insults, even accusing him of peeping at them while they were bathing.
But now, back to the present. Although the catch of frogs is bountiful, the eaters are many and the food is scant. The twenty-nine maidens have no choice but to share a table with the man they loathe most in this life. The platters and bowls are all crowded onto a single table, yet they are still insufficient to satisfy thirty-two mouths, including the landlady.
The spread upon the table is magnificent: there are platters of golden, crispy fried frogs, alongside smoked pork garnished with fresh greens and an assortment of pickled greens. Every dish centers around a simmering bronze cauldron of "Six-Fingered Chicken," its flanks engraved with the patterns of ancient bronze drums. A misty aroma wafts from the bubbling broth as it rests atop a bed of glowing coals, inviting everyone to dip their morsels into the fragrant steam.
It sounds bountiful, but in truth, there remain only a few charred bits of smoked meat, and the whole chicken in the pot is but a common fledgling. Food is limited and diners are many; the girls defer to one another, serving each other's plates with care. Yet, when facing Thiet Nam, they show no mercy, engaging in a fierce struggle to snatch the food.
Thiet Nam pays no heed to the other dishes; he only wishes to pair his wine with the savory delicacy he caught with his own hands, for the wild fragrant frog is the "Crown" of Mau Son's cuisine. For a gourmet, if fragrant frogs are on the table, all other offerings are not worth mentioning.
Luck, however, is not on his side. Thiet Nam's desire to be loathed finally brings him grief—the girls scramble to contend with him for every morsel, snatching the food from right before his eyes. He only heaves a long sigh, staring at the roof beams without so much as a blink.
Luu Tinh stifles a laugh, seeing the girls all look up at once. Thiet Nam immediately sweeps the platters clean, shoveling all the food into his own bowl. The girls' eyes nearly explode with rage; they pout and criticize him indignantly:
- Greedy for food and drink!
- You eat like a pig!
Thiet Nam, still unperturbed, stuffs rice and meat into his mouth, chewing loudly, and shoots back a provocative retort:
- And who was it just now, fighting with a pig for food?
The maidens are speechless, unable to rebut him; their faces seethe with indignation like a bubbling bronze cauldron, their beautiful little mouths pursed into pink arcs, upturned as they mutter curses. Shimmering eyes suddenly shoot flames of fury at this lecherous rogue. Thiet Nam feels as if the food in his mouth is burning. Many of the maidens abruptly stand and leave with an overbearing air.
Thiet Nam utterly ignores this hostility, calmly savoring the aroma of the frog meat, which is vastly different from the fishy scent of common field frogs. He leisurely picks up a golden-brown, crispy frog leg, dips it into a bowl of sauce mixed with lemon salt, pepper, and bamboo shoots, and continues to relish this unique delicacy.
The frog meat is fragrant to the nose, accompanied by the crisp scent of bamboo and the saltiness of the brine; all flavors dissolve into that cool hint of lemon on the tip of the tongue. Eat it once, and one never forgets it for life.
Legend has it that these lemons are harvested from ancient trees beside the rivers and streams of Mau Son. Though the trees are vast, the fruits they bear are tiny.
Folks tell a mournful tale: this lemon was neither born of nature nor planted by hand, but sprang from the bitter tears of a father who, due to a misunderstanding, slew his own beloved wife. Those with heavy hearts, upon tasting this fruit, will find a lingering aftertaste of mingled bitterness and spice within their senses, one that wanders long and refuses to fade.
One savors the Mau Son wine, said to be brewed from the very source-water steeped in that suffering father's tears. When the banquet ends, folk brew tea with spring water born of the wronged mother's blood, honoring that bitter resonance amidst a fragrance of pure fidelity.
Mau Son is steeped in profound endearment; every morsel of food and drop of drink carries the silent yearning to make this desolate land famous throughout the realm. Whosoever hath savored the delicacies of Mau Son is relentlessly urged to return to this land once more.
Thiet Nam nods, feeling a profound sense of regretfulness—lacking the proper ingredients and spices, he cannot prepare a feast of fragrant frogs with the Red Dao people's delicacies: earthen-pot simmering, pepper-roasting, or stewing with Northern medicinal herbs. Every other fragrant frog delicacy must bow in defeat before the sublime flavor of fragrant frogs simmered with sour bamboo shoots.
He yearns for that wisp of frog scent, hidden deep within the pungent, spicy flavor of the bamboo shoots. Though he eats for a long while, the unique fragrance of the meat remains elusive, as if this delicacy has vanished utterly from his taste buds.
Only those who hunt and cook with their own hands can catch that faint, ghostly trace of frog amidst the scent of bamboo shoots, like a frog lurking in a stony nook, appearing and vanishing by turns. Only by chewing slowly and holding it long in the mouth does one feel the meat meld with the fierce bamboo shoots, spreading across the entire palate.
Appetite stirred, Thiet Nam's mouth waters. He hastily gulps a draught of spicy Mau Son liquor to check his own uncouth manners. A servant out of necessity, he resets the tables and clears the dishes. His attitude in his behavior further fuels the fire in the maidens' eyes, filling them with resentment.
The morrow finds him washing dishes. Suddenly he halts, scratching frequently at an arm blooming with red rashes. The girls wear looks of triumph, mocking his suffering with shameless glee:
- Does it feel good? Itch to death then!
- Landlady, this knave seeks but a pretext for sloth! He utterly refuses to labor!
Luu Tinh does not miss the chance to tease:
- What is this? Could it be that your skin broke out in a rash because you were watched by too many devoted eyes?
Hearing these half-jesting words, the girls shriek as if the heavens are falling; they wave their hands, stomp their feet, and scurry away. He explains with a miserable face:
- I was bitten by leeches while searching for crabs and snails in the pond.
He pulls a large bottle of medicinal powder from his robes and applies it to his arm:
- Mau Son leeches are venomous and fierce. The itch is unbearable and leaves lifelong scars. Without this medicine, perhaps no one would ever want to marry me!
At the mention of leeches, the girls stop in their tracks, glaring at him with trembling lips as if ready to unleash a torrent of curses to vent their inner fire.
As the powder seeps into the skin, his flesh becomes even smoother than before the itching began—so supple it puts the girls' own skin to shame, causing them to simmer with secret envy. This spite naturally breeds a new malice: they look upon him with "red-eyed" envy.
Luu Tinh laughs aloud, teasing them all until they flounce off to their rooms in high dudgeon. The elegant landlady then mimics their heavy-footed stomping with exaggerated, comical strides. Luu Tinh steals a glance at Thiet Nam; he is fighting back a smile.
Once the crowd disperses, the landlady resumes her usual habit, hiding in a secluded corner. She peeks with raised brows as he returns the medicine bottle to its place.
After a moment of pensive silence, he picks medicine bottle up again. He seems intent on going to Luu Tinh's quarters, scratching his head in hesitation for a long time before stopping.
She knits her brows and squints, seeing him click his tongue and stow the medicine bottle into his cloth pouch before departing. A cunning, playful smile flits across her face.
The next day, Luu Tinh announces:
- The Master has an urgent matter that demands his immediate attention. I will be away for a few days. You all must get along and guard the caravanserai well.
The girls wish to follow, but Luu Tinh shakes her head:
- The caravanserai is crowded with guests. If you leave, we will lack hands to help. Enough talk, I am going.
The girls watch as she gallops west, vanishing in an instant. They cast a sharp glare at Thiet Nam and scatter to their chores.
Luu Tinh travels to the relay station, hands her horse over to the grooms, and quietly doubles back via a secret path. At midnight, she enters the caravanserai. While everyone sleeps soundly, she is certain Thiet Nam is still awake.
Luu Tinh chuckles inwardly, watching him as he finally moves to perform that long-awaited deed. This man, who insists on being loathed and makes others detest him ever more... is now placing that medicine bottle in the spot where he and the others share their labor. It is the place where the girls clean by day and he washes dishes by night.
Luu Tinh has been spying on these "enemies" for a long time. During this vigil, she allows mosquitoes to bite her, not daring to slap them. Now, she finally gains her rich reward.
As Thiet Nam returns to his room, she triumphantly retrieves the bottle and retreats into the shadows. Luu Tinh muses that the itch on his arm was no coincidence; he surely applied some strange substance himself, scratching until the flesh tore, just to set this stage.
He, who cherishes fragrance and jade, desires to give the medicine to the maidens. Yet, he is troubled by the thought that should he offer it directly to those who loathe him, they would surely refuse and curse him for his lecherous antics.
Nor can he seek aid from Luu Tinh. Who knows what mischievous schemes that meddlesome landlady might concoct? She might even force a match between him and one of the girls. Thus, Luu Tinh feigns a pretext to depart, weaving an opportunity for him to fulfill his silent wish.
"My, my! To make yourself suffer such itching, to apply medicine before their very eyes, and then to feign a threat of lasting scars before 'accidentally' dropping the medicine bottle... Even if they hate you, they are compelled to use it. What tender consideration! No wonder well-bred ladies are infatuated with him. My warnings were not in vain..."
Luu Tinh surveys the surroundings. Once certain no one is near, she hurries to the counter in the main hall. She deliberately scrawls a messy, unsightly script upon a slip of paper and wraps it around the medicine bottle.
Next, she glides toward the backyard. She finds the lamps extinguished in every chamber, save for Thiet Nam's room, which remains alight. Driven by curiosity to see his state, the landlady narrows her eyes and peeks through the window slats. She discovers Thiet Nam reclining upon his bed, deep in slumber.
Beholding him lying there naturally, without a trace of affectation, she surmises he has simply forgotten to quench the light. Thus, she eases the door open, takes a shallow breath, and blows out the candle upon the table.
Luu Tinh retreats a few paces when the rustle of a mattress strikes her ears. She wheels around and huddles in a corner, pressing her eye to the door crack to investigate.
By the faint glow of the outdoor lanterns spilling into the room, Luu Tinh watches as Thiet Nam frantically retrieves a candle from beneath his pillow. His hands tremble violently for a long age before he manages to kindle a flame.
As the candlelight flickers across his face, it reveals a terror far more profound than any nightmare. Sweat pours from his frame, drenching his raiment. His pupils dilate as he glances about in panic, as if his chamber were haunted by restless spirits. Luu Tinh realizes that he fears the darkness to an extreme degree; he constantly casts wary glances around, tossing and turning for an eternity before sleep finally claims him.
This is truly beyond imagination. The landlady thinks, her heart skipping a beat. She never expected a man who appears so stalwart could possess such a fragile weakness. She suspects that perhaps some past calamity has inflicted this "malady" upon him.
After a time, once she is certain he is stable, Luu Tinh creeps toward Nguyet's door and places the medicine bottle upon the threshold. She gives a mischievous grin and knocks. Nguyet inquires softly from within, but the only reply is a gentle tapping.
- I'm coming out.
Hearing the response, Luu Tinh swiftly leaps onto the rooftop to evade the girl. Nguyet opens the door and finds a medicine bottle resting upon the ground. She picks it up with curiosity. Having cast a cursory glance at the text upon it, her face instantly flushes a crimson more vivid than a gac fruit. She hurries back into her chamber and bolts the door. Withdrawing the slip of paper, she reads the script with care:
This medicine is sovereign against itching and shall render the skin more radiant than before. Even if you hate me, you should not despise this balm. It is without sin, and I am not in the wrong. Pray, regard this medicine bottle as a token of my gratitude to the landlady for allowing me to remain.
Recalling Thiet Nam's warning that Mau Son leeches leave lasting scars, Nguyet—half-believing and half-doubting—examines herself by the lamplight, lifting her garments. She is shocked to find that dark, mottled blemishes have indeed begun to besmirch the fair skin of her thighs.
At this moment, clutching the medicine bottle, she lets out a bashful smile. She uncaps the bottle, takes a pinch of the powder, and spreads it gently upon her skin. The powder is absorbed in an instant; its cooling sensation dispels the tormenting itch of the past days. Yet, the girl finds herself tossing and turning, unable to find sleep that night.