Chapter 1 — From now on, mountains and rivers do not match each other

On the afternoon of signing the divorce petition with Luc Tram Chu, I returned to the apartment. The suitcase was open on the floor. I put in there a silk and linen dress, a sandalwood brooch, and finally plucked a blooming jasmine from a small pot on the windowsill. That was all my fortune when I came to Hai Thanh five years ago. The old butler of the Luc family stood at the door, his eyes like a scanner, panning from the suitcase to the paper bag I was carrying in my hand.

“This morning the young master flew to New York for a meeting,” he paused for a moment, “The young lady and the young master are at the Swiss summer camp, if you want…”

“No need.”

I zipped the suitcase and said calmly, "Don't bother them." Pulling the suitcase through the mysterious entrance, across the large living room with a six-meter high ceiling, past the three-legged piano that no one had ever played a piece of. Today's weather forecast says there will be heavy rain and dark clouds. But every few steps, rays of light shine through the clouds. The streaks of light on the floor were sometimes bright and dim. I stepped on the light and walked out, my steps getting faster and faster. As I pushed open the heavy bronze door, I turned to look at the old butler. The corners of his lips curled up into a smile that even I found strange:

“Would you please convey this message to Mr. Luc —”

“From now on, the mountains and rivers will not be compatible, let's keep the old stories buried deep, don't bring them up again.”

Standing in the middle of a busy intersection, I was stunned for a full ten minutes. Five years. For more than eighteen hundred days and nights, I have never left the gate of this villa alone. Payment via phone, ride-hailing apps, subway lines... everything has changed. Luckily, I still remember how to use cash. Turning into a clean-looking chain hotel on the corner, I handed my credit card to the receptionist.

“I want to go south,” I said, “Do you have any suggestions?”

The receptionist swiped her card, raised her eyes and assessed me:

“Going alone?”

I nodded. Her fingertips tapped a few times on the keyboard: "It's not safe to drive by yourself. Take the high-speed train or plane. There are two direct flights to Van Chau every day, but..."

“But what?”

“It's been the rainy season lately, flights are often delayed or canceled.” She returned the card to me, "If you're in a hurry, I recommend taking the bullet train."

I'm in no hurry. But I want to leave here quickly. I fumbled in my bag, took out a small brocade bag, and poured out a delicately carved piece of peaceful jade - this was the only souvenir my mother left me. The receptionist's eyes lit up.

“Use this in exchange for two things,” I pushed the jade piece over, “First, the fastest ticket to leave Hai Thanh; second, my safety before arriving at the train station.”

She picked up the piece of jade and shone it into the light, the jade water was extremely beautiful.

"Soft sleeper ticket for tonight's 9 o'clock flight, only one last ticket left. As for safety..." She put the jade away, gave me a room card, "Room 620, don't go out before six o'clock, someone will bring food. At 7:30 p.m., at the back door of the hotel, there will be a car to take you to the station."

When I received the room card, my fingers shook a little. Not because of fear, but a feeling of expectation for the unknown - a strange feeling but it has been there for a long time. As the elevator went up, I looked at the thin, pale woman in the mirror. Five years of a wealthy marriage, excused I changed from a girl who knew how to smile stupidly at the flowers and grass on the roadside, into this look. Fortunately, in the eyes of the person in the mirror, there was still a glimmer of light.

—

620 is a small suite room with windows facing the backyard. I took a long hot shower, completely washing away the familiar smell of the Luc family's expensive shower gel. Change into your own silk and linen dress and use a sandalwood hairpin to loosely tie your hair into a bun. The person in the mirror finally has some shadow of the old days. At exactly six o'clock, there was a knock on the door. The person who brought the food was a quiet middle-aged woman. In the tray, in addition to rice and soup, there was also a bucket hat and a pair of glasses.

“Get in,” she whispered, “The car will be on time at seven thirty.”

I said thank you, closed the door and slowly ate. Sweet and sour stir-fried ribs, lightly stir-fried vegetables, tomato egg soup — these are all the most simple home flavors, but I ate them until my nose pricked. How long has it been since I've eaten rice and soup dishes filled with the breath of everyday life like this? At the Luc family, every meal is personally prepared by a 3-star Michelin chef, as sophisticated as a work of art, but also as cold as a display item. Finished eating just at seven twenty. I put on a hat, glasses, and carried my suitcase downstairs. At the back door was a nondescript gray sedan, the driver was a man with a bald head, and didn't say a word the whole way. Forty minutes later, arrived at the high-speed train station. The driver gave me a train ticket and citizen identification card — the name was "Lam Van", but the photo was me.

“When you enter the station, go straight to the VIP waiting room, someone will pick you up.” After saying that, the car merged into traffic and disappeared.

I held the train ticket tightly, my palms sweating a bit. There weren't many people in the VIP waiting room. A female employee in uniform saw me entering and nodded slightly.

“Miss Lam, your car is number 9, you can get on the train first.”

She led me down a separate path, not saying a single word throughout. It wasn't until I stepped into the sleeper compartment that she softly said: "Have a safe trip." The moment the car door closed, I plopped down on the bed. My palms were covered in cold sweat, my heart was beating so fast it felt like it was about to explode. But the corners of his lips couldn't help but curl up. The train slowly rolled, Hai Thanh's lights gradually receded. I am finally free.

—

This sleep is long and deep. There was no sound of Luc Tram Chu coming home from a meeting at three o'clock in the morning, no sound of servants cleaning quietly at six o'clock in the morning, no phone calls from the butler asking for the menu at noon. There was only the steady hum of the train, like a lullaby. When I woke up it was noon the next day. Outside the window are rolling green mountains, green rice fields, and occasionally passing villages with white walls and black tiles. I rested my chin on the window and looked for a long time, until the train waiter knocked on the door to deliver lunch.

“Miss, do you need my help making the bed?” The girl smiled brightly.

“Okay, thank you.”

I set up the table and ate while admiring the scenery outside the window. The rice is soft and supple, the green vegetables are sweet and cool, even the free bowl of soup is full of gratitude. In the middle of eating, the phone vibrated. It's a strange number. I looked at the screen for a few seconds then clicked to listen.

“Miss Khuong.” It's the voice of Chau Minh, Luc Tram Chu's special assistant, "General Luc told me to ask you, do we need to arrange someone to take you back to Van Chau?"

“No need.”

“So… your future accommodation and living expenses…”

"Tell him," I interrupted, "It is clearly written in the divorce agreement that I leave empty-handed. From now on, neither side owes anything to the other."

The other end of the line was silent for a long time.

“General Luc also said that if you change your mind, you can come back at any time.”