Chapter 3 — I Never Made It to Nam Thanh With You

Aunt Ha, please just keep that for me for now. Let us wait until the celebratory banquet to decide what to do with it.

Ha Man Nhu assumed I was merely being shy and offered a small, knowing smile as she took the item away. It is fine, she replied. It will be much livelier when there are more people around at the celebration anyway.

Co Nghien Le kept his gaze fixed firmly on me. Once dinner had concluded, he followed me out into the courtyard.

What exactly are you playing at? he demanded.

A warm summer breeze drifted through the grape trellis. A set of glass wind chimes hanging from the vines gave a soft, melodic chime. In my previous life, shortly after our engagement, Co Nghien Le had brought this set of wind chimes with him to the Southern City. He had told me then that as long as the chimes were ringing, we would never lose one another. Later, those chimes had shattered into pieces, and he had never once looked back at the wreckage. I stopped walking.

I am not playing at anything, I replied.

Then why do you refuse to accept the jade pendant? Are you still angry about the incident with Uyen Ninh?

Co Nghien Le rubbed his temples, his expression one of weary patience, as if he were dealing with an unreasonable child. I have already explained it to you, he sighed. Her files were incomplete; I was simply trying to help her. It has nothing to do with us.

Indeed. From his perspective, it truly had nothing to do with us. He liked Tong Uyen Ninh, and that did not interfere with his plans to marry me. He took my belongings to give to Tong Uyen Ninh, and that did not interfere with me continuing to love him. It had never once occurred to him that I also possessed the right to reject this entire marriage.

There are only twelve days left, I whispered.

Co Nghien Le frowned. Twelve days until what?

You will know when the time comes.

I turned to leave, but he reached out and caught my wrist. His grip was not forceful, merely the reflex of someone accustomed to never allowing me to walk away before he had finished his questioning.

Lam Kien Nguyet, he said, his voice dropping, have you changed your college preferences?

Before I could answer, my phone vibrated in my hand. A new email notification appeared on the screen from the Heritage Research Institute at the Northwestern University. The subject line read: Notification of Special Assessment.

Co Nghien Le had caught a glimpse of the header, his fingers still tightened around my wrist. The Northwestern University? he asked, stunned. Since when did you apply for a special assessment?

I tucked my phone away. The school automatically nominated me after the final exams concluded.

This was not exactly a lie. Two years ago, I had participated in the National Youth Heritage Preservation Competition. My advisor had submitted the applications of the top-ranking students to several major universities, and the Northwestern University had granted me an assessment qualification. In my previous life, blinded by my desire to follow Co Nghien Le to the Southern City, I had never even filled out the registration form. This time, I was simply reclaiming the opportunity that had belonged to me all along.

Co Nghien Le’s brow remained furrowed. You have always been preparing to apply to the Southern City, he noted. What is the point of participating in this assessment?

Is it not better to have one more option?

He looked at me then, as if seeing me for the very first time. You would go to the Northwest alone? That is too far. The heritage preservation department out there is grueling work; it requires constant fieldwork. You have always been physically frail since you were a child. You simply will not be able to handle it.

In my previous life, he had given me that exact same advice. He had told me that preservation work was too harsh, that it was unsafe for a young woman to spend her time in desolate, remote regions. He had told me to study architecture instead, to come work for his family’s company where the job was stable and there would be people to look after me. I had believed him. Only much later did I learn that the most exhausting burden was never fieldwork. It was the slow, day-by-day erosion of my own soul within a marriage devoid of love.

The assessment might not even lead to a placement, I said, playing it safe.

I decided not to tell him yet that I had already changed my preferences. There were twelve days left until the banquet. Before the official assessment process was concluded, I did not want the Co family interfering in my path. Hearing my concession, the tension in Co Nghien Le’s expression softened. He released my wrist.

It is good that you understand that, he said.