Chapter 11 — Puppets Under the Lights

Part III — First Performance

The planning meeting for the community performance took place on the first Monday afternoon of the week, in the club's living room, with the presence of all nine members, Mr. Phuc, and this time, Minh Long also sat at the meeting table as a real member, although he still kept a modest distance, not accepting any official title in the club.

"We have five weeks," Diem My began, standing in front of the whiteboard, holding a marker, the words and diagrams had been prepared in advance. "The performance will take place at the ward's cultural yard, with a temporary water stage set up, accommodating about two hundred spectators. Our goal is to perform a show of about twenty minutes, impressive enough to convince the school board to maintain the club, and at the same time attract new members."

"Which performance will be chosen?" a friend asked.

Diem My looked at Minh Long, as if she was passing the decision-making power to him on a technical level. Minh Long cleared his throat, stood up, took the marker from Diem My's hand to add to the diagram on the board. "I think the show should have three parts," he said, his voice much more confident than its hesitant first days. "It starts with the scene of Teu showing off to introduce, because this is the performance the whole group has mastered the most. Next is the scene of the carp crossing the martial arts gate, this part has beautiful background music and symbolic meaning, suitable as a highlight in the middle of the program. And ends with the shortened gathering of the four sacred animals that we just learned, to create a strong impression for the final part."

The whole group nodded in agreement, and the atmosphere in the room gradually became more animated as everyone began to discuss more details — who would take on which role, what puppets needed to be prepared, what music and costumes would be needed. Mr. Phuc took careful notes, occasionally gave suggestions on logistics, asked for sponsorship from stores near the school, and borrowed additional loudspeakers from the ward cultural house.

"As for costumes," Diem My said, "I think we can wear simple brown Ba Ba shirts, like the traditional costumes of water puppet artists, to create a true folk atmosphere."

"My grandfather still has a few sets of old ao dai," Minh Long said. "If needed, I can lend them to them, although it's probably only enough for one or two people."

That suggestion surprised the whole group for a moment — this was the first time Minh Long proactively offered to bring more of his grandfather's things to help the club without anyone having to ask or persuade. Diem My smiled, her eyes sparkling with silent joy at that obvious change in him.

The meeting lasted more than two hours, and when it ended, each person had a specific list of tasks to complete before the show. Minh Long's main task is to provide technical training, ensure all puppets operate smoothly, and at the same time be in charge of the "lake guardian" department - the term his grandfather used to refer to the people standing behind the curtain, directly controlling the puppets in the water, out of sight of the audience.

In the following days, the club's training schedule became much more dense - three sessions per week instead of two as before, and each session lasted until it was completely dark. Minh Long spent almost all of his free time with the club, to the point where his mother started joking that he came home less than when he was taking extra classes to prepare for exams.

One afternoon, while instructing a new member how to balance in the water while controlling a carp puppet, Minh Long suddenly realized that he was standing in the exact position, in the exact position that his grandfather had stood to teach him years ago - legs spread moderately wide, knees slightly bent to keep the center of gravity low, left hand lightly supporting the student's shoulder so they could feel stability. That feeling made him pause for a moment, a feeling of missing him suddenly came, but this time, it was no longer a painful shock, but more like a warm hug from afar.

"Are you okay?" Diem My, standing nearby observing, noticed the pensive look on his face, and asked softly when the practice session paused.

"It's okay," Minh Long replied, smiling slightly. "I just realized I'm teaching the same way he taught me. It's a strange feeling, both sad and happy at the same time."

"I think it's a beautiful thing," Diem My said, sitting down next to him on the lake shore. "It's like your grandfather is still alive, through your every gesture and every teaching."

Minh Long nodded, looking out at the lake sparkling with the sunset light. "I'm starting to understand why he always emphasized the importance of passing on the craft. Not just to keep the technique from disappearing, but also as a way to... let the person who taught you continue to be present, in some way."

The next training sessions went smoothly, although not without small difficulties - there was a sudden rain session that caused the whole group to temporarily shelter under the awning, there was a session where a member had a cold and was unable to participate, causing the team to have to make urgent adjustments, and there was a session where the dragon puppet borrowed from his grandfather's workshop got its strings stuck in the middle of practice, forcing Minh Long to apply the same calm untangling technique that his grandfather had taught him years ago to handle things smoothly.

But through each difficulty, the team spirit of the group became more and more cohesive, and Minh Long, although there were still quiet moments when missing him came back, has now found in this coaching job a new source of energy, a reason to wake up every morning feeling like there is something to look forward to.

At the end of the second week of preparation, when the group held a small rehearsal to evaluate progress, Mr. Phuc watched from beginning to end, his face unable to hide his emotions. "I have to be honest," he said when the rehearsal ended, "two weeks ago I thought it would be difficult for our club to last until the end of the semester. But looking at you guys now, I'm sure we will make it happen."

That compliment made the whole group excited, bustling laughter echoed throughout the lake area as everyone packed their things to leave. Minh Long stood for a moment, looking at that scene, feeling a simple but profound happiness spreading throughout his heart - the happiness of seeing something he helped build gradually grow and bear fruit.

Diem My came next to him, both looking out at the lake reflecting the last streaks of sunlight. "You know," she said, her voice gentle, "I think this is the first time in my two years as president of the club that I really believe we can succeed."

"Me too," Minh Long replied, and in that moment, he realized that faith was not only for the upcoming performance, but also for the healing journey he was going through, a journey that he never thought he could walk without feeling alone, until the girl standing next to him now appeared in his life.

That evening, when he got home, Minh Long took out his notebook, turned to a new page, and began sketching out the details of the script for the performance - each piece of background music that needed to be prepared, each transition moment, each position of the puppeteer behind the curtain. He worked hard until late at night, not because he felt pressured, but because of a genuine excitement, an emotion he had lost a long time ago and was now gradually recovering little by little.

He stopped writing for a moment, looked out the window where the night sky sparkled with a few rare stars amid the city lights, and thought about the upcoming five-week journey. He knew there would be many difficulties, many tiring nights, maybe even small failures in the preparation process. But for the first time in a long time, he no longer felt afraid of the challenges ahead, but instead felt eager, a desire to witness the results of the hard work that the whole group, and himself, were building together.

He thought of him, of what he once said about how every successful performance begins with hundreds of hours of silent practice, no one sees, no one applauds. "The spotlight only shines for a few minutes, my dear," he once said, "but it is lit by so much sweat behind the scenes." Minh Long smiled when recalling that sentence, closed the notebook, turned off the desk lamp, and prepared for a good night's sleep before entering the busy but meaningful weeks ahead.

Before falling asleep, he was able to text Diem My a short message: "Thank you for today. I believe we can do it." Just a few seconds later, the phone vibrated with a reply message, short but warm: "I believe so too. Good night, Long." He looked at that text for a long time, a small smile on his lips, before putting the phone aside and falling asleep with a rare feeling of peace that he had not felt so completely in a long time.