Chapter 16 — Puppets Under the Lights

Part IV — When the Lights Go Out

Two weeks after the successful performance, Minh Long's life seems to have entered a new rhythm, stable and full of hope. The Water Puppet Club not only maintained its funding, but also received additional funding from the local cultural fund, and the number of members nearly doubled thanks to the buzz from the show. Minh Long, now officially invited by Mr. Phuc to be a part-time technical coach for the club, spends most of his free time planning new training sessions and training more advanced techniques for veteran members.

But that Friday evening, when Minh Long returned home after a long practice session, he noticed something different about the atmosphere in the house. His parents were sitting in the living room, both of their faces heavy, a stack of papers spread out on the table in front of them.

"What's going on?" Minh Long asked, a feeling of insecurity crept into his heart as soon as he entered the room.

His father, who rarely showed emotions, sighed and motioned for him to sit down. "Long, Mom and Dad have something to discuss with you." He hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words. "Dad's business has been in trouble for the past few months, as you know, my garment factory lost a big customer since the beginning of the year. Combined with old bank debt, our family is in need of a large amount of money to manage, otherwise we could lose both the garment factory and the house."

Minh Long listened silently, feeling increasingly worried when he saw the tense faces of both parents. "So what is our family going to do?"

His mother held his father's hand, her eyes avoiding her son's, as if trying to avoid saying something difficult. "We've discussed a lot," she said, her voice trembling, "and the only possible decision right now is... to sell your grandfather's old land and factory."

That sentence was like a knife cutting straight into Minh Long's heart. He was stunned, he couldn't believe what he just heard. "Sell your factory?" he repeated, his voice shaking with shock. "No, that's not possible. That's the only place where all of his things are kept, the puppets, the tools, everything!"

"We know how difficult it is for you," his father said, his voice also choked with emotion, it was rare for him to show such emotion in front of his son. "But our family has no other choice. That land is the most valuable asset that our family still holds, and someone has offered to buy it back at a good price, enough to pay off all the debt and keep the house we live in."

"What about your puppets? What about your tools, your relics?" Minh Long asked, his voice began to tremble with a mixture of anger and pain.

"We'll try to pack up what we can to bring home," his mother said, her voice also filled with tears. "But I also know, my house doesn't have enough space to keep everything. Maybe I'll have to... get rid of some, or sell valuable items to make up for the debt."

Hearing that, Minh Long stood up, unable to control the emotions welling up in his heart. "It can't be like that! It's not just things, it's your whole life! Mom and dad can't throw away everything you left behind just for money like that!"

"Long!" his father shouted, his voice equally filled with pain. "Do you think Mom and Dad want to do this? Do you think Dad isn't heartbroken when he has to sell the place his father has spent his whole life? But Dad also has to worry about this whole family, about your future. Sometimes life forces us to make choices that no one wants."

Minh Long couldn't say anything more, his throat was tight, tears began to flow even though he tried to hold it back. He turned around, ran straight to his room, slammed the door, leaving his parents sitting behind with faces full of helplessness and pain.

In the room, Minh Long sat down on the floor, his back leaning against the edge of the bed, his hands holding his head, tears falling continuously. He looked up at the bookshelf, where the small carp puppet and Diem My's old business card still lay still, now suddenly becoming symbols of a fragile happiness that was about to be threatened with destruction.

He thought of the wood workshop, of the dozens of unfinished puppets, of the carving tools he had used all his life, of the unfinished dragon puppet that he had promised to complete one day. All of those things, now, were at risk of being sold, scattered, completely erased from his life, just when he was just starting to learn how to make peace with them.

Anger and pain mixed together in Minh Long's heart, creating a suffocating feeling that he didn't know how to handle. He felt like all the progress he had made over the past two months, all the healing he had worked so hard to build, was now threatened with complete collapse in a single evening.

His phone vibrated, it was a text message from Diem My, asking about tomorrow's practice session. But Minh Long, in the chaotic state of the moment, did not have the strength to answer, just turned off the phone screen, threw it to the side of the bed, and continued to sit there in the dark, letting the old pain, which seemed to have begun to subside, now resurface stronger than ever, plunging him back into the abyss of loss that he had been trying to escape for many weeks.

I don't know how long I sat like that until there was a light knock on the door. His mother stood outside, her voice choked through the wooden door. "Long, can you open the door for mom?"

Minh Long did not respond, just remained silent, and after a while, the sound of his mother's footsteps faded away, accompanied by a heavy sigh. He knew he was behaving inappropriately, knew his mother was suffering as much as he was, but the anger and panic in his heart right now were too great for him to calmly look at everything thoroughly.

He stood up, walked to the window, looked out into the backyard where he could faintly see the silhouette of the wood workshop in the darkness. He thought about the first afternoon opening the workshop with Diem My, and the feeling of relief when he was finally able to face the memory of him without being overwhelmed. He thought of all the busy evenings spent repairing the Teu puppet, of the image of the unfinished dragon puppet that he had secretly promised to complete. All of that, now, seemed to be vanishing before his eyes, caught up in a cold financial decision in which he had no right to interfere.

He remembered his grandfather's words, about how puppetry does not belong to just anyone, that it must be passed on so it won't be lost. But at this moment, Minh Long only felt a bitter betrayal - if the workshop was sold, if the unfinished puppets were scattered or thrown away, then all those teachings, all his life's enthusiasm put into each puppet, each tool, would be completely wiped out, with no place to anchor them anymore.

He sat down on the bed, picked up the phone, intending to text Tuan Anh, but then put it down, feeling like he didn't have enough strength to explain everything right now. He also saw Diem My's unread message still appearing on the screen, but a strange feeling, almost irrational sulking, prevented him from responding — as if he didn't say it, things wouldn't come true, as if silence could protect him from having to face another impending loss.

That night, Minh Long could hardly sleep, kept tossing and turning, his mind reeling with hundreds of chaotic thoughts - about the wood workshop, about puppets, about the club, about Diem My, about the feeling of helplessness when realizing that there were things in life that, no matter how hard he tried, were not within his control. He lay looking up at the ceiling, weak streaks of light from the streetlights shining through the curtains, and wondered if all his efforts to heal over the past two months were just a fragile illusion, ready to shatter before any storm of life.

Near morning, when fatigue finally prevailed, Minh Long fell asleep in a fitful sleep, filled with fragmented dreams about the empty wood workshop, about puppets being packed into cartons to be taken away, and about his grandfather's face fading from his memory. He was startled to wake up when the sky was already bright, the heavy feeling still weighing heavily in his chest, as if last night had just passed and had never ended.