Chapter 30 — Puppets Under the Lights

One year later, on a clear late autumn afternoon, Minh Long returned to Nguyen Du school, this time not as a student, but as a first-year student majoring in Fine Arts Education, taking advantage of the weekend to visit the Water Puppet Club as he has done every month since graduating.

He passed by the familiar school gate, a feeling of both familiarity and newness crept into his heart when he saw the faces of new students, people he did not know, busy with the school life he had left a year ago. But when he stepped closer to the schoolyard lake area, a familiar feeling immediately rushed back, strong and warm as if he had never left.

The Water Puppet Club has now grown significantly compared to the meager nine members a year ago — now there are thirty members, divided into groups according to level, with guidance from both artists invited by the Department of Culture and veteran members like Thao and Nam, who have now become confident "brothers and sisters" instructing the new junior class.

"Mr. Long!" Thao, now a twelfth grade student, the club president to succeed Diem My, ran to welcome him with a bright smile. "You came at the right time, we have a new member, he is having difficulty with basic techniques, can you help a little?"

Minh Long smiled and nodded without hesitation. "Okay, take me to see her."

He followed Thao to the lake, where a small boy, probably in tenth grade, was fiddling with a carp puppet, his movements still stiff and clumsy, causing the puppet to jerk on the surface of the water instead of gliding smoothly like it should - an image strongly reminiscent of Minh Long himself a year ago, when he first stood and observed a similar scene from afar, not yet brave enough to step forward to help.

"Hello," Minh Long said, sitting down next to the boy, his voice warm and patient. "My name is Long, I used to be the club's technical coach. Where are you having difficulty?"

The boy, named Khoi, looked up at him with eyes that were both confused and hopeful. "I don't know how to make the puppet swim smoothly like everyone else, it keeps twitching."

Minh Long smiled, remembering himself that year, and his grandfather, who patiently taught him every afternoon of his childhood. "It's okay, it's the same for everyone who's just learning," he said, repeating the exact words his grandfather had once told him, now passed down to another generation. "Let me show you the pole."

He took the puppet pole and guided Khoi step by step — how to hold his hand, how to feel the rhythm of the water, how to let the puppet "breathe" according to its natural rhythm instead of forcing it to move according to his subjective wishes. "Don't try to control the puppet," he said, repeating the words that his grandfather had taught him, and that he had taught to countless generations of students throughout the past school year. "Let it follow your breathing."

Khoi followed suit, at first it was awkward, but after a few tries, the carp puppet began to move more smoothly, no longer jerking like before. The boy's face lit up with genuine joy, exactly like the joy that Minh Long had witnessed on Thao's face, on his own face many years ago.

"I did it!" Khoi exclaimed happily, making Minh Long unable to hold back his warm smile, feeling a deep completeness spreading throughout his heart — the feeling of a circle closing as it should, of a legacy that continues to be passed on, from generation to generation, never to be interrupted.

Diem My, now also a first-year student at the same university as Minh Long, appeared from the school gate and waved goodbye when she saw him sitting by the lake instructing Khoi. She came next to him, sat down, and observed the warm scene before her eyes with loving eyes.

"It looks so familiar," she said softly, smiling.

"Yes," Minh Long replied, looking at Khoi who was continuing to practice with a focused and excited expression. "It feels like I'm looking back at myself a year ago."

The two sat together, watching the training session taking place enthusiastically around the lake, the autumn afternoon sunlight dyed the whole space golden, reflecting shimmeringly on the calm water surface where the wooden puppets continued to glide, carrying stories, love, and the souls of those who worked hard to create them.

"Do you remember," Diem My said, leaning her head on his shoulder, "the first day I came to your house? I was so worried that I couldn't sleep all night before, not knowing what to say to convince you."

"I remember," Minh Long smiled, "I rejected you immediately, so decisively that I even surprised myself."

"But you didn't keep that decision," Diem My smiled, looking out at the lake. "And I think, that was one of the luckiest things that ever happened to me, and maybe, to this club as well."

Minh Long looked out at the water, where the sunset shimmered, the wooden puppets continued to move gracefully under the hands of his new students, and thought about him, about the long journey that had passed since his death, about the pain that seemed to never go away, and about how it, gradually, transformed into a source of strength, a love that was passed on, never truly lost.

He remembered what his grandfather once said, when he was young, standing by his lake, his hands shaking holding a puppet pole for the first time. "Puppet is not just wood and paint, my child. Each puppet has its own soul, and a good artist is the one who knows how to awaken that soul." Now, sitting by this lake, watching Khoi and the other new members passionately practicing, Minh Long understands more clearly than ever the profound meaning of that saying - that the true soul does not lie in the wood or the paint, but in the love that is passed from heart to heart, from hand to hand, through generations, never truly extinguished, like a light that is always lit behind the curtain, waiting for the next puppets to step forward. out, gliding across the water, carrying their own story under the lights of a new show, a new generation, a new chapter of a story that never really ended.

The sunset gradually fell, dyeing the lake surface in a warm orange-yellow color, and Minh Long, holding Diem My's hand tightly, smiled and looked out at the puppets still gliding on the water, knowing that, even though he was no longer here to witness it with his own eyes, his legacy, his love for this art, is still alive, breathing, continuing to spread, under new lights, in new hearts, forever and never extinguished.

Before leaving school that day, Minh Long stopped by the display corner in the club's living room, which has now been expanded a lot compared to a year ago, with many new photos, more awards, and the swallow puppet he gave him is still placed in a solemn position, its wings shaking slightly every time the wind blows through the small window. He stood and watched for a long time, feeling the connection between the past, present, and future, all blended together in this small but meaningful space.

"Mr. Long," Khoi ran over, still holding the carp puppet, "will you come back next week? I want to learn more about the technique of controlling double puppets."

Minh Long smiled and patted the boy's head, a warm gesture that he remembered his grandfather had done to him countless times. "I will try to come back, Khoi. But remember, technique is important, but more important is your love for it. Just practice hard, and never forget why you started loving this art."

Khoi nodded vigorously, his eyes bright with determination, then ran to show off to the other friends what he had just learned. Minh Long looked at the boy's silhouette, a warm smile on his lips, before turning to Diem My, holding her hand, and together they walked out of the school gate into the gentle late autumn sunset.

"You know," Minh Long said as the two walked down the familiar path, "I think, this is exactly what he wants — not to keep things still forever, but to let it keep flowing, keep living, through each generation, each new hand."

Diem My squeezed his hand, smiling and looking up at the sky that was gradually turning purple in the sunset. "And I think, that's the true meaning of puppets under the lights — they are never truly alone on stage, there are always hands behind them supporting them, guiding them, breathing life into them, generation after generation, forever and ever."

They walked side by side in the sunset, looking towards the future, carrying in their hearts a legacy to be loved, preserved, and continued - a story of loss, of healing, of love, and of the light that never goes out, forever illuminating the puppets that continue to glide across the water, under the hands of new hearts, new generations, one after another without stopping.