Chapter 5 — Puppets Under the Lights

Tuesday afternoon, exactly four o'clock, Minh Long stood at the backyard gate, where he could see the lake area without having to step inside. He stood there for nearly ten minutes, wondering whether he should move forward or turn back, fidgeting with the strap of his school bag as is his habit when he feels uneasy.

The club was gathered, and Mr. Phuc was also present, standing next to Diem My, watching a group of three friends try to coordinate a new scene — the "Teu troi scene," the classic opening of most traditional water puppet shows, where Uncle Teu appears to greet the audience before introducing the next acts. But even such a seemingly simple scene is running into trouble — the puppet Teu keeps leaning to one side every time he "bows," looking more awkward than graceful.

"It's not your fault, Nam," Mr. Phuc comforted the student holding the pole, his voice somewhat helpless. "Perhaps because the puppet's center of gravity is misaligned, the lead part attached to the body needs to be adjusted, but the teacher is not very familiar with that technique."

Minh Long, standing outside the gate, immediately knew where the problem lay after just a glance. He clearly remembered that the Teu puppet at school was probably one of the old puppets that his grandfather had made for the club many years ago, and he also remembered the exact position of the balancing lead inside, because he had helped his grandfather attach lead to dozens of similar puppets when he was young.

He took a deep breath, then walked through the gate, towards the group practicing. Diem My was the first person to recognize him, and the smile that lit up her face couldn't hide her joy. "Minh Long! You're really here."

"I just... stopped by to see," Minh Long said, but this time his voice was no longer defensive like before, simply a gentle explanation. He looked at the Teu puppet lying in Nam's hands, its body still wet. "Can I see the puppet for a moment?"

Nam looked at Mr. Phuc bewilderedly, nodded in agreement, and immediately gave the puppet to Minh Long. He took it, turned the puppet upside down, his fingers tracing along the wooden belly until he touched a small, almost invisible seam. “Here,” he said, pointing to the seam. "The balance lead here has shifted, probably due to impact when stored for a long time. Someone needs to remove it and adjust it to the correct position, otherwise, no matter how good the control technique is, the puppet will still tilt."

"Do you know how to adjust it?" Mr. Phuc asked, his eyes full of hope and curiosity as he looked at the student whose background he knew well.

Minh Long hesitated for a second, then nodded. "I know. But I need tools, and this puppet is so old, I might have to remove the coating to fix it."

"So... can you help?" Diem My asked, her voice cautious as if afraid that asking too much would make Minh Long retreat again like before.

The whole group looked at him waiting, and this time, Minh Long did not feel pressure like before. Instead, he felt something warm spreading inside him — a feeling of being needed, of being recognized for something he was truly good at, something connected to his grandfather in the most beautiful way and not just through pain.

"Okay," he said, his voice more certain than he expected. "But I have some conditions."

Diem My nodded immediately. "Okay, just say it."

"I don't promise to come every day," Minh Long said, looking down at the Teu puppet in his hand. "There are days when I won't want to come, and I need you to respect that, not ask why. I'm also not ready to reopen my grandfather's workshop, so if we need specialized tools, we will have to find another way, at least for the time being. And I will only teach techniques, not give speeches, not be the face of the club."

"All right," Diem My replied without hesitation, her eyes shining with sincerity. "We don't need you to be anyone other than yourself. As long as you help us learn the right technique, that's more than we could hope for."

Teacher Phuc walked over and patted Minh Long on the shoulder. His eyes were a bit emotional. "Thank you, Long. I know this was not an easy decision for you. Your grandfather will definitely be very proud."

Hearing that, Minh Long felt a sting in his nose, but he held back, just nodded slightly, not saying anything more. He turned to look at the Teu puppet in his hand again, then looked up at the group standing around, young faces full of hope, no different from the image of himself many years ago when he first stood in front of his lake, eagerly waiting for the first lesson from his grandfather.

"So where do we start now?" one of the group members asked, his voice full of excitement.

Minh Long looked around, mentally assessing the group's level, then said, "First, I need to watch all of you operate basic puppets, to know who is making what mistakes. Then I will divide into small groups according to each specific technique. Besides," he paused, looking down at the Teu puppet, "this puppet needs to be adjusted before continuing, otherwise all efforts will be in vain."

"The old gym behind the equipment room has a few unused carpenter's tables that the school used to use to make stage props," Mr. Phuc suggested. "Maybe enough for me to edit a few small puppets, without using my family's workshop."

Minh Long nodded, feeling relieved that his teacher understood and respected the boundary he had just set without needing him to explain further. "Okay then. Let me take a look first. On Thursday I will bring some simple tools to fix this Teu."

That day's practice session ended later than usual, when it was late afternoon, the orange-yellow sunlight spread across the lake, reflecting the silhouettes of the wooden puppets neatly arranged on the shore. Minh Long stood looking at that scene, a strange but pleasant feeling spread throughout his body - the feeling of someone who had just walked through a door that he thought he would never dare to open again.

On the way home, Diem My went with him for a while, because her house was also in that direction. The two walked side by side in silence for a while, until Diem My spoke up. "I know today hasn't been easy for you," she said, her voice gentle. "Thank you for giving us a chance. I promise I won't force you to do anything you're not ready for."

Minh Long looked at her, then looked at the road ahead, the sunset dyed the sky red. "I can't promise it will be easy either," he said honestly. "There may be days when I come and then leave halfway because I can't stand it. But... I want to try."

"That's enough," Diem My smiled, her eyes warm. "One step at a time, no need to rush."

They parted ways at a familiar intersection, each turning in their own direction. Minh Long walked away, feeling more relieved than at any time since his death, although the pain was still there, smoldering under the newly revealed shell. He looked up at the evening sky that was turning dark purple, and for the first time in eight months, he allowed himself to think about the future — not a future without him, but a future where he carried what he taught him, and kept going, even though the road ahead was still very uncertain.

Returning home, Minh Long went up to his room, looked at the small carp puppet still placed on the bookshelf, then opened the desk drawer and took out an old notebook that he had never used. He sat down, picked up a pen, and began jotting down the technical errors he observed from the club members this afternoon, carefully and meticulously as if he were preparing a real lesson plan. It was the first time in a long time that he did something related to water puppetry not because of compulsion or nostalgia, but because of a real desire from the bottom of his heart — wanting to see those puppets come to life the way they were supposed to be, and wanting to be the one to help that happen, as he had done for so many generations of students before him.

Writing the third page, he stopped writing, looked out the window where it was completely dark, the yellow street lights began to light up along the small street. He thought about Tuan Anh, about the simple statement that his friend had repeated over and over these past few days — that avoidance is not the only way to keep memories — and realized that now, after this afternoon, that statement was no longer just an empty word of comfort, but had become something he began to believe was true, through his own experience.

He also thought about Diem My, about how she persevered for nearly two weeks without showing signs of discomfort or giving up, about her sincere eyes when listening to the conditions he set out this afternoon without the slightest objection. There was a quiet kindness in the way she treated him that Minh Long found himself appreciating more than he dared to admit, a kindness that came not from pity, but from genuine respect for the pain of others.

That night, before turning off the lights and going to bed, Minh Long opened the drawer, took out Diem My's business card, and placed it next to the small carp puppet on the bookshelf, instead of keeping it in the drawer like he had for the past two weeks. He looked at those two small things lying next to each other under the dim nightlight, and for the first time, he felt that they were no longer opposing each other - one was the past, the other was the present - but had merged into one, moving towards something ahead that he could not yet clearly name, but no longer scared him like before.