Chapter 7 — Puppets Under the Lights

On Saturday morning, Minh Long went to the school yard lake quite early, carrying a pair of shorts and old rubber boots that he found in the closet, left over from the days when he followed his grandfather down to the lake to practice. He stood at the edge of the lake for a while, looking at the calm water reflecting the clear sky, then slowly rolled up his pants and waded down. The feeling of cool water touching his skin made him shiver involuntarily, not because of the cold, but because the memories rushed back too quickly, too strongly.

This was the first time in eight months that he actually stepped into the water to control the puppet, not just standing on the shore giving instructions like before. The feeling of water surrounding his feet, the soft mud under his boots, all reminded him of the hundreds of afternoons he had stood in exactly this position, even at his own lake, next to his grandfather, learning how to keep his balance while his hands were busy controlling the puppet pole hidden under the water's surface.

"Are you okay?" Diem My, who had been standing in the water before, noticed his pensive expression and asked softly.

"It's okay," Minh Long replied, taking a deep breath. "It's just... it's been a while since I've been in the water again."

She didn't ask further, just nodded, giving him a large carp puppet to serve as a guide for the remaining members standing on the shore observing. Minh Long took the puppet pole, felt the familiar weight in his hand, and when he started to move, a miracle happened - every movement returned naturally as if he had never left it, his body clearly remembered every rhythm, every angle necessary for the carp to glide smoothly, gracefully undulating on the water surface as if it were really swimming.

The whole group on the shore clapped and cheered, admiring the unexpected performance. Minh Long, although somewhat embarrassed by the attention, still couldn't hold back the small smile at the corner of his lips - the first smile in many months that he felt came completely naturally, not forced.

"Here, you guys, look closely at this wrist movement," he said, slowing down so everyone could see better. "Not a strong shake, but a gentle, continuous rotation, like drawing a small circle in the air. The water will do the rest, you just need to guide it, not force it."

The training session that day lasted longer than expected, but no one seemed to want to stop. Minh Long takes turns instructing each person to go into the water to test, patiently correcting every small mistake, sometimes holding the pole himself and modeling many times until the learner gets the right feeling. He realized he had a quiet joy in watching others improve, a joy akin to what he had felt as a child, each time completing a new technique under his grandfather's proud gaze.

In the middle of the session, when the group took a break on the shore, eating bread and drinking water, Diem My sat down next to Minh Long, both still wet from the knees down. "You're really good," she said, her voice full of admiration. "I've been following this club for two years and seeing what you do, I realize how much I'm lacking."

"I have the advantage of learning from a young age," Minh Long humbly replied. "You taught yourself mostly through videos and books, right? Yet to keep this club alive for the past two years, I find that even more admirable."

Diem My smiled, a bit shy at the unexpected compliment. "It's not really about studying on your own. Teacher Phuc helps a lot, even though he's not a professional artist. Besides..." she paused for a moment, "when my uncle was still alive, he would occasionally visit the club, just for a few sessions, but every time he came, they were the most memorable lessons."

Hearing about him, Minh Long no longer felt the same pain as before, but instead felt a warm curiosity. "What did my grandfather teach you guys?"

"So many things," Diem My said, her eyes distant and nostalgic. "What I remember most is the time he taught us how to make the puppets 'breathe' - he said each puppet needs to have its own rhythm like human breathing, not mechanically steady, but sometimes fast and sometimes slow depending on the emotions of the scene. At that time I didn't fully understand what he meant, but now that I see you controlling it, I can see it clearly."

Minh Long was silent for a moment, moved by the fact that his teachings still lived in the memories of those who had been taught by him, even if only for a short time. "My grandfather always said that," he said softly. "He said the technology is just the frame, and the soul of the puppet comes from the operator. If the operator doesn't have real emotions, the puppet will also be empty."

"Do you miss him much?" Diem My asked, her voice gentle and careful, as if touching something fragile.

Minh Long nodded slowly. "I miss it so much. Especially afternoons like this, when I stand in the water, holding the puppet pole, I keep feeling like if I turn my head, I will see him standing there, hands clasped behind his back, watching and nodding with satisfaction." He paused, took a breath, then continued, his voice trembling slightly. "There are days when that feeling hurts so much I can't breathe. But today... somehow I feel lighter. It's as if he's still here, somehow."

Diem My didn't say anything, just gently placed her hand on his shoulder for a moment, a simple but sincere gesture of comfort, before withdrawing her hand, letting them both sit in silence, looking out at the sparkling lake under the morning sunlight.

The practice session continued after the break, and at the end of the session, the whole group was able to coordinate a short performance of "carp crossing the martial arts gate" - one of the familiar folk tales, about a group of carp trying to overcome a waterfall to turn into a dragon. Although there are still many clumsy areas, compared to the first training session Minh Long witnessed, the progress is surprisingly obvious.

"At this rate, maybe we actually have a chance at the Competition," one of the group exclaimed excitedly when practice ended.

Minh Long, standing on the shore looking at the group laughing and chatting, felt strangely warm in his heart. He realized that, although the journey ahead was still long and there were many things he was not ready to face — like the wood workshop door still locked behind the house — at least, right now, he was standing right where he belonged, doing what he was born to do, continuing a legacy that his grandfather had spent his whole life cultivating.

On the way home, Minh Long went alone, because Diem My stayed behind to help teacher Phuc pack up the tools. He walked through the small alley leading home, his heart still lingering on the warm feeling of the morning, when his phone vibrated in his pocket. It's a text message from Tuan Anh: "What's up, are you going to practice with the club today?"

Minh Long smiled and typed back: "Yes. It feels very strange, but it's a good strange feeling." He put his phone in his pocket, continued walking, the noon sunlight shone down on the familiar road, and for the first time in a long time, each step he took was light, no longer weighed down by the things he tried to avoid.

When he got home, Minh Long changed his wet clothes, then went to the kitchen to have lunch with his mother. She immediately recognized the strange look in her son - his eyes were brighter, his gait was much more lively than in previous months - but she did not ask directly, just quietly scooped him another ladle of soup, her eyes showing a bit of emotion that was hard to hide.

"Where did you go this morning to come back so late?" she asked, her voice deliberately light as if there was nothing special.

"I'm going down to the school's Water Puppet Club to practice," Minh Long replied, trying to keep his voice normal, even though he knew this was the first time in eight months he had proactively mentioned the word "puppet" in front of his mother without avoiding it.

His mother stopped chopsticks for a moment, looking at her son with complicated eyes, both surprised and on the verge of tears. "Is that so," she just said, then continued eating, but Minh Long could see that her hand was shaking slightly when holding the chopsticks. After a moment, she added, her voice soft, "Your grandfather would be very happy to know about this."

Minh Long didn't answer, just nodded slightly, his throat suddenly tight. He knew his mother had also suffered a lot since his death — not only from losing the father-in-law she always respected, but also from having to watch her son wallow in pain for months without knowing how to help. Seeing a glimmer of hope in his mother's eyes at this moment, Minh Long suddenly realized that the journey he was walking would not only heal himself, but also bring some peace to the loved ones around him, those who had also silently suffered with him all this time.

In the afternoon, Minh Long took time to rest, but his mind kept returning to the images of the morning - the feeling of cool water around his feet, the laughter and cheers of the club members, and especially the story Diem My told about the times his grandfather had stopped by to teach. He wondered how many other memories like that about him were scattered in the memories of others, waiting to be told, to be revived again through telling, the way he himself was gradually coming to life through each practice session by the lake.