Chapter 10 — The Evil One Wants to Replace Me as the Chief Master's Wife

The two children were asleep, lying next to each other in the crib. The girl lay on her side, curled up like a small shrimp. The boy lies on his back, his arms and legs spread out in a big shape. In the room, only the small bedside lamp was turned on, the pale yellow light illuminating two small faces. Luc Tranh stood next to the cradle. I leaned against the door frame and looked at him, but he didn't notice. He stood for nearly half an hour. I walked over, lowered my voice and asked: "What are you looking at?" He didn't turn his head, his eyes still stared at the two little faces: "How long did you two open your eyes today?" "Children don't open their eyes every day." "It's not the same." He said: "Today's eyes are not the same as yesterday. Yesterday when looking at people, girls liked to tilt their heads, today they don't tilt anymore. Yesterday boys' eyes moved slowly, today they are faster."I was stunned. A military commander like you uses your observation ability in this matter. Then he turned his head and I also turned to look at him. Their faces were only less than a finger apart. His breath passed over my face, bringing with it the cold air from outside and the slight smell of tobacco. His throat moved slightly. I took a step back. He also leaned back at the same time. The movements are synchronized as if they had been practiced before. I coughed softly and said I would go and warm up some rice for him. He said no need, he had already eaten at the restaurant. Then he took off his hat, hung up his military uniform, and washed his hands. On his way out, he stopped by the crib again. The girl turned around and kicked off the blanket. He bent down, covered the baby's blanket again, smoothed it square, and tucked all four corners under the mattress. He used the military habit of folding blankets for this purpose. The son started accepting people a week later. That afternoon, a platoon leader under Luc Tranh came to the house to deliver documents. The boy was just over twenty years old, wearing a neat military uniform. As soon as I entered the door, he stood up to greet me. I put my son in the crib and went to the kitchen to pour him a glass of water. When I carried the enameled mug out, I saw my son lying face down next to the screen. Two hands poked through the mesh, extending their arms towards the platoon leader. The ten fingers continuously opened and closed, calling out in the mouth, saliva flowing along the chin and down the screen. The platoon leader was so scared that he was stunned. He held the documents and stood in place. He moved one step left, the boy's hands also moved left. He moved one step to the right, the boy also moved to the right. The two chubby hands were still persistently raised, like two small mortars. "You... the leader's son got the wrong person, right?" The platoon leader looked at me for help. Luc Tranh walked out of the office, still holding a fountain pen in his hand. He looked at the platoon leader, looked at his son again, took the document out of his hand and bent down to pick up his son from the crib. The boy struggled twice in his arms, still reaching out towards the platoon leader. Luc Tranh turned his son around to face him, his face darkened, his voice stern as if he were training new recruits: "Your father is here. Look clearly." He turned his shoulders, so that his military rank faced his son's face. "The one with the most stars on his shoulder is your father. Don't get it wrong." The platoon leader pursed his lips. Her cheeks bulged and then deflated, her face was red from holding back her laughter. He immediately stood at attention, saluted: "Chief, if there's nothing else, I'll leave first." Then he turned around and walked out. Outside, the sound of suppressed laughter came from outside, getting farther and farther away. In the evening, when her son and daughter were both asleep, Ms. Trieu also returned to her small room. I went to the bathroom door to get a towel and heard voices inside. A door away, the sound of rushing water still couldn't cover that extremely serious tone. The voice was lowered and serious, as if reporting to the troops

"Dad." Stop. "Call dad." Perhaps he felt the tone was wrong, so he cleared his throat, changing to a gentler voice. "Dad... dad." I stood outside the door, clasping the towel in my palm, biting my lip. The door opens. Luc Tranh was wearing a tank top and loose shorts, his wet hair stuck to his forehead, and in his hand was holding a bottle of Phong Hoa shampoo. Seeing me standing outside the door, his whole body stopped. Then he walked past me without expression. He put the shampoo bottle on the shelf, the sound was much louder than usual. "What are you standing here for?" "Get a towel." "Towel hanging on the balcony." "I know." I took the towel, wiping the corners of my mouth that couldn't stop curling up. "Your pronunciation is quite good. Just practice a little more." He didn't say anything. The back of his neck was red. Another week has passed. That afternoon, it was rare for Luc Tranh to be at home. He sat in front of the tea table making tea. I sat by the crib changing my daughter's bib. The boy sat in the middle of the crib, holding a cloth tiger's tail in his hand, stuffing it into his mouth. Having stuffed half of it, the boy suddenly threw the cloth tiger away, raised his face, and opened his arms towards Luc Tranh. Then... "Dad... dad." The voice was vague, saliva sprayed all over the bib, the intonation wasn't quite right, it sounded like "fear", but the mouth was not wrong. Luc Tranh's hands trembled. The enameled teapot lid slipped from his fingers and fell to the cement floor.