Chapter 3 — The Medicine Bearer Through the Chaos

Three Children and the Big Water

Three years passed like a large river then receded, so calmly that people only realized it had gone away when they looked back at the silt trail left on the shore. Tinh Yen was now eleven years old, much taller than the day she followed her grandmother up the wormwood hill, her hair was braided into two neat braids at the back of her head, her hands were so used to pounding medicine that she doesn't need to look to know whether the mortar was fine enough or not.

That afternoon, he escaped from home while Mrs. Khue was taking a nap, running to the sandy beach where Kinh and Van were waiting, each holding a small bamboo basket.

"You're late." Kinh grumbled, but his mouth still grinned, revealing his newly lost front teeth that had not yet grown back. "The water is receding, the cuffs are gone now."

"It's because my grandmother forced me to memorize ten new medicines before giving them away." Tinh Yen ran and talked, panting. "Whoever catches the most crabs today, I'll give you mosquito repellant medicine."

"Forget it, I don't need it." Van — Dang Thi Van, the youngest daughter of a family that weaves nets in the neighborhood, has a slim figure but is unusually agile — as she spoke, she rolled up her pants and waded into the mud. "I just need you to teach me to distinguish between coriander and pennywort like the other day. I'm always confused."

"The leaf coriander is more pointed and has a pungent taste. The coriander leaf is round like a coin and has a lighter taste." Tinh Yen replied without thinking, like a reflex ingrained in her blood.

"Where did I learn it and remember it so well?" Kinh shook his head, his hand quickly dug a small hole in the sand, waiting for the handcuff to come up so he could capture it. "I studied literacy with the teacher in the palace for three days and already wanted to quit."

"Because you're lazy." Van teased, causing Kinh to puff his cheeks and pretend to be angry, then burst out laughing.

Three children waded along the beach, the noon sun shining on the water sparkling like thousands of broken mirrors. In the distance, fishing boats are anchored and resting between two waters, their brown sails drooping like tired bird wings. This season, the sea is gentle, waves just gently lick the sand, leaving white foam streaks that quickly melt in the sun.

"Hey, I heard the village festival is very big this year." Kinh shouted, straightening his back, forgetting that the crab he had just missed had slipped into the sand. "There's boat racing, and there's even a opera troupe coming from the palace."

"Really?" Van's eyes brightened. "So are you going to compete in the boat race this year?"

"Why? I'm twelve this year, old enough to join the fishing village's boat crew." Kinh puffed out his chest, looking proud. "My father said that if I was good at rowing, next year I could follow the big boat out to sea."

Tinh Yen sat down on the sand, her hands still searching for the clams buried under the fine layer of mud, but her ears were still listening to the two friends talking. He likes afternoons like this - no urgent knocks on the door, no strong smell of medicinal herbs in the house, only the sound of waves, laughter, and the bright yellow sunlight spreading across the long sandy beach.

"What about you, Tinh Yen?" Van turned to ask. "Are you going to the village festival?"

"Probably, if my grandmother is free." Tinh Yen replied, her hands still digging in the mud. "My grandmother is very busy these days. In recent months, more people have come to ask for medicine than before."

"What's up?"

"I don't know either. My grandmother said that recently there have been many people from up here fleeing here, bringing with them all kinds of strange diseases." Tinh Yen stopped and looked out at the trail leading to the village, where occasionally strange figures with tattered clothes and burdens passed by without stopping. "She said there is war up there with the North Dich, people are fleeing towards the sea."

The atmosphere between the three children suddenly slackened a beat. Kinh stopped digging in the sand, Van stopped laughing, all three of them looked towards that trail, where not far away, a thin man was leading two small children, carrying a bundle larger than his body on his back, walking unsteadily due to hunger and fatigue.

"Who is Bac Dich?" Van asked, her voice quiet.

"I heard my father say that they are people from the North, very good horseback riders, very fierce." Kinh replied that even though he was not sure about what he had just said, it was just word of mouth he heard from adults. "I heard that wherever they fight, they will burn."

"So are you coming here?" Van asked again, her eyes wide open with worry.

"How can we get there? This is very far, we have to go through many mountains and rivers." Kinh reassured, although his voice was not very steady. "Besides, the royal court has troops stationed at the border, so there's nothing to be afraid of."

Tinh Yen didn't say anything, just quietly looked at the thin man's shadow until he disappeared behind the casuarina trees at the top of the village. He remembered a few times recently, when he followed her to fetch medicine for the refugee families temporarily staying in the village communal house - the haggard faces, the children who were many years younger than him but their eyes were strangely mature, as if they had seen things that a child should not see.

"My grandmother said," he spoke slowly, "war doesn't just kill people with swords and spears. She said that every time there is war, disease also follows the people running around and spreads, even more dangerous than swords and spears, because swords and spears can only kill those they touch, and epidemics kill people who have never seen the face of the person carrying the disease."

Van shivered and hugged her arm tightly even though the sun was hot. "You scared me so much."

"I didn't mean to scare you. I was just repeating what my grandmother said." Tinh Yen quickly apologized, realizing that she had just made the atmosphere heavy. He reached for a clam he had just dug and held it up in front of Van, trying to change the subject. "Well, look, this clam is so big, it must be delicious when cooked in sour soup tonight."

That awkward joke worked. Van burst out laughing, Kinh also rushed to grab the clam, the three returned to their game of digging in the mud and catching cuffs, crisp laughter echoed throughout the beach as if the worries just had never existed. Children are like that — fear can come very quickly but also disappear very quickly, giving way to the simple joy of a summer afternoon.

Late in the afternoon, all three of them brought a basket full of clams and crabs, divided each of them into a portion, and then separated to go home. As soon as Tinh Yen entered the yard, she saw Mrs. Khue sitting on the porch, in front of her was a strange woman, her clothes stained with mud from a long distance, holding in her arms a skinny, pale-skinned newborn baby.

"You're back." Ms. Khue looked up, her voice had a rare tiredness. "Wash your hands and get the jar of honey and dried ginger from the cupboard."

Tinh Yen followed immediately, without asking any more questions - she had learned that when someone was sick, the first thing to do was to do, and ask questions later. The strange woman recounted through choking sobs that her family had walked for seven days from a northern district, her husband was forced to join the army on the way, and her small child fell ill due to lack of milk and being exposed to dew for many days, coughing endlessly and becoming visibly thinner.

Mrs. Khue examined the baby carefully, mixed medicine, gave instructions on how to care for it, and also packed some rice and potatoes for the mother to take with her on long trips. When the woman bowed her head in gratitude and was about to pay - the few coins left after the chaotic trip - Ms. Khue waved her hand and refused to accept.

"Hold it and take care of your child. The road is still far, you need the money more than me."

After the woman left, her shadow disappeared on the village road dyed with sunset light. Tinh Yen stood beside her, her heart heavy with a feeling that was difficult to name.

"Grandma, are there so many people running around lately?"

"More than last year. I heard the fighting on the border is getting more and more intense." Mrs. Khue sighed and sat down on the steps. It seemed like recent months had worn her down more than she thought. "I remember when I was little, occasionally one or two refugee families would come here, now it's almost every week."

"So is Lach Dua okay, ma'am?"

Mrs. Khue looked at her grandchild for a long time, then reached out to pat his head, a forced smile appearing on her face, which had a few new wrinkles since three years ago. "I never know, my child. But no matter what happens, remember what I taught you — about medicine, about how to stay calm, about not leaving anyone behind — those things, no one can take away from you, no matter how chaotic the country becomes."

That night, Tinh Yen lay unable to sleep, looking up at the thatched roof where moonlight filtered through a few small gaps, creating shimmering spots of light on the wall. He thought about the mother running around with her sick child, thought about the skinny man carrying a bag heavier than his body on the trail at the beginning of the village, and thought about his two friends Kinh and Van - children who could still laugh and play on the beach as if the war was just a distant story that had nothing to do with them.

He didn't know that the slowly rising water outside, night by night, would soon sweep away the peaceful world that all three children had, leaving behind a trail of silt that could never be washed away - but tonight, under the moonlight filtering through the thatched roof, he just hugged tightly the bamboo basket that still smelled of sea mud, and fell asleep in the sleep of an eleven-year-old child who still believes that tomorrow will be exactly like today.