Chapter 21 — The Path of Remembrance

The final round of the Youth Art Competition is held publicly. All works that make it to the next round are hung in the exhibition room, the jury judges on the spot, and the audience can also visit. My painting is hung slightly to the left in the middle of the exhibition room. Under the words "Life" is my name. To Niem Niem, eleven years old. My parents, Luc's father and Luc's mother were all present. Luc Uyen Dinh also came. Grandma also came. She was called by Luc's father. “Mom, come see Niem Niem's paintings.” She was not very willing but still came, still wearing her familiar jade bracelet and her hair tied neatly without a single strand of tangle. There were many people in the exhibition room. I stood next to my painting, wearing my uniform, my fingers still had unwashed paint stains from yesterday's drawing practice. The contestants in the next room all dressed very formally, some even wore makeup. But I don't care about those things. The jury has a total of seven people, viewing each photo in turn. When they came to my painting, they stopped. The leader was a female artist over sixty years old, said to be the vice president of the Provincial Fine Arts Association. She looked for a long time. Then turned around and asked Professor Tran. “This is your junior class student?” "That's right." “How old are you?” "Eleven." “How many years have you studied?” "Received formal training in less than three months. Before that, I studied on my own under my mother." The female artist looked at the painting again. “Three months?” "Correct." She squatted down to look at the details below the painting. I painted that underground water vein with a very light blue color, overlapping each layer with different density. “Is the way to treat this water vein using wet painting technique?” “She figured it out on her own.” Professor Tran said. The female artist stood up and looked at me. “Little friend, what is your name?” “To Niem Niem.” “When you drew this picture, what were you thinking?” “I think of the old walnut tree in the backyard.” “Just thinking about a tree?” "Think about that seed too. It grows from the gap between the roots of the tree. It looks very weak, but it still grows. No matter how big a tree is blocking it, it still wants to grow." The exhibition room was silent for a moment. The female artist nodded and wrote a very long paragraph on the scorecard. After grading is completed, the results are announced on the spot. Of the seventy-two works that entered the provincial final round, one gold prize, three silver prizes and five bronze prizes were selected. Gold award. To Niem Niem. The work "Life". Eleven years old. The youngest contestant in the whole hall won the gold prize in the whole province. When the results were announced, everyone in the exhibition hall applauded. My mother stood in the crowd, her eyes red. My father stood next to me, smiling widely and unable to close his mouth. Luc's father clapped his hands, his clapping was louder than anyone else's. Luc's mother stood next to her and wiped her eyes. Grandma stood all the way back, her expression complicated. She looked at my name on the display board and then at Luc Uyen Dinh standing next to me. Luc Uyen Dinh still had a smile on her face. But that smile was unbearable. Not a fake smile. It's that I no longer have the strength to laugh. At the award ceremony, the vice president of the Provincial Fine Arts Association personally gave me the trophy. "To Niem Niem, your work demonstrates the ability to observe and feel beyond your age. The organizers unanimously believe that you are the most desirable young artist of this competition." She stopped for a moment. "In addition, we also received letters of recommendation from the instructor, Professor Tran, and my mother, Ms. Ha Tieu Man. The junior preparatory class of the high school affiliated with the Provincial Academy of Fine Arts will begin enrolling students next year. You are eligible to participate in a direct interview." Junior preparatory class of high school affiliated with the Provincial Academy of Fine Arts. It is the best source of fine arts education in the entire province. Each year, only fifteen students are admitted. Even the opportunity to interview is not available to everyone. The chatter in the exhibition room grew louder. A reporter came forward to take photos. A parent came to ask for my mother's contact information. A teacher from another school asked about my situation. I stood in the crowd, holding the trophy, not knowing where to put my hand for a moment. Mom rushed over and hugged me. “Nien Niem, mom is proud of you.” “Mom, don't cry anymore, everyone is watching.” “I'm happy, I'm just happy.”

Dad stood next to me, his nose was red but he pretended not to cry. “When I get home, I will tell Gray Gray that his owner won the gold prize in the whole province.” “Gray Gray doesn't understand.” “He understands, he's smarter than me.” I laughed. Laughing for a while, tears also flowed down. Not for the prize. But because I remember those days. Sitting in the last row of class, I scored thirty-two points. People told me how to hold chopsticks like a farmer. The painting was crumpled into a ball and thrown into the trash. Said to be cheating. Being told that my mother plagiarized. Isolated, pitied, considered a stepping stone. From the last position in the corner of that last row, I walked step by step here. The light in the exhibition room of the Provincial Fine Arts Museum is very bright. Brighter than the night lights of the city, brighter than the stars in the mountains. But I know these lights are not the end. Which is the starting point of another mountain road.