Chapter 23 — The Street They Live in Nhan Hoi Quan

The first year he returned, many ladies in the city sent scented bags to the general's palace. He did not receive any. His mother was so impatient that she asked him every day if his three years in Mac Bac had injured his body. My elder brother waited for half a month, and finally slapped an envelope on my desk. "Do you care?" "What care?" "Mother told me to marry Deputy General Trieu's granddaughter." "Very good." "The moment we met, she asked how many bowls of rice I could eat in one meal." "People care about you." "She also asked me if I could hand over all the general's benefits to you." "Knowing how to make a living." Luc Tram Thu glared at me for a long time. "Luc Kien Yeo, now you look more and more like your father." "Thank you." He angrily took the letter and left. Walked to the door and turned back. "Sent from the capital." He put down another envelope. Unsigned. The letter paper came from Ly palace on the outskirts of the capital. Every year Co Thinh Loan sends a letter. In her first year, she sent a list of dead people that she copied from memory. Seventeen wrong places. I sent someone to send you the revised list. The second year only made three mistakes. The third year was no mistake. This time in the letter there were only a few sentences. "Tieu Tan is sick." "The royal doctor said he wouldn't survive this winter." "Last night he asked me, if the Sung Chau incident hadn't happened that year, would we still be husband and wife when we were young?" "I don't answer." "Ah Yeu, only now do I know that there are roads, from the first step there is no turning back." I folded the letter and put it in a wooden box. Luc Tram Thu leaned against the door. "You didn't reply?" "What?" "It's okay to scold her twice." "In the palace, someone scolded you." "Tieu Tan?" "They get along very well." My brother laughed. A few days later, news came. Tieu Tan died from an old injury. Before he died, he always called Co Thinh Loan's name. Co Thinh Loan sat in the hospital next door, not coming over. She ordered someone to open the door between the two houses that had been sealed for three years. Behind the door, Tieu Tan lies on the bed. The queen he had been waiting for all his life had finally arrived before him. Co Thinh Loan just placed a thick list of books next to his pillow. "You said they were untouchables." "Now you are just a line in this book." She closed Tieu Tan's eyes. Don't cry. The new emperor asked her if she was willing to move to another hospital. She refused. She still lives in the palace, every day copying the list of dead people sent from everywhere. She is not forgiven. Don't run away again. The day the First Name Street at Nhan Hoi Quan was completed, my father wore the royal uniform he had not worn for a long time. He stood at the top of the street, looking at the blue bricks stretching to the end with no end in sight. "Has the historian arrived yet?" "Arrived." I pointed behind. The historian was sent from the capital to carry literature and books, with more than ten young scholars next to him. Previously, records in history books about the six sieges of the city were all very short. "The empress had a disagreement, the emperor personally welcomed her back." "The empress was moved by the emperor's deep feelings and voluntarily returned to the palace." "Local riots took the opportunity to cause chaos, the emperor quelled it." Now, the historian begins to write from the first brick. Copy the name of the deceased. Copy how they died. Copy whoever gives the order. Copy who opened the gate, who burned the wages, who from there took away mines, salt taxes and military power. When writing about Co Thinh Loan, the historian stopped and asked me: "Lady Luc, in the end the queen helped defend the city, and also handed over the evidence. How should merits and crimes be written?"I looked at the wall where seven envelopes once hung. The arrow holes left from three years ago are still there. "Just write the truth." "There's no need to hide it for her, nor to embellish it for her." The historian nodded and lowered his pen. Father gave me a blue brick engraved with the last name. That was me in my previous life. Luc Kien Yeu. After Nhan Hoi Quan was destroyed,

had both eyes gouged out, thrown under the citadel, and died three days later. In this life we are still alive. The stonemason asked: "Is this stone still engraved?" I stroked the name on the tile surface. "Engrave." Luc Tram Thu frowned: "The person is standing healthy, why engrave the name of the deceased?" "This is the person who died." I engraved the tile into the wall. "You should also have a position." Father did not stop. He held a wooden hammer and helped me hammer the brick firmly. Outside the wall came the sound of the caravan's camel bells. The newly opened city gate slowly rose. Many people, merchants and soldiers returned to line up to enter the coffin. The soldiers guarding the gate take turns checking the route. No one is exempt from inspection because of their noble status. Next to Name and Family Street, a new stone stele was built. There is no emperor's name on it. There are only two sentences. "This citadel once died because of a story of love passed down by the people." "They did not fulfill anyone." The spring breeze passed over the wall. Blow seven old, faded envelopes on top of the citadel. I raised my hand and took down the last wind. The paper was blown away by the wind, and with just a little force, it crumbled in the palm of your hand. Luc Tram Thu stood under the city gate and called out to me. "A Yeu, come home to eat!" Father was already far away, so when he heard that, he turned around and urged him. "If you don't come, the meat will be eaten by your brother."