Chapter 4 — The Summer Contract of Western Beauty and Beasts

The passenger bus ran all night, weaving through winding mountain passes, taking Nha Khanh farther and farther away from Saigon. She sat huddled in the last row, leaning her head against the cold glass door, looking out into the darkness outside but seeing nothing but the reflection of her own haggard face. She couldn't sleep all night, her mind spinning between fear, anger, and a strange feeling of emptiness when she realized the entire life she knew had collapsed in just one night.

Near morning, the car stopped at a small town in the Lam Dong plateau, the air was colder and more humid than the sweltering heat of Saigon. Nha Khanh got out of the car, dragging a small suitcase, standing in the middle of the deserted bus station, her heart empty, not knowing where to go next. She had never managed alone in a strange place like this.

She asked around a few street vendors near the bus station, deliberately choosing a direction as far away from the district center as possible - a place with few security cameras, few acquaintances, and most importantly, a place where people like Trinh Khac Sang would hardly think to search. An old lady selling sticky rice in the morning pointed her in the direction of the tea and coffee growing hills in the distance, saying that there were a few farms, large and small, that occasionally needed seasonal helpers.

"What are you going in for? It's a long way, and it's about to rain," the old lady looked at Nha Khanh from head to toe, her eyes a bit shy when she saw her scholarly appearance and shoes that were not suitable for walking on dirt roads.

"Yes, I... I'm looking for someone I know," Nha Khanh lied, trying to keep her voice calm.

The old lady did not ask further, just shook her head, gave her another small package of sticky rice to "eat sugar to gain strength" and continued her business. Nha Khanh thanked her, quickly took a bite of sticky rice, then started walking in the direction the old lady pointed, without a map, without a vehicle, only her feet and a vague determination that the farther she went from the city, the safer she was.

The red dirt road zigzags between the green tea hills stretching to the horizon, so beautiful if it were in a different situation. But for Nha Khanh right now, every step is a torture. The thin high heels she quickly put on in the panic of the night were now soaked, her feet were blistered and sore. She had never hiked so long in her life, never had to manage on her own without a driver, without a maid, without anyone by her side.

Near noon, the sky darkened as the old sticky rice seller had warned. The forest rain came suddenly, without warning, pouring down like a torrential downpour. Nha Khanh did not have time to find shelter, so she had to run in the rain, the suitcase dragging behind her became increasingly heavy because of the water. The cold wind cut through the thin shirt she wore, making her whole body shiver.

She kept going, kept going, no longer clearly feeling how much time had passed, only knowing that her legs were getting heavier and heavier, her mind was getting more and more dizzy. The hunger, fatigue, and fear that had accumulated over the past two days finally exhausted her last strength. In the white rain, she glimpsed an old wooden fence in the distance, a simple gate leading into a large area of land that looked like a farm. She tried to trudge towards it, holding on to the wooden bar of the gate, softly calling out "is there anyone?" but her voice was so weak that it was almost just a breath.

That was the last image Nha Khanh remembered before everything went dark — the cold rain, the smell of damp earth, and the sound of a dog barking somewhere not far away.

Nhieu Bach Son was in the cowshed not far from the main gate, checking the roof that had just been reinforced before the rainy season, when he heard the dog Muc barking unusually fiercely. He frowned, took a flashlight and walked out to check, thinking perhaps there was another wild animal wandering in and disturbing the herd like a few times before.

But as he approached the gate, what he saw made him stop for a second. In the midst of torrential rain, a young girl, dressed unsuitably for walking in the forest, was lying next to the gate pillar, her suitcase tilted next to her, her body soaked, her lips pale.

"Hey! There you are!" Bach Son shouted loudly, quickly ran over, knelt down to check. The girl was unconscious, her breathing was weak but still there, her forehead was hot as if she had a high fever. He looked around, saw no other relatives, no vehicles, only a strange girl lying in the rain in front of his house, more than five kilometers away from the nearest residential area.

As a cautious man, the first question that flashed in Bach Son's mind was suspicion — who was this girl, where did she come from, why did she appear in such a remote place in this condition. But the instincts of someone who studied agriculture and worked in an environment that required quick response to emergency situations overwhelmed vigilance. Right now, the most important thing is to save people.

He picked the girl up, surprised by her light body, almost without any significant weight, then quickly carried her into the main house, away from the rain that was getting heavier and heavier.

"Uncle Sau! Uncle Sau!" Bach Son called out loudly as he walked across the yard, his voice echoing amidst the sound of the rain. "There's someone in trouble, get me some towels and a kettle of hot water!"

Uncle Sau Lanh, the long-time manager of the farm, was in the kitchen. He quickly ran out when he heard the call. When he saw the strange girl in Bach Son's arms, he was stunned for a moment before quickly regaining his composure and rushing to get the items as requested.

"My God, whose daughter would get lost here in the wind and rain," Uncle Sau muttered, quickly preparing a warm towel and hot ginger water.

Bach Son put the girl down on the bed in the living room, quickly checked her breathing and heart rate, then used a dry towel to wipe off the rainwater on her face and hands, to prevent her from getting more cold. The light of the oil lamp in the room shone on the girl's pale but still delicate face, making him wonder why someone with such a ladylike appearance would get lost alone in this remote hill area.

Outside the small bedroom inside, a seven-year-old girl named Nhieu Tue An was sitting quietly on the bed, her hands arranging small pebbles in straight rows on the table, completely undisturbed by the noise outside - a habit she did whenever something strange happened in the house, as her own way to keep her world from being turned upside down.

Bach Son glanced towards his daughter's room, sighed with relief when he saw that she was still calm, then returned to taking care of the uninvited guest. He did not know that the strange girl lying unconscious in his bed tonight, in just a few days, would become an inseparable part of the life where only he and his father had relied on each other for the past three years.

The rain still continued outside, tapping steadily on the old tiled roof, like a quiet background music for the fateful meeting that had just begun between two people, two destinies that had nothing in common, now coincidentally intersecting at a remote farm on the plateau.

Uncle Sau Lanh brought in a warm towel and a bowl of ginger water, placed them on the table next to the bed, looked at Bach Son carefully drying the strange girl's hair, his eyes couldn't help but probe.

"What are you going to do? Will you report it to the commune police?" he asked, his voice low so as not to make any noise.

"Let's see how she wakes up," Bach Son replied, his hands still moving. "If it's a lost family member, it's easy, just call someone to pick you up. But looking at the way you dress, the way you carry your suitcase... I don't think it's simple."

Uncle Sau nodded, sat down in the chair opposite, resting his chin and observing. "This girl must be from a rich family, her hands and feet are white, her nails are still polished, she has never done heavy work before. How did she get lost all the way here, several kilometers away from the main road?"

"I was wondering that too." Bach Son frowned, his eyes glanced at the rain-soaked suitcase placed in the corner of the room. A vague premonition arose in his mind that this girl was not simply lost, but perhaps running away from something. But he is not someone who likes to pry into other people's stories, especially when he himself has many secrets and burdens that he wants to keep secret.

He placed the back of his hand on the girl's forehead, feeling the heat was still quite high. "The fever is so high, it's probably due to being exposed to the rain and being so hungry. Please help me get a bottle of fever-reducing medicine from the medical cabinet, and prepare some thin porridge, she'll probably need to eat soon when she wakes up."

Uncle Sau stood up and followed suit, muttering as he walked. "Oh my god, this poor pig farm still has days when it welcomes uninvited guests like this. Surely God loves you and An and sent more people to help."

Bach Son did not answer, just shook his head slightly at Uncle Sau's half-serious joke. He turned to look towards his daughter's room, where little Tue An was still sitting quietly folding pebbles, completely oblivious to the disturbance that had just happened in the house. He sighed softly, both relieved that his daughter was not panicking, but also filled with a vague worry about how this stranger's sudden appearance would affect the already carefully arranged, quiet rhythm of life that he had painstakingly built for her over the past three years.

Near midnight, Nha Khanh's fever began to gradually subside thanks to medicine and constant wiping with warm towels. She was still unconscious, but her breathing was more even and her face was less pale. Bach Son sat on a wooden chair next to the bed, his hand resting on his chin, his eyes looking thoughtfully at the strange girl. He didn't know who she was, where she came from, or what story she carried behind, but his instincts told him that the appearance of this girl, whether he wanted it or not, would more or less disturb the tranquility of Suong Hill farm - a place he had always tried to maintain as the last safe fortress for his daughter.

Outside, the rain had begun to gradually subside, leaving only the sound of dripping from the eaves to the ground, like the last notes closing a long and tumultuous day, to open a new chapter that neither of them, at that time, could fully imagine what lay ahead.