Chapter 34 — The Talisman Painter Who Guards the Village

Little Tơ

Since the attack near the border, Little Tơ began to appear more often every time Diệp Sương visited Diêm Cốc village, lurking behind dirt walls or sitting quietly at a distance just enough to observe without being considered a disturbance.

"Do you want to see me draw?" Diệp Sương asked one afternoon, while sitting at the corner of the village reinforcing an old amulet, she noticed familiar eyes glued to her hand from behind a dry tree.

Little Tơ was startled and wanted to run away, but Diệp Sương quickly waved her hand to come closer, her voice gentle. "It's okay, come sit with me."

The girl gingerly walked over and sat down a safe distance away, her big round eyes following each stroke of the pen. Diệp Sương slowly drew, deliberately lengthening each line longer than usual, so that she could observe closely.

"What are you drawing?" she asked timidly, her voice hoarse because she hadn't spoken for a long time.

"A protective leaf," Diệp Sương replied, without stopping. "To protect the village from bad things wandering around at night. Do you see anything similar to this drawing?"

The girl tilted her head to observe, was silent for a long time, then softly said, "Like a leaf."

"That's right," Diệp Sương smiled, surprised by the child's observance. "The teacher who taught me once said that when drawing charms that look like familiar things in life, the person using it will feel more secure than seeing unfamiliar zigzags."

From that day on, every time Diệp Sương stopped by, Little Tơ no longer hid behind the tree but proactively ran out to greet her, sometimes carrying a small stone she had picked up or a branch of wildflower found somewhere in the middle of the arid land, placing it in her hand like a small wordless gift.

*

In the following days, whenever she had rare free time between the busy schedule of reinforcing spells and surveying the Hạn Thủy ravine, Diệp Sương stopped by to look for Little Tơ, gradually teaching her the simplest drawings - not real spirit talismans, just funny shapes in the sand, on scraps of cloth.

"You draw much better than I did when I was your age," Diệp Sương commented honestly, watching her painstakingly draw a clumsy but neat flower shape on the sand. "Back then, I was always doodling, and my foster grandmother scolded me for dirtying the walls." Little Tơ, for the first time, laughed out loud — a rare, clear sound for a child who had experienced loss early on. "Have you also been scolded?" she asked, her voice small but less timid.

"Being scolded all the time," Diệp Sương replied, smiling. "But thanks to that, I learned how to draw correctly. It's okay to make mistakes many times, as long as I don't give up."

*

One evening, when Diệp Sương was about to leave Diêm Cốc village for the border, Little Tơ suddenly pulled her sleeve, hesitation in her eyes.

"Did... did you also lose your parents like me?" she asked, her voice so low it was almost a whisper.

Diệp Sương stopped and sat down at her eye level. "That's right," she replied softly. "I don't remember my parents either, they died when I was very young. But I have a grandmother who adopted me, loved me like her own child, and a teacher who taught me how to draw spells. They can't replace my real parents, but they make me no longer feel lonely."

"So… can I find someone like that?" she asked, her eyes filled with tears.

"I think you already have it," Diệp Sương replied, reaching out to gently pat her head. "The whole Diêm Cốc village is raising you together, right? It's also a form of family, just a little older." Little Tơ nodded, not fully understanding the deep meaning of what Diệp Sương said but sensing her sincerity. She immediately jumped into Diệp Sương's arms and hugged her tightly. Diệp Sương paused, then wrapped her arms around the child, feeling a small warmth tremble in her heart. In that moment, all the fatigue from Tất Bá Kỳ's interrogations and all the worries about Hạn Thủy ravine seemed to disappear, leaving only the pure simplicity of being needed and trusted.

"I promise," she whispered, knowing she probably didn't fully understand the weight of that promise, "as long as I'm here, you won't have to be afraid of being alone anymore."

*

Cố Thanh Việt, waiting not far away, witnessed the entire scene in silence. When Diệp Sương stood up and walked towards him to return to the gate together, he looked at her with an indescribable look.

“You have a gift with children,” he commented as the two walked down the sandy trail in the sunset.

"Maybe because I used to be a difficult child," Diệp Sương replied, laughing lightly. "I should understand what children are thinking."

"Not only that," Thanh Việt said, his voice lower and more serious. "You have a way of making others feel understood, even if it's just the first time they meet you. I think that's a talent no less than your talent for drawing spells."

Diệp Sương blushed at the unexpected compliment, not knowing how to respond properly, just quietly walking on, feeling a strange warmth spreading in her chest every time she was close to him in this way - not the familiar safety of a trusted teammate, but something deeper, never named.

"Me too," he said, trying to steer the conversation in another direction. "You always know how to reassure the soldiers when there is a change, even with just a few short words. That is a talent too—not just something I can do." Thanh Việt laughed softly, a rare laugh that came out naturally, not forced like before. "Maybe we're compatible in that way," he said. "You're good at comforting children, I'm good at comforting adults. Making a team isn't bad."

"Since when did you know how to joke?" Diệp Sương teased, her eyes sparkling with a happiness rarely seen amid the constant stress of days.

"Maybe since I've known you," Thanh Việt replied, his voice gentle but sincere, causing both of them to fall silent for a beat, leaving a sweet silence spreading between the sound of the dry wind blowing across the barren land.

*

That night, at the barracks, Sầm Nguyên Trạch invited them both to have a late dinner, telling an old story about Diêm Cốc village - the prosperous days, before Linh Mạch began to weaken, when the children in the village gathered to play in the shade of once green trees that were now withered.

"Little Tơ, if she had been born just a few years earlier, would have had a completely different childhood," he said, his voice sad. "I don't blame anyone specifically, but sometimes I wonder how many children like her would not have had to lose a parent if the court had paid attention sooner." That sentence left Diệp Sương speechless, recalling the question she had once asked herself in Lam Thủy Town about Khâm Vân Ti's frequent surveys and its failure to act. She looked at Thanh Việt and saw that he was pensive too, and neither said anything more, letting the unanswered question hang in the air.

Vệ Chinh, sitting at the end of the table diligently recording logistics books as usual, looked up to comment. "Perhaps when we've resolved the problem at Hạn Thủy ravine, we should send a separate report, more straightforward, without going through the intermediaries that often slow things down," he said, his voice timid but determined. "At least, so that the voice of Diêm Cốc village will not be drowned out like before."

"Good idea," Sầm Nguyên Trạch nodded appreciatively, and the whole table sank into a silent agreement, as if each person silently promised themselves not to let this place continue to be forgotten another day.

*

That night, before going to sleep, Diệp Sương took out a small piece of cloth and drew, more meticulously than last time, a complete talisman—not a playful butterfly-shaped version, but a real, gentle talisman, just enough to repel mosquitoes and lull Little Tơ to a peaceful sleep, exactly like the first talisman Mr. Tám Mực had taught her to draw on tree bark years ago.

She planned to bring it to baby To tomorrow morning, so that every night, no matter how many unresolved instabilities this land had, at least she could have a more peaceful sleep under that little protection - a simple thing, but for Diệp Sương, simplicity had never meant meaninglessness.

She remembered her trembling hand years ago, when Mr. Tám Mực held her hand and drew the first ink on the piece of tree bark, and realized, perhaps this was how good things were transmitted - not through great battles or the praises of elders, but through every small, silent gesture, from person to person, from generation to generation. She folded the cloth carefully, placed it next to the old inkstone on the windowsill, then fell asleep with a rare peace since the day she arrived at Tiêu Sa Pass.