Chapter 62 — The Talisman Painter Who Guards the Village

Letters That Don't Come

Seven days after Diệp Sương returned, a cloth seller stopped by Tùng Lĩnh Village and stopped for lunch under a banyan tree at the village's end as he always did. He didn't look for it, he just looked for Mrs. Chín Lài to ask to buy some medicinal leaves, but before leaving, he put a small package wrapped in oilcloth into her hand, whispering: "Someone in Lam Thủy Town sent it, ask me to give it to you personally, not to anyone else."

Mrs. Chín Lài brought the cloth package inside, waited until evening to give it to Diệp Sương, her eyes could not hide the worry. Inside was a short letter, the familiar handwriting made Diệp Sương's heart ache as soon as she opened it.

*

"Dear Sương,

I didn't dare send a letter straight to Tùng Lĩnh Village for fear of being followed, so I asked an acquaintance in Lam Thủy to deliver it for me. The situation in the mountains was not good. Elder Húc had convinced two more elders to lean towards him. Now in the council, Elder Tạ Vân Khê's side was increasingly alone. There were rumors that Elder Húc was asking for permission to send people to the countryside to interrogate more about her origin, including Tùng Lĩnh Village, under the pretext of 'additional investigation' but everyone understands what it really means.

I write this letter not to make you panic, but to make you cautious. If a stranger comes to ask about you, don't let them find any trace of where you are. Sister Chung and I are still trying to find more evidence, but everything is much slower than I expected.

Miss you.

— Bội Nhi"

*

Diệp Sương read the letter three times in a row. Each time she read it, the anxiety in her heart grew a layer thicker. She sat quietly next to the oil lamp, its yellow light shining across her clenched jaw.

"What's the matter, child?" Mrs. Chín Lài asked, sitting down next to her.

She recounted the contents of the letter, trying to keep her voice calm but unable to hide its tremble. "If the sect sends someone down here to interrogate us... I'm afraid it will implicate you, Mr. Tám Mực, and the whole village."

Mrs. Chín Lài was silent for a long time, her hands clasped together on her thighs. "So what are you going to do?"

"I think I should go," Diệp Sương said, her voice quiet but decisive. "Not because I'm afraid, but because I don't want to trade the village's safety for my own shelter."

*

The next morning, the bad news came earlier than she had expected. A child herding buffalo ran back to report that two strangers wearing gray clothes, looking like sect disciples disguised as traders, were stopping at a water shop at the edge of town, half a day's journey from the village, asking about "a girl who used to study talisman drawing and was connected to Tùng Lĩnh Village."

That news spread through the whole village in just a moment. Chief Lý Đoài, upon hearing this, rushed over, his face even more confused than the night he came to warn Mrs. Chín Lài a few days ago. But this time, instead of urging Diệp Sương to leave for fear of getting involved, he stood hesitantly outside the yard for a long time before finally speaking, his voice somewhat awkward.

"I'm old, scared of all kinds of things," he said, not looking directly at anyone. "But I also remember, when she was thirteen years old, if it weren't for her, maybe half of this village wouldn't be standing here today. If anyone came to ask, I would say I don't know, I don't see, even if I have to lie in front of the whole sect."

Diệp Sương looked at him in surprise. The same person who had underestimated her drawings in the past and hesitated about her return only a few days ago was now the first person in the village to say this in front of so many people. She bowed her head slightly in thanks, saying nothing else, because she knew that words of thanks would only diminish something both heavy and precious.

*

Mrs. Chín Lài's whole family was immediately busy. Mr. Tám Mực, hearing the news, quickly ran over, his hands still stained with ink that had not yet been washed.

“There's not much time left,” he said, panting. "You have to leave tonight, as soon as possible. I've prepared some dry food, and..." he hesitated, then pulled out a small package from his pocket, "...some dried squid I made myself, in case you need it urgently and can't find the ingredients."

Diệp Sương took the ink packet, her throat choked. "I don't want to leave in such a hurry, I won't have time..."

"If you can't stay hidden, you have to leave," Mrs. Chín Lài interrupted, her voice stern though her eyes were filled with tears. "If you stay one more day, they have one more day to find you. Leave early, and the whole village can honestly say they don't know where you are. This is not the time to hesitate, Sương."

*

Mộc and Cái Mận heard the news through a cousin and rushed over as soon as it got dark, unable to catch their breath. Seeing that Diệp Sương had tied up her luggage, they both stood still for a moment. Then Mộc, unable to say anything nice, simply placed a small self-forged knife in her hand, its wooden handle still smelling of fresh shavings.

"Take care of yourself," he said, his voice trying to sound tough but his eyes were too red to hide. "This time, don't disappear for four years before coming back again. I can't stand the wait," Cái Mận said nothing, simply hugged her friend tightly and placed a small piece of hand-woven indigo fabric in her hand. A wildflower growing along the village road was clumsily embroidered in one corner. "Keep it," she whispered, "so every time you miss home, you'll have something of us with you."

Diệp Sương clasped the two gifts in her hands, her throat was tight, unable to say a word of gratitude, she just nodded, hugged both friends one last time before turning and walking out of the yard, afraid that if she lingered a moment longer, she would no longer have the courage to leave.

*

That night, before leaving the village for the second time in her life, Diệp Sương stood silently in her yard, looking around the small house that had sheltered her throughout childhood and past hardships. She remembered the story the merchant had told at Linh Căn temple a few days earlier—the deep forest in the west, the fog that would not clear, and the strange lights at night. She did not know why, among all the possible directions, thoughts of that place kept returning to her, like a vague but persistent invitation.

"Which direction are you going?" Mr. Tám Mực asked, standing beside her in the moonlight.

"I think I'll go west," Diệp Sương replied, her voice still uncertain. "There is a deep forest where people say there are strange things going on. I don't know why, but I have a feeling... I need to go there and see." Mr. Tám Mực nodded slowly and did not ask further. He simply placed a hand on her shoulder. "You've always had that premonition, ever since you were a little kid drawing on the kitchen wall. I don't fully understand it, but I believe it."

*

On the way out of the village this time, Diệp Sương chose a hidden path behind a bamboo grove instead of the main road to avoid anyone who might be watching the village. After walking a short distance, she stopped and looked back one last time. The lonely oil lamp in Mrs. Chín Lài's small house was still lit like a small lighthouse in the dark, following her footsteps even though it could not go with her.

At that moment, a small, nimble figure passed through the bushes beside the road—the same pale gray shadow Diệp Sương had glimpsed on the stream bank a few days earlier. This time it was a little clearer: the shape resembled a small animal, but there was something not quite animal-like in its gait, as if it wanted to be seen. Then it disappeared into the darkness to the west, exactly the direction she planned to take.

Diệp Sương stood still for a moment, her heart beating faster—not because of fear, but because of a vague premonition that was gradually becoming clear: perhaps she was not the only one following this journey. She tightened her grip on the bag strap and continued walking into the darkness, following the small shadow that had just disappeared, carrying an unanswered question and a fragile hope she did not dare to name.

*

Two days later, the two gray-shirted men actually found Tùng Lĩnh Village and went straight to Mrs. Chín Lài's house without any detours. The leader, with a cold face accustomed to interrogation, asked directly without hiding his purpose. "Do you harbor a disciple who was expelled by the sect? We have reason to believe she has returned to this area."

Mrs. Chín Lài sat still on the bamboo bed, her hands still leisurely removing each tobacco leaf as if nothing had happened. "You guys are looking for the wrong house," she replied, her voice so calm that even the questioner had to pause for a moment. "I'm old, I live alone, I can't raise any grandchildren so I can take care of them."

"The whole village says you once raised an orphan," the other person retorted, his sharp eyes scanning the simple house.

"That person went to the mountain to study eight years ago. Afterwards, I heard she made some mistakes there. I'm old and my ears are deaf. I don't know what to tell you about that distant mountain," Mrs. Chín Lài replied without blinking, her hand still steadily stripping leaves, revealing just enough of a rustic old woman's doting expression to make the other man gradually lose patience.

The two gray-shirted men searched the house briefly, found nothing suspicious, and finally left, warning vaguely that they would return if they discovered any deception. When their silhouettes disappeared behind the bamboo grove, Mrs. Chín Lài breathed a sigh of relief. Her hand trembling slightly, she put down the basket of tobacco leaves and looked west, where her adopted granddaughter had disappeared two nights earlier, silently praying that Diệp Sương had gone far enough for no one to find her.