Chapter 7 — The Talisman Painter Who Guards the Village

Mận's Birthday

For two weeks after the trip to Lam Thủy market, Tùng Lĩnh Village lived in a strange atmosphere - not exactly panic, but no longer as carefree as before. Every night, at least one animal woke up startled, fog appeared erratically even under the hot midday sun, and the village elders gathered in the communal-house yard to discuss the situation, their voices low but unable to hide their anxiety.

Diệp Sương now went to Mr. Tám Mực's paper factory almost every day, not only in the morning as before but also in the afternoon, sometimes until late at night. He taught her how to mix ink quickly in an emergency—not the elaborate, multi-day steeping method used for ordinary ink, but a shortened recipe using hot kitchen ash, hastily ground alum, and a special type of tree sap that grew around the open forest near the village, which could be mixed in a few minutes while retaining most of its potency.

"Remember this ratio carefully," he told me over and over again, "three parts ash, one part alum, half part tree resin. Too much ash and the ink will be thick, making it difficult to draw smooth lines. Too much resin and the ink will be thin and the charm won't last long." Diệp Sương nodded, remembering every detail and practicing the mixture dozens of times until she could do it in the dark without looking, relying only on the feeling through her fingertips.

But amidst those stressful days, there was still a day that the whole group of friends were determined not to let pass by in worry: Mận's birthday.

*

"I don't want to organize anything big," said Mận, somewhat shyly, when Mộc and Diệp Sương arrived at her house early in the morning, carrying a few small things.

"Who told you to have a big organization?" Mộc grinned, putting down a basket of guavas he had just picked stolen from Uncle Tư Đàng's garden - of course he asked permission properly, but he still liked to tell the story as if he had just done a risky mission. "We just brought some food over and sat with you for a while. It's nothing big."

Diệp Sương smiled and handed out a small package wrapped in banana leaves. "Here you go."

Cái Mận opened, inside was a small piece of bark paper, on which Diệp Sương drew a stylized flower shape with slender ink strokes, surrounded by a few small dots like dew drops on the petals.

"Is this some kind of charm?" Mận asked, his eyes bright with curiosity.

"It's not a charm," Diệp Sương said with a shake of her head and a smile. "I just drew it for fun because I know you like flowers. But..." She hesitated," I added a little something, like a blessing, to help you sleep better and have fewer nightmares these past few nights."

Cái Mận hugged Diệp Sương tightly, her voice choked. "Thank you. I like it very much."

All three of them sat around in the yard of Mận's house all morning, eating guavas, telling stories, laughing like other normal children in the village - not mentioning anything about the strange dew, the panicking livestock, or the story Mr. Tuất told about the big town being destroyed. It was a deliberate avoidance, though no one said it out loud, as if all three implicitly understood that they needed a morning like this, a morning to be fully children, before having to face whatever lay ahead.

"Hey, I dare you two," said Mộc, still chewing a piece of guava, "when I grow up, I will be the best carpenter in Lam Thủy Town, able to build big boats. And you two, what will you do when you grow up?"

"I will open the biggest fabric shop in the market," Cái Mận replied without thinking, "bigger than Uncle Nam's shop now, with all kinds of colored fabrics, everyone has to come and buy."

Both turned to look at Diệp Sương, waiting. She hesitated for a moment, her hand unconsciously rubbing her thumb across her palm, the place often stained with ink.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I just think, no matter what I do in the future, I want to continue drawing. It's not to brag, it's just... I want, when someone needs it, to be able to draw something to help them."

"That sounds too serious," Mộc teased, throwing a guava peel at him, but his eyes flashed with a hint of respect that was different from his usual joking look. "But I believe you can do it. From the moment Uncle Kiệm's cat slept for three days, I knew you were not a normal person."

"Don't mention that again," Diệp Sương frowned, but couldn't hide her smile. "I still feel shy every time I pass by his house."

All three burst out laughing, clear laughter echoing throughout the small yard, dispelling some of the heavy atmosphere that had been smoldering in the village for the past two weeks.

*

In the afternoon, Mận's mother made a small tray of rice to invite a few neighbors, including Mrs. Chín Lài and Mr. Tám Mực. The atmosphere was cozy, filled with bustling laughter, and afternoon sunlight dyed the whole yard yellow. Diệp Sương sat in the middle of the crowd, looking around at familiar faces—Mrs. Chín Lài chatting loudly with Mận's mother, Mr. Tám Mực sipping wine with a few other old men, and Mộc fighting over the last piece of chicken with a neighbor child. A warm feeling rose in her heart, and she wanted to engrave the moment completely into her memory.

"What are you thinking, smiling to yourself?" Mrs. Chín Lài asked, noticing Diệp Sương's distant eyes.

"I'm just happy," she replied honestly. "I wish every day was like today."

Mrs. Chín Lài stroked her head, her eyes filled with something indescribable - both affectionate and as if she was trying to remember this moment for herself, as if she also had a vague premonition that peaceful days like these would not be many more.

"I wish it could be that way," she said softly, then turned away to continue her unfinished conversation with Mận's mother, to hide the sudden stinging in the corners of her eyes for unknown reasons.

Mr. Tám Mực, sitting not far away, also looked at Diệp Sương for a long time, then turned to the person sitting next to him, another old man in the neighborhood, and lowered his voice to chat. "How do you think Mrs. Chín Lài's little girl is doing these days?"

"Growing up so fast," the old man replied, nodding. "She was just a baby, but now she looks like a young woman. I heard you taught her how to draw or something, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Tám Mực replied, not wanting to say more, just smiling vaguely, his eyes still following the small figure laughing and playing with her friends in the yard, wondering how much longer these simple afternoons would remain intact.

The meal lasted until it was dark, the laughter and talking gradually subsided to give way to lighter gossip between the adults, while the children took advantage of playing hide and seek around the straw pile in the back garden, the cheers mixed with the oil lamps that began to be lit from house to house as darkness fell.

*

Late at night, when the small party was over, Diệp Sương and Mr. Tám Mực walked home through the deserted village road, the crescent moon hanging over Vân Tiêu Peak in the distance.

"Uncle," she said, breaking the silence, "do you think everything will be okay? That strange feeling of dew, that panicking cattle feeling?"

Mr. Tám Mực slowed down, thought for a moment before answering. "I don't know, my child. I only know one thing: whatever happens, you are much better prepared than most people in this village. It's not something to be overly proud of, but it's also not something you should hide or be ashamed of."

"I'm not hiding it. I'm just afraid that if something really happens, I won't be good enough to help anyone."

Mr. Tám Mực stopped completely, turned to look straight into Diệp Sương's eyes, his voice was rarely serious. "Listen to me. No one — not even the best elders of the Tông Vân Các — can be sure they are good enough to save everyone in every situation. What matters is not how good you are, but whether you are willing to try your best, even when you know you may not be able to save everyone. That's what you're truly proud of, no matter the outcome." Diệp Sương remained silent, letting those words sink deep into her heart, then nodded, holding his hand tightly for a moment before the two of them continued walking in the dark, under the faint crescent moonlight, no one knowing that in just a few days, tonight's instructions would be tested in the harshest way that neither of them had ever imagined.

Returning home, Diệp Sương looked at the talisman hanging at the head of the bed. The ink was still as thick as on the day it was first drawn. She placed her hand on her chest, feeling her heart beat steadily, then climbed into bed and pulled the blanket over herself, trying to fall asleep despite an unnamed insecurity in her heart—the same feeling she had experienced in the sparse forest the day she went to the market with Mrs. Chín Lài.