Chapter 3: Chapter 3 Constantly at Odds — Where the Sun Returns

"Land rental? How much per month? My grandmother is old, maybe you tricked my grandmother into renting it at a low price," Miên crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes staring defensively at the strange man. The instincts of a girl living in a city full of deception make her ruffled feathers with anyone who approaches her grandmother.

Hoàng Phong frowned slightly, a half smile flickered across his lips. He took off his straw hat, patted his pants to remove the dirt, and then stepped onto dry land.

"I rent thirty million a year. One-time payment in cash in advance. There is a contract and the Village Chief witnesses," Phong replied slowly, pointing towards the straight furrows. "I'm an agricultural engineer who just moved here. This garden is so abandoned that I asked Mrs. Tám to renovate it to become an organic farm. You're from the city, so you probably aren't used to the smell of fertilizer and mud. Be careful not to ruin your good shoes."

Phong's words both meant to explain and carried a gentle irony that made Miên angry. She looked down at her branded sneakers that were covered in red mud, then glared sharply at Phong.

"You don't have to teach me. It's my land, I can go wherever I want," Miên raised her chin, turned around and left. "Let me go ask my grandmother about it!"

She stomped her feet and walked into the kitchen. Grandma is retreating to reheat a pot of braised fish. Miên pulled up a stool, sat down next to her grandmother, and helped her light the wood stove.

"Grandma! Who is that guy in the garden? Why did you rent the land to a stranger? That land is your grandfather's memory!" Miên grumbled.

Grandma smiled gently and stroked Miên's hair. "Is that Mr. Phong? He's a very nice boy. He's an engineer who studied in the city, and I heard he even went abroad. He saw that my garden was abandoned, so he asked me to rent it so he could grow clean vegetables. He paid a lump sum for rent, and Grandma deposited it all in the bank. Since he came back, he's even fixed the leaky water pipe and replaced the light bulb in the yard for Grandma. Don't bully people, poor thing."

Miên pouted, fanning the flames in the stove. Dry firewood crackled, smoke rose and stung the corners of my eyes. She was used to living in an apartment using an induction stove. It had been a long time since she started a wood stove, so she was clumsy, causing ash to fly and stick to her hair.

"Cough cough..." Miên coughed and quickly wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

"Get out of the way, city girl." A deep voice rang out from behind.

Hoàng Phong has been standing in the kitchen doorway ever since. He held in his hand a basket of bright red amaranth that he had just picked from the garden. Placing the basket of vegetables on the tray, Phong expertly removed the ash from the dead firewood and rearranged the dry firewood for ventilation. With just a few simple steps, the fire burned evenly and the smoke quickly dissipated.

"Thank you," Miên mumbled, feeling a bit embarrassed that his clumsiness had been seen by him.

"Mrs. Tám, I picked some amaranth, you cook some soup to cool it down," Phong turned to talk to his grandmother, his gentle and warm smile different from his cold expression when arguing with Miên earlier.

"It's so precious, thank you. Phong, stay and have dinner with me and Miên too," Grandma eagerly invited.

"No, grandma, I still have to go home and compost the compost pile in time for fertilizing tomorrow," Phong politely refused, glancing at the girl sitting huddled by the fire with her face smeared with coal ash. "Moreover, I'm afraid someone won't be able to swallow their food because of discomfort," Having said that, he greeted his grandmother and left.

Miên gritted her teeth and climbed up. Is this half-seasoned farmer trying to annoy you?

The grandmother looked at Phong's back as he disappeared behind the banana grove, smiled softly, then glanced at her granddaughter who was sitting and blowing fire. "Phong said that, but he has a good heart. This Miên, you're an adult, don't look at people with the eyes of a neighborhood on the street anymore. In the countryside, people live with each other by love, not by contract."

Miên didn't answer, just bowed her head and poked the embers with a stick, her heart was still warm but she couldn't bear to argue with her grandmother's words.

In the following days, Miên began to adapt to life in the countryside again. In the morning, she is no longer awakened by the shrill alarm that urges her to race through traffic jams. She woke up to the sound of birds singing and the soft rays of sunlight shining through the window.

She tried not to think about work, not about unfinished designs or boss Hà's emails. She put the laptop deep inside her backpack, locking it tightly like a Pandora's box filled with sadness.

Instead, Miên spends time cleaning the house, cooking with her grandmother, and... observing the reluctant neighbor.

Hoàng Phong is a workaholic like a farmer. He was present in the garden early in the morning, when the fog was still drenching the foliage. He worked tirelessly: digging soil, raising beds, fertilizing, sowing seeds. Occasionally, he squats beside the fence, takes out a small notebook and carefully records something about humidity, temperature or the growth rate of each seedling.

There were afternoons, Miên secretly stood behind the window curtain, watching Phong diligently measure the pH of the soil with a small set of tools, then meticulously take notes in a notebook like a true scientist. At times he stopped, raised his face to the sky to observe the wind direction, rubbed his chin in thought, then bent down to adjust the sprinkler. That absolute concentration made Miên inexplicably curious, although she refused to admit it, even to herself.

One time, Miên stood with her chin on the windowsill and curiously asked: "To grow vegetables, just plant the seeds and water them and they will grow on their own. Why do you need to take complicated notes like doing a chemistry experiment?"

Phong looked up, wiping sweat with the back of his muddy hand. He smiled faintly.

"That's the mindset of people who like to make a living, just like the way you work in the city," Phong replied. "Organic agriculture is not magic. It is science. You must understand the soil, the water cycle, and the characteristics of each type of microorganism to grow healthy plants without using toxic chemicals."

Miên frowned. "What about me working in the city? We chase productivity, bringing economic value. And you, an educated engineer, burying your face in this pile of fertilizer, will you ever get rich?"

Phong stopped hoeing. He walked closer to the window sill, his eyes staring deeply into Miên's eyes that were trying to appear arrogant.

"I don't need to be rich. I just need peace," Phong said, his voice low. "And you, you chased after that 'economic value' in the city, only to get in return a pair of dark circles, a tired shoulder and have to carry your backpack and run away here to escape reality? How much peace do you get in return for your productivity?"

Phong's words were like a bucket of cold water slapped directly on Miên's face.

She was stunned. He's right. She ran away. She is not as glorious or arrogant as she tries to appear. Inside she was just a pile of fatigue and exhaustion.

Miên bit her lip, turned on her heel and quickly walked into the room, closing the door. She put her face down on the pillow, tears threatening to flow. That rude agricultural engineer, in the most cruel way, exposed the perfect cover that she worked so hard to build.

She lay huddled on the bed, tightly hugging an old pillow with faded chrysanthemums printed on it, listening to the sound of her heart beating erratically. Each of Phong's words kept echoing in her head, like hammer blows repeatedly hitting the wall she had built over the past four years to protect her proud ego. She hated the feeling of being seen through, but at the same time, a deep part of her felt strangely relieved, as if a heavy rock had been lifted off her chest.

But strangely, the anger only lasted a moment, giving way to a feeling of unburdening. In this place, in front of a stranger who had no idea whether she was a future Art Director or a lowly employee, she no longer needed to pretend to be strong.

In the evening, when her hungry stomach pulled Miên out of the room, she saw on her window sill a small bag containing a few ripe yellow guavas, accompanied by a note hastily written in sturdy handwriting: "Homegrown garden guava, no pesticides, eat to relieve sadness." There was no apology, no politeness, just a simple, quiet gesture typical of Hoàng Phong. Miên looked at the bag of guavas, the corner of her lips suddenly curled up into a small smile that she didn't even realize.

Miên picked up the guava and took a crisp bite. The sweet taste mixed with a slight acrid taste on the tip of her tongue reminded her of a whole world of childhood memories, the afternoons of hiding from sleep and climbing the guava tree behind her grandfather's garden. She sat down on the doorstep, chewing guava and looking out at the garden where Phong was still working diligently under the sunset that dyed a corner of the sky yellow. His shadow fell long on the new bed of soil, lonely but sturdy, like a tree that has taken root deep into the ground for a long time.

She wondered, what kind of person is a person who can say sharp words that hurt others, but silently leave behind a bag of guavas without explanation? Miên shook her head, dismissing that idle thought, telling herself that she was just hungry so she was thinking nonsense. But at night, while lying in bed, the image of that hard-working back still lingered in her mind, refusing to disappear.

Outside on the porch, the steady sound of hoeing still sounded, in harmony with the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. Another new and tumultuous day passed in the strange peace of the poor countryside.