Chapter 5: Chapter 5 Unseasonal rain — Where the Sun Returns

The weather in the highlands is as rosy as a teenage girl.

During the day, the bright yellow sunlight roasts the weeds. But as night fell, the air suddenly turned cold. That night, dark clouds came from the western hills, swallowing even the fragile stars.

The previous afternoon, Phong had stood outside in the yard, looking at the distant mountains with an unusually pensive expression. He told Miên that a red afternoon sky accompanied by a flock of dragonflies flying to the ground was a bad sign, it might be about to rain heavily out of season. At that time, Miên just laughed and said he was superstitious, but he didn't expect that just a few hours later, that prediction would come true in a terrifying way.

Miên was curled up in a colorful, sunny-smelling cotton blanket, dozing off when she was awakened by a loud clap of thunder that shook the tiled roof.

*Fence... fence...*

The rain poured down like a waterfall. The sound of rain hitting the metal roof in the back kitchen created a harsh sound. The wind whistled intermittently, knocking dry longan branches against the window.

Miên sat up startled. She reached out to turn on the light, but the switch was useless. The storm caused a power outage in the entire area.

In the thick darkness, Miên's heart was pounding. She listened to the roar of the rain outside, feeling like the whole wooden house was trembling before the wrath of heaven and earth. Never before had she experienced such intense rain, even the Saigon rains that flooded the streets did not bring back the same primal feeling of confusion as now, when around her there was only darkness, the roar of the wind, and the sound of the corrugated iron roof cracking as if it was about to be stripped off.

In the darkness, Miên's mind suddenly flashed an image: The field of sowing lettuce seeds and the cherry tomato nursery that she and Phong had just finished working on in the afternoon. This morning, Phong said that this tomato seed is an expensive imported variety, extremely sensitive to high humidity during the germination stage. With this terrible amount of rain, the whole nursery will be flooded and all the seeds will be washed away!

Without thinking too much, Miên grabbed a thin nylon raincoat hanging on the wall, quickly put on a pair of rubber boots, groped and pushed open the door and walked out.

The wind hit her face and made it sting. The torrential rain made it impossible for her to open her eyes. Miên covered her forehead with her hand, tried to shine the flashlight from her crappy phone, and traced each step to the back of the garden.

The slushy mud swallowed her every step, and at times it was so slippery that she almost fell face down on the ground. The cold rainwater seeped through her collar and flowed down her spine, causing Miên to shiver repeatedly. But the thought of the young tomato sprouts about to be swept away made her not allow herself to stop, even for a second.

Through the white rain, she saw a dark shadow struggling in the nursery area. It's Hoàng Phong.

He is struggling to pull a thick plastic tarp to cover the iron frame protecting the nursery beds. However, the wind was so strong that every time he pulled a corner of the canvas, the wind blew it up. He alone could not fix all four corners of the canvas in this crazy weather.

"Mr. Phong!" Miên shouted loudly and rushed forward.

Phong was startled and turned back. Under the lightning streaking across the sky, he saw Miên struggling to wade through the slushy mud towards him.

"What are you doing out here? It's dangerous! Go back inside!" Phong screamed over the sound of thunder.

"I'll help you!" Miên did not listen, she ran to the opposite corner of the canvas, used all her strength to grab the flapping edge of the plastic canvas. "Pull it! I'll hold this corner!"

Phong was stunned for a second. But the urgent situation did not allow him to hesitate. He immediately returned to work.

"Pull it out! Press the bricks on the edge of the canvas!" Phong directed.

The two of them cooperated in the pouring rain. Miên gritted her teeth, ignoring the bone-chilling cold rain, ignoring the mud splashing on her clothes and face. She hugged the heavy burnt bricks and placed them on the edge of the canvas so that the wind could not get in.

At one point, a sudden gust of wind blew away a large piece of canvas that almost covered Miên's head. She staggered back, her heart pounding in panic, but immediately regained her balance, gritting her teeth and holding down the edge of the canvas. There is no time for fear. Outside, an entire nursery that is Phong's passion for many days is hanging on the brink of being swept away by the water.

After nearly thirty minutes of struggle, the nursery was finally safely protected under a solid layer of plastic tarpaulin.

Miên was exhausted and sat down on the wet grass. Her thin nylon raincoat was torn and covered nothing. Her whole body was soaked and she was shivering from the cold.

Hoàng Phong stepped forward and held out his large, mud-covered hand in front of Miên.

"Stand up. You'll catch a cold out here," His voice was unusually warm, no longer as thorny as before.

Miên grabbed Phong's hand and used his strength to stand up. His hand was very warm, a reliable warmth in the middle of the storm.

They took shelter from the rain into a small shack that Phong temporarily set up in the corner of the garden to store farming tools. The shack is roofed with palm leaves, although it is small and narrow, it is dry.

Phong took out a clean cotton towel from the corner of the shack and threw it to Miên. "Dry your hair. I'll light the stove."

He took some dry firewood and stuffed it under the cupboard, quickly lighting a small fire. Then, he buried a fresh ginger root in the embers.

A moment later, Phong gave Miên a glass of steaming hot water, fragrant with the scent of grilled ginger.

"Drink to warm your stomach."

Miên reached out with both hands to receive the iron cup and inhaled the hot steam. She curled up and shivered.

"Thank you," Miên mumbled. "Do...do you often have to deal with weather like this?"

Phong sat down on the wooden stool opposite Miên, throwing another stick of firewood into the fire. The flickering firelight illuminated his masculine face.

"Farming is like that," Phong replied, taking a sip of warm water. "We depend on Mother Nature. Sometimes she gives us sunshine, sometimes she brings us storms. But that's real life. There's no air conditioning to regulate the temperature, no curtains to hide the bad things. You have to learn to adapt, or starve."

"Where...where did you study agricultural engineering?" Miên asked curiously.

"In Sydney, Australia," Phong replied calmly.

Miên opened her eyes wide in surprise. "Sydney? An Australian international student leaves the city to return to his hometown to grow vegetables and fight with the weather every day? With that degree, you can work at research institutes or biotechnology companies for thousands of dollars!"

Phong smiled softly, his smile contained a deep sadness.

"I used to work in a large laboratory. There, I wore a clean white blouse, researching plant genes under fluorescent lights 12 hours a day. There was no mud, no rainstorms. Everything was controlled by computer." Phong rotated the iron cup in his hand. "But you know, I don't feel 'life'. The seeds born in the laboratory are so perfect that they're lifeless. I want to touch the real soil, I want to smell the sickly smell of earthworms, I want to see the trees grow resiliently after a storm... just like how we just protected them."

He was silent for a moment, looking at the crackling fire, his distant eyes as if lost in some far away memory. "My father used to be a farmer. He grew rice and vegetables in a plain area, year-round with pesticides and herbicides to chase productivity and keep up with people. When I was in my final year studying in Australia, he fell seriously ill. The doctor said it was due to exposure to chemicals accumulated over many years. I didn't have time to see him one last time."

Miên held her breath. She did not expect that behind Phong's calm, almost cold appearance, there was such a deep pain.

"From that day on, I kept wondering, if someone had shown my father a different, safer farming path, would he still be alive today," Phong continued, his voice low but not shaking at all, just a quiet determination. "I quit the laboratory, not because I hate science. I do organic farming, because I want to prove that farmers can live, live healthily, without having to trade with their own health or life."

He looked up and looked straight into Miên's eyes.

"The city is too fake for me. Everything is packaged in a beautiful cover. But underneath that cover is emptiness. I chose to return here, because I want to create real values, even though it is rough and muddy."

Miên was silent. Phong's words seemed to touch a harmonious note deep in her soul. She was also a victim of the "beautiful shell" called the office, where virtual values crush real emotions.

She looked at Phong's broad shoulders, which were shaking slightly from the cold, and at his calloused hands, which were clasped tightly around the iron cup as if trying to suppress an emotion that had never been fully expressed. For the first time, Miên understood that behind every decisive blow of the hoe, behind every straight row of soil that Phong diligently cultivated, was not only a simple scientific passion, but also a silent atonement for his deceased father.

For the first time, she looked at this rude farmer man with a different look. Not an eccentric who likes to torture himself, but a person who dares to courageously give up false security to find the true meaning of his life.

"Thank you for telling me," Miên said softly, her voice gentler than ever. "I think... your dad would definitely be proud of what you're doing."

Phong looked up at her, the corner of his eyes flashed with a fleeting flash of emotion that then disappeared, replaced by a rare smile of relief. "Thank you for listening."

Outside, the rain was still pouring, but in the small shack, the warmth from the fire and a cup of ginger tea were dispelling the coldness in the young girl's heart. And perhaps, even in the heart of the young engineer, there was always a wound that had never closed.