Chapter 9: Chapter 9 Natural enemies — Where the Sun Returns

The rush of orders from social networks has brought Mộc Farm a significant amount of revenue, enough for Phong to expand the sowing area by another half an acre of land. This time, he decided to grow sweet corn and beans – short-term crops that are in high demand.

However, the joy was short-lived. Just a week after the first young corn sprouts emerged from the ground, the garden faced a large-scale invasion.

In the morning, when Miên brought the watering can to the garden, the gardener discovered dozens of young corn beds had been completely crushed, the roots bursting onto the red ground.

"Oh my god! Who destroyed my garden like this?" Miên screamed, threw away the watering can, and ran along the soil beds to check.

She knelt down next to a bed of corn, looking at the lush green shoots that were now left with only the jagged stumps, her heart ached. She clearly remembers every night sitting with Phong soaking seeds, watching the planting time to ensure the right weather, but after just one night, all that effort almost disappeared.

Hoàng Phong walked from afar, his face pensive. He squatted down, picked up a clump of gray hair stuck to the barbed wire fence and examined it.

"It's not people. It's field mice," Phong sighed. "The newly reclaimed wasteland has abundant food and no toxic chemicals, so rats come to nest very quickly. They are hungry, and when they see the delicious seedlings, they bite them all."

"So what should we do? Buy rat poison and kill them all!" Miên gritted her teeth, sadly watching the seedlings that she had planted each seed herself be destroyed.

Phong shook his head. "You forgot the rules again. We don't use chemicals. Rat bait will pollute the soil, not to mention if dogs, cats or birds eat poisonous rat carcasses, it will damage the entire ecological chain."

"So you're going to stand by and watch them eat up this entire farm?"

"We will use natural enemies and physical methods," Phong stood up, clapping his hands to shake off the mud. "I ordered a few pairs of snakes and owls to put in the garden. Now, go collect scraps. We'll make straw scarecrows."

Half an hour later, a pile of old clothes, straw, bamboo poles and broken pots and pans were piled up in the front yard.

Miên busily stuffed straw into her grandmother's old shirt, grumbling: "Mice are very smart these days. A scarecrow of straw can scare birds, but how can it scare mice?"

"So we have to make the scarecrow make noise," Phong said, carefully tying broken pot lids and beer cans to the scarecrow's arms. "When the wind blows, the scarecrow's arms swing, the cans bang against each other, creating noise. Mice are very sensitive to strange sounds, they will be scared and won't dare to dig in." Miên nodded, starting to feel interested in this manufacturing job. She pulled out a red marker from her backpack and began to diligently draw on the dried gourd shell used as the scarecrow's head.

A moment later, Miên lifted up her "work" to show off to Phong.

It was a scarecrow face with slanted eyes, an open mouth showing sharp teeth, and especially dark, curved eyebrows. It looks both weird and funny.

Phong burst out laughing. "What the hell are you drawing? It looks more like a witch than a scarecrow."

"I don't know anything," Miên proudly laughed. "This is the portrait of Ms. Hà - my former Head of Department. Looking at her face always makes me want to devour the staff. I guarantee, if you put this face in the garden, not only mice but also ghosts will be afraid to run away!"

Phong laughed hard. His laughter was crispy, mixed with Miên's clear laughter, echoing throughout the small yard.

All that afternoon, the two of them worked and teased each other about the strange scarecrow faces. Miên also insisted on naming each one: "Scarecrow number one is named Hà Sep, scarecrow number two is named Hà Hard-tempered, and this one..." She pointed to a scarecrow wearing a misshapen straw hat. "This one is called Hà Ca Ghen, because its face is always frowning in discomfort, exactly like her expression whenever she sees a colleague being praised." Phong couldn't help it; he had to sit down on the ground, holding his stomach and laughing until tears flowed from his eyes at the way Miên labeled him so maliciously but absurdly.

That afternoon, five "Boss Hà Scarecrows" were placed scattered throughout the corners of the garden. When the wind blew, the empty cans clanged against each other, creating a strange music that drove away the rodents.

The next morning, while Miên was watering the bean beds, Mrs. Tu passed by, stopped completely in front of the fence, her eyes widened as she looked at the five strange scarecrow faces swaying in the wind.

"Oh my god, what is this?" Mrs. Tu took a step back, startled, clutching her chest. "It looks so scary, it makes me think there's a ghost!"

"Chasing mice, Mrs. Tu," Miên replied, her voice calm, trying not to laugh. "At night, these animals also make noise. I'm sure the mice will run away when they hear it."

Mrs. Tu looked closer, then suddenly burst into laughter. "That scarecrow wearing a straw hat, why does his face look familiar? It's just like a certain woman I've seen on a TV show, whose face is always so gloomy." She shook her head, her voice still sarcastic but less harsh than usual. "Flying them is really free, but I admit it's fun to look at. As long as we can chase away mice, I don't have to worry about pests destroying my garden." That was the first time since Phong started renovating the abandoned garden that Mrs. Tu said a sentence that was not completely ironic. Miên stood silently watching her figure disappear behind the bamboo grove, thinking to herself that perhaps the most rigid prejudices, sometimes just a shared laugh is enough to crack a little.

A few days later, the effectiveness of the puppet army began to clearly show its effect. The number of destroyed corn beds has completely decreased, leaving only a few small tooth marks at the edge of the garden where the sound of cans hitting has not yet reached. The pair of owls that Phong ordered have also begun to nest in the old longan tree at the end of the alley. At night, they occasionally chirp loudly, making Miên startled, but also feel more secure knowing that the field mice now have to be wary of a real predator.

In the evening, Miên and Phong sat on bamboo mats on the porch, enjoying sweet potatoes grilled from the glowing wood stove. The highland sky is clear, filled with sparkling stars like diamonds sprinkled on a black velvet background.

"When I was little, I often went to the apartment rooftop to look for stars," Miên looked up at the sky, her voice soft. "But the street lights in Saigon are so bright, I can never see any constellation clearly."

Phong broke the hot sweet potato in half and gave half to her. "The city gives people many comforts, but also robs them of the real sky. Here, you not only see stars, you also hear the sound of frogs chirping and crickets chirping. That is the breath of nature."

Miên took a bite of the sweet, fleshy sweet potato. The warmth spreads from the tip of the tongue to the stomach, dispelling the chill of the night. She secretly looked at the side profile of Phong's face under the starlight. His strong features, calm eyes and steadfastness gave her a strange feeling of security.

"Do you ever feel lonely? Living alone here, no friends, no relatives nearby," Miên asked softly, her eyes still not leaving the sparkling constellations.

Phong was silent for a moment, thinking about her question. "Yes. But being alone in nature is different from being alone in a crowd. Here, even though there is no one around, I still feel like I am connected to something bigger, the land, the trees, the rain, the sun. In the city, there are millions of people around, but I have never felt so lonely," He paused for a moment, then continued: "But recently, I find this garden less lonely."

Miên blushed slightly, bowed her head and pretended to attentively chew the sweet potato, not daring to look up to see if his reaction was detected by him or not.

The two sat in silence for a long time, only the sound of insects chirping and the crackling fire in the stove coming from the back of the house. Miên glanced slightly at Phong and saw him looking up at the sky, his distant eyes watching a meteor streak that had just passed by and then disappeared. She secretly wished, even if she didn't say it out loud, that peaceful days like these would last forever, undisturbed by anything out there.

"Tomorrow we have to check the entire eastern fence again," Phong suddenly spoke up, breaking the silence. "I heard Uncle Bảy say that the watershed area has more rain this year than usual. Don't worry."

"You're always so worried," Miên laughed, lightly punching his shoulder. "Just let tomorrow worry about tomorrow's things, just enjoy this beautiful sky today."

Phong smiled slightly and did not refute, but his eyes still flashed with an indescribable thoughtfulness, as if the intuition of someone who had worked in the fields was telling him that sometimes nature was the most peaceful when it was silently accumulating the biggest changed.

The atmosphere is quiet, only the sound of the wind rustling and the sound of beer cans clanging from the scarecrows in the garden. In that moment, Miên suddenly realized that her heart had begun to take root in this barren but loving plateau land.