The Mountains Sing(74)

“Stand still, bitch.” The knife pressed hard against my neck. A sharp pain cut into me. “Stand still, or I’ll slice your throat.”

“Someone’s coming,” a voice whispered. “Hurry up, you idiots.”

The mob snatched my bamboo pole and baskets. They started running away.

“Robbers. Help. Somebody help!” I hollered, but the men were disappearing into the mist. They even took Mrs. Tú’s cloth with them.

Sáng was shaken but uninjured. I held him, sobbing into his chest.

Sounds of running footsteps. A group of women rushed toward us, each carrying a pair of baskets on a bamboo pole.

“Are you all right, Sister?”

“What happened?”

I searched my body but only emptiness met my fingers. “The robbers, they took all my money.”

“I knew it.” A woman thumped one end of her carrying pole onto the road.

“Hà N?i can be a dangerous place, Sister,” another woman said. “Don’t walk around on your own when it’s getting dark.”

I stood with Sáng on my waist, feeling like a tree without its roots. I was stupid beyond belief. I’d wasted all that time buying and selling, for all the earnings to be robbed. What would I do in this city, without any money?

Someone peeled a sweet potato and gave it to Sáng. He stopped crying, munching on it. My poor boy, he was hungry again.

There must have been fifteen women around us now. Sheets covered their baskets, from which the sweet smell of boiled yam, potatoes, and maniocs rose.

“I was selling fruits,” I told the women. “The mob took away my baskets and pole.”

“How terrible! What’re you going to do?”

“I have to get to the Old Quarter, Sisters, to find Silver Street.”

“But it’s a long walk, and it’s getting dark.”

More mist had settled around us, concealing the road ahead. Drizzle cut across the cold air.

“Sisters, I need to get there tonight,” I insisted. “Please, could you show us the way?”

The women stepped aside, putting their heads together. One of them came to me.

“We’ve decided to change our route. We’ll take you to Silver Street.”

“Are you . . . are you sure?”

“It’s not a bad idea for us to try and sell there.”

Life is great, Guava, because whenever I was put down, there were always kind people who picked me up.

IT WAS DARK when we got to the Old Quarter, a maze of lanes woven along old, slanting houses. I gazed up at bright streetlights atop metal poles. It was much busier here. Life spilled onto the pavement. People were cooking, washing, and drinking tea outside their homes, their voices soft whispers against the wind.

“Here you are. Silver Street. Good luck.” One of the women pushed a bag into my hands. “Something from all of us. Just cheap sweet potatoes.”

A knot expanded in my throat. Human kindness never ceased to amaze me.

Sáng waved his little hands. “Thank you, Aunties,” I said on his behalf.

“Thank you, Aunties,” repeated Sáng. The women waved back, giggling.

I took a deep breath. In front of me stood Silver Street and its hundreds of houses. Where could Master Th?nh’s be?

I didn’t know the address of my teacher’s home. His parents used to be silversmiths, so his house had to have a silver shop. I stood in the middle of the road, looked both ways and decided to head in the direction where more lights were glowing.

“??p quá—Oooh, pretty.” Sáng pointed at magnificently lit doors and windows. Shops lined our path. Silver and gold jewelry glimmered under long glass counters. A few people were browsing, their bodies huddled inside thick winter jackets.

I stepped into a shop where a man sat behind a counter, working on a gold bracelet. He lowered his glasses, looking up at me.

“Chào chú.” I bowed in greeting. “I’m looking for my childhood teacher. Master Th?nh. Do you know him? His family lives here, on Silver Street.”

“Master Th?nh?” The goldsmith wrinkled his already-creased forehead. “Didn’t he leave Hà N?i for a while and teach in Ngh? An?”

“Yes, that’s him! I’m his student from Ngh? An, Uncle.”

“He used to be my elder brother’s classmate.” The goldsmith pulled the glasses away from his face. “But Master Th?nh . . . he died many years ago.”

A cry escaped from deep inside my chest. So I would never have the chance to see my teacher again. Upon his leaving, he’d given C?ng and me half of his books. “You have a fierce will to learn. Keep it burning inside of you,” he’d told us.

I begged the goldsmith with my eyes. “Uncle, I’d like to talk to Master Th?nh’s family.”

“They’re no longer here. His wife and children moved south. They followed the French.” He studied Sáng’s face. “Are you looking for him to say hello, or is there something else?”

“Does he have relatives who still live around here, Uncle?”

“I don’t know.” He lowered his voice. “We’re not supposed to keep in touch with those who migrated south, you know. They’re our enemies now.” He put back his glasses and resumed his work.