Chapter 1
Bauhinia Variegata
According to legend, during the Hong Bang era, the gods bestowed upon humanity favorable rains and gentle winds. No foreign invaders menaced the borders, and the land feared no marauding brigands running rampant.
Yet, upon the night when the stars contorted into blazing specters and ignited the world in flames, the Tree Demon Quy Xuong Cuong was reborn, sundering the primordial seal that had confined it for eternity within the abyssal depths of the netherworld.
The malevolent tempest engulfed the boundless ocean, trampling every mountain across the realm. Some mortals were drained of their crimson lifeblood, whilst others were reduced to pallid bones; the supreme deities were cast into the abyssal depths, shrouded in eternal darkness.
Lac Long Quan was furious, for the sea of blood had flooded the perfect realm. He forged the Divine Weapon of the Four Holy Beasts to smite the fiends. The sacred weapon overturned the universe, tilting heaven and earth. Yet, regrettably, it could not eradicate Quy Xuong Cuong. The souls of the minion demons under Quy Xuong Cuong's command descended upon the mortal world, bringing calamities—both natural and man-made—year upon year.
Fearing that specters and fiends might rise once more, Lac Long Quan wielded the Divine Weapons to purge evil and seal away perilous lands. Since that day, the Four Holy Beasts' Divine Weapons have remained an eternal myth within the spiritual beliefs of the ancient folk of Viet. They have held that as long as the Divine Weapons uphold the sky, specters and fiends will never rise again.
For thousands of years, the legends of the Hong Bang era have been passed down from generation to generation. Some have held the legends to be true, while others have denied the existence of demons and deities. Those who have placed faith in these legends have often yearned to wield the divine weapons to command, slay kings, and govern the realm. Meanwhile, those who have not believed have dwelt in a world where verity and falsehood have been entwined.
The common folk have treated legends as instruments for gain. The venerable pedagogue at the village's edge hath drawn legs upon the serpent in his teachings. Wandering bards at village assemblies have strained their minds to give the dragon its eyes, earning a trifle in return.
The listeners have found the sacred lore distorted, yet as time hath passed, their ears have grown accustomed, and they have come to favor the tales spun by others over those of old. This unending tale has spread far and wide, taking root even in the distant mountain ranges at the borderlands.
The rocky mountains have risen and fallen, standing before the shadowed woods. A trail with verdant grass on both sides has cut lengthwise through the mountains and forests. Along the roadside, villagers have erected modest booths against the mountainside. Most of the guests have gathered in the village halls, partaking of simple repasts and draughts whilst listening to wandering minstrels recount the ancient legends of the Hong Bang era:
- Quy Xuong Cuong hath been laid to ruin, and the world has come to face the Demon Emperor, a being ten thousand times more potent. The Demon Emperor has seized control of the heavenly court, compelling the immortals and deities of both realms to bow and acknowledge him as their sovereign. Yet in the end, when confronted with the earth-shattering might of the ancestor Lac Long Quan—power that has shaken both gods and demons—the Demon Emperor has been rent into hundreds of thousands of fragments by the Divine Weapons of the Four Holy Beasts, forever beyond resurrection.
Listening to him rambling on, inserting imaginary endings into legends to attract hearers, Lam Thiet Nam shakes his head in jaded weariness. For the past month, all the villagers have indulged in outrageous antics. On this day, the merrymaking is inaugurated, yet had he not had a prior tryst, he would not have come to this lively throng. He holds a deep aversion to clamor, yet in the end, he is still tormented.
Thiet Nam frowns and quickens his pace. He hath traveled a considerable distance, yet the unceasing acclaims for the jesters delighting the populace have vexed his spirit and tormented him unto madness for the past month. Uttering a silent curse, Thiet Nam strides hastily toward the trysting-place within the forest.
As his gaze sweeps the surroundings, he discerns several figures hastening toward a distant dale, far removed from the forest's edge. Once they vanish from sight, a shadow emerges from its concealment, laying a light touch upon his shoulder.
Thiet Nam turns about and gazes upon the young man garbed in brocade of rough-spun weave. He walketh back and forth, squinteth as he discerneth the other from crown to sole. Frail as a petal before the wind, a simple cap of coarse cloth shroudeth most of the hair and ears, with a few stray locks glistening in the golden rays as they fall loosely upon the nape. Her visage is shadowed, and upon closer scrutiny, one discerneth that concealed far beneath her layers of embellishment lies skin bronzed by sun and wind.
Were she a stranger, Thiet Nam might scarce recognize the maiden in the guise of a man. She was an artful one in disguise. Each time they have met, she hath assumed a new guise, leaving him in wonder.
She hath been the one he hath loved, yet her father hath forbidden their union, and thus he hath long been unable to behold her. Love, beset by countless storms, hath cast the enamored twain into innumerable hardships beneath the wicked devices of her father.
Thiet Nam hath deeply sensed the sorrowful burden veiled within her gaze—the unspoken sorrow, the eyes once likened unto an autumnal lake that he hath adored… now hath lain as bleak as a lake shrouded in mist.
She hath compelled a smile, to erase his burdens. She hath always worried for him. She hath been still so pure. The enamored youth, ashamed, hath berated himself for bringing only sorrow to the one he hath cherished.
Thiet Nam gently tucks all the loose strands at the nape of her neck into the woven fabric hat. The enamored twain, furtively compelled to meet as though they were adulterers, she sorrowfully lowers her gaze and softly murmurs:
- Now thou art a greater master of disguise than I. My father shall not return to the village ere tomorrow.
Thiet Nam observes cautiously:
- This village lieth adjacent to Hoa Ban[1]. The folk of Hoa Ban partake in merrymaking even more than those here. I fear that, should they discover us, ruin shall befall innocent folk—Mother and Thu among them…
She lowers her head, restraining the bitterness that dimmeth her tear-filled eyes:
- Thu threatened to take her own life, that she might compel thee and me to attend the merrymaking. Her purpose was to repay the debt of the favor of having saved her life. In truth, Thu and my mother wished not that I be confined within our dwelling. Should the truth be revealed, my father shall lay all to torment. They braved the peril that I might have lived as a true human, albeit for but a fleeting moment.
She hath never complained of the merciless hand of fate—only hath worried about harming innocent folk. When his beloved hath been happy, he hath watched her smile in silence. When she hath shed tears, he hath listened in silence to her cries. No words of comfort have been able to alleviate the pain and humiliation she hath endured. He embraceth her, awaiting her composure, then softly wipeth away her tears:
- We must needs rejoice, lest all be rendered vain!
The two are about to arrive at the fête, and apart from setting aside their worries, they have no other choice. Tears have undone the guise upon her face, forcing her to disguise herself as a man once more. He teases her to momentarily alleviate her melancholy.
- Young master Ban Lan, let us depart.
Ban Lan arriveth at the distant fête with a wry smile. This year's merrymaking is held at the foot of the white Hoa Ban hill, within a vast dale. Along the slopes of the hill stand towering fire pillars, illuminating the market booths. The villagers erect bamboo stakes scattered throughout. Perched atop the bamboo stakes hang revolving lanterns, swaying gently in the wind.
Typically, countless lively performances doth dance within the glow of the revolving lanterns. Here, however, each revolving lantern doth outline an image to recreate the celestial peach table banquet.
The merrymaking host doth meticulously drape delicate white silk around the revolving lanterns, ensuring that, with each rotation of the lights, visitors might witness the "celestial immortals" descending unto earth to join the revelry.
Ban Lan halts, loath to depart from such a bewitching sight. Thiet Nam whispers into her ear. Ban Lan glanceth about with unease, discerneth naught amiss. She doth glance warily, only to start in fright at the spectral countenance staring at her. Thiet Nam pulls off the mask, mocketh her sportively. Ban Lan doth pout and walketh away in vexation.
A man loath to partake in merrymaking, on this day hath forsaken his own custom. He hath seldom engaged in mirth, yet when fortune hath granted him the chance, he hath jested with her, beholding her endearing sulk with quiet amusement. He doth approach the stall of ornaments and selects the most exquisite lapis lazuli ring, engraved with the delicate form of a bauhinia variegata petal.
Thiet Nam hath oft engaged in artful gambols, causing her to suspect he hath been up to some strange mischief. Deep within, she yet hath awaited the joyous moment her father hath long since stolen from her. What hath seemed a dream fulfilled hath remained, alas, beyond reach—for Ban Lan hath yet been disguised as a man, and Thiet Nam hath not dared to present the ring to the woman he hath loved. The dreamlike figure doth gently place the ring into her hand and whispereth:
- You dost love white bauhinia variegata above all! I cannot deem this a jest. To cherish the flower is to cherish thee.
Though encircled by a throng, amidst mirthful cries and prying eyes, Lan burieth her head against her beloved's shoulder, fearing he may discern her shame for not wholly understanding him. Whenever he hath been in a jocund humour, Lan hath sulked and ignored him, only to have caught him unaware with her mischievous devices, for he hath been easily deceived. Yet this time, she hath been more bashful than when first they have met—when she hath not yet come to fathom her beloved. Even now, he hath remained an enigma unto her.
Thiet Nam doth smile softly and doth whisper in her ear:
- To love, or to understand—I choose love. Dost thou choose understanding, or love?
Lan listeth unto his tender words, her rosy cheeks flushing as the adorned hues of the twilight sky. Shyly, she withdraweth from his embrace. Thiet Nam doth perceive this and swiftly doth feign concern:
- Young brother, hast thou not yet recovered from thy malady? I do tell thee, each time thou dost suffer a relapse, thou dost grow dizzy. Yet thou wilt not heed and dost insist on coming!
Thiet Nam doth feign alarm, as though Lan were about to swoon, and the throng, their curiosity spent, doth turn away. Lan doth lightly tap upon Thiet Nam's breast, her laughter ringing forth to mask her bashfulness, as she doth softly murmur unto him:
"Bauhinia variegata is not the thing I cherish most!"
Lan doth quietly confess her heartfelt sentiments, the rosy hue staining her bashful visage. She doth tread hesitantly forward, concealing her emotions for her beloved. A fleeting smile doth wander across the vale like the wind, and Thiet Nam silently followeth his maiden. The lovers' gazes wandereth absentmindedly over the merrymaking. Amidst the countless sights and sounds, only the bauhinia variegata petals flutter upon the breeze.
"Flowers" are the sole treasure within the hearts of those who fancy not merrymaking.
He doth heed not the bustling assembly, where certain doth bear wares in both hands and beneath their arms, whilst the rest doth flock eagerly, drawn by the merry calls of the stallkeepers.
Familiar guests are greeted as long-lost companions, reunited after many a year. Strangers, however, do shrink in unease at the sight of merchants vying with one another to secure custom, and certain do descend into scuffles. Many doth take flight and seek concealment within the throng, though pressed close 'gainst the horse-drawn wains threading to and fro.
The steed is stayed upon its path, snorting heavily and letting forth a long neigh, pressing impatiently through those dancing about the bonfire. The chorus scatters in haste, yielding passage.
The galloping hooves fade into the distance. Their rhythmic clatter is lost beneath the ethereal strains of a song. Yet even the entrancing melody doth lose its cadence beneath the splendour of countless bauhinia variegata aflame 'neath the starlit sky.
The minstrel doth fall silent, and the dancer standeth frozen as a stone effigy, as though the very heavens doth pause to behold the magical scene. The entire gathering doth marvel, gazing at the blossom embers drifting in scattered wisps like dust of snow. Thousands of 'snow-blossoms' do whirl upon the breeze, blossoms and wind do encircle the highland maidens.
Merely by chance, yet the flower-admirer fancieth the wind and blossoms yearning to dance alongside the mountain maiden.
The maidens do smile radiantly, extending their arms to welcome their "companion of the wilds". Their slender forms sway gracefully to the rhythmic melody, whilst the mountain maiden doth sing with a voice imbued with the rustic essence of the wilderness.
All present do take their turn attending the merrymaking. Lan doth admire the flowers with infatuation, her lips moving yet unable to utter a word. Thiet Nam doth watch, awaiting the moment she doth lose herself in the beauty of the bauhinia variegata. He doth feign calmness, fearing that if he be careless, she may notice.
Lan doth fly with the flowers, her soul drifting toward an endless horizon, enwrapt in a sea of blossoms. She doth remain unaware of the singing and dancing troupe that doth invite her to join.
Although they do resolve to enjoy the merrymaking, both remain reserved, fearing their identities may be revealed, so they tactfully decline.
The singing and dancing troupe doth move about, warmly inviting all, both young and old, unto the merrymaking. With each graceful measure, do they bid guests take a goblet of rice wine, whilst singing and dancing doth welcome guests hailing from afar, accompanied by the dulcet strains of the Hmong reed pipe calling unto kindred spirits.
Nam and Lan do smile as they receive the fragrant goblet of liquor from the singing and dancing maiden, seeking a refuge wherein they may immerse themselves within the melody.
The kindred souls did wistfully recall the days when they were inseparable. Years agone, at this very merrymaking, Lan did dance and sing with grace, like a celestial maiden descending unto the mortal realm, so that the musical ensemble did fall silent. Her voice was soft, yet anon did soar with melodious lays, blending in perfect concord with the night sky:
Mountain girl song, O, mountain girl song,
Echoing song with the lark.
Drunken with wine, we do make friends,
A toast to ease the sorrow of distant guests.
Sadness and longing at the time of parting,
Like the wind fading with the clouds of a thousand mountains,
Like flowers withering that turn the mountains silvery and the rivers white.
O guest from afar, O guest from afar!
I wait for the frost to melt with the cold snow,
Thou dost wait for the full moon with time.
Brothers from the four seas return for joyful reunion,
We shall forever be drunken with the melody of joy!
Every graceful, ethereal, fairy-like step, every sweet gaze, and every delicate smile in a peaceful haven of happiness became an unforgettable memory. This eve, the lovebirds are at the place of their first romantic tryst.
The dance of yore is revived; he and she reminisce upon the joy of days long past. The lovestruck soul finds the familiar lay truly distant, for the one who sings and dances is not she. After this moment, the destined yet star-crossed pair shall be eternally sundered.
Only now do they understand why her mother and Thu do insist she attend the merrymaking with him, despite the lurking dangers. Nam and Lan endeavor to conceal their sorrow with cheer. Each time they turn to each other, the response is ever a warm smile that washeth away all sorrows.
Yet heaven doth let mankind down. The sound of the guqin resonateth along with the lay, and is suddenly cut off by a scream. Amidst the swirling dust in the forest appeareth a band of bandits.
They do thunder into the merrymaking on horseback, brandishing their whips and bellowing profanities to drive the folk away. Pots, pans, and platters are upended, scattering unfinished repast upon the earth. Many keepers of eating-houses are grievously scorched. The guests have no time to react; many are shoved, do collide into one another, and do fall hard upon the road.
The leader doth roar with laughter as he seizeth a little maid from the stall of baubles. Her face turneth pale, and she crieth in terror:
- Father, save me!
The man of modest stature doth rise in panic amidst the fallen throng. Ignoring the stains upon his garments of finest silk, he chaseth after them, shoving aside objects and those who bar his path, urging the swordsmen galloping at full speed to rescue the victim.
- Hasten! If ye save not the young mistress, ye shall all perish!
He runneth as fast as his body alloweth, yet mortal strength hath limits; he can but watch helplessly as his daughter is borne away. The swordsmen who hear their master's urging do wax wroth and do mutter curses.
The young mistress loathed being surrounded by people. She was stubborn, insisting that her protectors maintain their distance. Her father had indulged her unreasonable demands, and thus did they fall into an arduous predicament.
But precisely because the young mistress is captured, they have the chance to prove their valor. Rescuing the young mistress for their master, those who live by the tip of the sword shall cast off their lowly status.
The chance to ascend to the heavens in a single step is imperiled by the emergence of a shadowed figure. He surges past the swordsmen, throwing his billhook straight into the bandit's heart, severing the quiver strapped to his back.
The one who takes action is Thiet Nam; having slain the bandit, he seizes the bow and arrows, mounts his horse, and pursues the band of robbers.
After chasing for a long distance, Thiet Nam closes the gap. He swiftly fires three arrows per round, striking down the henchmen. The accomplices fall into disarray, crying aloud for aid, but are immediately shot through their bodies. The brigand chieftain, seeing that most of his subordinates are dead, doth not grow angry but instead doth sneer:
- Those who fancy themselves heroes, rushing to save fair maidens, all meet their end with heads skewered upon my blade. Speak now—shall I sunder him limb from limb and feast upon his flesh uncooked?
The robbers do cry aloud:
- Sever him limb from limb and devour him raw!
- His arrows are expended. Castrate him until he die!
The little girl is frightened and beginneth to cry and scream. Thiet Nam flyeth over swiftly:
- Release her, or die!
They do laugh aloud:
- After killing a few men, he thinks himself an elite warrior…
Thiet Nam accelerateth swifter than an arrow, throweth a billhook from his sleeves, and cutteth the throats of the robbers. The brigand chieftain is sore amazed and beggeth for his life, yet the weapon flyeth behind him and pierceth the back of his neck. The robber vomiteth blood, which runneth down upon the child. The body falleth as a cry riseth:
- Father, I bleed!
The scenery blurreth through tears as the little girl stareth in bewilderment at the slender figure approaching her. He teareth off his shirt and wipeth the blood off the child. The victim is overcome with shock, struggling, crying, and pushing Thiet Nam away:
- Touch me not! Get thee hence!
He smileth gently and comforteth her:
- Little sister, be not afeard! I am no robber; I am come to rescue thee!
The little girl heareth the warm voice, and her fear disappeareth. She looketh at the man who saith he doth save her with wide, unblinking eyes. Thiet Nam wipeth away all the blood and stains, tending to her gently, as though she were his sister.
The swordsmen arrive, and Thiet Nam delivereth the responsibility. The little girl claspeth his neck tightly:
- No! I am afeard! Thou must sit upon the horse with me!
Thiet Nam smileth forcedly. On the way back, the little girl trembleth all over and keepeth looking around from time to time. Thiet Nam comforteth her with an ancient tale. She temporarily ceaseth crying, rubbeth her eyes, and stareth at him:
- Are you a prince?
She pointeth at the dark skin upon his thin face.
- You are dark and ugly—not as handsome as in the legends!
Thiet Nam laugheth:
- When the youngling kisseth my cheek, I am no longer ugly—but more comely than a legend.
A swordsman speaketh loudly:
- Impertinent…
- I forbid thee to speak! - The little girl yelleth, glaring at Thiet Nam - I forbid thee to call me youngling!
The little girl suddenly sayeth, "baby bird!" She leaneth in, kisseth his cheek, and presseth both hands against his face.
- You resemble no prince, and remain as unhandsome as before...
Thiet Nam bursteth into laughter and rideth his horse faster toward the merrymaking. The retainers quickly chase after him. The father catcheth a glimpse of his daughter's shadow and frantically crieth for all to get out of the way:
- Ngan Ha… Ngan Ha… Have you suffered harm?
Thiet Nam helpeth Ngan Ha dismount so that she may fling herself into the embrace of her father. The father pateth his daughter. Ngan Ha bursteth into tears, afeard of being arrested again, and embraceth her father tightly. The scent of blood lingereth in the air, invading her father's senses.
The father stareth at the blood upon his daughter's shirt and hair in a daze. His machete-shaped eyebrows twitch, and his kind face transformeth into that of a wrathful god. Fierce eyes burn with overwhelming rage, and the father roareth like a wounded beast:
- Ye savages, I shall tear thy whole family apart!
People are afeard and keep away from him. The retainers lower their heads, not daring to face their master. The father carrieth his daughter in his arms, seeking a wise woman. Thiet Nam sayeth briefly:
- The little girl is not wounded. It is the robber's blood.
He cometh to help Lan bandage the broken arms of the injured folk. The father immediately asketh his daughter. Ngan Ha shaketh her head and sayeth:
- I shed no blood, yet I am full of fear! Lucky for me, he saveth me from death!
The father glareth at the swordsmen, as though he would slay them with his eyes. He carrieth his daughter in his arms to thank Thiet Nam:
- My name is Nguyen Yen Van. Esteemed savior, may I inquire thy honorable name?
Thiet Nam tieth the final piece of cloth:
- My name is Nam.
The father taketh out a plate of metal engraved with a meteor shower:
- Meteor Guild's brethren must obey the orders of the holder of this crest!
He handeth it to Thiet Nam.
- The hostleries and hostels of the capital shall regard the benefactor as a most honored guest!
Thiet Nam turneth the crest, examining the intricate patterns and the words "Meteor Guild" engraved upon it. He thanketh Yen Van and tucketh it into the pouch at his girdle. Some swordsmen admire him, whilst others secretly harbor envy and despise him. A fleeting glare of red eyes appeareth ere vanishing.
While busy conversing with his benefactor, Yen Van still observeth all the men-at-arms, his sharp gaze controlling their every move. Rage burneth within Yen Van, yet outwardly he masketh it with hearty laughter:
- Receiving is receiving, not receiving is not receiving. I like it!
Formalities are false. I despise them! – He waveth goodbye and continueth saving folk – Forgive me, I am occupied!
Yen Van laugheth:
- Today is passing wondrous merry!
The swordsman had not yet followed Yen Van for long and thus knew little of his master's temperament. Yet, in deciding to entrust the crest to Thiet Nam, even a fool may see that Yen Van placeth near-absolute trust in him.
The laughter and cryptic remarks imply a desire to turn Nam into a precious ware. Plundering the chance to attain glory while also wresting the most trusted place in the trade guild, the hero, of course, falleth under scorn and envy from the petty villains.
The talented retainers under Yen Van's command had begun building their master's power in Lang Chau, and he had no choice but to select newly recruited swordsmen to escort himself and his daughter to the festival. Thus were two ends attained with a single act, for the father and daughter, in disguise, did also patrol the deceitful shops of the region. The inward cleansing proved a success, and the daughter safely survived the calamity. The benefactor's abilities far surpassed those of the swordsmen. His temper was unfettered, much like Yen Van's.
A renowned merchant within the royal city such as Yen Van has commanded great reverence, and both officials and commoners have shown him deference in three parts. Yet this unknown figure speaks without regard for formalities. The "Double Happiness" seal at the door affirms that granting Thiet Nam the crest has been the right decision. Yen Van takes his leave with joy, leaving behind a promise to meet again.
- If fate wills it, we shall meet once more at... Mau Son!
Ngan Ha grins and waves at Nam. As Yen Van's group disappears from sight, Lan merrily pats Nam on the shoulder and teases him:
He wishes you to wed his daughter!
Nam frowns and replies:
- Merchants seeking profit must take risks. Yen Van proves me. If I idle away my days in revelry and indulgence, he will turn the crest into mere broken iron. But if I meet his expectations, the crest will become a binding accord between us.
Yen Van owes Thiet Nam a debt of gratitude, and the guild master is magnanimous and unbound by trivial formalities. Know a man, know his face, yet know not his heart. Lan worries that if Yen Van be a wily intriguer, Nam will find it hard to escape the wolf's fangs, becoming but an instrument of his designs. She counseleth him to maintain a prudent distance from Yen Van.
- Yen Van hath given thee a chance to press forward, yet we still know not whether he is good or ill. One's visage cannot serve as measure of the heart. Thou shouldst not grow too familiar with him!
Poverty and humiliation prevent him from asking for her hand; this opportunity to alter the course of his destiny is unlikely to come again. Nam embraceth the peril of being deemed a fool, seizing it at all costs.
- I desire not to dwell another day not knowing what tomorrow will bring…
A loud voice interrupts Thiet Nam:
- To grovel before the mighty for rank and fortune—dost thou not feel shame?
Footnote
[1]Hoa ban (Bauhinia variegata) is a signature flower of Vietnam's Northwest region, symbolizing purity, a deep connection with nature, and the cultural heritage of the nation.