During the first humid season after moving to Nam Đài city, Lê Thanh Mộng’s legs were covered in mosquito bites. She hadn’t paid much attention to them, but when she woke up that morning, the intense itching made her think her legs were having an allergic reaction, so she scratched for a while, then lay flat on the bed, unwilling to get up.
“Time to get up…” She looked up, staring at the wall clock opposite her; the hands pointed to 7:45. Outside, two distinct sounds echoed: one was the sound of cars, the other was the sound of the green train.
Behind the house was a lush green rice field, with a dark brown railway track running through its center, and a pristine white highway bridge spanning above the railway.
Cars drove above, trains ran below. Without fail, every day at 7:45, they would pass by her window, emitting a deafening, ear-splitting noise.
When she first moved here in winter, Lê Thanh Mộng had been utterly devastated. Before, she had lived in a quiet villa with a garden, where the loudest sound in the early morning was the chirping of birds outside her window, not this grating engine noise.
She had tried stuffing cotton in her ears, tried sealing the gaps in her windows with tape, and even tried opening the door and yelling at the people outside, “It’s deafening! Can’t you stop?” But all of it was useless.
After enduring months of torment from winter to spring, she could now face it all with indifference, even considering it her alarm clock.
What else could she do?
Move houses? That was impossible.
Her father, Lê Sóc, had completely lost his credibility in society. He was nicknamed “The Defaulter.” All real estate registered in his name had been seized by the court for auction, and other assets were also frozen and under investigation. Even so, they still had an insurmountable debt.
The root of all their troubles lay in the bank’s multi-guarantor loan system. When the real estate industry was booming, many people invited her father to do business and invest with them. Some banks generously lent them capital to meet their annual KPIs, and the combined amount from several banks totaled hundreds of millions of yuan.
Everyone co-guaranteed the loans, sharing the risk, which made everyone feel much more secure. But the reality was that when too many people acted as guarantors, things would gradually spiral out of balance.
Last year, before the real estate investments had even broken even, the banks changed their policies and tightened their grip on debts. One of the guarantors defaulted, absconding with the money, and the remaining individuals, including her father, had to bear the brunt of his actions.
This was still not the hardest thing to accept. On the day her father’s assets were frozen, he also learned he had liver cancer. The consequences of his heavy drinking and entertaining clients in his early business years had now manifested in him.
The only stroke of luck was that his surgery was quite successful, but because of it, her father’s health was no longer what it used to be. He wanted to rebuild everything, but his health and capital were no longer what they had been at the start.
Lê Thanh Mộng could only follow her father back to her mother’s hometown in Nam Đài. Here, there was a house her maternal grandparents had left for her mother after they passed away, and because it was registered in her mother’s name, not her father’s assets, it had not been confiscated by the court.
Nam Đài was a small, remote, secluded city, boasting both majestic mountains and a poetic, romantic sea, making it very suitable for rest and recuperation.
But for someone who had never known hardship like Le Thanh Meng, this was clearly a torment. The first time she pulled her white suitcase in front of the small house, she was startled, her face turning pale, by the blood-stained water splashing out from the drain.
An old man walking his dog passed by, smiled, and pointed to the market next door: “Don’t worry, young lady, it’s just pig’s blood.”
She looked in the direction the old man pointed and immediately saw a pork stall by the road. A freshly slaughtered pig hung haphazardly overhead, its head clearly visible before her eyes. That sight gave her nightmares for three whole days.
**
After the sound of the vehicle passed, the train still slowly rolled on, and it was more than a minute later before the surroundings returned to silence.
Le Thanh Meng sat up, put on her slippers, and went into the kitchen to cook two portions of breakfast. Before, she had a housekeeper who meticulously prepared three meals a day; lunch even included freshly baked pastries, and supper in the evening. Back then, all she had to do was open her mouth and eat with relish. Sometimes, she even worried about gaining weight, so she’d just eat a bite and throw the rest away.
But now? Not a single grain of rice could be wasted. If a few grains splashed out, she had to carefully pick them up, rinse them clean with water, and continue cooking.
Because it was the humid season, the rice-washing basin had grown mold. Patches of green moss adorned the deep dark color at the bottom of the basin, but she just gently wiped it away and used it as is.
After finishing the congee, Le Thanh Meng couldn’t help but squat down by the balcony to clean the mold.
Last night, Nam Dai experienced heavy rain. The window hadn’t been closed tightly, and the ceramic tiles were covered in water marks.
Le Thanh Meng washed the bottom of the basin. She felt that these patches of mold weren’t being washed away by the water at all, but were instead burrowing into her pores through the steam, then multiplying inside her. Thinking this, her legs began to tingle with an itch.
Sounds came from the living room, and Le Suo’s weak voice sounded behind her: “What are you washing?”
“Nothing, Dad, the congee is almost ready,” she said without turning her head. “You can go into the kitchen and scoop some out to eat.”
The sound of footsteps faded, followed by the clinking of bowls and chopsticks. Le Suo carried out two bowls of congee and called Le Thanh Meng to breakfast. She placed the rice-washing basin on the balcony to dry and then went into the living room.
This house was very small, with no proper dining room. The dining table was placed next to the TV, surrounded by miscellaneous clutter. Walking through it was like navigating an obstacle course. There was a lot of stuff, and the house was small, so they had no other choice.
The two sat down at the table, silently scooping and eating their congee.
Le Suo looked for a topic of conversation: “Aren’t you going to work today?”
Le Thanh Meng simply replied softly: “I’m going tomorrow.”
“Oh, then just rest up today.”
“You’re the one who should be resting, Dad. It’ll probably keep raining today, so don’t go fishing anymore.”
“It really rains a lot here. No wonder your mother said she liked to go to Jingji when she married me. This place is all rain, who can stand it?” Le Suo unconsciously mentioned his wife.
This was the tenth year since Le Thanh Meng’s mother passed away, but she still felt her mother was everywhere. Because Le Suo would constantly mention her, as if she had never left. Every Qingming Festival and on her death anniversary, he would invariably bring her mother’s favorite lily-of-the-valley flowers to her grave to talk.
“Qingming Festival is coming again soon…” Le Suo looked at the lunar calendar hanging on the wall.
Le Thanh Meng knew what he was planning. She put down her chopsticks, preempting him: “Don’t torment yourself anymore, Dad. Do you really have to sit on a hard seat for over twenty hours just to get there? Don’t you know your body isn’t well? You almost fainted on the train coming here, have you forgotten?”
Lê Sóc was like a child scolded by his mother, knowing he was in the wrong, so he remained silent for a long time. Only much later did he say in a low voice, “I can manage. Otherwise, your mother in heaven would worry, worry that I didn’t come to visit her this year.”
“I also have to go apologize to her for not taking good care of you.”
Hearing this, Lê Thanh Mộng felt a lump in her throat. She forced out, “Do you really have to go, Dad?”
Lê Sóc nodded without hesitation.
**
After dinner, Lê Thanh Mộng made an excuse to buy drawing paper and paints, and took an umbrella to go out. Outside their gate was a pork stall. Pig’s blood dripped down, and after being washed by the rain for a while, the blood spread everywhere.
She carefully avoided it and tiptoed to a stall by the market. She held her dripping umbrella, shaking it a few times, which splashed rainwater onto her clothes. A few drops ran straight down her neck, bringing an unpleasant damp sensation.
She hadn’t walked many steps from the door, yet everything around her already annoyed her. She quickened her pace, heading towards a deserted bus stop. About seven or eight minutes later, a yellow bus slowly stopped in front of her.
After dropping a coin into the machine, she boarded the bus. Several people inside stared at her. Today she was wearing a black *áo dài*, which was neat and formal, but the back of the dress had a section cut out. Her jeans were similar; they looked normal, but there was a long tear on the back of the thigh.
In Kinh Ky, this style of dress was very common, but when she came to Nam Dai, wearing something like this out would draw dozens of stares, each with a myriad of emotions.
Lê Thanh Mộng pretended not to notice. She knew her clothes were different from what people in Nam Dai wore, but that’s just the kind of person she was.
If one day no one looked at her anymore, if they treated her like just another person in this small city, that’s when she would truly feel uncomfortable.
**
When the bus stopped at the “Nam Dai Fleet” station, Lê Thanh Mộng got off.
It was still drizzling. She opened her umbrella and walked towards the nearby fleet. The middle-aged guard at the gate yawned widely, paying no attention to those who arrived. Lê Thanh Mộng easily entered the bus depot.
There were a few long-distance buses in the depot, with no one in the driver’s seats. She glanced at each bus, with only the patter of rain around her.
But as she reached a turn, she suddenly heard the sound of a harmonica mixed with the rain.
A driver?
Lê Thanh Mộng’s eyes lit up. She walked towards the sound and saw a bus parked in the very last corner.
Among the countless silent vehicles, only this bus’s wipers were moving, making the silhouette of the person in the driver’s seat appear and disappear.
He wore a black jacket, his long legs propped on the steering wheel, his large hand holding a silver-gray harmonica.
He was bowing his head, his lips moving across the instrument. His hair fell across his forehead, obscuring his eyes. Noticing someone watching, he suddenly looked up.
The music stopped.
The wiper swished, sweeping away the falling raindrops and clearing the glass in front of the man’s face. Lê Thanh Mộng could now clearly see the man in front of her.
On a damp, gloomy day, anyone who went out would have a sullen, gray expression. She thought no one could escape the effects of this unpleasant weather, but the man was an exception.
Beneath the gloomy sky, a dazzling light seemed to emanate from him. Tiny raindrops silently fell, covering the glass and obscuring the man’s face. Lê Thanh Mộng snapped out of her daze, walked to the passenger-side door, and knocked a few times.
The man lowered the window, rested his arm on the frame, glanced at her, and said nothing.
Lê Thanh Mộng broke the silence first: “Hello, may I ask if you’re taking jobs?”
“What kind of cargo?” He finally spoke. She didn’t like his voice much; she could tell he was a heavy smoker just by his tone.
“Not cargo, but people.” Lê Thanh Mộng looked up and stared at him. “You long-haul drivers must have cargo compartments big enough for people to sleep in, right?”
“Who? You?”
“My father and I.” She explained briefly, “He absolutely must make a trip to Kinh Kỳ. For some reasons, he can’t take the high-speed train or plane, and couldn’t get a sleeper ticket on a regular train. If he sits in a hard seat, his body won’t be able to endure it. If you’re transporting goods to Kinh Kỳ, setting aside a small space for him to sleep would be much easier on him, and quieter too. We can coordinate our time with you; we just need to arrive before the Qingming Festival.”
Actually, the best solution for her father’s health condition would be to book a sleeper bus.
Not to mention whether it was expensive or not, the important thing was that Nam Đài didn’t even have sleeper buses. She could only resort to begging and relying on cargo trucks.
He let out an “Oh,” then said, “No deal.”
Lê Thanh Mộng frowned: “I’ll pay you. That way, besides the freight fee, you can earn an extra amount.”
His expression wavered.
“One thousand yuan, is that enough?”
Holding the harmonica in his hand, he said, “Do you know how long it takes to get to Kinh Kỳ? I can’t drive that far alone.”
“So you mean you still need another driver with you?”
He said nothing, just rolled up the window, shutting her out.
Lê Thanh Mộng’s hand, holding the umbrella, clenched. She turned and left. She couldn’t believe no one would take this job. But her luck was just that bad; most of the cargo trucks had already left the depot, and the remaining few were empty, meaning she had come for nothing.
Lê Thanh Mộng walked around the depot in a circle and returned to her starting point. That grumpy fellow was still in the same position, playing his harmonica.
Lê Thanh Mộng took a deep breath, walked resolutely towards him, and raised her hand to knock a few times on the window.
Annoyed, he rolled down the window. Lê Thanh Mộng said directly, “Please get out of the car for a moment.”
“...?”
She persisted, “Please get out.”
He and she stared at each other for a few seconds. Perhaps out of curiosity about what she intended to do, he shrugged a moment later, opened the door, put his feet down, and jumped out, standing before her. His presence was like a large umbrella suddenly unfurled, tall, lean, and imposing.
Standing before him, Lê Thanh Mộng seemed strangely small.
But she didn’t feel afraid because of it. Taking advantage of him getting out, she quickly grabbed the car door, tossed her umbrella aside, and sprang into the driver’s seat.
He hadn’t expected her to do that; he froze. Her fierce, determined look struck him squarely.
Lê Thanh Mộng didn’t even buckle her seatbelt. She turned the key, started the engine, stomped on the accelerator, and recklessly drove forward.
He didn’t react in time and was splashed in the face with exhaust fumes and rainwater.
The cargo truck swayed precariously for a moment, stabilizing just as it was about to lose control. After driving steadily for a bit, it suddenly lurched forward again. The whole process looked like a headless snake.
Damn it, is she driving a cargo truck? It looks more like she’s navigating a mountain pass.
But he could still tell that the driver was quite something. At first, he was quite astonished, then he gradually shifted to a state of amused exasperation. Still holding his harmonica, his eyes were fixed ahead as if he wanted to see if she would successfully conquer this vehicle.
After driving a few rounds, Lê Thanh Mộng finally skillfully drove the car back to its original spot. She lowered the car window, and the two of them swapped positions. Unfortunately, due to her height, she couldn't look down at him; she could only see him at eye level.
“I have a driver’s license and four years of experience driving cars. Although this is my first time driving a cargo truck, after some study, I don’t think it will be difficult for me. May I ask if that’s enough to qualify as your co-driver?”
Hearing that, he leaned forward, resting his hand on the window frame, bringing the two of them closer.
Lê Thanh Mộng involuntarily tensed up.
His soaking wet hair was slicked back. He smiled, a smile implying she truly didn’t know her place, but what he said was: “Alright, hand over the deposit first.”
Lê Thanh Mộng finally breathed a sigh of relief.
She took out a one-hundred-yuan bill from her person; there was a black mark on its top-left corner. She directly tucked the bill into his chest pocket, inadvertently feeling the firm muscles of his chest at the same time.
“I only brought this much.”
He slowly said, “Two thousand yuan. One thousand is only enough for one person.”
Lê Thanh Mộng’s eyes widened. He leisurely continued, “If you don’t like it, then don’t.”
She gritted her teeth, finally saying, “Fine.”
Only then did his two fingers pinch the bill, slowly tucking it into his pocket. “Happy to cooperate.”
Lê Thanh Mộng wore a less-than-pleased expression, then turned and left. Before getting out of the car, she glanced at the driver’s license pasted on the vehicle.
She only caught a fleeting glimpse, so she vaguely saw a corner of the photo on the license—it was probably a picture of him when he was younger, with red lips and white teeth, his demeanor completely different from now. But she had already memorized the name below the photo: Kang Yu Shu.