“Read for me,” Ph?m Mai Linh raised her little voice, looking at me with typical Ph?m family’s eyes, which were too big for her faces.


    I sighed. I regretted putting the book down too soon. It was too heavy to be lifted by one arm, without support from other servants. I never expected the little girl would wake up at midnight and immediately demanded stories. I sat back on her bed, rubbing her chubby cheek.


    “What do you want to hear?” I asked gently.


    “Anything, about the tree.” Her eyes blinked with excitement.


    I could not help but laugh a little bit. Children are children whose curiosity outweighs their memories. I had told her repeatedly the written version of that cursed red cotton tree.


    “Once upon a time, a long time ago, there was a young woman who died young. Because she resented heaven and earth for why she had to leave when she was young, her soul took shelter under the huge red cotton tree in the village communal house. Then one day, a merchant with a soaring soul saw the apparition of a stunningly beautiful girl. He kept coming closer and immersing himself in it. The red cotton tree suddenly proliferated, overwhelming the entire village communal house. The villagers kept hearing the plaintive cries every night, making their hearts restless, crops lost, and the masses miserable until a Taoist monk stopped. He swung his sword to cut off the tree, throwing away his cloak, and disappeared. Days after days, years after years, the red cotton tree suddenly grew again. People were afraid and tried to cut it down, but the tree trunk seemed to have magic. But then, they realized that the tree no longer caused disaster. Those two lost souls have probably already found their places in the afterlife."


    Before I finished telling, I had already heard the even sounds of Mai Linh’s breathing. She had fallen asleep, but I continued the story anyway. The old hag had always been like that. When Di?m Th?y had fallen asleep, and I was extremely sleepy, she would continue her tales regardless of the audience. The only difference was that her tales were much more varied, as she was illiterate and just repeated the stories other hags had told her.


    “I have heard that the young woman was General Nguy?n Ki?n Hoàng’s concubine. When she died, he never came to visit, never made a proper funeral. She resented him so much that she would rather stay a ghost forever than find herself in a different life,” she said.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    “The merchant. I have heard that maybe the young woman was the merchant’s first wife. He had forgotten her after falling into the sea. He married the one who rescued him, and his first wife hung herself on the tree. The merchant became one with his wife after regaining his memories,” she told another version of that tale.


    I chose to believe the latter version because I was General Nguy?n Ki?n Hoàng’s daughter. My real name was Nguy?n Di?u Lan. After my father died in the battle, he had sent me to the Lord Ph?m family with the hope that they could take care of me as their child. It would be an impossible thing to ask if my family had not looked after Lord Ph?m’s first son for 2 years before I was born. I was asked to change my name on the first day I arrived at D?t L?c Island. Tr?n was my great grandma’s surname. Van means clouds, which resemble me, floating without end. Di?u was my mother’s name. I never knew her face, but I knew one thing for sure. My father loved her so much that he buried himself in battles, neglecting his own child. I was arranged to stay at the servants’ house two days after I came to the island, which did not surprise me. However, I was startled to see Ph?m Th? An—the third son of Lord Ph?m—also stayed here.


    Thinking of him, I suddenly remembered that today I should finish the translation of “Plants and flowers” – the scared book of botany on this island, but the language was too ancient, and the cursive was too hard to read, so it needed a translator. I recalled the day I was carried back to the house by my fellow servants. I did not know how I could survive the infectious fever, the extreme blood loss, and the grief of separation from my beloved sister. I could not do heavy tasks since then, but thanks to the generous Third Master, I still could stay here and make money. Ph?m Th? An never missed a chance to exploit his servants’ potential, including my knowledge of our nation’s ancient languge. For the first time, I felt grateful for my father to left me alone all those first years of my life, so I found my comfort in studying language.


    I looked down. My left arm was lost, and Th?y lost her right arm. My heart ached at that thought of her being alone in the graveyard, and no one came to rescue her. I pressed the brush against the paper until the ink gathered at one point and almost destroyed the precious book. Even though I always told myself to be strong, and she was definitely alive. I would find a way to get back to it. Sometimes, I still felt like I couldn''t breathe.


    “Is Mai Linh asleep?” Ph?m Th? An asked.


    I looked up and startled. A tall human body appeared before my eyes. The Ph?m family all have the same body shape, and Mai Linh will probably be the same when she grows up.


    "What''s wrong?" He bowed low. His eyes, too big for his face, probed my tear-stained cheeks. His skin was already yellow, combined with the dim candlelight, making him look more ghost than human.


    “Nothing. It’s a little bit difficult but I’ll try.” I swallowed all the sobs away. I would make my way to find Di?m Th?y, but in order to do that, I needed to survive first.