The fragrance returns

He collapsed at the foot of a tree near the Thị shrine just before dawn. A cold mist hung in the air. He fainted from hunger and exhaustion, which had drained all the strength from his frail, withered body. Then he awoke, vaguely finding himself in a strange room. Looking around, he realized this wasn't his usual home. He heard someone outside saying that the man who had fainted at the Thị shrine was still asleep.

For over a decade as the caretaker of Quang Pagoda, Mr. Vong had helped many destitute people. This time, he encountered a desperate drug addict and brought him into the pagoda. The head monk wiped his face with a towel and changed his clothes, as his whole body was covered in dew. He was covered in scars and tattoos. Looking closely, Mr. Vong recognized him as Quan, the son of old Quynh from the beginning of the village, who had once caused trouble in the neighborhood. Old Quynh's family had moved to the city to start a new life, and were said to be very wealthy. Every time they returned to the village, they were ostentatious, their cars roaring noisily. Then their children became addicted, and his wife left without a trace. Old Quynh himself died of cancer. Quan had three brothers, and he witnessed them all fall from grace, one after another, from being famous playboys to finally passing away. Now, he had returned here, loitering around the village, and causing a lot of trouble with his thefts.

Thanks to the bowl of porridge, he felt better, his eyes reddening as he looked around the room. He thanked the abbot and Mr. Vong, two people who had saved him, whom he had never met or remembered. Outside, thin rays of sunlight filtered through the leaves, falling on the courtyard. A strange scent drew him out onto the veranda, looking up at the persimmon trees that hung down over the wide courtyard. The ancient persimmon trees, their gnarled trunks covered in moss, were in their fruiting season, their fragrance intoxicating. A scent that poured the gentle charm of the countryside into his cunning, scarred soul. Quân asked, "Where am I, Uncle?" Mr. Vong replied, "Early this morning, I found you lying at the base of the persimmon tree, right by the shrine over there…" Still dizzy, Quân tried to ask permission to leave, but Mr. Vong stopped him.

In the days that followed, Mr. Vong thought a lot about the man who had previously caused his daughter so much pain. Should he let him go, or save him? He had a daughter named Lua, who had been teased by Quan and his brothers. Lua trusted the handsome Quan, giving herself to him only to suffer humiliation. After that, Lua was heartbroken because she had to have an abortion, enduring a great shock, and then agreed to marry Thanh. Thanh was also an addict, causing much trouble for his family and the village. At that time, Quang Pagoda had to care for nearly a dozen children, newborns abandoned at the gate. After Thanh died from a drug overdose, Lua was so disheartened that she abandoned her family and her grief and went to the southern city to work as a factory worker.

As the years passed, Mr. Vong's grief subsided thanks to his service at the Buddhist temple. He helped the temple daily, nurturing the vulnerable who clung to the moss-covered walls and compassion to survive. Despite his wife's objections, he decided to adopt the man. He believed that the man's soul, riddled with wounds and darkness, could pose a danger to him and those around him, but his compassion and benevolence could awaken someone who had reached a dead end.

***

“The addict has learned to work, water plants, raise chickens…” The villagers whispered from the moment he decided to keep the boy. They said Mr. Vong was wasting his time with straw. He told them, “Should I just throw him out on the street?” Looking into the boy’s eyes, which now shone with hope and faith, and whose soul had learned to appreciate the birdsong and the scent of persimmons, he believed the boy would be reborn. During his time with the boy, he faced many difficulties. When his adopted son had a seizure, brandishing a knife and trying to attack his adoptive father, Mr. Vong used the martial arts he had learned on the battlefield to easily subdue him. When the boy was struggling with withdrawal symptoms, Mr. Vong would press down on his back and massage him to calm him down. The best method of rehabilitation is labor. He brought the boy home and had him work in the garden, planting trees and raising chickens and ducks. He knew that only when people's hands learn to work, tending to each row of vegetables and pot of flowers, and understanding the value of sweat, can they think about the good things in life. After each strenuous workout, drenched in sweat, he would go down to the river next to the temple to bathe. Thanks to his perseverance, the withdrawal symptoms gradually subsided… The villagers understood and supported Mr. Vong. Some even brought their children and grandchildren to him for guidance and advice on addiction treatment. The prestige of the small, solemn temple nestled under the ancient trees was further enhanced.

The village is beautiful because of the shade of ancient persimmon trees present in the temple grounds, at the beginning and end of the village. And there are so many persimmon trees. They are lush and green. Persimmons offer their fragrance to a changing countryside, escaping the dark clouds of the past to become a peaceful place. Strangely, these persimmon trees bear fruit twice a year, offering their fragrance in mid-autumn and late winter. The scent of the persimmons stirred something in Quân's heart that was difficult to explain, like the resonant echo of youth, with a yearning for life. He asked his foster father for permission to expand the shade of the persimmon trees. The village is located near Sỏi Hill, which was once a low rocky hill. The rocks have been completely quarried, leaving only a barren, desolate wasteland. Thanks to the prestige of the temple and Mr. Vọng, the commune committee agreed to let him bring land to plant persimmon trees, with the aim of providing more shade for the village. He began the meticulous process of grafting branches so that after four months he could cut them and plant them. After selling the first batch of chickens he raised with Mr. Vong, he asked for money to hire someone to transport soil to fill the gravel mound, then he dug up small persimmon trees from the temple grounds and planted them. The second batch of chickens was almost ready for sale, which was also the time he could cut the grafted persimmon branches and plant them. He was diligent and hardworking, always drenched in sweat, his clothes covered in dirt. He had completely broken free from his addiction and debauchery. He had transformed into a completely different person.

One day, while looking in his foster father's display case, he saw a photograph of a girl with shoulder-length hair sitting under a persimmon tree. It felt like a needle pricked the back of his neck. He froze. Who could it be? He looked longer and pictured the girl sitting under the persimmon tree at the temple. He broke out in a cold sweat. A girl with shoulder-length hair made him ponder. He began to piece together past events and felt a chill run down his spine.

Mr. Vong had appeared behind him without him noticing. He suddenly sensed something inexplicable about the man. The man, however, was mortified to realize he had committed a grave sin against Mr. Vong's family and his daughter. Oh my God! He began to tremble, intending to retreat. But Mr. Vong called out, "Don't you have anything to say to me?" The man stopped, turning back in shock. Their eyes met. Tears welled up in his eyes. He knelt down and wept. Mr. Vong helped him to his feet. "I'm sorry, I once..." Mr. Vong said kindly, "I know, I recognized you from the beginning." The man stammered, his face now blurred with tears, "Why did you save me, Father? I've sinned against your daughter..."

The atmosphere was stifling. Mr. Vong sighed and sat down. He loved his daughter, but he couldn't punish or ignore the person who had inflicted such deep wounds on his family. Quan's remorseful expression pained him. Now that Lua was hiding inside, he had repeatedly urged her to come home, find work in their village, at least to have someone to rely on. Then he stood up and patted Quan on the shoulder: "What's done is done, we can't do anything else."

***

Two years passed, and the countryside, once known for its shade and fragrance, became a haven for young men and women. They flocked there, posing for photos and creating a rare, vibrant atmosphere. Gò Sỏi was flourishing thanks to Quân's skillful care. Now, he was devoted to Quang Pagoda and Mr. Vọng's family, diligently running a livestock farm. He didn't dare meet Lụa twice because he was ashamed. Mr. Vọng had also mentioned his affairs to his daughter, but Lụa didn't react. Lụa had been sweet-talked by him, then disappointed, burdened with humiliation, and drifted into a perpetual loneliness from which she couldn't find escape. At work, Lụa also faced storms and despair, eventually deciding to return to her parents.

Seven years away from home, away from the bustling seasons, Lụa had matured, but the heavy burden remained. Her parents gradually spoke about Quân and his progress, hoping to soften their daughter's heart. Mr. Vọng pointed out that there is no destiny other than what we create for ourselves. Each person must learn to transform past pain into motivation for life. Lụa met Quân again during a thunderstorm, both helping Mr. Vọng shovel rice to dry in the yard. At that moment, Quân only wished for something strong enough to take away his shame. As for Lụa, her eyes suddenly became calm. Then he started a conversation with her. She answered whatever he asked, neither enthusiastically nor coldly. He mentioned the gravel mound, the fruit of his labor. The rain suddenly stopped. He wanted to take her to visit the gravel mound. Her mother overheard and told them to go see when the grafted branch would bloom... Her mother's words motivated Lụa and also made him less embarrassed.

A gentle breeze carried the scent of the fields, drifting aimlessly. He felt as if nature was offering a treat to him and Lụa. With eyes that had softened, as gentle as the earth, he apologized to Lụa. Lụa heard it as if the wind were whispering beside her. She didn't know how to respond. Perhaps the green of the growing persimmon trees on the gravel hill would help her answer. She simply smiled, a serene smile, in the green breeze...