Throughout his journey as a single father raising other people's children, he found himself learning patience.
While sitting and chatting with two guests, To walked by and asked Mr. Qua: "Have you seen my wallet? Give it to me?"
His question startled the tea seller. He shook his head. Just like that, To stepped in. He tried to cause trouble, to disrupt Mr. Qua's livelihood. The argument was loud. A few more people had to rush out and push To away. He often picked up lost things. He was born in the countryside, in his youth he went to the battlefield to fight with a gun, was discharged from the army, wandered around looking for work, worked as a porter for a while, then by chance he came to the corner of the road by the Dong village, under the shade of a ebony tree, to sell tea, for nearly thirty years now. In front of him was the road connecting to the national highway, leading to the city center, always hazy with dust. The road was plowed by many trucks, so it was full of potholes. Since selling tea here, Mr. Qua often picked up lost things, he always waited or asked the owner to come and claim it. He believed that if something did not belong to him, he should return it to receive good fortune. As for him, he lived frugally with a few coins of profit from his small tea stall, and that was enough to make him happy and carefree.
More than ten years ago, he once picked up a bag of money that the owner of a brick kiln in the lower commune had dropped. That day, the kiln owner went to pay the bill, wrapped the money in a torn piece of sack and hung it on his motorbike, then went out drinking, and accidentally dropped it on the way back. The kiln owner had hung around the drink stall a few times, so he was not surprised. He immediately asked someone to come and claim the money. When he received the bag of money, the kiln owner loudly thanked him, tearfully, and offered him a gift, but he refused. In the end, he had to accept a piece of paper as a symbol to make the kiln owner happy.
About a week later, he found a package containing more than three taels of gold, followed by a package of money tied horizontally with dry straw. His wallet, watch, necklace, earrings, scarf, hat, gloves, unopened sanitary napkins… often appeared before his eyes. Some days he found them several times. People would tell others to come and ask about them, ask for their things back, sit down to chat, drink water and chat. He was generous and not greedy, so many people liked him. His stories and actions had a strange attraction.
Honest and kind, he also encountered many troubles. He had lived until his hair turned gray, inhaled so much dust, and filtered so many wind blades, but one night he dreamed about doing charity work and was startled. He dreamed that people had dropped so much, scattered all over the road, like autumn leaves, he couldn't pick them all up, he didn't have time to receive the people who came to receive their things. Each person had a different face and appearance, but they all happily opened up when they received them back. Some people came and then left, their thanks as grumpy as broken tiles. One person received a wallet with many important papers, thanked him so much that it was annoying, and then forced him to accept a dozen balut eggs. There were also greedy people who deliberately mistakenly received more valuable things, some who didn't lose anything but came to ask, then showed anger, pouring sorrow on him. Like To, for example. If it weren't for old Ro, To's father and he were comrades, he would have punched him.
Speaking of old comrades, Mr. Qua had lost contact with Mr. Ro since his discharge from the army, and then by chance they met in Dong village. It turned out that Dong village was Mr. Ro's wife's hometown. Her hometown was far away in the coastal area. Her parents had passed away, and she was quite old at that time, so when she got married, she immediately sent her son-in-law away. Mr. Ro wanted to introduce a distant cousin to his wife's family to help his old comrades have someone to take care of them. Mr. Qua also thought that he would grow older and older, and having someone to be his friend and help each other when the weather changed would be good. He met the old woman only once or twice, but they didn't talk much, and they were gossiped about by outsiders, so it didn't get anywhere. He withdrew. Mr. Ro was displeased, and "gossiped" again, saying that he was poor and arrogant. That trivial matter got through to him, but he tried to make it seem trivial to maintain the comradeship. However, the tree wanted to be still but the wind wouldn't stop, and the old woman's family was also moved, so an argument broke out. He was sick for several days and could not open the tea shop because of the injury. Strangely, from that day on, To was like a crazy person, occasionally coming out to make a scene at the tea shop.
But he was dragged into a much bigger tragedy. One summer day, at noon, he was reciting a poem that someone had given him when a woman carrying a basket approached, sat down and ordered a cup of tea. There was a sleeping child in the basket. Mr. Qua said generously: "Where are you two going? Just hail a motorbike taxi and go." The girl smiled and said softly: "My family is only going to the intersection ahead, to visit my uncle. No need to take a motorbike taxi." He stood up and boiled more water in case there would be more customers later. When he turned around, the girl had disappeared, the basket with the child was still there. Looking around and not seeing her, about half an hour later, he felt a chill in his heart. It was over. Could it be... He thought, did she intentionally abandon the child? The people drinking water worried for him. He looked in, the child was half-closed, her lips curled up as if to say hello. People around started running out, looking around, whispering. Some people guessed that it was the tea seller's child, and now his mother had come to return it? He was speechless, almost bringing it to the authorities to seek help from the temple. After a while, he thought, maybe I should just keep it...
He decided to raise the baby quickly. He was helped by people who were still sitting around chatting or looking for someone to help. Having no experience in raising children, he had to stop selling water and became an involuntary father surrounded by many kind hearts. He named his child Hanh with the hope that he would grow up to be a good person. When Hanh was one year old, he picked up a baby girl. People spread rumors that he was a bad person, having an affair with someone, and now they were taking the baby back. He had no energy left to explain. Life was already hard, unable to carry another newborn baby, he reported to the authorities and sent her to a Buddhist temple.
Unfortunately, after a few days of Dong Pagoda taking in the girl, he “picked up” another child. In a row, for several months, six children were abandoned at the place where he sold water. Why didn’t any drug addicts or greedy people come to take care of the children? He opened his heart to do charity, called people, helped and took care of them, with the hope that human love would be a shade to protect the unfortunate, abandoned in the dusty streets. The children were not at fault.
*
In a flash, Hanh went to kindergarten, his face as fresh as a flower, babbling all day long. Now he felt blessed to be with him. He made the house happy. Deep down, he felt that he was a child given to him by God to be his support in the future. Some nights, he would put his hand on his forehead and suddenly worry that one day the boy's mother would come looking for him back. What would he do then?
Throughout his journey as a single father raising children, he realized that he had learned the value of patience. He went through many hardships, difficulties, and criticism to bring back to the temple more than twenty abandoned children on the streets.
That day, outside the coffee shop, a few tattooed, belly-bulging, black-hat, and dark-glassed men came pretending to demand something. A murderous aura spread around. They said they had just dropped it yesterday, and if they were smart, they would return it. Mr. Qua was stunned, thinking something bad was happening. “You guys just said you dropped a few packages like cigarette packs, I didn’t pick them up.” They surrounded him, telling him that he was a greedy old man, and if he didn’t return the items, they would show him who he was. One of them pulled out a sharp knife, murderous intent in his eyes. A chill ran down his spine. No one on the street stopped. What should he do? “Are you deaf, old man? Did you throw up your stuff?” “I told you, you didn’t pick it up.” The fattest one jerked his chin. In a flash, the one wearing a gold chain as big as a finger punched Mr. Qua in the face like a thunderbolt, knocking him down, stunned. The rest of them smashed everything to pieces…
*
After being discharged from the hospital, he took his son back to his hometown to stay, relying on the kindness of his brothers and relatives. One day, Mr. Ro went to Mr. Qua's place to talk and apologize, saying that there had been misunderstandings in the past. Mr. Ro also brought up the story of the gang. It turned out that they had deliberately framed and beaten him in order to take over Mr. Qua's place as a vendor. The gang sent five or six men to stand guard, sell water, and observe, but the road was still just sand, gravel, and dust. Mr. Ro expressed his desire to invite Mr. Qua to continue selling tea, but in a corner of the market in the city's central district. Mr. Qua accepted. He remembered the foggy seasons when he slowly passed by. Selling water became his destiny, his passion.
*
The elegantly dressed, perfumed woman approached and sat down on a chair. She looked at him and ordered a cup of hot tea. Mr. Qua handed her the water, then was startled. It was exactly the same eyes as that year, big and black. This must be Hanh's biological mother. After a few sips of water, probably to calm herself, the woman spoke.
- Hello, uncle. I met you today to tell you something, I hope you understand and forgive me. I am the biological mother of the boy who was abandoned at your coffee shop twelve years ago.
He could not help but stop:
- Now you come to claim your child? No way.
The woman slowly, her eyes sparkling, pleaded:
- No, it's not like that. Please let me finish. At first, I also intended to come and ask you for permission to take the child home to raise. I was very regretful for being foolish enough to abandon the child. But at that time, my circumstances did not allow it. Now life is better. I asked about your story. Everyone told me. It was you who worked hard to raise Hanh, picked up many other children, and then used the money you saved every month to support the children being raised at Dong Pagoda.
Mr. Qua was silent. The woman in front of him cried with emotion. She continued:
- Thinking about your kindness, I dare not ask for Hanh anymore. You deserve him. But I only ask, occasionally let me stand far away to look at him and send a little monthly allowance.
His heart was open and relieved...
- Since things have come to this, I can't refuse. You're still her mother. Just meet her occasionally, wait until she's a little older, we'll tell her the truth, and let her handle it herself. I believe everything will be fine.
The woman handed him a packet of money, saying it was for Hanh's education and for him to support the children living at Dong Pagoda. He hesitated a bit, then accepted it. The noble woman got into her car and made an appointment to meet her son one day.
Short story by NGUYEN VAN HOC