When the treacherous man came to the peaceful village of Mam

Mam village is tiny. Several times the commune has planned to merge it with other villages for easier management, but the people have refused. After all, the village has existed for a long time, even every corner of the field and ditch has a story. The village history is recorded in a thick volume kept in a gilded chest placed in the village communal house.

That is what the villagers have heard from generation to generation, but few have seen the village's records or village regulations with their own eyes. The fourth generation of the village's guardian is already very old. He lives in a dark, quiet place, so sometimes people are startled and think he is a statue.

For many years, the village has been isolated, quiet and peaceful. The urbanization process has stopped at the entrance of the village. There are no concrete roads, no clean water projects. Because the clear well water and the wide dirt road with flowers blooming all year round are enough to satisfy them. Several investors have coveted the village's position but have not had the opportunity.

The village was peaceful until one day, a few cars pulled up, some big-bellied men pointed and nodded their heads, saying they liked it. Of course they liked it. The village was round like a bronze tray, rising several dozen meters above the common ground. According to feng shui experts, this was the land of the emperor. If this place was built as a resort, it would be called absolutely beautiful.

On the Trong Mai hill, they will build an infinity pool. Here, visitors can sunbathe and enjoy the countryside breeze. Next to the white reed grass banks, visitors can freely set up tents, light campfires, and sing and dance. This area has many specialties that visitors will surely love. In addition to river shrimp, there are also field frogs, field crabs fried with betel leaves, and clam soup... Rain or shine, sitting and sipping together is ideal. But perhaps the most ideal is the simple, pristine, and ancient beauty of the village. Even they themselves are not sure they can preserve that for long.

Cat was the last person to come to the village to buy land after many other investors had left in frustration. Cat was very optimistic, he simply thought that everyone wanted money. What money couldn’t buy, a lot of money could. Just throw a pile of money at someone’s face and garden land, even residential land, could be bought. But someone who only knew money like Cat couldn’t understand the cultural value of the village that had been formed over many generations. How could he understand the three words “village soul” that were nurtured in the soul of each person.

- We will never sell the land our ancestors left us even if we die.

- Your village is still here, no one can move you, so why are you afraid?

- You say that because you didn't grow up in the countryside? The soul of the village is not in the soil under your feet, but in the banyan tree, the well, the communal house yard. In the small winding roads. In the columns of smoke rising from the small kitchens with the fragrant smell of straw. In every bush of grass and tree. And yet now you come here to fill in the fields, build this, destroy that. Oh well, even if I told you, you wouldn't understand.

What does Cat need to understand? If he can't buy it, then Cat will come up with another plan. For a cunning person like Cat, there are many ways. Under the lotus pond, dead fish float white, the river wind blows, making the whole village stink. The villagers say it's strange that this year the rice fields are full of golden apple snails. That species is both destructive and reproduces quickly, making it very difficult to eradicate.

Cat's junior said:

- We should be more forceful, otherwise we won't be able to stop this.

Cat looked at the clock in front of him and said slowly:

- No need to rush. The medicine will take its time. Just focus on other projects first, then come back here when you're done.

Cat did not know that, for the people of Mam village, the soul of the village is still in the spirit of solidarity, helping each other in times of need. The life of being closely connected and gathered in the village for generations has formed a bond that is difficult to separate.

I still remember when the historic storm hit, the loudspeakers of the commune and village repeatedly warned and reminded people to reinforce their houses, cut down tree branches, and not go out during the storm.

The storm came when the whole village was deep in sleep after nearly a night of anxiety and worry, but the sky was still clear. The storm shook the doors loudly like an uninvited guest. The storm toppled the bamboo clumps at the beginning of the village, the areca rows at the end of the hamlet. The storm knocked down the banana garden. The poorly welded corrugated iron roofs were also lifted up by the wind. People told each other to stay inside their houses, ignoring the fields and trees, as long as there were people, there was property. The wind whistled, sometimes howling like a wolf calling its pack. Suddenly someone in the village shouted:

- It sounds like someone is calling for help.

- Nonsense. The storm was predicted several days ago. Even dogs and cats know how to get inside the house. There's no one outside at this hour.

But there really was someone. It was a strange woman who had drifted to the village from nowhere. Her thin, wet floral dress clung to her skin, revealing her sexy curves. The men felt hot in the face, the women felt hot in the eyes.

The storm has long since passed, but the woman has not left. When asked, she smiled and said: “No home, no hometown, drifting to a good land, I will stay. When the fate ends, I will leave again”. The women in the village are usually simple, honest, and kind, but this time, every time they met, they asked: “I wonder when she will leave?”. The fate has not ended, so the men in the village seemed to be under a spell.

That sentence echoed in every house, the wife's voice scolding her husband through her teeth like the wind. They saw their husbands sitting eating with their wives and children, but their minds were at the beer house at the beginning of the village. Who was that woman pouring beer to invite at this hour? Men growled at each other, after a few glasses of beer, their faces red with anger, they started to argue and no one could stop them. When they returned home, battered, the men sat against the house pillar, looking out at the clothesline in front of the house, only to see their wives' old, dirty clothes. Until they woke up from their dreamy trance, they suddenly called out the names of their children.

As time passed, many mothers realized that every time their children stepped out of the gate and returned, they changed. Their eyes were no longer clear. There was some magic in the phone screen that drew them in. The pigs, the chickens, and every bag of rice in the house were sold one by one. New phones continuously came to the village. The girls took off their school uniforms and put on revealing dresses, dyed purple and yellow hair, tattooed lips and eyebrows, and chilled out everywhere posting pictures.

Stories at home and in the street suddenly became viral on Facebook. Seeing someone fall on the street, people rushed to livestream. Then, the first few debt notices arrived in the village. Women cried standing and sitting. Men who had just woken up from a hangover suddenly realized that they had lost something. The kids who used to bring money home from shopping knew how to give back change. But now they even dared to sign debt notices. What kind of debt do you have to owe tens of millions to hundreds of millions of dong?

The old men looked at each other in astonishment. A few tattooed men swaggered into the house, raised their chins and shouted: "If we come back in a week and don't have the money to pay, just give us a finger as a souvenir." Oh my God! Where will we get the money to pay the debt? We'll have to sell the land to pay. Someone said, making people dumbfounded.

The “land for sale” sign had just been put up when people came to ask to buy it. The villagers recognized that it was none other than Cat. Only this time Cat came to buy the land with a different mindset. “We have to squeeze it flat,” Cat told his followers. Last time Cat came to buy with goodwill, he did not sell. This time, the villagers needed money and had to accept any price. If they did not sell to Cat, who would they sell to? Once Cat was “lurking” here, no one dared to jump in to buy or sell. They did not drink the celebratory wine, but drank the penalty wine.

The spoiled young men took the money from selling their ancestors' land to pay off their debts, their eyes dry and without a trace of sadness. They invited green and red-haired people from somewhere to disturb the village with the sound of their engines and their mischief. Wherever they went, the hoarse barking of dogs followed. The village, which had lost nothing before, now had no fish in the pond. Parents who did not see their children at home went to the gambling den to look for them. More and more debt papers flew into the village. Wherever they went, they saw sad faces. Land-sale signs were pulled from one house to another. The old people were bewildered to realize that the village was gradually disappearing.

The day Cat came to negotiate to buy more prime land in the village, he suddenly saw a familiar face in the crowd. A woman named Xoan stood there, her eyes looking at him as if to ask: Why are you here?

Standing next to Xoan was a boy of about fifteen or sixteen years old. His eyes were dark and sunken, and his head was shaved. Cat realized that the boy looked a lot like himself. He also recalled the memory of an old night, seventeen years ago.

The city was raining, the ungrateful man shoved a handful of money into Xoan’s hand, pushed her into a shabby abortion room, then turned around and disappeared into the dark night. In Xoan’s belly was a 4-month-old fetus. From then on, he never saw Xoan again, and never remembered the past. Could it be…

The woman named Xoan did not say a word, her eyes filled with sadness and resignation. But when she bent down to sign the land deposit, a debt paper marked with her child's blood fell out of her pocket. The paper fell right on Cat's shoe tip. The bloody mark of the paper was deeply etched in Cat's mind. Holding the land purchase contract tightly, he quickly left Mam village...