Chapter 3: The Scent of Life
The empty lot by the roadside in the early morning was an assault on the senses. The strong smell of gasoline, the smoke from the breakfast stalls, the sweat of the crowd. People calling to each other, the roar of the bus engine, the loud music from a karaoke speaker.
That chaos, for Ngan, was a release. It was life.
She stood in a corner, her moss green jacket and khakis neat, but her inherent elegance made her an oddity in the scene. She watched quietly, like an anthropologist studying a noisy tribe.
And then he appeared. Son.
He was different from the picture. In the picture, he tried to look rough and tumble. In real life, he was just a young man, a little immature and awkward. He wore an old T-shirt, and on his shoulder slung a camera that looked more expensive than his clothes. He recognized her immediately.
He stepped forward, his face slightly red. His empty hand clenched and unclenched, a visible embarrassment.
“Hello… I’m Son.” His voice was a little shaky.
Ngan smiled. Her smile was a sedative. “Hello. Thank you. Luckily you encouraged me or I wouldn’t have dared to go.”
Relief was evident on his face. He scratched his head. “No, it’s nothing. Just follow me. Get in the car, I’ll save you a seat by the window.”
On the crowded bus, amidst the laughter of the group, he handed her something. A steamed bun, wrapped in banana leaves, still piping hot.
“My mom made it,” he said, his voice still shy.
Ngan took it. The warmth of the bun seeped through the leaves and into her palm. A real warmth, not the artificial warmth of her apartment heater. It smelled of flour, of meat, and of home.
The group teased loudly. He just smiled wryly, but his eyes never left her.
Ngan said nothing, just nodded slightly. She slowly peeled off the leaf and took a bite of the cake. The sweetness of the dough, the richness of the filling.
The prey is not just taking the bait. The prey is enjoying the hunter’s bait.
The first trekking route opened up before our eyes, filled with golden sunshine, fresh air and the pure white color of rapeseed flowers stretching as far as the eye could see. The majestic beauty of nature excited everyone in the group, and the cheerful laughter echoed between the mountains and hills.
Ngan, despite her thorough preparation, was actually a bit weaker than everyone else. The first few slopes left her panting, her forehead beaded with sweat. She didn’t have to act much, the fatigue was real. She tried to keep up, but each step was heavy.
Son, who had been walking at the front of the group, immediately noticed her struggle. He said nothing to the group, just slowed down silently, then turned back to her. He stood there, looking at her, his eyes filled with worry.
“Are you tired? Why don’t you rest for a while?” His voice was deep and warm, carrying sincere concern.
Ngan shook her head and smiled awkwardly. “It’s okay, I can go. I’m afraid of bothering everyone.”
Son looked at her, his eyes resolute. “No problem. Safety comes first. Give me the backpack, I’ll hold it.” He didn’t wait for her to agree, he reached around to undo the backpack strap himself. The sound of fabric rustling softly. At that moment, his strong chest pressed against her back, feeling the softness of her bare back through her thin shirt. His hot breath blew on the back of her neck, making Ngan shiver slightly, a small electric current running down her spine, both scared and excited. He easily took off the heavy backpack, wearing it on his chest. He looked a bit funny with the backpack bulging against his stomach, but in Ngan’s eyes at that moment, he was truly a hero, a powerful protector.
The road ahead became more difficult, having to cross a small stream with slippery mossy rocks. The sound of running water and chirping birds could be heard, but the atmosphere between Ngan and Son was thick with anticipation.
Son jumped forward easily, his sturdy body gliding over the rocks like a mountain goat. He turned, extending his large, calloused hand toward Ngan. “Give me your hand. Just step on the rocks I point to.” His voice was deep and confident.
Ngan hesitated for a second, her chest heaving slightly with each gasp, her heart pounding in her chest as if it wanted to jump out. She placed her hand in his palm, a light but meaningful touch, like a silent covenant. A fateful collision. His hand was rough, calloused but warm like a hot coal, holding her small, cold hand. A soft “hic” escaped from Ngan’s throat, an instinctive acknowledgement. A feeling of absolute safety spread throughout her body, overwhelming the cold and fear, a powerful protection. He gently squeezed her hand, his rough fingers lightly brushing the back of her hand, a gesture affirming his presence, a wordless promise. In Son’s heart, her hand was incredibly soft and small. A protective instinct arose stronger than ever. He wanted to hold this hand forever, wanted to protect her from all the harshness of the world, wanted to possess her.
After crossing the stream, he still did not let go of her hand immediately. He held it for a few more seconds, his rough fingers lightly stroking the back of her hand, his eyes looking straight at her, full of sincerity. “Your hand is so cold.” His voice was deep, like a whisper reserved only for her.
Ngan just smiled, a slightly trembling smile, gently withdrawing her hand. But the warmth from his hand seemed to still linger, an invisible, burning mark on her skin. A small “chut” sound rang out as their hands separated, like a reluctant farewell. The “sisterly” boundary had begun to blur, giving way to a new intimacy, fragile but full of promise, a wordless invitation for things to come.
The group stopped on a windy hillside, overlooking the valley of white mustard flowers stretching as far as the eye could see. The air was fresh and cool, carrying the scent of earth and flowers. The loud laughter of everyone echoed, but Ngan separated herself, standing quietly looking into the distance. The wind blew a few strands of her hair, she reached out, as if to catch the invisible dew drops in the air. A fragile beauty, a bit lonely in the midst of majestic nature.
Son, from behind, quietly raised his camera. He had been observing her for a while. The dry “click” sound of the camera broke Ngan’s moment of silence.
Ngan startled and turned back, her eyes slightly annoyed. Son smiled, a bit confused, but his eyes were still glued to her. “I’m sorry… At that moment… it was so beautiful I couldn’t help myself.”
He walked over and handed her the camera. She bent down to look. The black and white photo captured her fragile, somewhat lonely beauty amidst the majestic nature. To see clearly, she leaned her head closer. Her cheek almost touched his, feeling the warmth of his skin, a tingling sensation running down her spine. He could smell the shampoo on her hair, a gentle, pure, enchanting scent, like an invisible invitation. She could feel his warm breath on her temple, a gentle heat passing over her skin, making every hair stand up. They stood there in silence for a few seconds, together staring at a moment that had been stolen and frozen forever, a wordless connection. Her heartbeat pounded, matching his steady breathing. A deeper, wordless connection had been established, like an invisible string tightening around them both.
In the evening, the group arrived at a wooden homestay hidden among the mountains. Everyone was exhausted after a long day of trekking, but the atmosphere was still cheerful and noisy like a flea market as they began to assign rooms.
The Hmong landlady, an elderly woman with a gentle smile, came out, looking apologetic. “Oh, kids, I’m sorry. Yesterday’s group came back a day late, so we’re missing a room. Or… would two of you like to share a private bungalow? The one on the far side has the best view.”
The whole group was silent, looking at each other. Everyone’s eyes unconsciously focused on Son and Ngan. One of the group nudged Son’s shoulder, smiling meaningfully. “Son, you’re the luckiest! Tonight, someone will take care of Ngan!”
Son blushed, not knowing what to say, just scratched his head. Ngan, on the other hand, was completely calm. She smiled, her voice gentle, as if this was a very normal thing. “It’s okay. It’s just a trip, whatever. Thank you.”
Her calmness made all the teasing meaningless. She and Son carried their backpacks together and walked towards the bungalow located separately at the end of the garden. The sound of their footsteps on the damp ground, the rustling of leaves in the night wind was like a soundtrack for the upcoming event. They stood in front of the dark wooden door, neither of them said anything. The air between them was thick with a promising silence, a silence that was not empty but contained thousands of thoughts and desires. Ngan’s heart pounded, in harmony with Son’s deep breathing.
The scene was perfectly orchestrated, by fate itself.
The door of destiny awaits them, like an invitation into another world.