Chapter 32: Breathing in the Night
In the evening, they arrived in Dong Van. After a long day on the bus, all three were tired, but the atmosphere was still awkward and tense. They checked into a homestay, an ancient wooden stilt house, hidden among the rocky mountains.
The host warmly led them up to the second floor. “You can sleep here. It’s cozy to sleep together in a stilt house!”
Before them was a large common space. And in one corner, three mattresses were spread out on the wooden floor, right next to each other. Each mattress was separated by a thin curtain, more decorative than protective. An ironic arrangement, a fatal position: Ngan’s mattress was in the middle. Tung’s was on the left. Minh’s was on the right.
Minh looked at the three mattresses, then at Ngan, then at Tung. A slow, meaningful, and somewhat dangerous smile appeared on his lips. His voice was teasing. “Oh… how ‘cozy’. It’s true that only when you’re with us can you have this kind of experience, Sister Nuoi.”
Tung was stunned. He looked at the thin curtain, then glanced at Ngan. His face was red, a mixture of hope and extreme anxiety, an internal struggle. Ngan stood still, staring at the “common cage”. Her face showed no emotion. But deep down she knew. This was it. This was the stage she had been unconsciously searching for, where all boundaries would be broken.
The three of them stood there in silence. The day’s “reconciliation” trip had ended. Night was falling in Ha Giang, and another war, more naked and visceral, was about to begin in this communal cage.
On the second floor of the wooden stilt house, it was past midnight. Everyone else in the homestay had fallen into a deep sleep, the sound of snoring echoed from the other room. Outside, the wind whistled through the cracks in the wall, creating a ghostly sound, like the howling of wolves. Inside, the darkness was so thick that only the outlines of the thin curtains could be vaguely distinguished. The air was heavy with anticipation, an invisible tension.
The three of them were not sleeping. They lay on three mattresses side by side, pretending to sleep, but in reality, their senses were on edge. Ngan, in the middle, lay on her back, eyes wide open, staring at the darkness on the ceiling. She was not afraid. She was curious. After her encounter with the beast inside her, she wanted to know what it would do next. She was waiting, like a queen waiting for a performance.
Minh, on the right, lay on his side, facing Ngan. His breathing was fast and shallow, like a panther crouching, waiting for the right moment to pounce. This closeness was burning him, unbearable. Tung, on the left, lay on his back, but his body was tense. His breathing was heavy, occasionally exhaling a long breath as if in restraint. He was both yearning and feeling guilty. He was torn between instinct and reason. The goal of all three was to probe each other in silence, waiting for a signal, an action to break the deadlock. The conflict was Ngan’s stillness versus Minh’s impatience and Tung’s tornness.
In the darkness, sound was everything. Ngan listened. She could hear the steady snores of the landlord in the next room. She could hear Minh’s rapid, almost panting breathing. She could hear Tung shifting heavily and grinding his teeth.
In Ngan’s head, a thought appeared: “One cannot wait. The other is afraid of his own desires. Who will act first?”
The silence stretched. Suddenly, Ngan heard a change. Minh’s breathing stopped abruptly. He was holding his breath. A shadow was about to move.
Minh slowly, very slowly, sat up, his body as tense as a string. He moved as lightly as a cat, barely making a sound, the soft rustling of the mattress, every movement carefully calculated, like a predator lurking. Ngan couldn’t see clearly. She only saw a dark shadow slowly separate from the mattress beside her, then begin to crawl towards her, a threatening intrusion. Her heart beat faster, pounding in her ears, but she still lay still, breathing steadily, like prey playing dead, waiting for fate.
Tung also felt the movement. His eyes opened wide in the darkness, staring at the shadow approaching Ngan, a look full of hatred and helplessness. A hot lava of jealousy and anger rose in his chest, burning all reason. He wanted to roar, wanted to rush forward to pull Minh away, wanted to protect his territory. But he was frozen by guilt and uncertainty, by the oath of “sisterhood” that still lingered. He could only lie there, clenched his hands into fists, and listen, wait, for the ultimate torture. His heavy breathing, the soft grinding of his teeth.
Minh was kneeling beside Ngan, his hand hovering above the blanket. Tung was holding his breath watching from the mattress beside him, all his senses tense as a bowstring. The sound of the wind whistling through the cracks in the wall, the steady snoring from the other room, all blended together, creating a symphony of waiting.
His hand touched the blanket, his rough fingers lightly gliding over the soft fabric. He began to slowly pull it down, the fabric rustling softly, revealing Ngan’s white shoulder with the words “No matter what, you haven’t seen all the surprises yet” in the darkness, fragile and inviting, like a jade statue. He leaned down, his hot breath blowing on her skin, intending to kiss it, a kiss of possession, of affirmation.
Just as his lips were about to touch her skin, a hand from under the blanket quickly reached out, not to push him away, but to grab his wrist, a grip full of surprise and power. Minh was startled, stiff, every muscle tensed. He looked down. In the darkness, Ngan’s eyes were wide open, looking straight at him, her gaze without fear or anger. It was frighteningly calm, full of power, like the gaze of a goddess.
She didn’t let go of his hand. She held it tightly, her long fingers squeezing lightly. Then, she did the unthinkable. She slowly pulled Minh’s hand, which she was holding, and placed it on her breast, just outside the thin nightgown. A provocative act, a wordless invitation, a bold declaration of war. He could feel the soft, elastic texture of her breast through the fabric, and her erect nipple. His panting mixed with the air.
Minh was completely stunned. His breath caught in his throat. This was not a resistance. This was a permission, an invitation more daring than any words. The game had been completely turned upside down, and Ngan was in charge.
While still holding Minh’s hand on her chest, Ngan slowly, very slowly, turned her head on the pillow. Her eyes swept past Minh’s stunned face, and looked straight into the darkness, towards the cushion where Tung lay. Ngan’s goal was to widen the stage, officially inviting the remaining player to the table.
Tung had seen it all. His anger and jealousy had reached its peak when Minh touched Ngan. He had intended to rush forward, to tear the intruder to pieces. But then he saw Ngan’s actions, her powerful initiative. And now, he saw her looking at him. He knew she knew he was awake and watching.
Her gaze in the darkness was a question, an invitation, and a challenge. It seemed to say, “You see? This is happening. Are you going to lie there and stew in your jealousy, or do you want to join in?”
The struggle within Tung broke apart. The permission from Ngan herself had dispelled all guilt and hesitation. Primal desire had won. He was no longer a miserable spectator. He slowly, silently, sat up.
Tung’s shadow began to move towards Ngan’s cushion. The stage now had three actors, and the play was about to enter its climax.
Minh and Tung were now kneeling on either side of Ngan’s mattress. Three dark figures huddled together in the darkness. The atmosphere was thick with legalized lust. The sound of the wind whistling through the cracks in the wall, the steady snoring from the other room, all blended together, creating a symphony of waiting.
Minh, having regained his composure, bent down to kiss Ngan. Tung, from the other side, also reached out to touch her.
Ngan gently raised a finger to Minh’s lips, stopping him. At the same time, her other hand grabbed Tung’s hand. She controlled both of them, like a queen controlling her puppets. She spoke, her voice was just a whisper, but in the absolute silence, it rang out like a prophecy, for both of them to hear. Her voice was both coy, a warning, and a conditional permission. “Play whatever you want…”
She paused for a beat, letting the tension build to its limit. “…don’t tear mine, okay…”
The deal was made. By setting a somewhat obscene limit, she had implicitly allowed everything else. Minh chuckled in the darkness. He understood. Tung understood too. The competition was over. Now was the time to share. Ngan let go of their hands, an absolute permission. Minh’s hands no longer hesitated, starting to pull her nightgown up, each millimeter of fabric sliding against her skin, creating a soft rustling sound, revealing her full breasts. Tung’s hands also began their own exploration, rough fingers lightly gliding over her inner thighs, feeling the softness and warmth. The game had now truly begun, according to her rules, a wild new rule, where all limits were broken.