Chapter 9: The Promise of Ta Xua
The balcony of Ngan’s apartment, where the night breeze blew gently, carrying the chill of the city at night. The two were drinking beer, looking down at the busy traffic, the lights twinkling like falling stars. The atmosphere had relaxed again after the awkward moment, a comfortable silence prevailed.
Tung, already dressed, scrolled through his phone, and showed Ngan pictures of the trekking routes he wanted to take. His eyes lit up as he pointed to a picture of a majestic sea of white clouds. “Here you go! Ta Xua! People call it a cloud-hunting paradise. Isn’t it beautiful?”
Ngan looked at the photo, a dreamy look appeared in her eyes, but also a bit hesitant. “It’s beautiful… But it looks so cold and desolate. It must be scary to go alone.”
Ngan’s words immediately triggered Tung’s protective instinct. He turned around, looked straight into her eyes, his voice full of confidence, like an oath. “What are you afraid of? If you go with me, you will never have to be afraid. I will take care of you if you get cold. I will take care of you from A to Z.”
His promise hung in the air, carrying more weight than the words. Ngan smiled, a mysterious, meaningful smile. “Okay. I trust you. Let’s make it work?”
They clinked their beer bottles. The dry “clink” sounded, like a seal of a new agreement. The next trip was decided. A stage of fog and cold awaited them, where his promise of “never being afraid of the cold” would be tested in a way neither of them expected.
On Tung’s pickup truck, on the way from Hanoi to Ta Xua. The cramped space of the cabin created an involuntary intimacy. Outside, the scenery gradually changed from gray concrete buildings to majestic, rolling green mountains. The joyful, free atmosphere of an escape pervaded.
Ngan sat in the passenger seat, rolled down the window to breathe in the fresh air. She wore a thin sweater and jeans, looking energetic and comfortable. She was really happy, feeling freed from the invisible burdens of the city. Tung drove, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the door frame, the wind blowing through his fingers. He was completely in his own world – the road, the car, and the beautiful woman beside him. He was confident and happy. Their goal was to enjoy the trip together, to strengthen their bond in a private space. But the intimacy in the narrow space constantly created small, unintentional but meaningful collisions, making the boundary between “sisters” increasingly shaky.
The car hit a bumpy road. Ngan leaned slightly and bumped into Tung’s shoulder. She quickly sat up straight, but he just smiled, his eyes still looking straight ahead.
“Sorry, the road is bumpy.”
“It’s okay, sister. Just lean on me and sleep for a while. The road is long.” His voice was deep and full of concern.
“No, I want to see the scenery. Tell me a story. About your gym, for example.”
He began to tell endless stories about his training partners, about the records he had achieved. His voice was deep and warm, like a melodious background music. Ngan didn’t really listen to the content, she just listened to the tone of that voice, feeling a strange peace. Occasionally, his hand changed gears, his calloused fingers brushed very close to her knee. Each time, she felt a small electric current running down her spine, a gentle but promising stimulation.
They were on the last pass to the homestay. Night had begun to fall, and the fog had suddenly come in, thick as a white wall, swallowing everything. Visibility was reduced to a few meters. The roar of the pickup truck’s engine was all alone in the eerie silence of the mountains and forests. The atmosphere in the car changed from cheerful to tense, a little fearful.
Ngan’s hands gripped the seat tightly, the joy gone, replaced by anxiety. She tried to keep her eyes on the road but all she could see was a blank, white color. Tung still looked calm, but his hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, his jaw clenched, showing intense concentration.
Tung turned on his fog lights, but the yellow light only shone for a short distance before being swallowed by the thick fog. He had to slow down, almost crawling on the road. On one side was a steep cliff, on the other was an invisible abyss, waiting to swallow anything.
Ngan’s voice trembled slightly. “Honey… Should we stop and wait for the fog to clear?”
Tung replied firmly and reassuringly, “No, sister. It’s more dangerous to stop here. We’re almost there. Sit still. Trust me.”
His words “Trust me” had an unusual weight. Ngan was silent, but in her heart she felt an absolute trust. She was no longer the older sister, she had become the one who needed to be protected. Their roles had been redefined once again by the harshness of nature, where survival instinct reigned supreme.
The pickup truck couldn’t go any further. The dirt road leading to the homestay was slippery and steep, swallowed by the thick fog. They had to get out and walk the last hundred meters, lost in the thick fog and the biting cold. The world around them had disappeared, leaving only the two of them in a lonely white sphere.
Ngan got out of the car and shivered from the cold. She could barely see anything, only the dampness and the cold seeping into her flesh. Tung took his things, locked the car, and turned around. He said nothing, just held out his large, calloused hand.
Ngan hesitated for a second, her breath caught, a soft “hic” escaped from her throat. She placed her hand in his palm, a light but meaningful touch, like a silent agreement in the mist. A fateful collision. His hand was rough, calloused but warm like a hot coal, holding her small, cold hand. A feeling of absolute safety spread throughout her body, overwhelming the cold and fear, a small electric current ran down her spine, a powerful protection. He gently squeezed her hand, his rough fingers lightly stroking the back of her hand, a gesture affirming his presence, a wordless promise. In Tung’s heart, her hand was incredibly soft and small, a stimulating contrast. 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, not only with strength but also with gentleness.
“Stay close to me. Be careful it’s slippery.” Tung’s voice whispered in the mist, like an instruction, an irrefutable command, his warm breath blowing into her ear.
“Um.” Ngan replied, her voice also soft, a slight shiver running down her spine, not only from the cold but also from the stimulation.
They walked in silence, the only sound being the soft footsteps on the damp ground and the wind whistling in their ears. Their hands clasped together, not only to guide them through the thick fog, but also to transmit warmth, to affirm each other’s existence in a world that had been erased, an instinctive interdependence. A primal, wordless connection, formed in the cold and loneliness, a shared secret known only to the two of them.
They finally arrived at the homestay, a small, simple wooden bungalow, hidden in the thick fog, like a forgotten wooden box in the middle of nowhere. Everything was made of dark wood, from the walls to the floor, creating a feeling of warmth but also coldness, a haunting contrast. There were two single beds placed a small distance apart, like two lonely islands in the middle of an icy ocean. The biggest problem was the cold. It seeped through every crack in the wall, seemingly colder than outside, like an invisible entity enveloping the room, squeezing every fiber of the flesh.
They both breathed a sigh of relief when they were inside, their gasps mixing with the howling wind outside, but the relief was quickly replaced by an awkwardness, an undercurrent of tension creeping between them as they realized their situation: two people, one room, a long night, and a bitter cold urging them closer together.
Tung put down his things and went around to check the room. He plugged in the small electric heater. A weak stream of warmth spread out, just enough to dispel a small part of the cold, like a hopeless consolation. Ngan sat on the edge of the bed, her arms around her shoulders, trying to keep warm, the sound of her teeth chattering softly, her panting mixed with the howling wind outside.
Their words became polite and forced, as if trying to maintain an invisible boundary, a fragile wall about to collapse.
“You sit down and rest. I’ll go ask if there’s anything to eat.” Tung said, his voice a bit tense, like a string about to snap.
“Yes, thank you.” Ngan replied, her eyes looking down at the floor, avoiding his gaze.
“You should take a shower first to warm up.” Tung’s voice was deep, but contained a wordless invitation.
“No, I’m tired from the trip, I’ll take a shower first.” Ngan replied, her voice soft, but her eyes didn’t leave the two single beds.
They were trying to maintain their distance, trying to re-enact the role of “sisters” but failing. The presence of two single beds in the small space became a naked reminder of separation and the possibility of union, a seductive promise. The transparent wall between them was shaking violently, just waiting for a gentle wind to collapse, sweeping away all barriers.
About an hour later, they were both out of the shower and dressed in their thickest pajamas. They sat on the floor next to the weak electric heater, each holding a steaming mug of ginger tea. Outside, the wind still howled, carrying with it the bitter cold of the mountains.
The conversation died down. They just sat in silence, drinking tea, looking into the red light of the fireplace. This silence was no longer warm, it was filled with unspoken desire, a suffocating pressure.
Ngan was really cold. She started to shiver, every muscle twitching, uncontrollably. The hot cup of tea in her hand was not warm enough, the weak warmth dissipated in the bone-chilling cold. She pulled the blanket on the bed down, wrapped it around herself, but it was still no better, the thin blanket was not enough to withstand. Her teeth started to chatter, creating small clicking sounds in the quiet space, like a wordless cry for help, a symphony of weakness. “Um… hic… so cold…”
Tung looked at her. He saw her lips turn slightly pale, saw her whole body trembling, every hair on her arm standing up. His protective instinct screamed in his chest, the pounding of his heart echoed in his ears, drowning out the howling wind outside. He looked at his empty bed, cold and lonely, then back at her, his eyes full of longing and struggle. An internal struggle was evident on his face, every blue vein on his temple twitched slightly, his jaw tightened. “Just go over there, hug her and she’ll be warm. But I promised… just a younger brother. If I go over there, everything will be different. But if I don’t, she’ll get sick.” His thoughts were broken, chaotic in his head. He growled softly, breathing heavily through his nose.
Ngan felt his gaze, like a spark of electricity cutting through the night. She looked up, looking straight at him. Her eyes held no challenge, only fragility and a waiting, a wordless invitation, full of power, like a queen waiting for obedience. She said nothing, giving him all the power to decide, placing the entire fate of this night in his hands. The chapter ended in limbo, right before Tung made his fateful request, placing the entire weight of the choice on the shoulders of the “hero”, where the boundary between reason and instinct was thinner than ever.