CHAPTER 2: ROOTS IN THE MIST
855 Words
The morning mist hadn’t fully lifted when I returned to the tea hills.
Everything looked the same.
And yet nothing felt familiar anymore.
The soil smelled colder than I remembered. Wind moved quietly through the rows of tea plants, brushing against the leaves like whispers carried across the mountains.
Linh was already there.
She stood between the tea rows with her sleeves rolled up, her dark hair tied loosely behind her back.
She didn’t smile when she saw me.
Didn’t even greet me.
Instead, she held out a pair of worn gloves.
“Put these on.”
I took them slowly. “You brought these for me?”
“I brought them because you’ll need them,” she replied calmly before turning away.
No warmth.
No explanation.
Just certainty.
And somehow, that bothered me more than anger would have.
I followed her deeper into the hills.
The First Lesson
“Start here,” Linh said.
She pointed toward a section of overgrown tea bushes near the lower slope.
Weeds had nearly swallowed the entire row.
“This land hasn’t been maintained properly in months,” she said. “If you don’t fix the roots first, nothing else matters.”
I stared at the field in disbelief.
“This is all manual work?”
Linh glanced at me briefly.
“You thought tea grew itself?”
I almost laughed.
Almost.
Instead, I rolled up my sleeves and crouched down beside the plants.
The soil was damp beneath my fingers.
Cold.
Heavy.
Real.
Reality Hits Hard
At first, it seemed easy.
Pull weeds.
Clear roots.
Move forward.
Simple.
Ten minutes later, my hands started aching.
After twenty, my back burned.
By thirty, sweat soaked through my shirt despite the cold mountain air.
Meanwhile, Linh moved through the fields effortlessly.
Precise.
Quiet.
Efficient.
Like someone who belonged here.
She never slowed down.
Never complained.
And never once asked if I was okay.
That somehow annoyed me enough to keep going.
The First Break
By midday, I finally collapsed beneath a tree near the edge of the hill.
My breathing was uneven.
My arms felt numb.
Linh walked over silently and placed a bottle of water beside me.
“You’re weaker than I expected,” she said.
I let out a tired laugh. “Good to see your personality hasn’t changed.”
“Truth isn’t personality.”
I shook my head.
“You always talk like you’ve already decided how everything ends.”
For the first time, Linh went quiet.
Her eyes drifted toward the distant hills disappearing into the fog.
A strange expression crossed her face.
Gone almost instantly.
Then she stood up again.
“Take a break,” she said. “You’ll collapse at this rate.”
That was probably the closest thing to concern I was going to get from her.
Whispers
By evening, the village already knew I was working the tea fields again.
People watched from open doorways as I walked home.
“He really came back?”
“He thinks farming tea is easy?”
“City people never last long here.”
Their voices followed me down the road like dust in the wind.
I kept walking.
No response.
But every word stayed with me.
Maybe because part of me feared they were right.
Hoa’s Warning
Hoa showed up again that night.
This time, he didn’t even bother sitting down.
“You’re serious about this?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
He looked at me for a long moment before sighing.
“You still don’t understand this place anymore.”
“Then explain it.”
A faint smirk appeared on his face.
“This land isn’t just about farming.”
I frowned slightly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Hoa stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“People here protect what belongs to them.”
The room fell silent.
Outside, the wind moved heavily through the tea hills.
“You should stop now,” he continued. “Before you get involved in something you can’t walk away from.”
I looked directly at him.
“I already walked away once.”
Hoa scoffed softly.
“And you came back broken.”
Then he turned and left.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
The wind outside never stopped.
Slow.
Constant.
Almost restless.
I opened the folder Linh had given me earlier that day.
Inside were pages filled with notes about soil conditions, tea quality, pests, weather patterns, harvest timing.
Simple information.
But the deeper I read, the more I realized something.
This wasn’t basic farming knowledge.
This was years of experience.
Careful observation.
Obsession, almost.
A sudden knock interrupted my thoughts.
I opened the door.
Linh stood outside beneath the dim porch light.
This time, she wasn’t carrying tools.
Only another folder pressed tightly against her chest.
“If you really want to continue,” she said quietly, “then you need to understand something first.”
I waited.
Linh looked straight into my eyes.
And for the first time since I returned, I saw genuine fear in her expression.
“This tea land…” she whispered.
“…has already destroyed people before.”
- Writer
