Child of Two Bloods

1. Chapter 1 Sunshine in the quiet garden. The sound of water flowing from the man-made waterfall drowned out the noise in the street beyond the high wall. This tranquility and the distinctive features of the garden look natural, but are actually elegantly arranged Underground water pipes behind the rocks create a stream that flows down from above. A hill with a flat top behind a bamboo grove stands near the stone wall, adding to the majesty of the mountain outside the city. From the rocks, water poured into a deep and clear pond. Three old pine trees, branches and leaves bent with the years, leaning down to reflect in the pond. Seen from afar, just those three old pine trees are enough to create the impression of a forest. The house is located on the north side of the garden, completely Japanese style, very large but low roof. The bamboo tubes at the four corners act as curtains to reveal the latticework walls. The house is made of rustic wood and has turned silver gray because of its age. It was springtime, and striking against the gray wood were the blooming azaleas. The sun was shining down, shining with a dazzling red, yellow, and honey color. It was midday. In the study, Dr. Son Dien raised his head from the manuscript he was writing, and peered through the wide open doors. Irresistibly beautiful garden. He put down his pen and stood up from the mat, and was proud that his legs weren't numb. After living in the United States as a young man, it took several years for him to return to the style of his people. At first he could not bear to sit cross-legged in front of a low desk and write for hours. But he was determined to do it, as soon as he decided to leave the United States and return to his homeland. He chose that because he was too proud to accept the idea of living in a concentration camp in Arizona. After the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, and the war between Japan and the US happened, Americans gave Japanese people living in the United States two options, either to a concentration camp or to repatriate. Dr. Son Dien chose Japan, and lives in Kyoto city. Iron pride helps him return completely to his ancestors. He bought this villa from Baron Kha Dung. The Kha Dung family, weakened by the war, had to retreat into the dark when their sons died in battle in China. Baron Kha Dung cut his hair and entered the temple to become a monk, while the wife returned to the family of her biological parents. Kha Dung's family is no more. In their land, now Dr. Son Dien lives with his wife and Duc Thuy, his only daughter. In fact, he had another son, Kien Son, five years older than Duc Thuy. Kien Son refused to return to Japan, and consented to go to a concentration camp, where he volunteered to join the American army, only to die in battle on the Italian front. The death of his son proves that Doctor Son Dien's determination to return to Japan is right. The ancient capital Kyoto was not damaged by the war, and has remained in the same condition for more than a thousand years, except for a few buildings. The gardens of the temples provided Dr. Son Dien with a source of discovery of the ancient country, from which he derived ideas about rocks, water, mosses and dwarf plants. When the war ended, he still avoided the American occupation army. As he became a leading western medicine doctor in the city, his status was respected. One cannot do without him. He cures everyone who comes to him equally, but cautiously in the realities around him. He considered it a duty to revive the classical elegance of the aristocracy, the large families who now lived in seclusion. He did not feel they were lost. After his daily work at the state-of-the-art hospital, he returned home, changed his clothes, and wrote a medical book. He gathered a lot of medical knowledge during the years he returned to his home country. He wiped his fountain pen carefully before stepping out into the garden. At his home, the fountain pen was his only concession to the American way of life. The traditional brush pen writes too slowly. But perhaps this is no longer a concession, because most Japanese use fountain pens and pencils, rather than markers. Indeed, these pens are made in Japan, and his pens are better than those made in the United States. In front of the open door, he stood admiring the garden. He knew every detail of the garden, he couldn't help but look for a fallen leaf, or a new nest of ants that had popped up last night, diminishing the integrity of the garden. He didn't want to go to the gardener and ask why he didn't clean up the mess. He closed his eyes and meditated for a moment, muttering a Buddhist sutra. When he opened his eyes, he saw the garden as a fresh whole, iridescent in the sunlight, just as he wanted to see it. Concentration was not easy for him. His youth lived on the busy streets of Los Angeles, pushing carts laden with vegetables and fruits that he helped his parents plant five acres of land outside the city. He worked while finishing college and was awarded a scholarship to a medical school. In the United States there is no time to meditate. He was forced to practice mindfulness when he returned to Japan. Now the war was over, but he still had one more worry. It was Duc Thuy, his only daughter. When she was fifteen years old, she followed her parents back to Japan. She was not docile in many ways, and it was only surprise and fear that made her willing to leave the United States. Her classmates, who were cheerful and friendly, suddenly one day became an enemy that terrified her. Their beautiful faces turned evil and irritable, replacing smiles. This she couldn't understand, and lamented to one of her closest American girlfriends, "Why do they hate me. Am I still the same person?" The American girlfriend replied, "No, you're not the same. You're Japanese, and I hate you." Duc Thuy said nothing more. She stopped going to school, and a few days after her parents got off the train, she followed in a broken silence. The country she was born and considered home, and the only language she used to speak, now rejected and despised her. Still, she was not ready to accept Japan, because her paternal grandmother had told her much about the fate of Japanese women. She was in a state of skepticism, safe in her parents' house, but unsure of what the future would hold. Dr. Son Dien guessed the mental state of his daughter, and that is why he was worried. Now that Yu Shui is twenty years old, what will he do with her? She was of age to get married, especially a girl so beautiful, but what kind of marriage? He received many marriage proposals to her, but he was too cautious to tell her, fearing she would immediately refuse. He also never discussed the issue of marriage with her, and he forbade Ha My, his wife, from talking about it with his daughter. The matter was delicate and he wanted to be solely responsible. If it is not well said, Duc Thuy may oppose the marriage proposed by him. He lingered at the door, and then, putting on his straw sandals, putting on his wooden clogs, he went to the pond and stood watching the water splash. The spring atmosphere is passionate with the rebirth of all things. He is a man who knows how to control his imagination, and does not want to feel the change of seasons. He was only worried about Duc Thuy. What will this spring do for her? Last year she was fidgeting, the restlessness of a girl going through puberty. He understood that very well, because he studied psychology, a subject that is essential to medicine. Soul and body are strong or weak together. He had to give her a mild sedative, and made her, after school, type the first hundred pages of his manuscript. The hot season began and her restlessness sank into languor. However, he believes that underneath her gentle appearance lies a passionate nature. Therefore, she needs to get married soon. He glanced at his watch, hidden beneath the sleeve of his robe. When at the hospital he wears a suit, but at home, he prefers to wear a silk robe with a belt, thin-soled slippers indoors and clogs in the garden. Dressed like that he felt comfortable. It's been almost an hour now. Duc Thuy is late. Where does she wander? Lunch was ready, although his wife had told the servants not to tell him. Everyone is waiting for Duc Thuy. He frowned, completely forgetting about the garden. If she didn't come back in fifteen minutes, he wouldn't wait any longer. He loved his simple and quiet wife, but he ate better with Duc Thuy. However, he did not pamper his daughter. Fifteen minutes later, he would come in and order the meal to be served when he was done, if his daughter still hadn't returned. The order in the family cannot be changed. At two o'clock he will return to the hospital to examine the patient. He didn't have to make that decision because Yu Shui returned exactly ten minutes later. He heard the bronze bell on the other side of the gate ring, then the opening and closing of the gate. A girl's western shoes resounded on the paved path, and the servant greeted him. He waited, still looking down at the pond, with his back to the house. Girls have a duty to find a mate. For a moment, he heard a soft voice. "Dad, I'm back." Only then did he turn around, not smiling. "You're too late." She replied, "Dad, it's not my fault." In the garden, the sun streamed down on her, and he was appalled by her daughter's beauty. Your daughter came back from college on the street, looks like this! Her hair was glossy black, her big black eyes glittered, her cheeks were rosy from the heat, and her lips were crimson. She had changed into her school uniform, even a few minutes after arriving home, and was wearing a light green kimono. At least his daughter doesn't dress like this on the street. Her school uniform is ugly. He asked sternly, "Why not your fault?" She explained, "American soldiers filled the streets, a lot. Everyone had to wait for them to go." He continued, "Where are you waiting?" "I walked into the hospital aisle so I wouldn't get in their way." He decided not to ask any more questions. "Let's go home to eat. I don't have many hours left. I don't want to be late to the hospital, for fear of setting a bad example for young doctors." She knew her father had a strong sense of duty, and quickly apologized. "Dad, I'm sorry." She spoke in Japanese, because she knew he wanted to, but she didn't speak Japanese as enthusiastically as she did in English. "I just explained it's not my fault." He walked in front of his daughter, hands clasped behind his back, looking from side to side as he walked. "Look at the azaleas, they've never been so beautiful." She agreed, "Yes, beautiful!" He considered her voice, and in a moment he would look at her face, the tempo of her every movement, to gauge the temperature of her heart. He would not rest until she was married, and he could not bear another spring of this anxiety. A daughter is a burden, more precious than anything else, but also heavy. ° ° ° Duc Thuy knew that her father was watching her during lunch. She always noticed him and understood his concern for her, and also knew the reason for his worry. She tried to be discreet from him. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, or not thinking. Although her behavior was completely in front of him, he also suspected that this completeness was not really her. On this point he is correct. She lived a double life in this house, not out of discontent, but out of vigor. She often thought this vitality was due to the fact that she had lived in California until she was fifteen years old, drinking cow's milk fed with grass and grain, and eating fruit and vegetables and meat. Her body was tense with feeling and strength. Her mind was warm and curious. So she was different from other Japanese girls, lively and quiet. These Japanese girls looked at her, both admiring and annoyed. They called her "the American girl," and she did not deny this. One of her Japanese girlfriends said, "You walk like an American woman."