Child of Two Bloods

1. Chapter 1-2

There were also some American women in the city, although not as many as in Dong Kinh and Osakka Yushui observed them and felt that she was walking like them. She does not walk in a bow, and on the contrary her legs are straight. Although her food no longer contains milk, bread, butter, eggs, and meat as it did in America, she devours rice, fish, and vegetables. Her mother must laugh at her today.

She said, "Who would have thought you were the daughter of an educated man. You ate like a farmer's son."

The three of them sat on their knees around the low dining table. The servant had placed before each of them a bowl of liquid porridge floating a few slices of oysters and a few rolls of sea vegetables. Three bowls of fish and vegetables were placed in the center of the table, and black and gold lacquered wooden rice bowls. Nhu Me, the maid shovels rice for everyone from a wooden rice bowl. He slightly bowed his head as he placed the rice bowls on the table. Since the American army occupied and established democracy, no one has bowed down as before. However, Dr. Son Dien still requires a slight bow. The maidservant was happy when the doctor asked for it, because it meant that the house still had an owner, although few owners ate meals with their wives and daughters like in this house. He heard the maids in the market say that Americans eat with their wives and daughters. As such, its owner does not behave like a Japanese, but rather an American. It classifies its boss like that and feels content.

Doctor Son Dien secretly observed his daughter, and thought her face was too red. Her cheeks, which had always been rosy, were now red. He asked:

"Did you wait in the sun while the American soldiers passed?"

She confessed, "Yes. I left my umbrella at home this morning. I didn't expect the sun to be so hot today. At breakfast I saw clouds over the mountains."

"Clouds like that always mean that noon will be clear. Only clouds from the sea can rain."

Mrs. Son Dien looked at Duc Thuy. "Your face is really red. After your meal, you should put some white powder on. It's rude for a girl to have red cheeks like that."

Duc Thuy pouted and smiled, "I wish I wasn't an only child. Mom and Dad have nothing to do but watch you."

Both of them turned to look away.

Mrs. Son Dien said, "The vase must be replanted tomorrow."

Flower vase on the altar facing the garden. At the end of the dining room are willow huts and apricot buds leaning against a small bowl of incense. Yesterday, Duc Thuy placed a bronze toad under the drooping apricot tree. But do not place more than three objects next to the vase. Her father had invited the best professor in town to teach her how to arrange vases. The teacher was a widow, thin and small, living with his son's family in a small house by the river.

Yu Shui replied, "Tomorrow I will cut the cherry blossoms."

The father replied, "If there are cherry blossoms, add a pot of roses."

The atmosphere that seemed to be difficult has now calmed down. Duc Thuy said nothing more. She worked hard to cook for her parents and avoided their parents' anger by staying silent. If her brother were still alive, she would share with him the burden of being so loved by her parents. With him, she also shared memories of being in America. Her brother would probably invite her over, because if he was still alive, he would be married to a fiancée. Her brother's fiancee, after mourning for a while, got married and was no longer heard of. Her brother's fiancée is the son of a Christian pastor while her family is Buddhist. If her brother were still alive, the marriage would be a hassle, as two families of different religions would not be subjected to a ceremony of another religion. But on the day of the wedding, her brother had died in battle, the pastor's family was in a concentration camp in the Arizona desert, while the family of Doctor Son Dien was in Japan. No one in the family mentioned the wedding day anymore, but Duc Thuy knew that her parents still remembered, and she went to the garden alone, hid behind a big rock and mourned for him.

Doctor Son Dien suddenly spoke up, "Thach Si Mac Su invited me to have tea this afternoon. He invited me five days ago." He had finished his meal and was sipping his favorite green tea.

Thach Si Mac Su was one of his richest patients. He had a very stubborn gallbladder that needed to be removed. He was not very old, and had three sons, one was imprisoned in Russia, the second died in China during the attack on Nanjing, and the third was a young man. The third son pleased him, because he believed that there was no more war, and that a son could be kept. Under Japan's new constitution, Japan will never rearm. This is the claim of the American army to win. So Thach Si Mac Sou poured all his love and money into his second son. He wasted his time teaching his two eldest children, because in the end both were forced to become soldiers and died in the war. vastly advocated by the ruling elite at that time. But now Hoa Lang, the third child, is studying at Dong Kinh University.

Mac Sou is an old family, and the Kyoto branch is not very important, but it is the most conservative. Thach Si Mac Su was the first to continue the tea ceremony after the war ended. Dr. Son Dien also plans to build a tea room in a quiet and remote garden corner, when the American occupation is over and Japan is independent. Many modern Japanese mock the tea ceremony, but Dr. Son Dien does not condone such an attitude. He believes it is important to revive the traditional rituals as soon as possible so that the Japanese spirit is revived. During a tea ceremony, contemplation on art and nature mingles with socializing and delicious food. For lunch he ate very little because he knew in the afternoon he would enjoy a menu that began with bean porridge, followed by fish, bushmeat and vegetable dishes, and ended with thin porridge and cakes. There is also fresh strong tea with mild flavor, cooked with the softest tea leaf powder, grown under ancient trees.

After the four-hour ceremony, he hoped to be able to speak to his master privately. If he had that opportunity, he would have let the old man Mac Su start talking about his sons. When it started, it would inevitably lead to the topic of his precious third son, and the story of his son. This also hopes to lead to the problem of Duc Thuy, his precious daughter.

Dr. Son Dien and Duc Thuy said nothing about the thoughts in their heads, and both finished their lunch in silence. The third son of the Mac Sau family, Hoa Lang, has reached marriageable age. In fact, he was two years older than Duc Thuy. In the past two fathers could arrange this, but now they cannot. The two atomic bombs dropped on Truong Ky and Quang Dao destroyed more than bricks, guns and people. Doctor Son Dien has not told his daughter about Hoa Lang, but has told his wife that Hoa Lang wants to marry Duc Thuy, and Duc Thuy should accept. This story was told by the mother to her daughter. Duc Thuy thought about it but couldn't decide. She felt restless, and didn't want to think about Hoa Lang.

Obviously she didn't hate him. No girl can hate a handsome, highly educated, enthusiastic and confident young man. She often met him, not by arrangement but by chance. He attended Dongjing University, but returned home during the holidays. She had just met him at the cherry blossom festival a few weeks ago, a tall, brown-eyed young man who was very elegant. She felt comfortable seeing him, because he blushed every time he saw her. His complexion was too white, and his forehead was high, so it was easy to see that he blushed. She liked the purity of his red blood and white skin, and she flatly complimented his gray suit, complimenting it with sincerity, natural in her American habit. Although she admired him, she still did not love him. She was surprised too, because she was very much in love. Her heart fluttered and was ready. She is in need of a man to love, and become his wife. When she looked at Hoa Lang, however, her stubborn heart avoided him, and her desires grew cold.

She tried not to be rude as she answered his gentle voice and avoided looking into his large, watery eyes with love. What right did he have to love her so openly, when she had never given him a sign of encouragement?

Those opposing thoughts clashed in her heart as she continued to finish her meal in silence and stood up to bow to her parents. She had to go back to school at once, for it was a little late. Her parents accepted her bow, and continued to drink tea. She went back to her room and changed into her kimono and school clothes. However, this time she did not wear a hat. Fearing that her cheeks would turn red again, she carried a green silk umbrella to cover her face. The white and blue striped shirt was American-style, but she wasn't sure if twenty-somethings in the United States still wore it. The long sleeves were buttoned up to the cuffs, and the skirt reached past her calves. The collar was high, but as soon as she stepped out of the gate today, she unbuttoned her collar to let the cool breeze blow into her neck.

The street was quiet as she stepped out of the garden gate. She thought American soldiers were wandering around the city looking at the scenery. They used to come here from Dongjing and Osaka, to spend a holiday in Kyoto, because their guidebooks said ancient Japanese culture was still intact in Kyoto. She heard that American pilots were ordered to must not destroy Kyoto, as the Japanese did before, nor destroy Beijing. Her father did not believe that Kyoto was spared because he did not believe that Americans understood the culture. He sometimes complains, "We are forced to choose between communist cruelty and American vulgarity."

She often enjoyed repeating over and over that her father was an extremist, knowing that this was the only accusation she dared to speak out publicly and which her father vehemently denied. She thought he was fighting for peace; he punished the United States for sending him to a concentration camp, and that punishment was loving Japan with all its traditional customs. The spirit of the tea ceremony is meaningless, and it is also very silly for the elderly to sit solemnly in a small house in the middle of the garden, looking up into space and waiting to drink green porridge cooked with tea powder! Her father said the tea was rich in vitamins, and that aside from its beauty and spiritual significance, it nourished the body. She didn't like to drink tea like that. Last fall, she and her parents attended a tea ceremony at the Mac Su family. The dignified conversation only added to the dullness. Mr. Mac Sou read a few humorous verses, as if he had composed them at that moment, but she knew he had worked hard to find rhymes and syllables hours before. If she had known Hoa Lang at that time, she would have told him so.