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Person Under the Blanket
Uncle Tai quickly grabbed it, and I looked at the white, lifeless body with both eyes closed, feeling cold.
***
That evening, I returned from the village's fields with a little bit of young rice in my hands, intending to cook congee for Nam, who was still sick and moaning on the bed.
The sky had been dark for a while, and the bright kitchen fire occasionally made popping sounds from the firewood. Above it was a blackened aluminum pot covered in grease. Inside that pot was the fragrant congee I cooked from the handful of young rice from the field.
Under the only light in the kitchen, I read a rare newspaper.
That day was in 2003, and the whole village was still very poor and simple. The village had just started to have electricity for a few days, but even if they had electricity, only a few households dared to register to use it. Partly because the people were frugal and poor, and had little money left after buying electricity. Even buying a light bulb required careful consideration.
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Thắng Lợi village used to lie on a wild stretch of the Sông Mã river. The river was small but treacherous, with people drowning and washing up every few days. It got so bad that adults were scared to let children near it, for fear of them being beaten.
Despite the ban, children still swam in the river as usual, thinking it was calm and peaceful, even with the occasional body floating by. These children were bold and daring, much more so than today's children. One even dared to sleep outside a cemetery and claimed to have played with evil spirits.
Suddenly, my back prickled, and it was as if there was an invisible hand patting me on the shoulder, as if wanting to say something...
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