Ngoc Son Temple sits on an island in the middle of the northern tip of Hoan Kiem Lake in the center of Hanoi’s old town. The former bustling tourist area now consisted of tepid residents searching for their next meal under the watchful eye of strict patrols circling the lake on a consistent basis. The temple could only be reached by a wooden walking bridge spanning the water from the eastern shore of the lake.
Tho had tried his best to dissuade Lien and Minh from accompanying him on such a foolhardy quest, but as Lien reminded him, she had no home to go to and would not abandon the important national work right as it got interesting. Minh gave a passionate plea about being a man and being big enough and clever enough to help the resistance. They would traverse into the unknown and allow fate to have its way. All three together.
Miss Huong left the house during the day to contact her father-in-law. By late afternoon, the best assurance she could offer was that her father-in-law would attempt to fulfill the request. If they could find a way into the temple before sunset, he would try.
Tho’s logic encouraged them to split up in their pilgrimage to the temple, but Lien wouldn’t part from her son, and since Tho’s body didn’t feel particularly adept at making the trek to the lake on its own, they decided to chance it together. Miss Huong also wanted to go, but Tho reminded her that a fourth person would add to the likelihood of being spotted. They thanked her for the help, and she wished them luck in their endeavor. Before they parted, the four recited the phrase verbatim once more: “A passion to be free. Bound together, each link. Generations of ancestors. A bronze drum. A dragon. A sword. United. The past revealed in the present.”
Huong had one final gesture of help. Disguises. Tho would wear his conical hat, light pajamas, and sandals. He looked like a thousand other retired grandfathers on any Hanoi street corner. She outfitted Lien with a bamboo shoulder pole, which balanced two baskets—one in front and one behind—and put a heaping of greens on each side as if she were a countryside hawker bringing her vegetables to market. Minh wore a cap and carried a knapsack. Tho walked slowly, requiring Lien to slow down and squat sometimes so she wouldn’t get too far ahead of him. She had a few Hanoians ask her about her greens, but she asked for an exorbitant price that sent the shoppers off in disgust.
They turned a corner and saw the lake straight ahead, with the bridge leading to the temple on the other side of the street, which wrapped around the entire body of water. Two Chinese soldiers stood at the entrance, rifles in hand. The main street was empty. Abandoned cars had been parked on the opposite side. Tho had hoped for some traffic to help them blend in, but the good old crowded days were long gone. The only way to approach the temple was to walk directly toward the soldiers.
“What are we going to do?” asked Lien.
Tho paused and glanced both directions.
“Isn’t there any other way to the temple?” asked Minh.
“No. This is the only path. We must face the danger directly.”
“What if they stop us?”
“Then they stop us.”
“What if …”
Tho raised his arm. “One thing I’ve learned in my long life is to not question the what-ifs. Plan as much as circumstance allows. If there is nothing more to prepare, then move forward and allow your best laid plans to take you as far as they may. This is bigger than us. Let us hope the universe recognizes it.”
Lien nodded and patted her son’s back. “How do we approach? Together, or one at a time?”
Tho continued to peer toward the soldiers. “You’re my daughter. Minh is my grandson. This is the day of my wife’s death, and we have come to the temple to light incense for her soul.”
Minh reached into his knapsack and pulled out a handful of red joss sticks. “Look what Miss Huong put in the bag.”
“Of course she did,” said Tho with a determined eye staring at the soldiers. “Let’s go.”
Tho ignored his aches and pains and the better-than-average chance the soldiers would stop them in their tracks to question them. He kept his mind clear—thinking of the smooth black tablets in the pouch around his neck. The three were on the offensive, not with weapons that could hurt the soldiers, but with a courage buoyed by the stories of the past. The black tablets had come alive after many years as proof the courage was warranted. He led the way, with the two at his rear. He rubbed his hands in a circular motion as he crossed the street as if he held the tablets between his palms. His eyes remained intent on the soldiers, and as they approached, one of the soldiers raised his rifle and motioned with the barrel’s tip for them to move along.
“The temple is closed today.”
“But today is my wife’s death anniversary. We must visit the temple to—“
A tremendous sound ripped through the end of the sentence. All of them jumped backwards and cowered to the ground, turning to look back across the street. A parked car had exploded, sending debris fifty feet into the air. Screams. Yelling. A pulsing silence across their ears, loud and chaotic on one hand and slow-motion silence on the other. The soldiers ran from their post towards the explosion. It was unclear if anyone was hurt, but the street quickly filled with people and sirens from other patrols approached from both sides of the lake.
“Come on,” whispered Minh. “This is our chance.”
The boy sprinted across the grass and onto the red bridge spanning the water. Lien grabbed Tho’s arm and helped him to his feet. She pointed in the same direction as Minh and moved as swiftly as the aged man would allow. Lien looked back, but the Chinese soldiers had disappeared into the mayhem of the car bomb. A few gun shots sounded behind them, but Lien and Tho moved on. By the time they crossed the bridge and approached the entrance of the temple, Minh greeted them with another older man standing beside him.
“This is Miss Huong’s father-in-law.”
“Come, come,” he said. “Quickly. I have a place for you.”
Lien stopped to bow her head to the altar of the past Vietnamese kings, but the old man wouldn’t let her.
“No, they will understand. We don’t have time. Please hurry.”
He pushed a wooden panel behind a large display of Buddha and motioned for them to go inside a small room.
“You’ll need to wait in here until dark. Just keep still and quiet.”
“What about the boat?” asked Minh.
“Later. Just remain still and quiet.”
It was more like a compartment and less like a room. It spanned only four feet wide by six feet long. Three plastic stools had been arranged in a row—one for each. The wooden walls had patterned carvings on them, which allowed in enough light to see each other’s faces.
“How long will we have to sit here?” asked Minh.
“Until dark,” whispered Tho.
“Shhh—“
Voices rose from the main section of the temple. The voices didn’t whisper and had a harsh tone to them, but no one could understand what was said. Then without warning, someone slid open the wooden panel and in the secluded opening of the compartment stood a man, but it was not Huong’s father-in-law. It was a young man. They had been discovered. Tho’s mind flashed a warning of arrest as he expected the Chinese soldier to speak.
“It’s me. Tuan.”
Cuong’s compatriot stood in front of them. Tho stood up. “The bombing. It was you?”
“You needed a distraction.”
“But how?” Lien asked.
“I reported back to the rebel leaders, and I told them about you, about all of you, and …” He paused for a moment. “They assigned me to you.”
“To us?” asked Lien.
“Commander Lieu. He knows you, Mr. Tho.”
“I know of the Mr. Lieu you speak. What did you tell them?”
“All I said was that you believed you knew the origin of the giant man, and you had a plan to defeat him. He didn’t want to know any more. He only instructed me to follow you and help in any way I can.”
“Well, we need a—“
“I know. A boat. You shall have it. Stay here until dark, and I’ll return. You’ll have your boat. But what you do with it …”
Tho raised his hands. “We cannot speculate on what we will find on the waters. We will wait for you.”
Tuan pushed the wooden panel closed, and they sat in the dimly lit room waiting for night to descend.
“Tho, is that Commander Lieu? The Commander Lieu?” asked Lien.
“Yes, his father was an old friend of mine, but I haven’t spoken with the son in years.”
“Why would he send Tuan to us after what happened last night?”
“Well,” Tho pondered. “It may be because I saved his life.”