Nghịch Tử's Blog: An unexplored mine for fantasy writers: Vietnamese culture, page 2

Week 11: Kim Quy – the Golden Turtle God

This week on #VNmyth will cover thần Kim Quy (lit: Golden Turtle God), a significant deity in Vietnamese mythos that still has shrines dedicated to him across the country.

I. His roles and missions

In most cases, he appeared as a messenger god (or more like aid and secretary) who carry out the will of the Ruler of the Water Realm, which–in later depictions–primarily refers to Lạc Long Quân (Dragon King of Lạc, ancestor to the Vietnamese people).

He sometimes was known as Thanh Giang Sứ Giả (the Messenger God of Clear River).

II. Stories

There were a total of three stories featuring him from the Kinh ethnic () legends and one lore of a minor ethnic, which had a character bearing a resemblance to him, but might or might not have actually been him.

_ Earliest case: He appeared during the 300-200 BCE, during the era of emperor An Dương Vương, one of the first known Rulers of Vietnam, after the Hùng Kings. The lore told that the emperor was building a new capital city, but the walls would crumble every night due to the intervention of a White Rooster Demon. The Golden Turtle God appeared to eliminate the beast and lent the emperor one of his claws as a parting gift.

Said claw was turned into the trigger of a crossbow, whose full name was Linh Quang Kim Quy Thần Cơ (lit: Holy Light Golden Turtle Crossbow of God). According to legend, this crossbow could shoot hundreds to thousands of bolts in one go, wiping out an entire army with just one shot. The parts of the story that followed were a cautionary tale, so maybe another time?

_ The second case: this time, instead of creating a weapon of mass destruction, the turtle was sent to retrieve such an artifact. It was during the period of 1417-1427, when the Ming Dynasty invaded the country, that Lê Lợi – a Mường leader – rebelled against them. He got his ass handed to him for most of the war’s first half. His family was captured. His army was backstabbed and oftentimes reduced to a mere hundred of men. He had to survive on dews and tree barks for days during the advance of the Ming’s army. In short, tough time.

But one day, he discovered a hilt of a sword, with Thuận Thiên (順天, lit: Heavenly Will or according to heaven’s will) etched on it while hiding in the jungle. One of his official – Lê Thận – fished out the blade from a river. Attaching the two parts together, Lê Lợi called this sword Thuận Thiên and used it in battle. With every swing, a whole army was decimated, and before long, peace returned to the land. One day, as King Lê Lợi was taking a ride on the lake, the golden turtle arose from the depth, knocked on the side of his boat, and demanded the sword to be returned to the Dragon Emperor (Lạc Long Quân) now that the country had found peace.

And the King obliged.

_ The third case: Long Quân had a daughter, and he was beyond thrilled (had to, the man had 100 sons in one go already, story for another time if you haven’t already heard it). The egg that contained the daughter was brought onto the land, and a fisherman living nearby was chosen to be her caretaker. The golden turtle gave the fisherman one of his claws and said:

“Should a problem you cannot handle come to pass, put it in your ears and ask for help. I’ll do the rest.”

Basically, it was the hotline to a god. The fisherman was modest and knew his limit. He first asked for a shelter to move in near the egg. Then, he had the golden turtle wipe out a gang of bandits trying to break the egg since some god-knows-why reasons the egg emitted light like gemstones. The third time, his house was burnt down by some bastards, and the golden turtle made a cave in the egg for him to stay in. And, the first thing the old fisherman did after entering the cave, I kid you not, was falling asleep for around a decade.

Right as he started his slumber, the mountain-sized egg finally hatched a girl in the same cave, and milk flew from the cracks of rock to feed her. Before long, she had grown up, made friends with all the animals (who fed and raised her as her adoptive human father was in his deep slumber), and studied human manners under the guidance of the fisherman when he eventually woke up. As she reached adulthood, she became a miracle healer who helped everyone who lived nearby. Her most impressive feat was creating a new type of medicinal herb by tying rocks and pebbles together and burying them underground.

Her reputation got the Crown Prince’s attention, and he sent an envoy to ask for her hand in marriage. After she left to get married, the fisherman followed the golden turtle to live down in the Water Realm.

_ The 3.5 case: this time, the story belongs to the Bahnar people and is titled “Lưỡi dao thần” (the Celestial Blade). Remember the typical swan maiden stories? Or perhaps you’re more familiar with the story of the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl. Yeah, the story was basically a blend of those, but the peeping Tom was killed, his corpse left to rot. Then, when a maggot fell from the corner of his mouth into a river. A golden turtle, whom he had saved from a trap years ago, surfaced to repay his debt. He revived the dead peeping Tom, gave him an herb of immortality, told him what to do, and left. The story proceeds just as other swan maiden stories would. But after the *equivalence of swan maiden* found her magic scarf and left, the golden turtle returned, gave the man and his son some red pills and a dagger to set out on a journey to find their wife and mother. Ehm… let’s just say the beams of sunlight reflected off the blade wiped out the whole fairy army under the swan maiden’s father so he could take his wife back. Well, at least when she was returned to the peeping Tom, he revived everyone.

III. Comments:

_ As you can see for yourself, the wikipedia page, as well as other English resources do not have all the links to all the stories and myths we shared in this post. This is because Vietnamese myths do not have a clear structure, nor are they well-documented and well-translated.

_ The lake, where Lê Lợi supposedly returned his legendary blade is in the heart of Hanoi and named Hồ Gươm (Blade Lake) – or Hồ Hoàn Kiếm (Lake of Returned Sword), with a tower built in the middle of the lake called Tháp Rùa (Turtle Tower). People believe, to this day, that the soft-shelled turtles in this lake are descendants of the golden turtle god and often refer to them as cụ rùa – the great-grandpa turtle. Rumors had it that when they surfaced, the country would go through massive changes. Currently, the lake site is still a tourist attraction and a site frequent by families, friends, couples, and senior citizens of the Capital.

Tháp Rùa in the middle of Hoàn Kiếm LakeAerial view of the lake

_ The city which the turtle helped building is called Cổ Loa Citadel – an actual historical site that people can visit in Hà Nội. While missing 6 out of 9 layers of walls, the remaining 3 is still a maze will disabled deadly traps in every corner.

Map of Cổ Loa Citadel todayAerial view of Cổ Loa Citadel today

_ While all Kinh Vietnamese consider ourselves descendants of Lạc Long Quân, The Hùng Kings by lore are his direct heirs. An Dương Vương, by historical records, was the Emperor to defeat the last Hùng King (who was father-in-law to two of Vietnamese Four Immortals). So, in a sense, the story of An Dương Vương struggling to build his citadel until he had help from Lạc Long Quân could potentially be a metaphor for the Ancient Vietnamese people finally accepting him as their new ruler.

_ The egg-turned-mountain of the Dragon’s Daughter is now known as Ngũ Hành Sơn or Mount Ngũ Hành (The Mountain of Five Elements). It’s a tourist attraction in Quang Nam Province – Danang (Quảng Nam, Đà Nẵng) by the name of the Marble Mountains.

The Marble MountainsAerial view of the Mountains

_ In some versions of the Celestial blade, the fairy wife/mother wanted to return to her husband and child after revisiting her family but wasn’t allowed. In others, she hid their existence from her father’s family. Some versions didn’t clearly state whether or not the husband actually revived his in-laws after killing them all.

_ The Celestial Blade was mentioned in a chapter of The Plane-walkers Guidebook.

_ The legendary Thuận Thiên Sword was the name and premise of one of our old works being reworked. Lạc Long Quân and Kim Quy are supporting characters in another, also under reconstruction. They may also appear in Half-Alive and Half-Dead if circumstances ever align.

As per usual, if you enjoyed what you’ve read, like and share. See you next week!

The post Week 11: Kim Quy – the Golden Turtle God first appeared on Cổ Thuyết.

Chapter IV: Because you’re a Trịnh

As if having sensed the old woman’s appearance in advance, Điền Quý had been sitting upright since who knew when. From his shirt pocket, the young man presented a pack of pipe tobacco (“thuốc lào”) and a copper comb:

“These are some gifts from home to show my gratitude.”

The old woman wore a typical traditional brown dress. Her head was covered by a scarf, her hair tied into a rooster tail, distinctively of Northern rural women’s headwears of the last century. She took the pack of tobacco, bring it to and away from her nose, sniffing for a while before finally putting it down:

“It is truly thuốc lào Tiên Lãng.”

Traditional rural wear of Northern Vietnamese women last century.

She then took the comb and flicked at it with one finger. Immediately, the comb let out a powerful and deep sound, much like that of a gong. Phượng Ngân, who was sitting right next to her, had to cover her ears. Her head shook with dizziness, unable to comprehend how an object that size could be capable of such a loud noise.

“Ah, it is Ngũ Xã Copper. Since your heart is true, so shall mine be. Pray tell, what is it you seek information on this time?”

[Translator’s note: Tiên Lãng and Ngũ Xã are famous villages for the production of thuốc lào and metal works/blacksmith, respectively.]

Điền Quý shrugged:

“Oh, nothing much. This time I was hired by this lady to dig up an ancient tomb.”

“If it was just any typical tomb, someone like yourself wouldn’t need to consult an old water lady like myself, would you? Pray tell me, then, what kind of catastrophe do you seek to unearth this time?”

“Ah, it’s nothing of the sort, ma’am! There’s only this sixteen-word instruction: ‘The mute opens up; The dead’s closed smile. Rounded pond, unrounded well. Crooked star fruit tree.’ All I ask from you is advice on how to proceed.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Điền Quý quickly covered his ears with both hands.

Before long, the old woman was shouting:

“Not a catastrophe my ass!”

Then, as if only now realizing there were other customers around them, she lowered her voice:

“Graves and tombs are never simple matters, young ones. It’s best if you can just forget about digging up this grave. Heed this old woman’s advice, children, no matter the riches, you have to be alive to enjoy it.”

Before Điền Quý could say anything, Phượng Ngân had already started earnestly:

“This matter is very crucial to me. Please help us, ma’am!”

The old woman frowned, then said in a tone that didn’t allow any argument:

“If it was anyone else, they can go ahead and go die down there. But you cannot!”

Seeing the sudden change in the old woman’s attitude, targeted explicitly at her no less, Phượng Ngân was pissed:

“We’ve never met before today; why are you deliberately making it hard on me?”

“Why?! Because you’re a Trịnh!”

As the old woman finished her sentence and tried to stand up, she found herself stuck to her chair, unable to move at all. Hastily turning to Điền Quý, she said in a soothing tone:

“Perhaps I’ve lost my temper. How about we take our time and talk about this; there’s no need for violence, Master Điền.”

Điền Quý yawned and said:

“I’ve already taken everything you’re worrying about into consideration. If anything happens, I’ll take full responsibility. If you could please tell us what we need to know, I’d appreciate it very much.”

“Alright, fine.”

The old woman glanced at Phượng Ngân warily; but, with Điền Quý’s threat hanging over her like a knife to her throat, she had no way of backing out. So, while she silently cursed at him in her mind, she still had to force a smile.

***

The skinny old woman looked around the water stall a bit before whispering:

“Please keep what I’m about to tell you a secret. The fewer people who know about it, the better.”

Phượng Ngân found this request a bit redundant. While she had no idea why the old woman had to request such an obvious thing, she nodded in agreement anyway, silently telling herself it had to be another slang between her and Điền Quý.

Meanwhile, he just tapped his finger on the table and chuckled:

“No need to worry, aunty. Whatever you tell me, I can swear no one else will hear a word of it.”

The old woman then said:

“When I was still alive, I heard a rumor that when the Cần Vương Movement against the French was at its peak, there was a warlock[1] In Vietnamese, the term “phù thủy” is used for magicians, witches, wizards, warlocks, necromancers, geomancers, Taoists, etc. In short, it’s for anyone who has any control over magic. jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_514_2_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_514_2_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], }); who joined Đinh Công Tráng’s army. I’m not clear on the details of what happened, but I heard he convinced the Insurgency that our country’s fate was coming to an end soon, and if we wanted to prolong it, we needed to use geomancy (Feng Shui). The tomb you two seek is called the Ghost King Mausoleum, designed by that very warlock. The day it was finished was the same day all workers involved died horrible deaths, including those who left the construction midway. The body count was enough to fill a pond.”

She paused momentarily to glance at Điền Quý and Phượng Ngân. Seeing that she’d failed to scare them, she sighed and asked him again:

“You’re determined to take her down there?”

Quý smiled:

“Some things are fated; we can’t avoid them even if we wanted to. Now, how about that 16 words? If all workers involved died tragically, I’m guessing no one knows where the entrance to the tomb is, right?”

The old woman replied:

“One of the workers etched those 16 words into a brick in his own front porch. Then he told his son to only dig it up and learn it by heart in the event of his death.”

“Why don’t we try asking the ghosts of those construction workers, then?” – Phượng Ngân wondered out loud.

“It’s been over one hundred years, miss. Do you think no one else has ever thought of doing that?”

“You mean, no one can find the spirits of those workers?”

The old woman simply nodded at that as confirmation.

Điền Quý then asked:

“So, about those 16 words, where should we start, ma’am?”

“From what I can remember, about twenty years ago, when our North was heavily bombed, the descendants of that worker attempted to follow that 16-word instruction to dig up the tomb to get rich. But in the end, their entire clan of over a hundred people died tragically and unexpectedly. The sole survivor was a son who was away on a business trip in the District. Unfortunately, when he heard the news, he was overcome with grief and became muted. You two can start your investigation with him.”

***

Only after buying a bottle of chicken blood did the two of them leave the Six-feet-under Stall and Bắc’s shop behind. The sun was already in the west, painting the dusty road yellow. Điền Quý glanced at his watch and said:

“We’ve probably already missed the train. How about we find somewhere to settle in for the night?”

Phượng Ngân was silently looking at her feet.

The old water lady had already revealed the tomb with the sixteen-word instruction was the Ghost King’s Tomb, which was connected to Đinh Công Tráng, and had nothing to do with the Trịnh’s family. Which meant all of the reasons she made up on the train had been debunked.

She then recounted what Điền Quý had said to the old lady’s intervention:

“Some things are fated; we can’t avoid them even if we wanted to.”

It was clear that he knew something regarding the fact that “the Trịnh cannot go down to the Ghost King’s Tomb.”

“If he knew it already, why hasn’t he exposed me? Could it be that he’s planned to take me down that grave from the start?”

For the first time, Phượng Ngân flinched. The more time passed, the less confident she felt about seeing through the scruffily dressed young man in front of her.

In the end, however, she still doubled down and ran to catch up to him.

“No matter what his intentions are, I’ll dig up that grave even if it’s the last thing I do! Otherwise, I’ll never get out of this cursed yin marriage!”

Phượng Ngân clenched her fists and swore to herself.

***

Điền Quý let her pick an inn for them to stay the night…

“I’m guessing you’re already tired of all the ghosts and demons mumbo-jumbo, right?”

He yawned before adding:

“Though, do be quick about it! I’m sleepy already.”

Phượng Ngân sighed but went into an old bookstore to ask for directions to an inn named Hương Rừng that a relative once told her about anyway.

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Điền Quý understood exactly how she felt. The entire day today, she’d saw hungry ghosts, corpse-eating chickens, then been at a water stall for phantoms. While she wasn’t afraid of any of them, she was sick and tired of it all.

Hương Rừng Inn turned out to be a cheap guesthouse. After getting there, the two of them rented rooms for the night, planning to investigate the tomb builder’s muted descendant in the morning.

In her room, Phượng Ngân pulled out a chair and started to count the money she had left.

As she ran away from home, she didn’t have to plan carefully, and therefore, didn’t pack a lot of money. Just the train ticket alone cost over half of her money. The rest was barely enough to pay for the rooms for three days, and that’s without accounting for any fees for food or other activities.

Phượng Ngân sighed:

“Let’s see. I first have to find the last survivor of that clan, convince him to explain the 16-word instruction. If that works out, I’ll have to go nearly a hundred kilometers on foot to get to Town A, then find my way to the Ghost King’s Tomb. That sounds… impossible.”

It was true what they say, “Difficulty binds wisdom[2]Vietnamese idiom. Meaning, the difficult situation one faced may serve as a deterrent keeping one from being able to think one’s way out of it. There’s another saying that usually go along with … Continue reading jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_514_2_2').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_514_2_2', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });.” As long as she was faced with money problems, her confidence in finding the Ghost King’s Tomb diminished.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

Then came a man’s voice eerily like Điền Quý’s:

“Ngân? Hey, Ngân! Let me in and pour me a sip of water, would you?”

Phượng Ngân looked over at the clock on the wall; it was already 10 PM. She stood up, went over to the left side of the room, and pressed her ear to the wall. The Inn was a low-budget one with cheap rent, so naturally, the room quality was terrible. The walls between rooms were thin, without any decent soundproofing in place. So, even without stepping out of her room, she could hear Điền Quý snoring like a saw next door.

The rain was practically pouring outside.

The young girl pulled out a chair to sit across from the door, then pulled out a lipstick from her shirt pocket and tapped it on the chair’s arm a few times.

While it was unclear what the lipstick cover was made of, every time it hit the chair’s arm, a sound like that of a good sword about to be unsheathed rang out loud and clear.

She then said to the general direction of the door:

“If you’re smart, you’d better go away! Or else you won’t have time to regret once I have to open the door!”

The rhythmic sound of rain outside could still be heard, but no longer were there any human voices accompanying it. The room fell back into silence as if nothing had happened just now.

Notes:[+]

Notes:

↑1 In Vietnamese, the term “phù thủy” is used for magicians, witches, wizards, warlocks, necromancers, geomancers, Taoists, etc. In short, it’s for anyone who has any control over magic.

↑2 Vietnamese idiom. Meaning, the difficult situation one faced may serve as a deterrent keeping one from being able to think one’s way out of it. There’s another saying that usually go along with it, “wisdom born out of difficulty,” having the exact opposite meaning: the difficulty one faced may serve as motivation for one’s wisdom and creativity to shine through.

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The post Chapter IV: Because you’re a Trịnh first appeared on Cổ Thuyết.

Week 10: Curse of the Oil Sellers

This week on #VNmyth: The narrowing of Tô Lịch river or the curse of Lallo… Mr. And Mrs. Dầu.

I. The story:

During the Lý’s dynasty, there was a massive landslide on the ancient rivers of Tô Lịch, Nhị Hà. Some folktales attributed this accident to Cao Biền, or Gao Pian in Mandarin, an official in the Tang dynasty in charge of controlling Giao Chỉ, the then dominated Vietnam. Rumors had it that Gao was a renowned Fengshui master and had gone to seal the Fengshui of Vietnam as per the Tang emperor orders, making Đại Việt a colony forever.

How much truth was in this hypothesis? No one was sure. But one thing was certain: after the landslide, the emperor suffered from a severe eyes-sore. He couldn’t work properly, and it was horrible for his image–as the end of the year was drawing near and many official events demanded the emperor’s appearance.

The situation was dire and worsen when no royal doctor or herbalist was capable of curing the emperor. Before long, he even resorted to the help of witch doctors, shamans, and prayers, to no avail.

One day, a famous Fengshui master/fortune-teller went to meet the emperor. He said that:

“The landslide created a Fengshui formation called ‘Thuỷ Phương Càn Tuất’ (seriously, even I don’t know what it is. Think of it as bibbidi bobbidi boo), which pierced your eyes. So unless you seal this away, your eyes won’t get better anytime soon.”

The emperor asked:

“How??”

The fortune-teller had no answer.

The emperor ordered his officials to build a ritual site at a river crossroad where three rivers: Tô Lịch, Thiên Phù, and Cái met and waited for a fortune-telling dream. The two officials dreamt of a god, who said:

“At the break of dawn on the 30th of December (based on the Lunar Calendar), order your men to wait at the harbor. You must capture whoever got there first, drown them in the river, and gave them godhood, then the formation would be sealed.”

The map of the Rivers today (Bưởi market is approximately where the suppose crossroad was; Thiên Phù River had long been dead; the red line denote the parts of the river paved over during development, the blue line denote the current river canal).

They immediately reported this dream back to the emperor.

Some officials thought this action was too cruel/inhumane, so they tried to stop the emperor, but he was determined.

“At the end of the day, the emperor’s eyes were worth way more than some mere commoners’ lives.”

Argued the emperor and his compilers / yes men.

On that faithful morning, an old couple was the first to come to the harbor. They were Mr. & Mrs. Dầu, oil vendors. They planned to cross the river early to go in the city and deliver some lamp oils to pagodas, as the demand would be sky-rocketed during the Lunar New Year.

The emperor’s men approached them, pretended to be friendly, and asked what they wanted their kids to offer them as their offering once they passed away. Mr. Dầu said:

“Beef and sticky rice.”

Stir-fried beefSticky Rice

Mrs. Dầu wanted the same things but added the desert of bánh rán mật, a deep-fried rice cake with green bean paste filling and honey glazed (pictures below).

[image error]

Well, you get it, the bastards drown them both, ignoring their pleas to be spared. After they were murdered, their corpses were swallowed by the river and never surfaced. Once a shrine was dedicated for them, the emperor’s eyes were healed.

Yet, unbeknown to the cruel emperor, he just doomed his entire family lineage with that murder.

After some time, a man went mad, spitting out all insults toward the emperor like a machine gun. Scarier, his face was so distorted that each half was making a different expression, and two voices came out of his mouth. Some of them were:

“We are Mr. and Mrs. Dầu. You are all damn bastards with no heart nor soul. You take innocent lives as you please. You think being emperor was big, eh? We will curse you. Your family will end with no successor. We will narrow both Tô Lịch and Thiên Phù rivers as the sign. Once it begins, it can’t be stopped!!”

After that, it was just crazed laughter.

That scared the hell outta the emperor. He offered them the meal they want every year. Yet, the curse was already set firm.

The Lý’s dynasty ended with an empress – the only empress in Vietnamese history – Lý Chiêu Hoàng, whose throne was inherited by her husband – Trần Cảnh – the first emperor of Trần’s dynasty. All family branches died off, except those who changed their family name to Nguyễn.

The Tô Lịch and Thiên Phù rivers were narrowed to their nowadays canal-like state.

II. My comments:

_ Moral of the story: don’t mess with people, especially the good guys. You don’t want to face a gentle soul’s wrath. Or worse, a gentle soul’s curses.

_ Tô Lịch river is a sewage canal in present days, and its odor was famous all around Hà Nội.

_ There was an incident during the early 2000s regarding the river. It started with an article named “Artifacts of Tô Lịch’s river.” I vaguely remember unexplained deaths, excavation sites, and unrest in society back then, but at the time, I was too young to notice or even care about that. I’m in my early twenties btw.

_ The part where the face distorted into two expressions might be my grandma’s unique addition to the story, as she was a bit of an author herself and would randomly sprinkle horror elements in her bedtime story (yeah, great job, grandma). I decided to keep it because… it’s cool. But I’ll address it here to make things clear.

_ The whole “the corpse of drowned people didn’t float” is a trope used a lot in Vietnamese/Asian stories as a sign of unrest and horror (so basically, Penny Wise is doing us a favor). Losing one’s corpse to the water and thus being denied a proper burial was one of the fears that might still exist in rural areas even today. There is a particular type of ghost associated with this fear – Ma Da (who makes short appearances in chapter 7-8 of the Half-Dead Series’ Book 1).

_ Petition for a raise. Give me my damn raise monkey or I go on strike (Petition denied, I’m already on strike!).

_ The image separating sections is bomb sawing, an actual illegal act in Vietnam. I used this because the act of killing innocent people it’s just as suicidal as doing this type of stuff (yes, they bang the bomb as hard as they can with a hammer and saw, transport them by strapping them behind their moped).

As per usual, if you like what you see, like and share. See you next week!

The post Week 10: Curse of the Oil Sellers first appeared on Cổ Thuyết.

Chapter III: The Six-feet-under Stall

The brick well turned out not as deep as she’d thought. If she wanted, she could reach the edge in a single leap. Knowing this, Phượng Ngân felt much better.

Inside the well, on the side of the west shrine, there was a tunnel barely large enough for a single person, with a light every ten meters. Waiting inside the tunnel was a small old woman with a slouching back and gray hair falling down around her face making her looked like an old willow tree. Seeing Phượng Ngân, she opened her toothless mouth to speak:

“Follow me, miss. Master Quý is already waiting inside.”

She was trying to be friendly, but her voice seemed to be hiding a sort of magic that made listeners shiver with cold sweat.

What she’d just said made Phượng Ngân even warier…

Điền Quý had only gone down a couple of seconds before she did. Yet, he was nowhere to be seen, and she couldn’t even hear his footsteps. Even if he started a sprint as soon as he hit the ground, he couldn’t have gotten away that fast.

Unless, of course…

He was a ghost.

The train carriage in which the two of them met earlier were in fact, not empty at all. Phantoms–those unfortunate souls that died elsewhere took the train of the dead to get home–sat in every seat, including the one next to her. Yet, as soon as Điền Quý entered, all the spirits became restless, panicked, and retreated away from him.

It was the first clue that told her he was not a simple man as he appeared.

Then, even as weird things kept happening around him since they got off the train, she wasn’t actually afraid. She was warier of him, sure, but she still didn’t believe any ordinary ghosts or demons could harm her. Even if Điền Quý and that chicken farmer Bắc were to work together, she was confident she could still get away safely.

So, when the old lady asked, she followed suit, determined to see what would happen next.

The woman appeared to be old and frail; she had to lean on the wall and tread slowly – taking one trembling step at a time. As she trailed behind the older woman, having nothing better to do, Phượng Ngân pretended to be asking random questions to see if she could unearth any helpful information:

“What was this tunnel built for, aunty?”

“To evade the bombs, miss. Now that we’re in peacetime, I had my son remove the door in the tunnel to make it more convenient.”

The elderly woman replied, showing no signs of hiding anything.

“What are you selling down here, aunty?”

“I own a water stall, miss. Business is booming down here.”

Her answer sent a slight chill down Phượng Ngân’s spine.

What kind of water stall would be making profit six feet underground? Who are they selling to? The dead?

***

As it turned out…

Her random guess was correct.

The old woman’s stall indeed served the dead.

Beneath the shrine was a simple bomb cellar, with a few low tables and some plastic chairs. A sign hung on a side, on it written “The Six-feet-under stall.”

The customers were drinking tea, eating peanut candies, smoking their pipes, or chatting. The scene was not much different from a street vendor.

“Though this street is a bit lower than others.” Phượng Ngân added silently while trying not to stare at the other customers or their dire conditions. Most of the Six-feet-under stall’s frequent customers were soldiers who died in the wars, some by bullets, others by bombs or napalm, etc. They all appeared precisely as they did when drawing their last breath, making her averting her eyes out of sympathy.

Điền Quý was sitting in a corner with a fresh pot of tea and a few peanut candies on the table in front of him. He yawned and signaled for Phượng Ngân to come to him.

Much like on the train, all the ghosts here avoided the general area where he was sitting.

Phượng Ngân sat down opposite him, then asked:

“Can we talk now, then?”

He nodded and started to explain.

The two old men they met at the train station were not just any spirits; they were hungry ghosts. Because they aid Plane-walkers in keeping the balance between the Yin and Yang Realms, they were rewarded with food and drinks, as she saw earlier.

At first, they’d thought Phượng Ngân was just an ordinary mortal, so they used slang to talk with Điền Quý to avoid exposure. However, after a while, they discovered she was not just a mortal and thus wanted to tease her.

Demons will always be demons, after all.

As for Plane-walkers, they’re those who walked between the Realms of Yin and Yang. Generally speaking, they are anyone who knows of the existence of the Spiritual Realm and anything out of the physical world. When Điền Quý heard about Phượng Ngân’s intention of entering the ancient tomb, he guessed she was a Practitioners as well, so he asked if she was also “in the business” or not.

After hearing his explanation, while she wasn’t in any hurry to believe him completely, Phượng Ngân didn’t show any sign of doubt, either. She then asked him about the human fingers and the chicken with human eyes.

Điền Quý sipped his tea and said:

“Those would be called ‘field chickens.’”

“As in ‘graveyard cat, field chicken[1]?’”

Phượng Ngân asked, her curiosity piqued. This saying originated from the feudal era was just a way to refer to promiscuous scoundrels. What did that have anything to do with corpse-eating chickens?

Seemed to have seen the question in her eyes, Điền Quý said:

“The saying has different meanings for mortals and for us Spiritual Dwellers. Our history was filled with many wars; it’s not far-fetched to say the bodies could have filled fields and stacked into mountains. Chickens, much like dogs, are creatures with strong Yang alignment; their blood could be used to repel evil. So, these corpse-eating chickens can help to disperse Yin energy, preventing spirits from turning into evil demons that would harm humanity. The blood and feces of this breed of chickens are the strongest of all chickens in terms of repelling evil and disrupting dark magic. So, Bắc farm them to sell their blood to Practitioners.”

“But where does he get the corpses? Could it be that…”

“I’m going to stop you right there! It’s nothing as scary as what you’re thinking. Most of the corpses are dead Plane-walkers or donors. It’s almost the Twenty-First century, come on! If he was to commit murder, he’d be rotting in jail. Besides, think about it, if he were to kill people to feed these chickens, the scale of the farm would be much grander, not just a few cages, wouldn’t it?”

Điền Quý hurriedly explained.

He knew the girl sitting opposite from him was not typical. Especially that dagger stare was not something an ordinary person can possess. If she misunderstood the situation, she could end up wrecking the whole farm and water stall.

“Wait, what did you mean by ‘us Spirit Dwellers?’”

“Aside from the Plane-walkers – or Practitioners, there is a second group of people called Sighted Mortals. These are those who know of the Spiritual Realm but do not directly deal with the issues between the realms. They could be retired Practitioners or Mortals. They can either support Plane-walkers from the sideline or simply live out simple lives. ‘Spiritual Dwellers’ essentially is the term to call both groups, anyone who knows of the Yin Realm counts. Seeing how little you know about Plane-walkers, I’d say you’re just a Sighted.”

Phượng Ngân then asked him why they’d come to this water stall. They could have just gone straight for the gravesite at the destination village, so why stopped by here?

At that, Điền Quý shrugged:

“I, too, wish real life was like all those action movies. So, we wouldn’t need to know anything, just jump into the grave, and there will be someone who can explain everything we need to know and our exact mission objectives. Wouldn’t that be convenient? Alas, no such luck. I’m not an action hero; I only have one life to live. So, I can’t exactly waste it, can I?”

“So, you came here to find out more information?”

“What else can one do at a chicken vendor aside from buying chickens?”

Điền Quý avoided Phượng Ngân’s questioning gaze.

This was basic knowledge. Phượng Ngân could see into the Realm of the Dead, but her professional knowledge is next to nothing, practically an amateur.

“Can an amateur really scare B ắc, though?”

Điền Quý silently questioned his own reasoning.

Naturally, he wasn’t just sitting still while Phượng Ngân prodded him for information.

Bắc’s mother went to squeeze kumquats and prepared another pot of tea before saying:

“You two hang on for a bit. Unfortunately, her hearing is not what it used to be.”

Điền Quý chuckled:

“Wouldn’t she’d get stronger and stronger as time passes?”

“Oh, stop it, you! If you keep coming here and ask your questions and she might move on soon.”

The water lady laughed and took a farmer’s pipe from a nearby spirit.

A typical farmer’s pipe

The underground water stall, selling to the dead.

Phượng Ngân silently scanned the establishment renovated from a bomb shelter, unable to hide the excitement and curiosity in her gaze.

The more miserable-looking ones were newly dead. They huddled in the corner of the stall, where there was an incense bowl next to firewood, pipes, and a teapot. Whenever the incenses burnt out, the water lady would move to replace them with new sticks[2].

Meanwhile, those who had died for longer–and no longer had to keep the appearance at their time of death–looked like regular people. They were of all ages and genders and walking around like they were still alive. They sat at other tables, drinking tea, eating candies, or smoking pipes, looking no different from Điền Quý or Phượng Ngân. Although, occasionally, a green aura would flash in and out of them.

Suddenly, from underground, footsteps could be heard.

At the same time, Phượng Ngân felt a chill down her spine.

As she turned her head to look, a skinny old woman–with white eyes–was sitting next to her as if she had always been there. One of her hands reached up to pat Phượng Ngân’s shoulder.

[1] Vietnamese idiom and slang, referring to adulterers.

[2] In Asian culture, specifically Chinese and Vietnamese, it is believed that spirits can only eat and drink while the incenses are burning. Lighting incense is therefore the equivalent to inviting ghosts to eat. That’s why after offerings are laid on the altar, incenses are lit and plucked into the incense bowl.

The post Chapter III: The Six-feet-under Stall first appeared on Cổ Thuyết.

Week 9: Mirrors in Vietnamese culture

I. First story:

Once, there was a family with two sons, who both got married. The first daughter-in-law was jealous that the little brother’s wife was way more beautiful than she did. One night, she decided to stalk her sister to find out the truth about her beauty.

During the Hour of the Ox (1-3 am in the 24 hours clock), the younger daughter-in-law sat before a mirror, combing her hair. The reflection the big sister saw that night was so frightening that she went mad.

II. Second story:

There was a poor man who lived alone but was quite narcissistic if one were to ask. One day, after getting drunk, he broke the mirror in his bathroom by accident but never paid much attention to it.

Strange phenomena started to happen whenever he looked in the mirror in his bathroom.

At first, he began to see his reflection as strange and couldn’t recognize his face after some time. He also had hallucinations and experienced memory loss. Later, one of the 13 reflections on the shattered glass winked at him. He died a painful death after a short while.

Disclaimer: this is a story my grandmother made up to teach me about the taboo of the mirrors since she didn’t want to tell 3 different tales. The taboos are real, though.

III. Third story:

A woman was using a hand mirror to redo her hair while getting on a bus. The older driver stopped her and insisted she went on a different carriage. She was annoyed, but the driver was adamant.

The car she got on next was of a younger driver, who had no opposition against that. But, as they crossed the road, the mirror showed the figures of ghosts who had died at that spot. Thanks to the mirror, the spirits got on the bus and never left.

IV. General beliefs:

_ The hour of the Ox is when the Gates of Hell open, and demons, ghosts, and all other types of monsters roam the Earth, as covered in an earlier post. It’s believed to be a bad hour.

_ Mirrors are magical artifacts that can reflect things the mortal eyes couldn’t. For instance, in Chinese and Vietnamese mythology, an artifact called “Monster-Revealing Mirror” shows the true form under disguises magic/transformation spell of a monster or shape-shifter. One of the most well-known example is in Chapter 6 of Journey to the West, when Sun Wukong battled Erlang Shen and his sworn brothers, Li Jing and Nezha used this mirror against him to aid Erlang Shen. In the free online translation I was able to find, it was called “Fiend Detecting Mirror” instead, though.

_ In Fengshui (or at least an amateur level), Vietnamese don’t place mirrors facing the door or the bed, at the familial altar (ban thờ), statues of deities, and places where they do their financial works.

_ It’s advisable that one doesn’t look at the mirror for too long, as if one did, the reflection will switch place with the real person, and one will cease to be one’s self.

_ There are actually two apparently opposing ideas about the nature of mirrors. On the one hand, they insist that mirrors are potent to evil spirits/anything non-physical and can ward off evil, cut off luck and fortune. On the other hand, they argue that mirrors are actually favorable for ghosts, as they can stay (or be trapped there) and haunt the place. Think of the mirrors, in this case, as their new grave.

_ When someone in the family died, all mirrors had to be covered up, including glasses on windows and doors. We believe that for the first 7 days, they still live in the house and don’t want to freak them out with their own reflections, as it can make them feel too attached and won’t move on.

_ Many of these concepts were touched upon in Book 1 of the Half-Alive Series, as well as in chapter 1, book 1 of the Half-Dead Series.

The post first appeared on Cổ Thuyết.

Chapter II: Corpse-eating Chicken

Angered when realizing she was being teased by ghosts, Phượng Ngân was about to beat them into a pulp before Điền Quý intervened:

“Hey now, they were just joking. No harm, no foul, right? Besides, we’re all in the same business here, aren’t we?”

He then turned to the ghosts, gave them some joss papers[1], and asked:

“Since you two are locals here, can you tell me where Mr. Bắc’s house is?”

“Chicken Vendor Bắc, right? Exit the station, turn left, then walk for around 200 meters. Turn at the alley; it’s the ninth house.”

After the two old ghosts answered, they pointed at the stacks of joss papers in Điền Quý’s hand. As soon as the notes were handed over, they turned into ashes and fell to the ground. Only then did Điền Quý turned and signaled for Phượng Ngân to follow him to Bắc’s house.

Only after the ghosts were out of sight did she asked:

“Hey, wait! What did you mean by ‘all in the same business?’”

“It’s exactly that. They are in the same business.”

He answered casually as he walked before stopping midstride as if realizing something…

“Wait, don’t tell me… You didn’t even know about that?”

Điền Quý turned around and asked with a grimace.

“Of… of course I know!” – Phượng Ngân turned away, clearly embarrassed by his sudden questioning.

Seeing her reaction, he sighed:

“This is not a good place to talk. Let’s get to Mr. Bắc’s first, then I’ll tell you.”

Phượng Ngân looked around at the streams of people on the street hurrying back and forth to make a living before nodding in agreement. Currently, the entire country was on the path of modernization and industrialization. If they were to talk about ghosts and demons in broad daylight, best-case scenario, they’d be considered crazy; at worst, they’d have to explain themselves at the police station for spreading superstitions.

***

It took Điền Quý and his new companion around half an hour following the old ghosts’ direction to find Bắc’s Chicken Shop. While the shop was not far from the station, the town itself used to be a battleground of the recent wars, so the roads were arranged like a maze, with lanes and alleys crossing and overlapping. Although they weren’t nearly as confusing as Hanoi’s old quarters, they were complicated enough to give people from elsewhere like Điền Quý and Phượng Ngân trouble navigating.

Bắc’s Chicken Shop was nothing more than a shabby, dark, and damp house with iron roofing. Even from afar, the loud sounds of wings flapping and the foul stench of chicken poop were distinguished.

In front of the door sat a half-naked skinny man, fanning his profuse sweat away. Phượng Ngân guessed this man must be the shop owner, Mr. Bắc. So far, everyone Điền Quý had interacted with since they stepped down from the train had been either ghosts or demons, none human.

Điền Quý took a few more steps before shouting a loud greeting:

“Bắc, my bro!!!”

“Oh, hey! Is that you, Quý? What made the dragon come visit the shrimp[2] today?”

Bắc raised his head to look at the newcomers with hazy drunkard eyes. When he saw Phượng Ngân behind Điền Quý, his lips perked up. He colled the younger man’s neck down in an embrace:

“Damn, boy! I heard about you getting married but was too busy to go to the wedding. What a coincidence that you newlyweds would take your honeymoon in this middle of nowhere!”

At that, Phượng Ngân spoke up, in a voice that was neither cold nor warm:

“The nature of our relationship is certainly not that. Do not misunderstand.”

Bắc gave an “ah” before smiling mischievously:

“Running away with your secret lover, eh? Damn, son! It’s like you’re living a drama film, why didn’t you te-”

The coldness and sharp edges of Phượng Ngân’s daggered gaze made the chicken farmer gulped down the rest of his sentence. Điền Quý then said:

“We only met on the way here. But, strictly speaking, she’s my client, so to speak.”

“Oh, so it’s business. Dammit, boy! You should have lead with that before she scared me into nearly wetting my pants.”

Bắc brushed off his clothes and straightened up, then pushed open the gates and led them inside.

His shop was a simple Northern traditional house with three big rooms and two smaller ones. The entire front yard had been renovated into one big chicken coop, leaving only a tiny and dark trail next to the left wall. As soon as Phượng Ngân set foot inside, a stinky odor made its way into her nose, and she winced at all the cockroaches crawling across the yard. However, seeing the chicken vendor’s and Điền Quý’s indifferent expressions, she willed herself to look casual.

A typical Northern traditional house

But it only took a few steps for her to feel eyes on her back in the darkness. On the narrow dark path barely large enough for a single file, she was bringing up the rear, so those gazes couldn’t have been from Bắc nor Điền Quý.

The further along the path, the colder it got. At first, it was rather refreshingly soothing, but now Phượng Ngân felt as if she was inside an ice tunnel. Then, in front of her, Điền Quý suddenly stopped in his track, pulled out a crumpled talisman[3] from his pocket, and gave it to her:

“If you’re cold, stick this to your body.”

Phượng Ngân didn’t believe a piece of paper could change the room temperature, but since Điền Quý had offered, she didn’t feel like outright declining. However, as soon as the talisman touched her shirt, warmth spread through her entire body and the cold from earlier disappeared completely.

Instinctively, she looked at his back. The man in the rumpled shirt in front of her suddenly became mysterious under the flickering light.

Only then did something struck her as odd: If Điền Quý was familiar with this chicken farmer named Bắc, why did he have to ask for direction from the two ghosts from earlier?

She was filing this thought to the back of her head and about to keep moving when she heard a slight knock.

The sound was incredibly soft; had it been anyone else, they probably would have missed it. But Phượng Ngân was no oridinary girl. From the moment she set foot into this alley, she was on extreme alert in case of traps.

The source of the sound was from the chicken-cages area on the right.

Under the faint light, lying on the flowery tiles, standing out like an ink stain on a blank piece of paper, was a human finger–a slender, pale, stiff human finger. Judging from the length and shape, it was clear it was not that of an adult but rather one of a child around 10 years old.

Her surprise continued, when from a cage, a chicken head poked out through the bars. The fowl head, with messy feathers, moved slowly as it gazed at her warily with widely opened eyes. Then, with lightning speed, it grabbed the human finger with its beak and retreated back into the iron cage.

In her heart, Phượng Ngân knew her eyes didn’t play tricks on her.

Moreover, the chicken head that had poked out just now didn’t have eyes like that of an ordinary chicken. Instead, it had eyes that eerily looked like human eyes.

***

Bắc’s backyard was a simple brickyard, with a well near the east wall and a shrine near the west wall. An emerald comb was left on the edge of the well.

There was no route to get here that didn’t go through Bắc’s house. As a result, rarely did anyone ever come here, even those who bought chickens from him.

Bắc took the comb, walked over to the shrine, turned the Guan Yin statue around, and combed her hair three times. Immediately, from under the brick came knocking sounds and a high-pitched voice:

“How many?”

The chicken farmer turned to look at Điền Quý. Only after the younger man nodded did he replied:

“Two.”

“Come down then.”

After saying that, the voice from under the yard also fell silent.

Điền Quý shrugged, pointed at the well, and turned to Phượng Ngân:

“Do you want to jump first, or should I?”

“Huh… Wait, what?”

Seeing her hesitation, he didn’t say another word. Instead, he walked over and jumped down the east well without a thought.

Witnessing the chicken with human eyes pecking on human carcasses earlier had slightly spook Phượng Ngân. Who knew what could happen if she were to jump down that tiny, dark, deep well? However, after gathering her own courage and self-confidence, she jumped down after Điền Quý.

And the darkness swallowed them both up…

[1] Joss paper (or ghost money): An umbrella term for the types of papers made and explicitly used in many Asian countries as burnt offerings to the dead. These offerings are not just limited to money/currency for the dead, but sometimes include clothing, shoes, hats, and even houses, cars, etc., as time changed.

[2] Vietnamese expression, used to express joy of seeing a highly valued guest. Also a way to both show hospitality and self-depreciation. The literal meaning refer to the hierarchy of the Water Realm where a dragon is considered royalty while a shrimp is just a lowly guard.

[3] “Bùa”: A term in Asian culture, referring to a piece of paper, white or yellow, with writings on them to use for various purposes, including, but not limited to, warding off evil, sealing entities, bewitching someone, etc. As there are no one equivalent words, it’ll be translated depending on the usage between paper talisman, sealing papers, etc.

The post Chapter II: Corpse-eating Chicken first appeared on Cổ Thuyết.

Week 8: Cường Bạo đại vương – if Noah were to rebel

This week on #VNmyth, the story of one of the times when Vietnamese rebelled against Heaven, and won.

Disclaimer: I drew this comparison because technically, the last arc of this story is a flood story. It neither was an attack on anyone’s religion nor contained any religious motives.

I. The story

Cường Bạo was a successful man, or at least, he was viewed as such by his fellow farmers. He had a wife, his own house, a buffalo, and a farm. What more could a man want back in the days??

People said he was lucky and was blessed by heaven, which he always shrugged off, saying:

“I worked hard for this. This is all me! What did Heaven ever give me? If I were to quit, this land would be a wasted field of weed.”

That had angered the Heaven King (ông Trời, or sometimes known as the Jade Emperor), so he sent a Thiên Lôi to kill the imbecile farmer. (lit: heaven thunder, a troop of thunder gods that use lightning axes as weapons. They were soldiers and goons for heaven)

However, Cường Bạo was the best friend, or better yet, booze friend with Táo Quân (The Kitchen King or Kitchen God). Whenever he cooked something good, he had always invited Táo Quân for a treat. So when the Kitchen God heard this news, he quickly reported it to Cường Bạo.

Having heard this, the man answered:

“I’ll prepare for their assault.”

And he did. Cường Bạo cooked Malabar spinach into a paste, mixed that with sesame oil to make a really slippery concoction, then he painted it on top of banana leaves and leave it on the roof.

Late at night, a thiên lôi came to kill the farmer as per heaven’s order. He raised his ax and would strike the very moment he stepped foot on Cường Bạo’s rooftop. But then, he stepped on the banana leaves, lost his balance, and fell down onto the yard.

Cường Bạo was hiding nearby, so he seized that moment to just beat the thunder god senseless. He claimed the lightning ax as a trophy, but thiên lôi managed to escape.

The King of Heaven was even more furious, and he ordered Hell to launch their own assault.

The King of Hell sent Quận Rết (centipede duke) to Cường Bạo house to bite both him and his wife. He hid in the pillowcase and slept through the day. When the couple went to sleep, he would slither out and strike.

But, having been told about this beforehand by Táo Quân, Cường Bạo boiled a big pot of water. When the water was roaring, he tossed the pillow in, and the Centipede Duke was burned to death.

The king of Hell sent his second trusty underling, Quận Rắn (snake duke). This Duke planned to hide in the haystack and strike when the couple went out to pee at night.

Well, let’s just say snake barbecue is a thing in Việt Nam.

This time, the king of Hell sent his most powerful official, Quận Cú (owl duke). Now, this Duke had two tongues. The red tongue was the living tongue, and the black one was the dead one. If he were to make three sounds with the dead tongue, he could rip the soul of people out of their bodies, thus making them dropped dead.

He flew to the house, used the dead tongue, but then realized only Cường Bạo’s wife was home. The man – the primary target – was at work. So he went to the nearby forest to wait for Cường Bạo’s return to claim his second kill.

However, a neighbor had seen it all and told the farmer about the strange death of his wife. Furious, the man asked the kitchen king for help, which he replied:

“Make me the best birdcage you can, and I’ll try to save your wife.”

Cường Bạo got the cage done in mere hours.

With the cage in his hand, the kitchen king went to meet the owl duke in the forest. The Duke, still being a bird in nature, liked the cage so much and wanted to live in there… He demanded that the kitchen king gave it to him as a gift.

The kitchen king said:

“But of course, but step inside first, so we’re sure that the cage fit.”

And the Duke did just that, not expecting the kitchen king wasn’t on the gods’ side. Táo Quân locked the cage, trapping the owl duke, and threaten:

“How did you kill people? Tell me, or I’ll turn you into finger-licking-good fried chicken.”

So the secret of the tongues was exposed, and the kitchen king just cut off the black one. After forcing the owl duke to release the souls of Cường Bạo’s wife, he was set free. Still, some people believed that owls could predict the upcoming death of people. They just couldn’t kill anyone directly anymore.

That was the last straw, and the heaven king was like:

“Release the kra… I mean the dragon king. I heard flood is an effective way to discipline the human.”

The dragon kings (long vương) was ordered to flood the land to kill Cường Bạo.

But the man had already been informed of this incident by the kitchen king. Not wanting to get his neighbors into the crossfire, he told the entire village of this.

Now, here’s the part that different from most flood stories.

The people were like:

“So, The King of Heaven had chosen… war??”

They gathered their weapons, built rafts, and prepared reeds as the flag. They also built anti thiên lôi roof as per Cường Bạo instruction.

On that faithful day, when the first raindrop fell, the people started to sound their drum, gong, and roared:

“We will rebel against the Heaven.”

Their sounds snuffled the roaring thunder as their rafts rose closer and closer to the gate of heaven.

Out of fear, the King of Heaven told the Dragon King to withdraw the floodwater.

The village folks returned to their village, and Cường Bạo was left alone.

II. My comments:

_ The human-centric attribute of Vietnamese mythos once again showed, similar to the post about the Duke and the Water God.

_ There are different versions and variations of the story. In some cases, Cường Bạo was rude to his mother to justify the action of heaven. In other, he was a fisherman who benefited from Táo Quân info to avoid floods and drought instead of a farmer. There were also stories where the attacker was a second thiên lôi who loved to skin people to eat their skin. In some other stories, Cường Bạo was eventually killed by a sneak attack, but that was much later after he raided heaven. And, he got a Temple for having lead people to fight and win against the Gods.

_ Ông Trời (or Trời, or Giàng depending on the regions) was an original Vietnamese deity, ruling over Heaven, or the Sky Realm. However, when Chinese culture influenced our culture, he was merged with Chinese Jade Emperor. Most of the time, he symbolizes Justice. Though, there are times, such as this story, where he appear in a less than flattering light – as an adversary to be conquered. In addition, he’s the father of Chúa Liễu Hạnh.

_ Cường Bạo might be based on Phùng Cường Bạo, a historical figure back in the Đinh’s dynasty, who helped unite the country in the age of the twelve warlords. The reeds flag was a signature of Đinh Bộ Lĩnh’s (the first king of Đinh’s dynasty) legend, so it might be a call back to that.

_ The heaven in Vietnamese had lost a total of three wars: the other two were against a Sun-Wukong-like-figure named Big Ears! (Yep! He was an overpowered Dumbo) and a toad :)) In fact, every child is taught to believe the toads to be Heaven’s Uncle, as whenever they clenched their teeth, rain would follow.

_ Lastly, Táo Quân made an appearance in Book 1 of the Half-Alive Series.

As usual, have fun, and see you next week. Also, if you had enjoyed reading this, don’t forget to like and share!

The post Week 8: Cường Bạo đại vương – if Noah were to rebel first appeared on Cổ Thuyết.

Chapter I: Yin Marriage

Hanoi, Vietnam, 199x…

In the suburban area of the city, a rather strange engagement party[1] was taking place.

No firecracker, no lantern, not even so much as any decoration on the bride’s house.

But the strangest thing of all was the fact that neither the groom nor the bride could be found.

Where the happy couple should be standing stood two chairs, with worshipping pictures on top.

Both the bride’s and groom’s parents had awkward smiles plastered on their faces, but anyone who isn’t blind can see the anger burning like fire under their gazes. And as such, all the guests kept quiet.

On the table of wedding gifts from the groom’s side to the bride: betel, wine, even golds were present. Yet on the side where dowry was located, there was only joss paper.

The words of the servant girl from this morning still echoed in Mr. Mạnh’s – the bride’s father – ears.

“Sir, miss had left to dig up her fiancé’s grave!”

***

Điền Quý jumped onto the train just as the door was closing, barely made it as the locomotive started moving. The young man smiled and apologized to the conductor standing there as he produced his ticket. The other man grumbled as he glanced at it before turning to leave.

He stumbled for a while to reach the toilet compartment due to all the bouncing. The smell that greeted him made Quý wince and scared him away from the toilet itself. Who knew if another bounce of the train could splash water from that dark hole up and onto him? If that was to happen, he couldn’t sit with any other human on this train now, could he?

In the dim light of the restroom, the face of a lean young man, with hair messy as a crow’s nest and stubbles like weed after the rain, looked back at him from the mirror. Quý was a strong young man, in his late twenties, wearing a shirt with his collar pulled up. He knocked on the glass surface a few times, mumbled a prayer or incantation of some sort. Then, his reflection’s hand reached through the reflective surface and shoved a pile of money at his face. The young man looked around for a bit before pocketing the money.

On the mirror surface, a line written in red spelled:

“Don’t spend too much of it; the cost is your longevity.”

He waved his hand and laughed it off:

“You worry too much, uncle! Besides, I’m running away partly because I don’t want to part ways with you just yet. Shouldn’t you give me better allowances?”

The writing on the mirror squirmed and shifted like living earthworms. In almost no time, it had turned into:

“Dream on, kid.”

Điền Quý shrugged, ignoring what was written before leaving the toilet to find a seat.

The cabin was almost empty that day, it seemed. And even better, there was a distinct lack of devilish children running and screaming. The young man stretched, took a deep breath, and almost shouted in joy. He never quite got why his parents were forcing him to get married. Why would he give up his freedom and comfortable lifestyle to run after and change diapers for kids?

“I still haven’t gotten to live my life yet; why would I want to tie a noose around my neck like a buffalo?”

That was what he thought and the reason why he ran away from home.

However, the entire cabin was spacious, and he was all alone. If there was no one to talk to, the half-day ride would be incredibly dull, would it not? The young man was yawning and scanning the compartment for somewhere to lie down and nap when suddenly, he spotted her. She was sitting at the window seat at the very end of the room. She was perhaps twenty-something, staring absently outside with her chin in her hand, her elbow on the windowsill, and a book opened on her lap. Her eyes were clear like a water surface as they reflected the scenery outside as it brushed by. The setting sunlight on the woman’s face made her glow beautifully like an oil painting.

Điền Quý reached up to smooth out his hair, but halfway through the motion, he gave up – seemingly out of laziness. The young man then made his way to the seat and asked:

“Hey stranger, mind if I sit here?”

As if pulled from her reverie, the young woman glanced back and answered him with an indifferent tone, neither warmly nor coldly:

“Sit wherever you want. It’s not like I own the place, is it?”

Điền Quý shrugged, then plopped down next to her on the bench, ignoring the strange way she was staring at him.

After a short while, he started:

“Hi there, I’m Quý, what’s your name? And where are you going all by yourself like this?”

“To destroy the world.” – The young girl glanced over and replied curtly.

After a moment of shock from the strange answer, Điền Quý rolled his eyes, clapped his hands together, and said:

“Great, we’re on the same path, then!”

It was the girl’s turn to look surprised. She swallowed hard and tilted her head over to him:

“Don’t tell me, you’re a criminal?”

He shrugged and replied with a straight face:

“Nah, I’m just unemployed.”

That got a giggle out of her:

“Are you that desperate?”

“At this rate, I’ll take whatever job I can find!”

She laughed again and then asked in a different tone:

“Well then, Mr. Unemployed, want to take a trip with me? We’ll split whatever profit we get?”

Điền Quý looked over and chuckled:

“Didn’t think I’d find a colleague when I got on the train.”

“Not quite. At least, I’m technically not officially one yet.”

“Still an Apprentice, then?” – He leaned back on the bench.

“No. To be precise, I’m not licensed, but I’m aware of the Yin Realm.” – She lowered her voice to answer as she glanced around the empty compartment.

Hearing that, Điền Quý stretched his shoulders and yawned:

“Look, graves are places where Yin Qi precipitate and ghosts and demons gather; living people like ourselves better steer clear. Unscrupulous things like grave digging are no joke; we could end up paying with our lives.”

“Wait, how did you know I was planning to dig up graves?”

“How did I know?”

He simply repeated her question back to her while staring at her with a strange gaze. After a while, she suddenly ah-ed as if understood, took out an eye-dropper from her bag, and pressed it into his palms. Then, with a smile, she said:

“Oh, where are my manners? You got dust in your eyes, right? Poor thing!”

***

The two of them talked for a while and got to know each other better. Điền Quý introduced himself as a geomancer, wandering in search of a thrill with no real destination in mind. The young girl didn’t say anything to that, so it was not clear whether or not she believed him.

As for her, she claimed her name was Trịnh Phượng Ngân, a primary school teacher currently on leave. She was going to the Northern mountainous provinces for vacation while looking for a grave mentioned in her family genealogy on the side.

She said:

“I heard from my family that there are many treasures in the ancestral graves, so I’m taking advantage of the trip to do some treasure hunting. With it, I’m hoping I can build a more spacious new school for the children. So if you have nothing better to do anyway, how about we do this job together, then you can do whatever you want with your share while I’ll donate mine to the kids?”

Điền Quý replied:

“We can cross that bridge when we get there. But, for now, I’m more concerned about whether or not you have any clues about your ancestral graves? Otherwise, if we just start digging without any preparation, we might end up inside our own graves.”

Phượng Ngân said:

“I don’t quite understand it yet, but there’s a sixteen words instruction that goes: ‘The mute opens up; The dead’s closed smile. Rounded pond, unrounded well. Crooked star fruit tree.’ Also, the destination is Town A. According to the tickets, it’s still another four to five hours before we get there, though.”

“Oh?” The young man smiled, “Great then. If that’s the case, I’ll get down at town A with you later. Let’s see how fearsome your ancestral grave really is!”

His companion returned his smile with one of her own, seemingly unaware of his momentary unnatural expression just now.

Before long, she smiled again and asked:

“What about the train tickets? Surely it couldn’t be a coincidence that you’d always meant to go to Town A from the start, could it? If necessary, I can talk to the conductor for you.”

Điền Quý thought to himself:

“Heh, this girl is testing me.”

He then cleared his throat and said:

“You’re right; I wasn’t going to get off at Town A. I was going to get off an hour after that. So, I can just get off there no problem.”

As if waiting for that exact answer, Phượng Ngân asked:

“Well then, I’m sure you don’t mind showing me your ticket?”

The young man was startled at that, his face a clear sign of nervousness:

“It’s just a ticket. What’s there to see?”

“I’m just curious, that’s all. Besides, like you said, it’s just a train ticket, it doesn’t hold any secret information, does it? If you like, I can give you mine to look at. What are you afraid of?”

Phượng Ngân tilted her head, her gaze locked onto him like spears ready to pierce all lies.

Điền Quý knew her words were laid out like traps to test him. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the ticket that had already been punched, and gave it to her.

The destination was set as “Province D,” three stations after Town A, with a few dozen kilometers in between.

Phượng Ngân stared incomprehensively at the ticket…

Điền Quý’s reactions didn’t add up.

She had been practicing martial arts since she was a child, and thus, was very confident in her eyes and instincts. So she knew she didn’t misjudge the situation. Just now, when she mentioned Town A, he was surprised, as if he couldn’t believe it was her destination.

The ticket could be faked. While the young girl didn’t know how he could have changed the content of the pass in front of all the prying eyes in this compartment, that didn’t mean he couldn’t. Though… that was unimportant. What’s written on the ticket could be faked, and his attitude – when asked about it – could be just an act; only his unconscious reactions were genuine.

While she was full of doubts and questions on the inside, her face betrayed no expression whatsoever. She handed Điền Quý back the ticket and said:

“Well then, I guess you won’t need my help, after all.”

He chuckled and replied:

“In that case, you owe me one this time. Next time, should I run into a problem, I hope you can return the favor.”

Phượng Ngân simply shrugged:

“How can you grow a beard out of that thick skin of yours?”

“Haven’t you heard? ‘Thick skin is a sign of kindness!’”

***

When the train reached Province A, about fifty kilometers from their destination, Town A, it had to stop due to some technical issues. The train driver informed everyone that it’d take around two to three hours and that they could go out for food and drinks. Seeing it was about dinner time, Điền Quý asked Phượng Ngân to accompany him in finding a nearby restaurant, both to fill their stomachs and to kill some time. The young girl found this an excellent opportunity to find out more information and test her companion, so she accepted his offer without hesitation.

Province A was in no way a bustling metropolis. There was a distinct lack of traffic to-and-fro about the place, nor were there many shops or merchants around. If it hadn’t been for the fact that the train stopped here for reparation, people would probably mistake this place for an abandoned station. However, as soon as the two of them got off the train, they spotted two middle-aged men sitting at a nearby stall, eating chicken legs and drinking beer. Điền Quý immediately ran to them and struck up a conversation with a laugh:

“Hello, uncles! Where are you going that you have prepared beer and snacks like this?”

The two men shared a look before replying:

“First time taking this train?”

At the young man’s nod of confirmation, the man on the left said:

“No wonder you’re surprised. Frequent passengers like ourselves are used to it by now. We’re prepared out of necessity, kid.”

“So does that mean the train always runs into problems around this part then?”

“Yep, every single time…”

As one of the older men finished saying this, he raised his beer to clink with his companion before continuing:

“No idea why, but every time we get to this station, the train breaks down, and the staff gets out to fix it. And whosever face pales like a tree frog’s butt[2] are sure to be a newbie.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk! How many times has your spine got chilled over it? How are you better than them?” – The other older man chimed in, and they both laughed out loud.

Phượng Ngân, who had been standing on the side and listening all this time, suddenly joined with a joke:

“Then why don’t you two ask the staff directly? Who knows? Maybe this station is haunted by some ghosts?”

The two older men burst out laughing:

“Don’t you know, miss? There are ghosts everywhere!”

“Like ourselves, for examples.”

A gust of wind blew past, and with it, the middle-aged men’s feet disappeared.

[1] The wedding tradition in Vietnamese are different from that of Western countries. This is translated based on the function of the ceremony, though there are certain differences.

[2] “Face pales like a tree frog’s butt,” sometimes “face green like a tree frog’s butt”: Vietnamese idiom, meaning “face pales with worry and fear.” Vietnamese tree frog (or Annam tree frog) is a species of tree frog found only in Southern China, Vietnam, and Laos.

The post Chapter I: Yin Marriage first appeared on Cổ Thuyết.

Week 7: Legend of the Tết’s pole, or a story of the war against Demons

This week on #VNmyth, we’ll go over one of a more well-known folklore (compared to other folklore; generally speaking, no Vietnamese myth is well-known) that highlight how Vietnamese culture doesn’t just borrow from other cultures, we make our own.

I. The story:

In the old days, at the beginning of time, the land belonged to the demons. The human had no other choice but to work on the demon’s fields, farming and then paying them taxes for a living. The human workload gradually increases as the demons don’t want to work anymore, and simultaneously was the tax. It was an age of famine, starvation, and despair.

One day came the last straw. The demon’s leader wanted to play “fair,” so he wanted to divide things 50-50. In his new terms, the demons would provide the land, while the human would provide the labor. Once the harvesting comes, the demons would take everything that grew above ground while leaving the other half to human. Bụt saw this and decided that it was his time to intervene. (Bụt = Vietnamese for Buddha, I’ll call this character with the Vietnamese pronunciation from now on, since he mostly an entirely new character in our lore by now).

Mythologies lovers, I think we all know the gist of how this story will go by now with this kind of story, as it comes up a lot. The first time they grew sweet potatoes (or yam or wev since the word “khoai” in Vietnamese can be referring to many root vegetables). On the second time, they switched back to rice, and the third to corn. The demons had nothing all three times, so everyone lived happily ever… NOT!

Wait… what do you mean there’s more? This is not the end already?

Turned out, the demons had decided to pull a f*ck you move. “We’d rather starve than give you anything!!” – they said. And thus, they confiscated the land.

While the humans were devastated, Bụt saw this as an opportunity to turn the table. He instructed the people to gather all their belongings and strike a deal with the demons. The human wanted to buy a piece of land as big as the shadow of a kasaya – or monk’s outfit. Obviously, they agreed to this sweet deal. Why would anyone turn down such a profit like that?

Bụt took his kasaya and hung it on a bamboo tree before making the tree grow higher and higher, and with it, its shadow did as well. It extended all the way to the East Sea and covered every nook and cranny of the land. And thus, the demons were banished.

And everyone lived happily ever after?

The demons were infuriated because they were scammed, so they raised an army and attacked the human to claim back the land. Bụt, being a deity of good and forgiveness, took his staff out and started beating the crap out of the demons!!

I had always imagine the scene being something like this

See why I didn’t really want to call him Buddha?

However, even with the help of Bụt, the human could only bring the demons to a stale-mate.

The demons, tired of a prolonged stale-mated with a lesser race, pulled a 200 IQ move: they wanted to exchange Bụt’s weaknesses with theirs.

OBVIOUSLY, the demons were honest about their weaknesses being lime powders, pineapple leaves, and garlic, while Bụt freaking lied about his weaknesses being food (including oản – a type of rice cake used in worshiping, banana and boiled eggs) so on their next war, the human picked everything the demons threw at Bụt to eat, while everything they threw at the demons was all super effective. In the end, the demons lost and were banished again.

This time, they begged Bụt to allow them to go back into the land three days every year to visit their ancestor’s graves. He agreed, but he also warned the demons to steer clear of humans inhabiting the area. Thus, the days the demons returned to the land were chosen to be the three days of the new year (Tết). Since then, the humans started making a bamboo pole with bells, garlic, and pineapple leaves attached to it as a reminder of the bamboo pole with the kayasa. They also used lime powder to draw a bow with its arrow aimed to the east to remind the demons of their banishment.

The Tết’s Pole that is still a tradition around Lunar New Year.

II. My comments:

_ As I have said in an earlier post, Vietnamese Bụt is really different from the neighboring countries’ versions, even though it was more of a title than an actual deity. In fact, most Vietnamese nowadays pretty much don’t even know that Bụt is a pronunciation of Buddha until high school.

_ Vietnamese folk stories sometimes make me wonder if the one first made them up was like “but wait, there’s more” when telling them. Basically, we had versions of famous fairy tales where the “happily-ever-after” in the western equivalence was when the story began to take an unexpected twist and got exciting.

For instance, our version of Cinderella had a twist like this: After the usual “that’s my shoe” trope and marriage into royalties, she was killed by her stepmother and stepsister. Then she went on a reincarnation steroid, turning into a bird, two trees, a sewing machine, another tree that bore fruits, one of those fruits; and eventually, ended with her regaining her human form and exacting revenge on her stepmother and stepsister. You know, the ones who had murdered her to claim her place :)) I’m not even making this up. Google and check Tấm Cám out and see for yourself. Or you can also read the short story we wrote inspired by Tấm Cám.

_ The Tết’s Pole did make its appearance in Book 1 of the Half-Alive series. We neither confirm nor deny Bụt’s appearance at this point.

_ Also also, while indeed we have worship some pretty stupid things due to the people lack of knowledge on the Sino character (for instance, there was a shrine dedicated to a stone slab with the words: Hạ Mã – get down from your horse, which basically the ancient people’s “No vehicles allowed” sign), we generally follow a principle in the following poem:

"Thương dân dân lập đền thờ.
Hại dân dân đái ngập mồ thối xương."

Which translate into:

If you help the people, you’ll get a shrine.
But if you try to harm the people, they’ll dig your grave up and drown it with piss until your bones rot and stink :))

So most shrines had to have some legends of their deities saving people or helping them better their lives to even be allowed to exist :v

Didn’t know where to put this comment, so there’s that.

P.S.: If you enjoy this series of posts, we would appreciate a share and/or a like.

The post Week 7: Legend of the Tết’s pole, or a story of the war against Demons first appeared on Cổ Thuyết.

Week 6: Princess Liễu Hạnh – Mother Heaven

This week on #VNmyth – Liễu Hạnh.

Liễu Hạnh as she is depicted in Đạo Mẫu.

She is the Daughter of Heaven (yes, I mean literally), ruler over the sky realm and one of the four Vietnamese Immortals: Heavenly Mother (mẫu thượng thiên) Liễu Hạnh.

I. Cosmology:

To understand her story, one first needs some info on the cosmology in the Religion of Mothers (or đạo Mẫu).

There are four planes in total, excluding the mortal plane that we thrive in:

Heaven (thiên phủ): ruled by Liễu Hạnh – one of the four immortalsMountain (nhạc phủ): ruled by La Bình – daughter of another one of the four immortals – Sơn Tinh.Water (thoải phủ): ruled by an unnamed goddess, she is said to be the daughter of the eight seas dragon king. Note: her realm is probably the most crowded place – as she has to share some of her domain with Lạc Long Quân (The Dragon King of Lạc – forefather of the Viet people) and Thuỷ Tinh (rival to Sơn Tinh and the very representative of Nature).Netherworld (địa phủ): well, self-explanatory, also ruled by a goddess.

Actually, there is a place that could be considered the fifth realm: the east sea island. It’s where the primordial demons are banished to in the story of New Year Cane (Or the Tết’s Pole).

II. Her main story (without any religious factors):

Disclaimer: she is rather a peculiar case. Not only is she a significant figure in religion, but she is also the target for other religions to take down, so her story is kind of messy. As such, I’ll try my best to eliminate as much religious factor as possible – since “my god is stronger than yours” is a can of worm I’m not willing to open anytime soon.

Liễu Hạnh was that rebel daughter in the family – who was stubborn and never listen. Unable to discipline her, her father decided to: “f*** it, what I can’t teach you, life will!” So he banished her from Heaven so that she could learn to be a suitable successor to the throne.

*Insert the old Heaven singing “Oh I just can’t wait to retire” in Simba’s voice.*

Back to the soon-to-be Mother of Heaven, she went to Đèo Ngang, a mountain pass that connected the north and the south of the country, and opened a water stand. In a place plagued with bandits and predatory animals, her stand stood out like a sore thumb. However, people flocked there, as it was the only place to quench their thirst/fill their stomachs after a long day of travel. Plus, the owner was beautiful beyond the descriptive capability of words.

Still being the rebellious daughter, Liễu Hạnh would punish anyone who dared to flirt or want to r*** her, all the while leaving those who just admire and do their own business alone. To sum up: flirting and touching are taboos there.

So, all was well and good, until the day when the country’s crown prince heard of Liễu Hạnh. He went there to meet the girl; then, because he wanted to marry her and couldn’t keep his manner, he was punished with madness. The emperor was enraged, but all the Taoists and wizards he sent to battle her were easily defeated. One day, he remembered Bodhisattva once ordered 8 generals to cleanse the realm of demons. The king asked the generals to subdue Liễu Hạnh, and they agreed.

The battle was tense, yet at the end, Liễu Hạnh managed to over-powered all eight generals. Out of choice, they fled to Bodhisattva for help and were given a magic bag. With that, Liễu Hạnh was finally captured. However, as she is the Daughter of Heaven, she was technically on equal footing as the emperor, and thus, he had no right to punish her. Also, technically, albeit being somewhat ruthless, what she did could be considered justice and abide by the laws of Heaven. So, in the end, she was spared without any punishment. She did, however, heed the emperor’s advice of avoiding harming the innocents or creating too much ruckus.

During this time, she had a husband and a son with 11 fingers. As the days of her exile ending drew near, she entrusted her child to a Buddhist monk before returning to Heaven.

After some time, she was banished again and bore a second child with nine fingers. She gave her child to a Buddhist monk again just before returning to Heaven, this time she said:

“I went to the mortal realm two times and have two sons. Originally, I planned to make them great emperors, yet couldn’t as one has too much, the other too little. But one of them will be a genius.”

That child became Trạng Quỳnh, a very complex character that I will cover in a later post.

III. Other versions:

Being a major deity in đạo mẫu, Liễu Hạnh had seen some significant appropriation in her lore, and not all of them are respectful.

In Nội đạo tràng – a sect of Taoism during the 15h century, she was depicted as a cruel, ruthless, and evil deity who would kill half a village when her demands were not met. She was later defeated by the sect founder – Tiền Quân Thánh. This is likely due to the conflict for influences between two religions, and it’s by far the most disrespectful.

In Buddhism, she was saved just before being defeated by the leader of Nội đạo tràng by buddha, who gave her a monk outfit to wear and took her away. This is okay-ish since đạo mẫu itself worships some deities in Buddhism, too.

In Confucianism, she was… paradoxical. She was talented and often appeared to flirt with scholars; her husbands (in all reincarnations) were also Confucians, too (which is strange since her whole folklore was her punishing sexual abusers).

However, I would share one last story with you guys about Liễu Hạnh. It was the time when she appeared before Phùng Khắc Khoan – a famous scholar.

It took place after Phùng Khắc Khoan’s diplomatic mission to China. When he got to Lạng Sơn (a mountainous town in Northern Vietnam), he saw a stunningly beautiful girl sitting under three pine trees in front of a temple, singing. He then teased her with a :

“Tam mộc sâm đình, toạ trước hảo hề nữ tử” – 三木森庭,坐著好兮女子 – a beautiful girl sits in front of a temple, with three pine trees.

You thought this was easy to reply, huh?

Wordplay explanation: 三 means “three,” 木 means “tree,” but three characters for “tree” will form the word 森 – “thick” (as in a thick forest). The word 好 means “good,” and it is a combination of 女 – which means “girl” and 子 – which means “child.”

And to add to the impressiveness, he pulled this out of his ass on a whim.

The girl, too, replied without needing to think for even a moment: “Trùng sơn xuất lộ, tẩu lai sứ giả lại nhân.” – 重山出路走來使者吏人 – From the mountains come someone, he is an official.

Wordplay explanation: 重 – means “double, multiple” – and 山 – means “mountains.” But when you combine the characters for “mountains” two times, you’ll get 出 – means “get out, come out from.” The word 使 – “ambassador, representative of the emperor” – is the combination of 吏 – meaning “to work in Office” and 人 – meaning “human.” While the second word doesn’t appear fully in the characters 使, it exists there in the form of a stroke to the left of the first character 吏. In Sino characters, we call this “bộ.”

Phùng Khắc Khoan was stunned, he asked:

“Sơn nhân bàng nhất kỷ mạc phi tiên nữ lâm phàm” – 山人凴一几,莫非仙女臨凡 – The girl sitting on the chair, are you perhaps a fairy in heaven?

Now, Vietnamese “tiên” is more like “xian” in Chinese, which means somewhat celestial or godlike people. It’s very different from fairies and pixies of westerns culture, albeit we use the same word for them all.

Word plays explanation: the word 仙 – tiên – was a combination of mountain and that stroke – bộ 人. The word 凴 – “to sit” has the word 几 – “chair” – under it. That same word, when combined with “一” – meaning “one,” became 凡 – “mortal” (in this case, “mortal world”).

The girl replied: “Văn tử đới trường cân, tất thị học sinh thị trướng” – 文子帶長巾必是學生視帳 – The confucian tied a long hair tie, must be an eye dropping student.

Haizz, back to the explanation: the word “văn” 文 (Literature) and the word “tử” 子 (Person) combine to make the word “học” 斈 or 學 (to study). Under the word “đới” 帯 has bộ “cân” 巾. The word “trường” 長 (school) and the word “cân” combine into “trướng” 帳.

Phùng Khắc Khoan was astonished and kowtow to her, yet the girl was nowhere to be seen when he looked up. On one of the trees it was written: 卯口公主 – Mão khẩu công chúa – the princess with a cat mouth. On a board at the temple had another line: 冫馬已走 – Băng mã dĩ tẩu.

None of his followers understood what the actual f*** just happened, so he explained:

“The tree is “mộc” 木, so add that character to “mão” 卯 we get “Liễu” 柳, add that character to “khẩu” 口 we get Hạnh 杏. That girl we saw just now was Princess Liễu Hạnh.

In the almost same line of thought: “băng mã” 冫馬 combined into “Phùng” 馮, Phùng Khắc Khoan’s family name. “Dĩ tẩu” 已走 combined into “khởi” 起, which means “to begin.” Liễu Hạnh put that line there to command us to rebuild this temple.”

IV. My comments:

_ She was a major religious figure, so I kind of steer clear from all the non-folklore narrative to avoid bias.

_ In folktales, as well as some official documents of the feudal time, she was recognized as one of the four Immortals – or Tứ Bất Tử. Some experts suggested that she represented “justice” and “fairness,” but that is still debatable.

_ She was rebellious, and thus her genius son – trạng Quỳnh – might have inherited that from his mother, as in most of his legends, the guy took superstition head-on and come out on top with nothing but his wit and deceiving skills. Yep, albeit being the son of a literal goddess and one of the four Immortal, that guy has no magical power whatsoever and was arguably an atheist before that term even existed. Even more ironic: he outwitted his own mother, not once, but twice or thrice! :))

_ Something to note about Vietnamese folklore: most deities see positions of power as nothing but nuisances – responsibilities that had to be taken rather than something to strive for. So, in many stories, immediately after they had raised a suitable successor, the gods were like, “f*** this shit, I’m out. Onto sweet retirement!”

Even the creator god (we have many versions of creation myth, but I’ll stick to the Sky Pillar god – thần trụ trời) was like: “There! You have your world, do with it what you’d like! My work here’s done. So long, suckers!!!” And he was never heard of again :)) he didn’t die creating the world like in Norse or Chinese mythology, just suddenly disappeared into retirement.

See you guys next week

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