“That’s the mountain goddess and the sea king,” she slurred. “And if you think they’re fighting…” I blushed at her words, fortunate that it could be passed off to the ridiculous alcohol we were somehow still drinking. Now that I was looking for it, no, they were not fighting at all. “They’re the mother and father of Vietnam,” Bai was saying. “Tonkin. Ha, Vietnam. It can still be Vietnam here. But the dragon and the goddess. Our mother and father.”
