___ Ngạn ___
Gió lạnh đầu buồi
After two endless years of self-imposed exile in that distant land, Ngan decided to return. He could not run away forever. He had to face the destiny of his life. Ngan arrived back in Do Do village at dusk. The village remained unchanged—the same green bamboo groves rustling in the wind, the same curls of evening smoke lingering over the thatched roofs. But Ngan’s heart was different. A mixture of nervousness, anxiety, and eagerness made his footsteps hasten.
That night, Ngan and she walked side by side. The space around them became strangely poetic and ethereal. Tonight, a crescent moon hung tilted at the tip of a branch, casting its cool, gentle light down upon the countryside. Below the dike, the chirping of crickets and the croaking of frogs from the shallow puddles blended together, creating a soothing, primal, and pure countryside love song. The breeze blowing in from the river was deliciously cool, carrying the scent of alluvial soil, young rice, and wild grass.
The silence between them was not suffocating; on the contrary, it held a suppressed electromagnetic tension, merely waiting for a spark to ignite. His moral constraints and reason were fighting their final battles, but they had grown too frail before the flesh-and-blood presence of the girl he loved.
Suddenly, Tra Long stopped in her tracks. She turned around to face Ngan. Under the dim moonlight, Ngan saw tears rolling down her cheeks, glistening like pearls. Without a single warning, without a moment of hesitation, Tra Long stepped forward and threw her arms tightly around Ngan’s waist. She pressed her burning face against his chest, her shoulders trembling violently with emotion. She sobbed, her voice choked yet clear, echoing through the quiet expanse of the countryside:
"Uncle, I love you!"
Ngan stood frozen for a split second, and then, as if an instinct suppressed for so many years had awakened, he wrapped his arms tightly around Tra Long. He held her with all the strength of a man, as if wishing to carve her into his very flesh, as if to make up for the two cold, lonely years in the desolate mountains.
He slowly lifted Tra Long’s chin. In the intertwining darkness of earth and sky, her lips were trembling, wet with tears, and burning with a desire to surrender. Ngan raised a slender finger to gently brush those lips, feeling their softness and the burgeoning vitality of youth. He no longer thought of Ha Lan; he no longer thought of the past. At this moment, before his eyes, in his embrace, there was only Tra Long.
The flesh-and-blood presence of Tra Long, along with her sobbing confession, "I love you," officially incinerated the last remaining chain of feudal reason within Ngan. Tonight, he was no longer the ascetic village teacher, nor was he the foolish, love-struck Ngan of the past. Under the faint crescent moon, he was a mature man, bursting with vitality, driven by the most powerful, primal instincts of a male aching to possess the woman he loved.
Ngan tightened his embrace, pressing Tra Long’s shapely body—throbbing with the vigor of her twenties—against his firm chest. His kiss fell upon her, no longer a gesture of tender cherishing or soothing comfort, but one of possession and fierce intensity. He hungrily consumed her moist, plump lips, his hot tongue swirling deep into her sweet mouth, intertwining passionately with Tra Long’s. Tra Long trembled in waves; she let out a soft, faint moan through her teeth, a stimulating sound that threw a massive flame into Ngan’s mind. She arched her body forward, locking her arms tightly around his neck, actively welcoming this powerful invasion.
Their breath grew rapid and scorching, blending with the humming of insects beneath the dike. Physical instinct urged him on; Ngan’s slender yet sinewy hands began to slide down from her rounded shoulders to her slender waist, and then, uncontrollably, slipped beneath her thin silk tunic to directly touch Tra Long’s smooth, warm skin. A jolt of electric ecstasy surged down both of their spines. Ngan could clearly feel the firmness, the fullness of her breasts...
He broke away from the deep kiss, panting for breath, his eyes bloodshot with the embers of primal desire. He looked straight into Tra Long’s emerald eyes, which were completely immersed in love, his voice deep, thick, and hoarse:
"Tra Long... I love you."
Tra Long did not avert her gaze from Ngan’s burning eyes. She gasped, her cheeks flushed crimson beneath the moonlight, her plump lips parting slightly. Her voice carried the utter determination of a girl caught in the ultimate struggle between her virtue and her overwhelming love and desire to surrender:
"I am yours... Tonight, everything of mine belongs to you. Do not abandon me again."
Her consent acted like a release valve for a dam of desire that was about to burst. Ngan decisively guided Tra Long down onto the soft carpet of grass, hidden behind the shadow of a lush green corn patch on the slope of the dike. Between the vast earth and sky, he slowly but resolutely discarded the final barriers of clothing, exposing their youthful and vigorous bodies under the crescent moon.
Ngan’s hands traveled across the flourishing curves of the young girl, evoking moans of pure ecstasy from Tra Long’s small mouth. Every inch of skin touching skin was scorching hot, as if threatening to set the countryside night ablaze. The nakedness of the flesh at this moment bore no semblance of baseness or vulgarity; for each touch, each hurried breath, and this intense physical union was the beautiful culmination, the ultimate sublime elevation after years of suppression and tearing conflict between pure love and Ngan’s manly instincts. He surrendered the entire essence and dignity of his youth to her, and Tra Long responded with the most primal, passionate devotion of the true woman of his life. The two became one under the moonlight of their homeland.
This time, he would not let the emerald eyes slip away again!
That night, Ngan and she walked side by side. The space around them became strangely poetic and ethereal. Tonight, a crescent moon hung tilted at the tip of a branch, casting its cool, gentle light down upon the countryside. Below the dike, the chirping of crickets and the croaking of frogs from the shallow puddles blended together, creating a soothing, primal, and pure countryside love song. The breeze blowing in from the river was deliciously cool, carrying the scent of alluvial soil, young rice, and wild grass.
The silence between them was not suffocating; on the contrary, it held a suppressed electromagnetic tension, merely waiting for a spark to ignite. His moral constraints and reason were fighting their final battles, but they had grown too frail before the flesh-and-blood presence of the girl he loved.
Suddenly, Tra Long stopped in her tracks. She turned around to face Ngan. Under the dim moonlight, Ngan saw tears rolling down her cheeks, glistening like pearls. Without a single warning, without a moment of hesitation, Tra Long stepped forward and threw her arms tightly around Ngan’s waist. She pressed her burning face against his chest, her shoulders trembling violently with emotion. She sobbed, her voice choked yet clear, echoing through the quiet expanse of the countryside:
"Uncle, I love you!"
Ngan stood frozen for a split second, and then, as if an instinct suppressed for so many years had awakened, he wrapped his arms tightly around Tra Long. He held her with all the strength of a man, as if wishing to carve her into his very flesh, as if to make up for the two cold, lonely years in the desolate mountains.
He slowly lifted Tra Long’s chin. In the intertwining darkness of earth and sky, her lips were trembling, wet with tears, and burning with a desire to surrender. Ngan raised a slender finger to gently brush those lips, feeling their softness and the burgeoning vitality of youth. He no longer thought of Ha Lan; he no longer thought of the past. At this moment, before his eyes, in his embrace, there was only Tra Long.
The flesh-and-blood presence of Tra Long, along with her sobbing confession, "I love you," officially incinerated the last remaining chain of feudal reason within Ngan. Tonight, he was no longer the ascetic village teacher, nor was he the foolish, love-struck Ngan of the past. Under the faint crescent moon, he was a mature man, bursting with vitality, driven by the most powerful, primal instincts of a male aching to possess the woman he loved.
Ngan tightened his embrace, pressing Tra Long’s shapely body—throbbing with the vigor of her twenties—against his firm chest. His kiss fell upon her, no longer a gesture of tender cherishing or soothing comfort, but one of possession and fierce intensity. He hungrily consumed her moist, plump lips, his hot tongue swirling deep into her sweet mouth, intertwining passionately with Tra Long’s. Tra Long trembled in waves; she let out a soft, faint moan through her teeth, a stimulating sound that threw a massive flame into Ngan’s mind. She arched her body forward, locking her arms tightly around his neck, actively welcoming this powerful invasion.
Their breath grew rapid and scorching, blending with the humming of insects beneath the dike. Physical instinct urged him on; Ngan’s slender yet sinewy hands began to slide down from her rounded shoulders to her slender waist, and then, uncontrollably, slipped beneath her thin silk tunic to directly touch Tra Long’s smooth, warm skin. A jolt of electric ecstasy surged down both of their spines. Ngan could clearly feel the firmness, the fullness of her breasts...
He broke away from the deep kiss, panting for breath, his eyes bloodshot with the embers of primal desire. He looked straight into Tra Long’s emerald eyes, which were completely immersed in love, his voice deep, thick, and hoarse:
"Tra Long... I love you."
Tra Long did not avert her gaze from Ngan’s burning eyes. She gasped, her cheeks flushed crimson beneath the moonlight, her plump lips parting slightly. Her voice carried the utter determination of a girl caught in the ultimate struggle between her virtue and her overwhelming love and desire to surrender:
"I am yours... Tonight, everything of mine belongs to you. Do not abandon me again."
Her consent acted like a release valve for a dam of desire that was about to burst. Ngan decisively guided Tra Long down onto the soft carpet of grass, hidden behind the shadow of a lush green corn patch on the slope of the dike. Between the vast earth and sky, he slowly but resolutely discarded the final barriers of clothing, exposing their youthful and vigorous bodies under the crescent moon.
Ngan’s hands traveled across the flourishing curves of the young girl, evoking moans of pure ecstasy from Tra Long’s small mouth. Every inch of skin touching skin was scorching hot, as if threatening to set the countryside night ablaze. The nakedness of the flesh at this moment bore no semblance of baseness or vulgarity; for each touch, each hurried breath, and this intense physical union was the beautiful culmination, the ultimate sublime elevation after years of suppression and tearing conflict between pure love and Ngan’s manly instincts. He surrendered the entire essence and dignity of his youth to her, and Tra Long responded with the most primal, passionate devotion of the true woman of his life. The two became one under the moonlight of their homeland.
This time, he would not let the emerald eyes slip away again!
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