The Wrath

"Really. Auntie raised him from a young age, treating him like her own child. When we first came here, there weren't as many people as now; everyone slept in one room, including Aunt Bay and Anh Ty. Later, as more people arrived, the newcomers were assigned to the plantation, and since the small room became crowded, we were assigned there too. Now we're used to sleeping there; there's no other place to move to."

Lua nodded, a strange feeling rising within her, unsure if it was pity or admiration. Aunt Bay was strict, yet she turned out to be very kind-hearted. And Anh Ty, though quiet and clumsy, had been cared for since childhood, no different from family.

Mắm glanced at her, her hand scooping rice to distribute to the people standing in line:

"So, don't be shy. Here, you have Auntie, you have me, you have Anh Ty; you won't be lost."

Lua smiled. She bowed her head to distribute the bowls of soup, her hands still trembling, but her heart suddenly felt a little lighter. This place, though unfamiliar, was at least not as cold as she had once imagined.

The next day, before the sun had risen high, Lua was already sitting cross-legged beside a basin of dishwater. Her hands were submerged in the cold water, the slippery bowls forcing her to be careful with every movement.

Beside her, Mắm sat picking vegetables, humming an old folk song softly, occasionally glancing at Lua's stack of dishes to see if they were clean.

The kitchen was quiet this morning, with only the trickling sound of water and the thud of a knife hitting the chopping board from the other end. No one spoke much, as Aunt Bay had gone out to sweep the front yard early. She and Mắm simply worked with practiced hands, enjoying a rare moment of peace.

Suddenly, the hurried slapping sound of sandals echoed from the courtyard outside. Aunt Bay rushed into the kitchen, still holding her broom, beads of sweat on her temples. Her face was pale, her eyes wide, her voice lowered but urgent:

"You two... have you heard? Young Master Yi Kang just beat a servant on the plantation; he was covered in blood, almost died!"

Lua, holding a bowl, startled and dropped it into the water with a "plop." Mắm looked up, her face changing color:

"Oh my goodness, what happened, Auntie?"

"I heard that fellow dropped a sack of rice, whether accidentally or intentionally, but it hit the Young Master's leg. He flew into a rage and whipped him relentlessly. No one around dared to intervene."

Aunt Bay finished speaking, then plopped down onto a chair, her hand on her chest, breathing heavily.

"The Master is out in the fields and hasn't returned yet. I don't know if that fellow will be dragged out for more punishment later."

Lua said nothing, her eyes fixed on the murky water in the basin before her, her heart contracting. She had never seen Young Master Yi Kang, only heard his name, but every word told made him seem like a large shadow cast over the entire plantation.