Mixed FairyTales And Stories

The Crystal Heart A Vietnamese Legend

Long ago, in a palace by the Red River, there lived a great mandarin and his daughter, Mi Nuong.

Like other young ladies of her position, Mi Nuong was kept indoors, away from the eyes of admiring men. She spent most of her time in her room at the top of a tower. There she would sit on a bench by a moon-shaped window, reading or embroidering, chatting with her maid, and gazing out often at the garden and the river.

One day as she sat there, a song floated to her from the distance, in a voice deep and sweet. She looked out and saw a fishing boat coming up the river.

“Do you hear it?” she asked her maid. “How beautifully he sings!” She listened again as the voice drew nearer.

My love is like a blossom in the breeze. 
My love is like a moonbeam on the waves.

“He must be young and very handsome,” said Mi Nuong. She felt a sudden thrill. “Perhaps he knows I am here and sings it just for me!”

The maid’s eyes lit up. “My lady, perhaps he’s a mandarin’s son in disguise—the man you are destined to marry!”

Mi Nuong felt a flush on her face and a stirring in her heart. She tried to make out the man’s features, but he was too far off to see clearly. The boat and the song glided slowly up the river and away.

“Yes,” she said softly. “Perhaps he is.”

All day long, Mi Nuong waited by the window, hoping to hear the singer again. The next day she waited too, and the next. But the voice did not return.

“Why doesn’t he come?” she asked her maid sadly.

As the days passed, Mi Nuong grew pale and weak. At last she went to her bed and stayed there.

The mandarin came to her. “Daughter, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Father,” she said faintly.

The mandarin sent for the doctor. But after seeing Mi Nuong, the doctor told him, “I can find no illness. And without an illness, I can offer no cure.”

The weeks passed, and Mi Nuong grew no better. Then one day her maid came before the mandarin.

“My lord, I know what ails your daughter. Mi Nuong is sick for love. To cure her, you must find the handsome young man who sings this song.” And she sang it for him.

“It will be done,” said the mandarin, and he sent out a messenger at once.

Days later, the messenger returned.

“Lord, in no great house of this province does any young man know the song. But in a nearby village I found a man who sings it, a fisherman named Truong Chi. I have brought him to the palace.”

“A fisherman?” said the mandarin in disbelief. “Let me see him.”

The messenger brought him in. The fisherman stood uneasily, his eyes wide as they cast about the richly furnished room.

For a moment, the mandarin was too astounded to speak. The man was neither young nor handsome. His clothes were ragged and he stank of fish. Certainly no match for my daughter! thought the mandarin. Somehow, she must not realize . . . .

He gave his order to the messenger. “Bring the fisherman to my daughter’s door and have him sing his song.”

Soon Truong Chi stood anxiously outside the young lady’s room. He could not understand why they’d brought him here. What could they want? He was just a fisherman, wishing only to make an honest living. He had hurt no one, done nothing wrong!