Sừa met Tươn at the Hạn Khuống festival in the Cò Chịa mountain village. Just one song and a cup of cassava wine with her were enough to make him infatuated with her beauty, with her skin that looked rosy like a prematurely hatched chicken egg put before the night lamp. But what Sừa remembered most was a birthmark that was as bright red as a cogon grass flower in a sunny afternoon perched on her slender light-skinned neck. The charming red spot was in front of his dazed eyes briefly when Tươn unintentionally pushed back her loose, long and shining black hair that smelled like rice soaking in water. The black hair would quickly fall down again, delicately hiding the mark. … [Read more...] about The soul of the piêu* scarf
