H... ...INHis the third son in a peasant family that is not poor but not very rich either. His father had passed the imperial examinations and was an official, but his temperament was erratic and full of greed, so his superiors were not interested in him, so he left his position, sometimes teaching in the capital, sometimes practicing medicine in the mountainous region.

Hinh inherited from his family and the temperament of his birthplace the basic trait needed for someone with ambitious ambitions: resourcefulness, never revealing his true intentions, and no one of his peers dared to befriend him. Hinh was bright and ambitious, knew everything he learned, at twenty he wrote Chinese poetry, read Rousseau, Montesquieu... in their originals, but Hinh was bored with studying, and only focused on going abroad. There was no shortcut to learning, and establishing oneself through education was obscure and far away. In literature, it is only when one is at the end of one's rope, helpless.

Every day, Hinh lives like someone who has swallowed a thorny mace in his stomach, stinging, grimacing, restless, standing up as soon as he sits down, waking up as soon as he falls asleep, his forehead wrinkled, his eyes distant. As if he is in love with a noble lady...

But Hinh is not a foolish person, he never wastes his will and energy on women. Nonsense. Winning ten women's hearts is not difficult, but one human heart must cross the ocean. Hinh looks up expectantly to the sky, hoping for the silhouette of a ship, searching for a magic spell, hoping for a trace of the Good Realm or a hint of the Pure Land to bring back to all living beings. The days were like a taut thread, but my heart yearned to be a man of the sea, anxiously hoping for a minute to kneel at the feet of the Most Holy One and say: “Thank you, you are the source of light that guides us... We, living beings, long to meet you...” Then, as if the prayer had come true, one stormy night, the earth and sky seemed to be in labor pain, Hinh went up to the nine floors of the Holy Land to meet the Most Holy One.

It started with a candle, the warm flame emitted a cone-shaped halo. That halo emitted a halo, the halo rays were not straight but had a zigzag shape. Finally, in the center of that halo appeared the beautiful face of a blonde girl.

- Dear...
Hinh exclaimed in surprise.

- No! - The girl smiled generously. - I am just the messenger of the Founder. Do you have any urgent requests? The person is busy, the practice of religion is just at the beginning...

- Dear, I am a person from the dark land of Toil...

- You don't need to say it, young man, the people of Toil have a thirst for light, then the practice of religion will be easier. Here, take this book, follow this book, you will find the truth.

The messenger gave Hinh that precious book and then it gradually became smaller and smaller until it was only like a dot in the middle of the halo and then disappeared into the vastness. Holding the book in front of his forehead with both hands, Hinh knelt down and reverently placed a kiss on it, then he opened it with trembling hands and read.

Hinh hugged the book of scriptures to his chest, sobbing. "Oh my god, baby, baby..." Hinh shouted happily. His voice echoed loudly in the night and only then did Hinh know that he had just experienced a dream. But oh my god, why were the things he had been harboring in his heart for so long answered in a dream. He was so happy and moved that tears streamed down his face. Oh my hard-working and dark beings, this treasure will light our way...

The next morning, Hinh reverently prepared to set off. Neat clothes, proper crown. In front of his house there was a main southern avenue, perhaps this was the right road so he gradually walked out. One side was trees and one side was water, or one side was forest and one side was sea? He kept walking, after a few more blocks he found himself on the right path, the road followed the lake. And in the middle of the street there was a dog meat beer stall that he had been drawn into a few times. Oh, the miracle was not wrong by a comma!
The street was clear, a few bicycles were busy carrying candy, cakes, honeycomb coal to deliver to the sidewalk drink stalls, a couple of old cyclos were clattering looking for customers. A few prostitutes were wandering around...

- Are you going?
A prostitute invited him. Hinh remembered his dream and felt a chill down his spine, in his dream it was the same three words. At the end of the street, Hinh saw a real bookstore, the owner had just opened the door. Why was there such a miracle, when he was awake he did not know there was a bookstore here? “Go on and you will see a newspaper kiosk, so turn left, in front of you is a small flower garden.” Hinh immediately turned left, and after a while, passing through the department stores, he saw the Spring Flower Garden. The pilgrim did not hesitate, walking to the middle of the flower garden, his heart was intoxicated with alcohol, half wanting to fly up, half wanting to sink down. Hinh’s eyes were dizzy, where was the Angel, where was the Holy Land, he did not know if he was standing in Paradise or on earth. Then he suddenly woke up... “Looking for this” was looking for what? He did not understand, but did not dare to doubt the golden words of the Prophet. The flower garden was located next to the avenue, which was deserted at the moment, with only a few old men exercising late, a few young men playing soccer, and a group of high school students about to pass by. Now he had to bend down, walking slowly step by step, eyes looking down at the ground... Hinh bent down, searching attentively while mumbling and reciting. He was hypnotized, not knowing what he was looking for, but he remained faithful to the instructions, his body bent down, his eyes fixed on the ground and each step slowly.

Passersby were surprised...

First was a group of high school students, some curious boys, who came and wondered, what was that man looking for? They couldn't answer for themselves.

- Brother, what are you looking for?

Hinh was so absorbed that he didn't look up, just blurted out:

- Looking for this.

For them, that answer made their limbs itch. This man must have lost a ring, a necklace or a diamond or something, it would be great if we could find it.

So the whole group, their school bags piled up, jumped into the search. When a whole group of people crawled out to search, the strangeness increased dozens of times. People passing through the never-ending flower garden, unemployed vagrants, country people who have gone to the city to earn a living, starving and hoping for a little luck, these people come and can't help but ask:

- Looking for something?

This time the children quickly answered:

- Looking for this.

This question makes adults' minds itch. So they leave their burdens and vehicles, and jump into the square. Next question...

Now the cyclo drivers, three-wheelers, beggars, orphans selling newspapers, a few prostitutes, and street pickpockets who heard the news also come.

- Looking for something?

- Looking for this.

- Damn them, they hide it like cats hide their shit. It must be diamonds, rubies, maybe last night, the red stone diggers came here to fight and spill out a bag of red stone. Damn them, if he had known, he would have fenced them off, chased them all away. Hey, that guy got a stone, he'll make you pay a fine...

Just like that...

And the number of people hoping to have a little bit of warmth crawled around the flower garden to find the treasure, by this time it was as crowded as a swarm of ants.

Hinh suddenly realized the noise of the crowd and he stood up in surprise to look at them, it turned out that the world had gathered around him. “A little while later I will have the world...” Hinh was so happy that tears welled up in his eyes and he went home satisfied.
That crowd was like water in a river, flowing away but not drying up. The first person to come, disappointed, left first, the last person to come, disappointed, left later. No one knows what “looking for this” is, but the hope of a little warmth ahead has attracted them to become a stream of water.

Noon...

Then afternoon...

And... there is still a crowd gathered in the middle of the Spring flower garden.

_________________________________________

Mr. Bui Tin, who kept and circulated this short story, when reposting it, had the following words:

The story of "the man who dared to stroke the Old Man's beard"

Mr. Ho Chi Minh was born exactly 122 years ago, on May 19, 1890.

Recently, a young blogger in Saigon sent "Meow" let me ask you, how do I evaluate Mr. Ho? That this year, nearing May 19, the Saigon City Party Committee's Propaganda Department is still calling on young people to study Ho Chi Minh's morality, it sounds so out of place.

I immediately thought of a story from exactly 20 years ago, about an article I still remember, considered a masterpiece of modern literature and journalism. That was an article that appeared in the weekly Van Nghe, the organ of the Vietnam Writers Association, No. 27, published on July 4, 1992. This issue was strictly "top secret" by the Ideology and Culture Committee of the Central Committee of the Communist Party at that time, and was "completely withdrawn" on July 8, after being published for 4 days.

Young people today probably don't know anything about this interesting cultural and political phenomenon.

That was Linh Nghiem, a very short article, only about 2,000 words, more than a small-sized newspaper page. The article talked about a person, about the ambition and "doctrine" of that person, about the masses being captivated by that person, and about the ending being a waste of effort, being empty-handed, but many people were still tempted to follow him forever. The author was writer Tran Huy Quang, in the editorial office of Van Nghe newspaper, at that time at the age of 49, an unlucky age. He was fired from the newspaper and had his writing suspended for 3 years. Writer Huu Thinh, the editor of the newspaper, was reprimanded.

The article was both discreet as if to puzzle the readers, and suggestive, with a humorous and humorous tone, yet serious and philosophical, talking about the life of a young man of peasant origin who did not want to reform and study. He only wanted to go abroad to find a source of mystical doctrine to advance to become a leader. By his cunning tricks, he bewitched and attracted countless people, who followed him in search of "that thing", but never found the Spring Flower Garden - Paradise on Earth.

Who is he?

The very first word of the article clearly stated his name, yet very few people recognized it. Writer Tran Huy Quang is really clever, one could jokingly say cunning. H…INH is the name. H then 3 dots, then INH, everyone reads it as Hinh, but it is not, it is the name "Ho Chi Minh" shortened. Covert but open, open but still covert, because in his youth, Ho Chi Minh was called Nguyen Sinh Coong, then Nguyen Tat Thanh. That's why it was able to get past two reviewers, with the approval signatures of the head of the editorial board and the editorial secretary before being published. No one thought H...INH was Ho Chi Minh. And it slipped through the net for 4 days, then the entire Ideology - Culture Board was startled, exclaiming: This guy is so rude, daring to stroke Uncle Ho's beard, he deserves death, he deserves to be beheaded. But it's too late. The order to recall and destroy is not very effective. It cannot be issued publicly, it will only stimulate curiosity and attract attention, which will be a big disadvantage. So this mistake is spicy, spicier than chili peppers.

On May 19 this year, on the occasion of the Communist Party's Propaganda Department calling on young people to study Ho Chi Minh's morality, I would like to mention a few words about the article Linh Nghiem, which was published exactly 20 years ago, so that young people know.

Since the 1980s, Tran Huy Quang has had reports such as The Tire King, The Accused's Statement, The Witness, The Fire-Colored Shirt, which have received a lot of attention, because he always defended those oppressed by the powerful..

It is known that after Linh Nghiem, he was affectionately called by his friends "The one who dared to stroke the Old Man's beard".

Bui Tin