I knocked on the door. She opened it half way, keeping it ajar. A slight orange-flavoured fragrance wafted out to where I stood.

'You're Sister Han, aren't you?' she asked me, smiling broadly.

'How did you know my name?' I inquired.

'The receptionist told me that I would share a room with you,' she replied. 'By the way, we now have hot water and you can shower,' Ngoc added.

I stepped into the bathroom to check it out. All the essentials appeared in front of me: a small bottle of orange-flavoured shampoo, a big bottle of orange-flavoured body wash, a 200-gram tube of tooth paste, a small packet of washing powder, and so on.

'We're here for two weeks. I hope that you don't mind those trivial things of mine, and that our bath room is too overcrowded,' Ngoc told me.

As my eyes rested on the foot brush on the edge of the bath tub, I felt glad. 'She could be my younger sister-in-law,' I whispered to myself as I thought of my still single 30-year-old younger brother.

***

That first day we ate food that was completely alien to us while we craved rice the whole time. After the morning's meeting on the second day, everybody asked for a restaurant that could provide the familiar food of home.

'There's a vegetarian place near here. The food is both cheap and tasty,' Ngoc whispered to me.

'When did you find this special place?' I asked, as we had not left each other's side since our arrival.

'That's a secret,' Ngoc answered in a sly voice.

It was the first vegetarian meal in my life. It consisted of threads of bamboo sprouts, mixed with sesame seeds and bean curd, stuffed with bitter melon and raw vegetables, with soya sauce drizzled on top.

In the evening, the meat eaters of the group asked Ngoc and me out to dinner. The diet was of no concern to me and as for Ngoc, she simply ate plain rice. She tried to keep smiling throughout the dinner.

On the third day of our stay at the hotel, the atmosphere between the various members of our training group turned much warmer. All of us were in good mood and we began to substitute our boring evenings with fun at a karaoke bar. Our group split into males and females. The side that scored the highest marks would win the singing competition and get a free meal from the losers at supper.

'The louder you sing, the more marks you'll get,' Dung, a youth of our party, declared with an air of authority. The contest eventually became a singing orgy. After each noisy tune, we laughed to our heart's content as the DVD player showed 100 marks with the encouraging words, 'Wonderful!'

As it turned out, Ngoc could sing beautifully, beyond my expectation. After supper, before everyone said good night, she was asked to sing the last song so that everybody could have a sound sleep.

'So you all need a lullaby?' she teased us. Again we laughed happily.

She then enchanted us with a melody expressing a boy's promise to keep his sweetheart calm, no matter how violently the storm might be raging. At one point, Dung joined her in its refrain.

Leaving the karaoke bar, Dung gave me a quick look before jostling between Ngoc and me. 'Maybe I won't have a sister-in-law after all,' I said to myself.

***

The next time Ngoc and I went back to the vegetarian restaurant, Dung followed.

'How delicious vegetarian food is!' he exclaimed. 'And from a scientific viewpoint, we know that it's very good for our health,' he went on.

After that, while passing by my room, he would sing the refrain that he had sung with Ngoc before. After one such time, our door burst open.

The request came, 'Ngoc, please tell him stop singing so we can have our afternoon nap.' Peals of laughter resounded.

'My dear Ngoc, don't believe him. After finishing your vegetarian lunch, he also had a bowl of chicken soup,' another warned her. Again, laughter echoed down the halls.

'Ngoc, when you marry him, what kinds of food will you cook for him?' I teased her.

'Just the foods to my liking, Sister. If he doesn't like them, he can cook the meals himself.'

'How complicated your marriage would be!' I exclaimed, although I knew from the bottom of my heart that no conjugal life was a bed of roses.

I remembered that when I was still young and living with my parents, my father used to eat pasty rice. It was inconvenient to cook two pots of rice at the same time, so I tried making rice in such a way that only a small part of it was pasty in the pot. Unfortunately for me, my younger sister and I had to eat the remaining pasty rice because Dad couldn't finish it all.

I told this story to Ngoc and Dung. While she smiled, he boldly declared, 'Well I find vegetarian food very tasty. As for my chicken soup, it is merely a trick they played upon me.'

***

Right after our training class came to an end, Dung suffered a terrible accident when a nearby lorry's brakes gave way and caused it to skid on to the pavement where he was picking up a newspaper. It was a violent death.

His mother and younger sister took him home, crying their eyes out.

'Brother Dung told me over the phone that he had just met a kind-hearted young girl. He said, ‘From now on you'll keep my monthly salary for my wedding in a near future',' the poor girl told me in tears.

She wept and wept, and not knowing how to console her, I just sat wiping away her tears.

***

Back at home, I was promoted to chief of the Planning Section in my office. To my surprise, Ngoc entered into the Mai Pagoda. When she decided to lead a more religious life, I knelt behind her and watched as her orange-flavoured hair was cut off.

As an ordinary employee, I found the post of section chief a goal beyond my reach. But when I achieved this status, I realised this: being an employee was much better than a section head. Though a reduced salary, it offered me the carefree life that my new position did not. Moreover, I was worried of becoming an elitist leader. Our custom of my husband and I was that at home, we were not allowed to deal with clerical matters. Therefore, I couldn't talk to my husband about my difficulties.

Being fed up with my job, I often went to the Mai Pagoda to pour out my heart to Ngoc. The soothing sounds of its bell, the melodious prayers and the fresh and tranquil air greatly eased my anxiety. The more I thought of Ngoc's choice, the more reasonable I found it. Unfortunately, by the time I recognised this, it was too late for me. I had gone too deep into a society of vanity.

'May I give it up, Esteemed Venerable?' I asked the Chief Monk of the Mai Pagoda.

'No, you can't turn a blind eye on your familial obligation,' she said seriously.

***

As I eventually rose to the rank of vice-director in my company, Ngoc left the Mai Pagoda to set up her own worshipping place. It was a small shrine built at the foot of a hill. Every day, farmers and residents went to this sacred institution to pray for blessings and offer their farming produce and other presents to the Buddhist nuns.

Buffalo boys hesitantly showed up in front of the pagoda in wait for alms from the holy place. Later, a well was dug for convenience.

The small pagoda soon earned fame thanks to the so-called sacred water taken from the well. It cured a little girl from scabies when several clinics failed to do so.

Day after day children with troubles, spiritual or corporal, were taken to Ngoc's pagoda to be healed. Superstitious adults asked for blessings of more rain. Eventually the pagoda had to be enlarged to meet the demands of local residents in all respects. The well had to be fenced off to prevent it from unintentional pollution.

As for me, after each successful deal, I donated part of my earnings to the pagoda. In the end, to me it was like a bank where I exchanged my money for a peaceful mind, that's all.

'Sister Han, how can you donate so much to the pagoda?' Ngoc asked me one day. Surprisingly, she continued to address me the same as when we had worked in the office together.

'You'd stay away from the secular people's business, perhaps,' I answered.

'Do whatever you can, but never incur yourself in dishonest dealings,' she advised me.

***

I wanted to change my career, but I was hesitant, which made me very weary. Again, I went to Chief Nun Ngoc's pagoda. Thanks to the tranquil atmosphere, the melodious prayer and the fresh well-water, I was able to regain a peace of mind as soon as I stepped on the grounds.

I was amazed by the pagoda's continued expansion despite its huge size. It spoke volumes for its fame and attraction.

Nun Ngoc kept busy welcoming the great number of guests, one after another, all day long. Her situation demanded a receptionist.

Knowing that I was a former close friend to Ngoc, the receptionist let me in first. 'Why doesn't she have to stand in queue?' an angry voice blurted out from the crowd.

The question startled me as I was stepping inside, and I decided to go to the end of the queue.

'How can I freely enjoy priority at this sacred place? It's unreasonable,' I chided myself repentantly.

I waited for my turn amid the bustling atmosphere on the verandah. I remembered those days when I had come to visit Ngoc. From the kitchen garden, she'd spot me, drop her hoe and dart towards me. While she was running, she usually remembered that as a Buddhist nun, she should not behave that way. She would consent to a slower walk and I would immediately do the same.

I looked into Ngoc's room through her front window. Her desk phone constantly sounded, from one call to another.

Before we had a chance to meet, the receptionist announced that the Chief Nun would have to go to the district Administrative Committee to attend an ad-hoc meeting. 'She won't come back before twilight,' she told the crowd.

From her room, Nun Ngoc hurriedly stepped out. She halted abruptly when she saw me. 'Sister Han, I apologize to you for I must be going now,' she told me. 'You see, my hands are always full,' she added.

I was going to say, 'Esteemed Chief Nun, let me take you to that place in my own car,' but imagining a luxury car waiting for her at the pagoda gate, I kept mum.

I went to the well. Iron pillars now thickly guarded it. There was only one narrow gate under lock and key.

I saw an elderly woman with two pails hung at the ends of her shoulders walking across the pagoda grounds.

Reaching the well, she stopped and looked around as if she had been lost something.

'Excuse me. Our Chief Nun has been called away,' I said to the unlucky woman.

'She keeps the key, doesn't she?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

I walked inside to the main shrine and kowtowed in front of the magnificent statue of Buddha to pray Him for blessings.

After that I silently went home.

By Nguyen Huong

Translated by Van Minh