Do you know that Sài Gòn’s name has just been changed to H? Chí Minh City? We’re told to use this new name. I’m putting down both Sài Gòn and HCM City as my address, though, just in case.

Anyhow, Tu?n said there’s much to be done. People who worked for the Americans or for the Southern government are being sent to reeducation camps. When our army was about to take over the city in April 1975, a lot of them tried to escape overseas by planes and ships. Many abandoned their houses, just like that. As we’re linked to the army, we got to stay in one of those houses. It’s a two-story home, as big as a mansion.

I LOOKED UP at Grandma. The next two paragraphs were black. It seemed somebody had dipped a thick brush into an ink bottle and hurriedly painted over them.

“Go on, ignore the censored part,” Grandma urged me.

“Censored?”

“You think H?nh smeared ink on her letter in such a way? She’s always taken great care of her handwriting.” She brought her mouth to my ear. “The higher ones spy on our letters. The parts they don’t like are blackened out.”

“Oh.” I studied the censored paragraphs, unable to make out a word.

I started my teaching job at a school close to our house, where Thanh and Chau are studying. Many teachers here have been sent from the North, and we’re using textbooks published in Hà N?i. Our task is to erase remnants of the old regime.

Mama, I hope Brother ??t and Brother Hoàng are back. Please let me know immediately if there’s any news. And please, write me right away if you hear anything about Brother Minh. I pray for their safe returns. I’ll try to look for them here.

I bit my lip. There was no good news.

Sister Ng?c, I hope you’re feeling better. I’m sorry for not being able to stay longer when I visited last time. But I want to be back soon, to talk to you, like we used to. Please let me know if there is something I can do.

Mama, when you see Thanh and Chau again, you’ll be surprised by how adept they are at Kick-Poke-Chop self-defense. I’ve been teaching them, and am reminded of those wonderful days we had with Master V?n. Mama, I hope you’re taking good care, and that you aren’t working too hard.

And H??ng, thank you for being such a good girl, for looking after Grandma and your Mama. How are your studies? Are you still the only student who got the Excellence Award from your school? Write me soon, promise?

Mama, Sister Ng?c, H??ng, I can’t wait to have you visit me here. We could spend the entire day shopping at B?n Thành Market and sample all types of Southern food. It’s an amazing city, really.

With all my love,

H?nh.

The tea seller praised Auntie H?nh for doing so well in the South, but Grandma said she didn’t like some of the changes mentioned in my aunt’s letter, such as reeducation camps and the abolishment of the South’s well-established education system.

Grandma decided to go home early with me. She led the way, weaving us into tiny lanes that cut across the Old Quarter. When we turned into a large road, I paused at the sight of several guards clutching the arms of a struggling man, dragging him along. Grandma told me to keep going.

When Grandma stopped, I realized we were in front of the legendary Tràng Ti?n store. Here, the most delicious ice cream had been made for generations. I didn’t dare think we’d buy something, but Grandma told me to choose as many sticks as I wanted. I went for three different types: chocolate, young sticky rice, and coconut. Grandma bought two for herself, both mung bean.

“Let’s go somewhere nice,” said Grandma.

“Hoàn Ki?m Lake?”

“You read my mind.”

A short distance away, the Lake of the Returned Sword sparkled in front of us like a gigantic mirror. I pushed the bike along the dirt path that snaked around the shore, passing bomb shelters with lids overgrown by sprawling grass.

“Grandma, the man who was being pulled away by the guards, what do you think he did?” I asked.

“His pants . . . The cuffs were too wide. Too flared. He was being punished for trying to look like Western hippies.”

I looked down at my pants. Thankfully, the cuffs were narrow.

“The government wants to control us, H??ng. People have been arrested and put into prison. Promise you’ll be careful? If they find reasons to take your bike away one day, let them. Don’t fight them, promise?”

I nodded, wondering how I’d handle the guard if he came to our home, looking for me.

We sat on a stone bench, under an ancient tree with its many branches reaching down to the lake’s surface, yellowing leaves flitting in the wind. A short distance away, in the midst of the water, the Turtle Tower glimmered in the afternoon light, moss greening its walls. Atop the tower, figures of dragons and phoenixes soared up to the sky. On a tiny island near the tower, the Ng?c S?n Temple rose above a thick clump of trees.

It was a blessing that this ancient site had escaped the bombings.

I watched the water’s surface, hoping for a glimpse of one of the gigantic turtles that lived in this lake. When I was little, Grandma had told me the legend of the Lake of the Returned Sword. Hundreds of years ago, when China’s Ming Dynasty invaded Vi?t Nam, Heaven helped the Vietnamese by sending a magical sword. A poor fisherman found the sword many kilometers away from Hà N?i and brought it to Emperor Lê L?i, who used the sword to defeat the powerful Ming Army. When peace came, the Emperor went boating on this lake. A huge turtle appeared before him, spoke in a human voice, asking the Emperor to return the sword. “The world will only be at peace if all people let go of their weapons,” the turtle said. Astonished, the Emperor held out his beloved sword. The turtle took it with his mouth, disappearing under water. From then on, the lake was named Hoàn Ki?m—the Lake of the Returned Sword.