The children lowered themselves down next to me. “Sir, Madam, we beg you. Have pity on us. We’re hungry,” they repeated after me.

I lifted my blouse. I had no more milk. Sáng continued to fuss.

Around us, people were talking, laughing, bargaining, arguing. I smelled the soup. I watched feet striding past us. I thought about the happy meals our family had shared, about plates heaped with food, fields full of rice and manioc.

“Sir, Madam, please help, we’re hungry.” The voices of the children trembled. But it seemed we had become invisible. No one stopped. No one.

WE SAT THERE for a long time, begging. Sáng was exhausted; he could only manage occasional sobs.

At last, somebody paused. Coins clinked happily as they were dropped into H?nh’s palms. “Here you go,” a woman’s voice said.

“Thank you, Grandma,” the children shrilled.

I turned to see a slender lady, her hair long and black, her face smiling. My eyes followed her as she walked to a vegetable stall and held up a bunch of water spinach. I saw my mother in her grace.

“Sir and Madam, look into your heart, show your sympathy.” The children seemed to gain new energy, their voices more determined, their palms cutting into the flow of people walking past us.

As I grew desperate, Thu?n’s voice sprang up. A man had bent down, placing a few coins into his palms. Our thankful words followed him until he disappeared into the market.

A whipping sound rent the air. I jumped, pulling my children toward me.

A man confronted us, a bamboo rod in his hand, anger reddening his face. “No beggars allowed in this village. Leave now.”

“Sorry, Sir, we didn’t know.” I bent, hiding myself under the hat. The children clutched the hem of my shirt. We hurried away.

“Don’t come back here, do you hear me? Don’t you dare come back.” His angry voice chased us. We arrived under a large tree a short distance away from the ph? shop. Its cool shadow soothed my nerves.

Ng?c rested against the tree as the children counted the coins together.

“Twelve cents, Mama.” ??t showed me his broad smile.

I handed Sáng to him and took the coins.

The ph? shop was buzzing with customers. The seller was busy dropping white strings of noodles into bowls, topping them with slices of beef, spring onions, and coriander. She shouted at a young boy who was trying to navigate his way around the tables, steaming bowls in his hands.

“Madam, how much is each?” I asked as the woman started ladling boiling soup into the bowls.

“Five cents.” She eyed me, a deep line creasing between her eyebrows.

“Please, one bowl.” I hesitated, the coins dampening in my palms. “No . . . I’ll take two.”

“Show me your money.” Glancing at the coins, her eyes softened. “Take a seat.”

The children jumped up and down when I said our food was coming.

We sat around a table, our stomachs groaning. After emptying a large jug of water, we asked for more. The boy helper was too slow. The seller’s complaints only made him more confused and deliver food to the wrong tables.

I stood up. ??t pushed his chair aside, joining me.

“Money for two bowls.” I placed a stack of coins next to the seller. “Please, could we have our soup now? My children are starving.”

“Did your hunger eat away your patience?” Her gaze lingered on ??t. “Ah, you’ve got a strong-looking boy. Why beg when he can work?”

“Work where, Madam?” ??t’s face lit up.

“I need another helper. That slow snail has to go.” She raised her chin toward the boy helper.

“Can I work for you instead?” I hurried to say. “I can help you cook—”

“You think I’m stupid? How many children do you have? Five? Now get lost.” She pushed two steaming bowls over to us.

The children dove into the food. I fed Sáng. He clapped his hands, opening his mouth like a bird. I didn’t remember food ever being this delicious.

“Mama, can I work here?” ??t looked up from his spoon.

“No. We leave today for Hà N?i. Our destination, remember?”

“Mama.” Ng?c begged me with her eyes. “It’s horrible to walk so far. I thought I’d die. Let’s stay here. Let’s look for a job.”

“Can’t you hear the drums?” I lowered my voice. “It’s not safe for us here.”

“Nobody knows who we are.” ??t chuckled. “They all think we’re pitiful beggars.”

“Have no fear, Mama,” said Ng?c.

“No, it’s dangerous—”

“I need to pee.” ??t stood up, heading for the rubbish dump. Halfway there though, he turned and quickened his pace toward the ph? seller.

“??t, don’t—” I stood up.

“Let him.” Ng?c made me sit down.

??t was talking to the seller now. She told him something and swung her arm, pointing at the tin-roofed shack behind her back. ??t disappeared into its dark mouth and came out a new person. His hair was combed, and he had a clean shirt on. The children giggled, watching him pick up steaming bowls and carry them to customers.

“Look at Brother ??t, he’s so fast,” Ng?c said.

“Those customers, they’re smiling at him,” whispered H?nh.