Duy Anh’s place didn’t seem as large as the doctor’s so it was fairly easy for Arthur to remember its overall structure. The small house at the center were the chu’s quarters, meaning it was Duy Anh’s personal space—but it was also Binh and Lien’s. As Duy Anh had mentioned earlier, they were the only ones living there so instead of having them live in the guests’ quarters, he had let them use the rooms in the main house that would usually be used by the family. However, this meant that the living room was moved to the guest’ house, situated on the left of the courtyard. The third building, on the right side of the courtyard, was apparently both used as a kitchen and bathroom but also storage room.

There wasn’t any backyard like you would see in most modern homes but the front courtyard was well-arranged with stone tiles, some copperpod trees growing from grassy plots in a symmetrical layout and a few bamboo trees peeking out here and there. The trees seemed to be in full-bloom—which Arthur had never seen yet. He had recognized the tree’s leaf and remembered seeing some in the streets of Hanoi, especially in front of houses, but none of them were blooming. Perhaps the environmental crisis had changed the plants’ attitude and blooming season, he thought.

He didn’t take notice of it earlier but the weather did seem cooler and the air wasn’t as humid and heavy as it had been when he was still in Hanoi. Without all the pollution, the sky also seemed clearer and it was easier—maybe even a pleasure—to breathe.

“I think I’ve roughly shown you everything. If you ever need something specific or forgot your way, you can find any of us and ask for help. Oh, perhaps are you tired? I won’t take more of your time if you are, I wouldn’t trouble our dear guest.”

“I’m still...erm...fine! Very fine!”, exclaimed Arthur. He was indeed a bit tired but not enough to go sleep at this hour; the sun had barely started to set and if he had to be honest, he was more scared of boredom than tiredness.

Duy Anh gave Arthur is usual smile (Arthur got used to it by now, thinking that was probably a habit Duy Anh had picked up out of politeness) and asked him if he’d join him for dinner, which Arthur accepted.

They sat down in the dining room and Duy Anh served Arthur tea while asking him many questions—showing him his interest—but while being careful not to overstep his boundaries and being patient when Arthur couldn’t find the proper words to respond or couldn’t understand what Duy Anh told him. It wasn’t anything special, just a few basic questions such as “how old are you”, “what do you do for a living”, “what do you like and dislike”; simple things to get to know each other better.

They had found out that they were both of similar age, Duy An only being a year younger than Arthur and they both liked arts. Duy Anh was a scholar—he had a particular interest in literature while Arthur liked drawing. Duy Anh suggested him that he could try drawing what he needs or wants if he couldn’t find the words for it—an idea that Arthur was very fond of. It would surely make it easier for him that way too, since body language and mime weren’t his forte. Before they could even realize it, dinner was set at the table and the two maids joined them. Binh didn’t say much but Lien took care of the two, making sure they wouldn’t ever need or lack anything and helping clear the table as soon as they were done. Soon after, Duy Anh accompanied Arthur back to his room, not wanting to take any more of his time.

“I hope the day wasn’t too tiring for you”, Duy Anh said before they entered the guest’s quarters, “I am aware the current situation must be awkward but I don’t want it to bother or burden you. Please do not think much of it”, he continued. After not hearing any kind of reaction from Arthur, he added “if you ever feel uncomfortable or have any reason not to stay then feel free to leave whenever you want as well”.

Arthur didn’t quite know what to answer (mostly because a lot of words he had said were words he had never heard before) but he could grasp the overall subject of the conversation. He could only reply with the few words that came to his mind which were “thank you” and “sorry”. Once again, Duy Anh smiled and let a small, quiet laugh. “If you ever need to leave, I would appreciate it if you could tell me beforehand though. So I can ensure your safe departure.”

Duy Anh gave him a last greeting and left, while Arthur went back to his room, and set alight a candle. The night chill had barely set in and he could still hear the lively streets beyond the property’s walls, so it wasn’t the time yet to sleep (at least for him).

He opened the wardrobe, taking out his phone as well as his sketchbook. Everything seemed to have properly dried—so he could use his sketchbook again. Although he didn’t have pens nor pencils, Duy Anh had told him a set of brushes, ink sticks and an ink grinding stone were in the first drawer of the desk in the guest room—and they were indeed there. A few rolls of sheets of paper were also lined up.

Thanks to Duy Anh’s earlier demonstration, Arthur knew how to grind ink. Rather than using it to draw, he started writing in his sketchbook the information he thought was important to remember about today: his guess about the historical period, the city they were in, Duy Anh’s name, age and profession, a rough sketch of how the clothes looked like. He didn’t know when he’d come back to present time—or if he even could—so he kept notes, like a diary. When he was done, he let the ink dry as the smell of ink and smoke filled the room and made him drowsy.