Tu Tien And Jack: Turning A Rough Yard Into A Garden, Can Their Love Keep Growing With It? - Full
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00:00Just another hard day of work. Today is different. For the first time, Jack and Tu Tien are truly
00:07reshaping their mountain farm. Every stone they set, every strip of grass they unroll,
00:13is not just to make the yard pretty, but to open a new path from the gate to the house.
00:18The first real path of their shared life here. When they finally stand on that fresh green line,
00:24with soil and tools still scattered around them, the feeling of home becomes real in a new way.
00:31If you want to keep watching this farm and this quiet love grow, stay, listen,
00:38and subscribe to walk the next steps with them.
00:43The morning is cool on the mountain. Damp air rests on the yard. The soil is dark and soft from the
00:50night. Mist still clings to the slope behind the house and moves slowly between the bamboo.
00:56Jack steps out into the open yard with a stone in his arms. The stone is wide and rough. He holds it
01:03close to his chest, shoulders tight. Dust sticks to the front of his black shirt. His boots sink a
01:09little into the soil. With each step, he bends his knees and lowers the stone to the ground.
01:15The stone touches another stone. A dry sound rises in the quiet air. It is not loud, but it is clear.
01:23The sound repeats each time he shifts the stone to find the right place. The farmhouse stands behind
01:29him. The front is open from one side to the other. Red brick walls frame the entrance. A low roof of
01:36corrugated metal stretches over the veranda. The tiled floor is one step above the yard,
01:42clean and firm, separate from the raw earth below. On the left side of the veranda, a tall wooden shelf
01:50holds baskets, trays, pots, jars, and small plants. Woven bamboo hangs from hooks. A long broom leans
01:59against a dark metal column. On the right side, the outdoor kitchen waits with a brick counter,
02:05a sink, and stacked dishes. A bamboo table with low stools sits in front. Two reclining wooden chairs
02:13rest near the edge. In the yard, everything is in between. Lines of bricks curve through the soil,
02:21marking future beds. Rolls of turf grass lie in bundles, some tied, some loose. Small trees and
02:28flowering plants stand in plastic bags, crowded near the veranda. Tools lie where workers left them.
02:36Shovels, a level, a measuring tape, a coil of string. Tu Tian stands a few steps away from Jack.
02:44She has dirt on her knees and the palms of her hands. Her hair is tied back. A few strands stick to the
02:52side of her face. She watches the growing curve of stones in front of the house. Jack straightens
02:57his back and wipes his forehead with the inside of his wrist. He looks at the partial circle on the
03:03ground. Then, at Tu Tian. Is it straight? He asks. She walks closer. Her feet press small marks into the
03:12soil. She crouches, eyes following the line of stones from one end to the other. Her fingers brush a stone,
03:20then another. This one turns in, she says. Move it a bit. He lifts the stone again. Just enough to slide
03:28it. The stone scrapes against the one next to it. The sound is rough and steady. He lowers it again.
03:35The circle in front of the house slowly grows. Each stone rests on the damp soil, pressed into place by
03:43his weight and her corrections. Behind them, workers in helmets and boots, roll turf, carry tools, and
03:51move plant bags. Voices rise and fall, but never too loud. The main sound that returns is the dry,
03:59short contact of stone against stone. A small metal stove sits at the edge of the veranda.
04:05A dark kettle rests on it. Thin steam rises from the spout. The faint hiss of boiling water blends
04:13into the morning. The smell of tea leaves drifts out, then disappears in the open air.
04:19Tu Tian glances once toward the kettle. She thinks of pouring tea for everyone, but her attention comes
04:26back to the circle. How many more? She asks. Enough to close this ring, Jack says. Then we start the path
04:33from here. He points from the circle toward the front gate. A simple metal frame with no sign yet.
04:40The bare soil between is uneven and scattered with stones and roots. This will be the center,
04:46he says. People stand here and see everything. She follows the direction of his hand. Beyond the gate,
04:53the narrow mountain road bends out of sight. Bamboo leans over the slope. In her mind, she sees
05:00visitors stepping through the gate. Shoes clean on a finished path, eyes moving from flowers to the
05:06house, then to the hills. She does not say it out loud. She only nods and shifts another stone with
05:14the side of her hand. And here? She asks, pointing to a gap. A small bed, he answers. Roses in front,
05:23herbs behind. Low plants near the edge. His voice is flat from effort, but the words carry a quiet
05:31certainty. She stands, stretching her legs. Her hands sting a little from the rough surface of the
05:37stones. She rubs her palms on her pants to clear the dust, then lifts a stone herself. It is smaller
05:44than the ones Jack carries, but still heavy. She walks slowly, matching her steps to the marks he already
05:51made. The stone makes the same dry sound when she lowers it. For a moment, she feels the vibration
05:57in her arms. She adjusts it with both hands until it fits into the curve. Jack watches her. You do not
06:04have to lift them, he says. I can help with the small ones, she says. You already carry all the big
06:11ones. He lets out a short breath that is almost a laugh, but not quite. Do not hurt your back,
06:17he says. She bends again to push the stone slightly. Her fingers press hard against the edge.
06:24You are the one who will hurt your back, she answers. You slept? How many hours? He looks away,
06:31toward the slope behind the house. The cut of earth rises high above them, yellow-brown with small
06:37stones and roots sticking out. Two, he says. Her hands pause on the stone. The hiss of the kettle seems
06:45louder for a moment. In the yard, a shovel hits a rock and a small clink rings out. You stayed in the
06:53office again, she says. There was too much to check, he answers. Orders, drawings, deliveries. I did not
07:02want anyone to wait. She wants to tell him to rest, to leave the stones for the workers and sit on the
07:08chair under the roof. Just for an hour. The words gather in her throat. They stay there. Instead,
07:15she straightens, wipes her hands, and looks carefully down the curve. The circle is clearer now,
07:22she says. He follows her gaze. The line of stones is not perfect, but it holds a shape. It marks a center
07:30where there was only rough ground before. When this is done, he says. We will put a small tree here.
07:37A strong one. What kind? She asks. Something that stays green, he says. Even in the dry season.
07:46She imagines a tree with firm branches and thick leaves. Shade falling on the circle. Children sitting
07:52on the stones. An old man resting his back against the trunk. Her father, maybe, if his health allows a
08:00trip up the mountain. He will like it, she says. Jack nods. He does not ask who she means. He knows.
08:08Workers push a wheelbarrow past them, full of loose soil. One of them greets Jack with a small wave.
08:16Boss, we will start on the drain, the worker says. Go ahead, Jack replies. Watch the slope. The soil
08:25falls easily there. He turns back to the circle. There is still an open section where no stones lie.
08:32The gap is wide enough for two people to stand in. We finish at least half today, he says. When you go
08:39back to the city? She asks, quietly. He hesitates for a second. Maybe tomorrow, he says. Or the day after.
08:48I am not sure yet. Her chest tightens. She does not look at him. She looks at the half-formed circle
08:55instead, at the small weeds that still poke out between the stones. You will tell your mother,
09:01she says. Of course, he answers. The stone sound returns. He lifts another one from a pile nearby
09:08and carries it to the gap. Tu Tien steps aside, then returns to her place to check the line.
09:15The rhythm settles. Lift. Carry. Set. Scrape. Adjust. The mist on the slope thins.
09:24Sunlight reaches the yard in pale patches. On the veranda, the kettle gives a deeper hiss.
09:31The water inside is ready, but no one moves to pour it. Cups wait upside down on a tray near the sink.
09:37Tu Tien crouches again, one knee on the ground. She places her palm on a stone to steady herself.
09:46The stone is cool, even though the air is warming. A bit more to the left, she says.
09:52He pushes with both hands. The stone shifts. The sound is short and rough. Enough, he asks.
09:59Leave it there, she says. It fits with the others. The gap becomes smaller. The curve draws closer
10:06to a full circle. The yard is still uneven, but the central shape gives it a new order. The house,
10:14the slope, the tools, and the plants now seem to gather around this point. For a few moments,
10:21neither of them speaks. Only the sound of stone against stone, and the distant hum of a small
10:27engine from the back of the farm, fill the air. A dog lies under the bamboo chairs,
10:33head on its paws, eyes half open. Jack sets one more stone. This time, when it hits the earth
10:40and settles against its neighbor, the sound is crisp and sure. Tu Tien looks at the circle from one side,
10:49then walks slowly around it, her steps tracing the new border. She stops in front of him.
10:54It will be beautiful, she says. It will be home, he answers. He does not reach for her hand.
11:02She does not reach for his. Both stand with their arms dusty, shoulders tired, lungs full of the cool,
11:10heavy air. The morning is no longer early, but it has not become harsh yet. The kettle hisses once
11:17more. Steady and gentle. In the yard, a single stone lies near the circle, still waiting for its
11:24place. The rest already rest in a clear line, holding a promise neither of them names. By late
11:31morning, the mist has gone. The hills stand clear. The sun climbs higher over the farm. Shadows grow
11:39shorter on the soil in front of the house. Jack stands at the edge of the circle of stones.
11:44He holds a roll of white string and a wooden stake. He walks from the circle toward the gate,
11:51unrolling the string as he goes. His boots leave a straight track in the loose soil.
11:57He pushes the stake into the ground near the gate and ties the string around it. The string pulls
12:03tight. It draws a pale line over the dark earth, from the center of the yard to the entrance.
12:08This is the main path, he says. We keep it clear. Grass here. Beds there. He points on both sides of
12:17the string. On one side, he marks an area for roses and herbs. On the other side, he marks a wider strip
12:25for fruit trees and small shrubs. Tu Tien stands near him, a pair of scissors in her hand. Her gloves are
12:32already stained green. Behind her, several rolls of turf grass wait, tied with rough rope. From the circle
12:39to the gate? She asks. Yes, he says. No mud here when it rains. Trucks can still come in. People can
12:48walk without slipping. She nods. The plan is simple and firm. It matches the way he speaks. She turns to
12:56the nearest roll of turf. She crouches and cuts the rope that holds it. The grass unfurls slowly across
13:03the soil. The roots rest on the damp earth beneath. The scent of fresh-cut grass rises at once, mixing
13:10with the smell of soil and dust. The scissors make a soft, repeated sound each time she cuts a rope.
13:17Snip, then a short pause for her to pull the rope away. Then snip again. The sound repeats as she moves
13:24from roll to roll. She pushes the turf into place with her hands and knees. Her jeans pick up dark
13:30marks. A thin line of soil appears at the edges where two pieces meet. She presses these lines closed
13:37with her fingers. Workers move around them with shovels and wheelbarrows. A small machine starts
13:43for a short time, then stops. Voices call out, passing simple instructions. The sound of the scissors
13:51continues in the middle of everything. Steady and close. Jack measures the width of the path again.
13:57He checks the distance between the string and the edge of the turf. He holds a measuring tape in one
14:03hand and a small level in the other. Bring this piece closer, he says. She shifts the turf a little,
14:11pulling it toward the string. Here? She asks. More, he says. She pulls again. Enough,
14:19he says. If we keep this straight, the yard will feel calm. She glances at him. It already feels
14:26calmer than the first day, she says. On the first day, it was only holes and rocks, he replies.
14:34And one table and two chairs, she adds. She remembers that day. One bamboo table under the roof,
14:41two old chairs from his office, a few boxes, and a lot of dust. There had been no circle of stones.
14:48No lines. No turf. Only a rough yard and a big idea. Jack walks back to the circle,
14:55then returns along the string, measuring his steps. If we finish this path, he says,
15:03the rest will follow more easily. How long until the plants can go into the ground? She asks.
15:10Soon, he says. Maybe next week. We need to finish the beds first and check the drains.
15:15He bends down and scoops a handful of soil. He crumbles it between his fingers. This soil is
15:22still loose, he says. We must press it more. You slept two hours, she says. He smiles without
15:30showing his teeth. You count my sleep, he says. You told me this morning, she replies. You think I do
15:38not listen? He lowers his hand, letting the soil fall back to the ground. I stayed in the office,
15:45he says. I checked the drawings for the next phase. I had calls. I watched the cameras here.
15:52I saw the yard in the dark. In the dark? She asks. There was only one light on, he says. Near the door.
15:59She remembers. The night before, she had come out from the house to shut off the light above the sink.
16:06The yard had been quiet and empty. She had stood at the edge of the veranda for a moment,
16:12looking into the dark yard. She did not know he was watching from far away.
16:18You should sleep, she says. I will sleep when this place is safer for you, he answers.
16:25The scissors in her hand pause. The worker's sounds grow softer for a moment in her mind.
16:31She looks at his face. The skin is darker than a few months ago. Fine dust sits in the lines around
16:38his mouth. His eyes are red at the edges. You say that many times, she says. Every time,
16:44there is something new to finish. Because every time there is something new, he replies. The road,
16:51the roof, the gate, the pump room. And now the yard, she says. He nods. When you walk here alone,
17:00he says. I want you to feel steady. No holes. No loose stones. No places where water stays.
17:08Her throat tightens. She does not answer. Instead, she turns to another roll of turf
17:14and cuts the ropes. The grass rolls out in a thick sheet. She arranges the edges so they meet cleanly.
17:21Snip. Rope falls away. Snip. Grass unrolls. The sound helps her breathe again. She presses the turf
17:29down firmly. Both hands flat. Fingers spread. The earth cools her skin through the thin fabric of her
17:36gloves. She feels the small bumps and dips under the grass. Tell me when you go next time,
17:42she says quietly. Tell me before you leave. Not after. I will. He says. Do not say it if you cannot
17:51do it, she says. He looks at her. She does not look up. The scissors move again. I will do it,
17:58he says. A worker calls from across the yard. Boss. The drain is done, the man says. Water will run to
18:06the lower side now. Good. Jack answers. Cover it halfway. We will look again after the first rain.
18:14He steps over the string and joins Tu Tien on the turf. He presses a section with his boots,
18:20checking how the grass grips the soil. She shifts aside to give him space, then moves to the next piece.
18:27Walk on it, he says. See if it holds. She stands and steps along the fresh turf,
18:33toward the circle. Her steps leave shallow marks that disappear slowly as the grass settles.
18:40The path is still narrow and short, but it already changes the way the yard feels.
18:45The circle at her back and the gate in front now connect in a clear line. It is softer,
18:51she says. Your feet remember where to go, he replies. She thinks of her father's yard in the village.
18:58Dirt, uneven and familiar. Full of roots and stones, but still a yard that he had walked every day.
19:06She wonders when he will see this place, and whether his feet will trust this new ground.
19:12The sun climbs higher. Heat presses down on the bare parts of the yard. Sweat gathers at the base of her
19:19neck and under her shirt. She pushes her sleeves up and keeps working. The scissors keep their rhythm.
19:25Snip. Pull. Snip. The sound is small but sharp. It cuts through the buzz of the day and keeps her
19:32anchored. Jack's movements grow slower. He bends to check a level. Stands to look at the full yard.
19:39Then bends again. The lines on his forehead deepen. You should drink water, she says. After this line,
19:47he replies. You said that two lines ago, she answers. He laughs once. A short sound. Then,
19:55after this one for real, he says. She shakes her head, but does not insist. She knows his pattern.
20:02He will stop only when his body forces him. She lifts another roll of turf with help from a worker.
20:09Together, they drag it along the string. It leaves a dark mark on the soil where it scrapes.
20:14They unroll it side by side. The path grows. From the circle, to halfway, to the gate,
20:21a green strip now lies over the earth. It is still patchy in some places, but it points forward.
20:28On each side, bare soil waits for plants. Jack steps back and squints against the sunlight.
20:35We will put small lamps along here, he says. Not now. Later. So, the way is clear at night.
20:43You worry about night more than day, she says. Day shows the work, he says. Night hides it.
20:52I do not like that. She turns the scissors in her hand, the metal warm from use.
20:57I do not like when you are away at night, she says. He does not answer at once.
21:03A breeze moves across the yard, lifting dust and small bits of dry grass. A few leaves flutter from
21:10the trees near the slope. I know, he says. I will come back here as much as I can.
21:17This place cannot grow if you are always gone, she says. This place will grow because you are here,
21:24he answers. The words land between them, simple and firm. She feels them in her chest more than in
21:31her ears. The scissors in her hand stop again. She grips them tighter, then loosens her hold.
21:38Then, we both have to stay careful, she says. Yes, he replies. She kneels once more and presses the
21:46edge of a turf strip into place. Her fingers follow the line from one end to the other,
21:52making sure no corner sticks up. It is a small act, but it steadies her. By the time the sun stands
21:58high above the hills. Sweat runs in thin lines down Jack's neck. His shirt clings to his back.
22:05Two Tien's gloves are soaked through. Dirt streaks her cheeks where she touched her face.
22:10The yard looks different now. The circle of stones is more complete. A clear path cuts through the
22:16middle from the circle toward the gate. On both sides, narrow strips of soil mark future beds.
22:21The tools and plant bags no longer feel scattered. They feel ready. Jack checks the time on his phone.
22:29We should stop a bit, he says. Eat something. You finally say that, she replies. Even the workers
22:37will leave if I do not let them eat, he says. She smiles just a little. The sound of the scissors fades
22:45as she sets them down on the edge of the veranda. The workers lean their shovels against the slope.
22:51The yard holds its new lines in silence. Under the roof of the veranda, shade gathers. The air is
22:58still warm, but the heat there is softer than in the open yard. The red tiles underfoot feel cool
23:04through thin soles. A low bamboo table stands near the outdoor kitchen. On it rest plates of fruit
23:11and a pot of boiled corn. Watermelon cut into thick slices. Segments of pomelo piled on a metal tray.
23:19Steam still rises faintly from the pot. Chairs and small stools surround the table. Workers sit with
23:26their backs straight, shoulders relaxed. Their shirts are marked with soil and sweat. Dust clings to
23:33their hair and eyebrows. Tu Tian sits on a low stool near the corner of the table. She takes a
23:40slice of watermelon with both hands. The juice runs down toward her fingers at the first bite. The
23:46sweetness spreads in her mouth, cooling the dryness in her throat. The sound of eating is small but
23:53present. Teeth through fruit. A soft crack when someone breaks a piece of corn. The clink of a spoon
23:59against a plate. From outside, the yard is quiet. No tools move. No engines start. Only a single dog
24:07barks once and then goes back to resting. Jack sits across from her. He leans forward,
24:13elbows on his knees. A slice of watermelon in one hand. His other hand rests on the table,
24:20fingers tapping slowly against the bamboo without rhythm. Eat more, she says. You only took one piece.
24:28I am thinking, he answers. You think better when you are not hungry, she says. He smiles briefly and
24:36takes another bite. One of the workers reaches for the pot of corn. Take before it gets cold,
24:42Jack tells them. Thank you, boss, the man says. Steam escapes when they open the lid. The smell of corn
24:49mixes with the faint scent of tea from the kettle on the small stove near the tiles. The kettle still
24:55sits on the low metal stove, black from many fires. A thin line of steam lifts from its spout,
25:03steady and light. Tu Tian looks past the table toward the yard. From where she sits, she can see
25:10almost the whole front area. The circle of stones, still missing a few pieces. The green strip of turf
25:17forming the main path, not yet reaching the gate. The plant bags grouped near the veranda,
25:22leaves hanging a little from the heat. Piles of old grass at the edges, waiting to be moved.
25:29The yard is still rough, but its shape is clearer than it was in the morning. She follows the line
25:35of the path with her eyes, then lets her gaze rest on the unfinished section near the gate.
25:41We did a lot already, one worker says. This morning it was only dirt, and tonight,
25:47it will still be dirt in some parts. Another answers. They laugh quietly. Their voices carry
25:53no complaint, only a simple statement of fact. You are tired? Jack asks them. A bit, one says.
26:02But it is normal. The ground here is kind, another says. Not too many stones. Their words make Tu Tian
26:10think of her father's voice when he speaks about fields, soil, water, time. Simple assessments that
26:18carry years of experience. She wonders what he would say if he stood here now. She feels his absence
26:25beside her, like an empty chair that waits at the edge of her vision. She takes another bite of
26:31watermelon. Her fingers feel sticky. She wipes them lightly on a napkin, then holds the rind in both
26:38hands for a moment, before placing it neatly on the plate. The green and white edge of the rind forms
26:44a small curve on the metal surface. Do you think we can finish this main part by afternoon? She asks.
26:50Her tone is soft, but there is a clear wish inside the question. Jack looks up at her, then turns his
26:57head to the yard. He studies the remaining bare soil from the circle to the gate, the half-rolled turf,
27:03the stacks of stones. His eyes move from one point to another. He does not speak at once. The workers
27:11fall quiet, watching him without staring. The dog under the chair lifts its head for a moment, then
27:18lowers it again. If we all go back out, he says, and we do not waste time, we can finish most of the
27:25path. Maybe not every edge, but the main line. Enough that you can walk from the gate to the circle on
27:32grass. And the rest? She asks. The sides can wait a little. He says. Plants will not die in one more
27:40day in those bags. She nods slowly. I want to see the path finished, she says. At least once, before you
27:48have to leave again. The words are simple. She sets them down on the table between them, as carefully as
27:55she set down the watermelon rind. She does not look away from his face. His hand stops tapping the
28:02bamboo. His fingers curl around the edge of the table. Then we will finish it, he says. Today, the
28:09answer is quiet and firm. It is not loud enough for a promise shouted to the hills. It is only enough
28:16for the small space under the roof, for her ears and the ears of the men around them. One of the
28:22workers nods. If the boss stays with us, we stay. The man says. I am not going anywhere this afternoon.
28:31Jack replies. You will not run back to the office. Tu Tian asks. Not today, he says. Today, this yard is
28:39my office. A small smile touches her lips. It is there for a moment, then fades. She reaches for a piece of
28:47pomelo and peels away the thin, white layer around it with careful fingers. The juice threatens to spill,
28:54but she keeps it in place. She eats the piece in two bites. The taste is less sweet than the
29:01watermelon. It wakes her mouth. She begins to gather the watermelon rinds on her plate into a tidy stack,
29:08one on top of another, green against green, edges aligned. It is a small habit, but it calms her.
29:16After that, she moves the empty cups together, placing them in a straight line near the edge
29:21of the table. Jack watches her hands. You always tidy even during breaks, he says. If the table is
29:28clean, my head is calmer, she replies. The yard will be clean too, he says. Then your head will be even
29:36calmer. Maybe, she says, or I will find something else to worry about. You will worry about the taste of
29:44bread instead, he replies. Or, the shape of the cakes. Not about the soil. She looks at the outdoor
29:51oven built into the side wall. Its mouth is dark, edges blackened by smoke. For now, it is cold.
29:59Later, when the yard is less chaotic, she will light it again, bake bread, and let the smell fill this
30:06space. When the path is done, she says. Customers will not stand in the dust when they wait for bread.
30:13They will stand on grass, he says. Or sit on those chairs. He points to the reclining wooden chairs
30:20that face the yard. Their wood is old, but strong. The cushions are thin and faded, but they offer some
30:27comfort. She imagines someone sitting there with a cup of tea, watching the afternoon light move across
30:33the path. Her father, Mother Loy, Mr. Dung. People who have not yet climbed this hill, but live in their
30:41thoughts each day. The kettle gives a soft, steady sound again. Steam continues to rise. No one reaches
30:48for it. The workers focus on fruit and corn. The smell of tea stays in the air as a gentle reminder
30:56of another small comfort waiting to be used. Jack finishes his slice of watermelon and wipes his hands.
31:03He looks at his phone, checks the time, then turns it face down on the table. We go back out in 10
31:10minutes, he says. Enough to rest your arms. My arms are fine, she says. Your face says they are not,
31:18he answers. She touches her upper arm lightly. They are tired, she admits. But not in a bad way. Tired from
31:26work is better than tired from waiting, he says. She holds his gaze for a second. Something in her
31:33chest answers that line. She does not put it into words. The workers start to stand, stretching their
31:40backs and rolling their shoulders. Can I take one more piece? One asks. Take two. Jack says. We still
31:49need your strength. The short exchange lifts the mood a little. The room under the roof feels less heavy.
31:55Tu Tian stands and begins to clear the table. She stacks the empty plates, one on top of another.
32:02She moves the bowl of watermelon seeds to the side. Each movement is slow and deliberate. She wipes the
32:09surface of the table with a damp cloth, pushing away sticky spots and bits of fruit. The simple order
32:16returns. It settles her mind in a way she cannot fully explain. She glances out again at the yard.
32:23The sunlight now falls straight down. The soil in the open areas looks dry on top, but she knows it is still
32:30moist below from the recent work. The turf holds its color in the bright light. When the sun goes behind
32:36the hill, she says, we will see the path more clearly. Before that, we will walk it, Jack replies. They both
32:45step down from the veranda. Their boots meet the rough ground at the same time. The workers follow behind
32:52them, picking up shovels, levels, and wheelbarrows. The quiet of the break ends. The sounds of work
32:59begin again. The scrape of metal on soil. The push of a loaded wheelbarrow. The muffled thud of turf
33:06landing on the ground. The bark of the dog. Now more awake. Above all, the low murmur of voices. Passing
33:14simple words back and forth. Jack returns to the string line. He checks the distance once more,
33:20then starts to move stones for the edges. Tu Tien takes her scissors again and cuts open another
33:26roll of turf. The grass unfolds and slides over the soil. The smell of green returns. From the gate
33:34to the circle. She says quietly. Almost to herself. Today. Today? He answers. Without looking up.
33:42Hours pass. The sun moves, but still holds high. Sweat stings their eyes. Dirt sticks to their arms
33:50and necks. They drink water when they remember. They do not talk much. The path grows. First to
33:57two-thirds of the distance, then close to the gate. At last, a thin line of grass connects the circle of
34:03stones to the metal frame at the entrance. It is narrow. And a few small gaps still show soil.
34:09But it is a continuous strip. Jack stands at the gate and looks toward the house. He wipes his hands
34:16on his pants. His chest rises and falls with deep breaths. Walk, he says. You first, she replies.
34:25He steps onto the turf at the gate. His boot sinks very slightly into the soft ground. He walks slowly,
34:33following the center. The grass bends under his weight, then lifts again. When he reaches the circle,
34:38he turns and looks back. Tu Tian waits at the gate. She looks for his signal. It holds, he says.
34:47Come. She steps onto the path. Each step feels steady. The line of grass under her feet guides her
34:55forward. The yard around still looks messy. Piles of soil. Stacks of plants. Tools lying on the edges.
35:03But the path under her feet is firm. She reaches the circle and stands beside him. Both look toward
35:10the gate. The workers watch from the sides, leaning on their tools. It is not finished, she says. No,
35:18he says. But it is real. A breeze moves through the yard. It brushes over the grass and the open soil,
35:26lifts a bit of dust, and carries the smell of earth and sweat toward the house.
35:30The kettle on the small stove has grown quiet. Its steam thins in the afternoon air. They do not hold
35:37hands. They do not embrace. They only stand on the same path. Shoulders almost touching. Feet planted
35:45on the ground, they shaped together. In her mind, Tu Tian sees the same scene again, but changed. No tools,
35:53no piles, only plants growing along the edges. Chairs on the veranda. Someone pouring tea.
36:00Mother Loy walking carefully on the grass. Father Phuong sitting in a recliner. Mr. Dung talking in a low,
36:09calm voice. She does not speak this picture. She lets it sit inside her. Jack breathes out slowly.
36:16Next time I leave, he says. You will still have this path. And when you come back, she says,
36:23there will be more. The day is not over. There is still work to do. More stones to set. More soil to
36:31move. But for a short moment, the yard is quiet. No tools move. No one speaks. The path stretches from
36:38the gate to the circle. The circle holds the center. The house stands behind them, open and waiting.
36:45The mountains close the space around, steady and silent. The story rests there, in the small
36:52pause, before the next task, in the shared breath, above the new grass, and in the simple fact that
36:59something solid now lies under their feet, where there had only been loose soil and plans in their
37:05heads that morning.
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