The Distant Garden
Act I The city of Thang Long does not forgive arithmetic. You learn this early, in the way the fog settles into the joints of your knees before the sun rises, a damp weight that no amount of coffee or cheap tobacco can burn away. I am Vĩnh Thanh, a clerk in the Ministry of Internal Revenue, and I have spent fourteen years filing tax ledgers with the precision of a man who knows that a single...
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