The Golden Quest
Văn Lan had held the position of senior scribe at the Hanoi Union Hall for twenty years, a tenure that had worn the calluses on his fingers into smooth, pale ridges and his professional license into a lapsed relic kept in a drawer he no longer opened. The winter of 1957 was not cold in the way of the mountains, but it was a dry, brittle cold that settled into the joints and made the stone walls...
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