The contrast between Mui and the family continues ten years later, when Mui, now twenty, is forced to leave the family and serve her childhood crush, Khuyen (Hoa Hoi Vuong). The lizards climbing out of vases in these 1961 scenes seem to suggest the civil war outside the garden gates, a point amplified by the sounds of war planes overhead.
But Mui still watches ants in the courtyard and cares for her cricket. With the father dead and mistress in bad health, however, a daughter-in-law forces Mui to leave, to save money and empty the garden for a parrot farm. Only the mistress laments Mui’s departure, giving her gifts she would have shared with the lost daughter.
When Mui leaves, she takes the crickets and bids the garden and mistress goodbye, taking a portion of the garden with her. And in her new home, Mui bridges the natural world and corrupted middle class together through her relationship with Khuyen and the plants both inside and out, initiating a middle place where both human and nonhuman nature can thrive. She waters potted plants in an inner courtyard, watches toads on leaves, and again cooks meals outside, making Khuyen dinner while he plays Gershwin tunes on the piano.
Here war planes are heard only in the background and are nearly shut out by the piano and birdsongs.
Although Khuyen is dating a Westernized woman, Mui watches him and nurtures him as carefully as she feeds her cricket and waters frogs in the courtyard. In this house, pots are full of plants instead of empty adornments. And instead of taunting or ignoring her, Khuyen notices Mui’s connection with nature and careful attention to him, bridging nature with the contemporary world.
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