Top 9 Essays Retelling the Fairy Tale 'Tam Cam' from the Perspective of the Character Cam (Literature 10)

I am the stepsister of Tam, raised in a wealthy family after our father passed away. We both lived with my mother, and Tam was always tasked with all the heavy work, from house chores to farming, while I did nothing. One day, our mother gave us baskets and asked us to catch shrimp, promising a red scarf to whoever filled their basket first. Tam, skilled at catching shellfish, quickly filled her basket, while I wasted time playing. Cleverly, I told Tam, 'Tam, your head is dirty, dive deeper, or mother will scold you.' Trusting me, Tam waded into the deeper part of the pond. Seizing the opportunity, I poured her shrimp into my basket and rushed home to claim my prize. Tam returned to find herself scolded by our mother.

From that day, Tam kept saving some of her rice after meals. Curious, I discovered that she was raising a fish. Every time she called it, the fish would rise to eat the rice she threw. I told my mother, who then instructed Tam to go herd the cows far from home. Meanwhile, my mother and I took the opportunity to kill the fish. Later, the king hosted a grand festival, and everyone was excited to attend. Tam's mother told her to finish some rice before going, but when I saw someone who looked just like Tam at the festival, I thought it was her, though she was still at home.

Soon after, the king ordered a royal shoe fitting for all young women, and whoever fit the shoe would marry him. I tried on the shoe, but it didn't fit. I saw Tam from afar and told my mother, 'I think Tam is trying on the shoe!' My mother scoffed, but when Tam's foot fit perfectly into the shoe, she was taken to the palace to become the queen.

Even as queen, Tam remembered her father's death anniversary. When she went to prepare for the ceremony, my mother instructed her to climb a tree to pick fruit for the offering. As Tam climbed, my mother tricked her into falling, and Tam died. My mother then sent me to the palace to replace her.

One day, while I was washing the king's clothes by the well, a golden bird flew by and perched on a branch, singing a beautiful song. The bird followed the king wherever he went, and he became so fond of it that he neglected everything else. My mother suggested I kill the bird, so I did and lied to the king, saying I had eaten it. However, from the bird's feathers grew a tree, and the king rested under it every day. Furious, I had the tree cut down and turned into a loom, claiming it had been struck by a storm. As I wove, I heard a voice saying, 'Take your sister's husband, take her eyes.' Terrified, I told my mother, who advised me to burn the loom and scatter the ashes far away. Eventually, the king returned with Tam, who was not only alive but more beautiful than before. Terrified, I asked her how she had become so lovely. She offered to help me, and in the end, I paid the price for my jealousy with my life.

I am Cam, a beautiful and clever girl, adored by my mother. It is said that my mother is my father’s second wife, as his first wife passed away early. I do not have to do any chores because Tam, my stepsister, does everything. Tam is actually my half-sister, but I never call her that. One day, my mother asked me and Tam to go catch shrimp, promising a reward to whoever caught the most. I, being too proud, thought, 'Why would someone as beautiful as me go into those muddy ponds to catch those stinky fish?' I whined to my mother, but this time she didn’t help. She simply told me that if I didn’t want to work, I should figure out how to get the reward without doing anything. I didn’t understand, but I went out to play instead.

As it was time to return, I realized I had spent all day picking flowers and chasing butterflies, forgetting my task. I rushed to where Tam was, and saw her with a full basket of shrimp. Furious, I devised a plan to take it all. I tricked her into going to the pond to bathe, telling her that she’d be scolded if she didn’t clean herself. She trusted me and went to the pond. I quickly emptied her basket into mine and took the reward. When she returned, not only was she scolded, but she also lost out on the reward. I felt proud of my cleverness.

After a while, I noticed Tam was acting strangely, eating less and often going to the well for some reason. I soon discovered that she had been hiding a fish. My mother and I tricked her into going to herd cows while we caught and ate the fish. One day, the prince announced a contest to choose a queen, and the girl chosen would be immediately taken to the palace. I was thrilled and knew this was my chance to change my life. My mother gave me new clothes to wear and prepared for me to become queen. Tam, the servant girl, also wanted to go. She finished her chores early and asked permission, but I wouldn’t let her. My mother came up with a trick, telling Tam she could only go if she finished separating the rice. My mother and I then traveled to the capital to compete. When we arrived, the prince said the woman whose foot fit the shoe would be chosen. I tried it on, but it didn’t fit. Then a beautiful woman came to try, and to my shock, it was Tam! She was chosen and taken to the palace, while my mother and I left in anger. It wasn’t fair that she, a servant, became queen.

On the anniversary of her father’s death, Tam returned to prepare the ceremony. My mother and I decided to kill her so I could replace her in the palace. It wasn’t out of cruelty, but because she had brought it upon herself. When she climbed a tree to gather fruit for the offering, my mother chopped it down, and Tam fell into the pond and died. My mother sent me to the palace to take her place, claiming it was Tam’s dying wish. I tried to seduce the prince, but to my surprise, he paid no attention to me, focusing only on a golden bird. I captured and killed the bird, thinking it would remove the obstacle. But the prince still spent his days resting under a tree that had grown from the bird’s feathers. I followed my mother’s advice and cut the tree down, turning it into a loom. But when I wove fabric, I heard haunting words threatening to gouge my eyes. Initially frightened, I eventually decided to burn the loom and scatter its ashes far away.

Not long after, the prince returned with Tam, who was somehow alive and even more beautiful than before. I was horrified and confused. How could she have survived? I was afraid it was her spirit haunting me. I fled home, and after some time, I wondered how Tam, who had always been poor and dirty, could have such flawless skin. Someone told me to bathe in hot water, so I did, wanting to become more beautiful than her.

I grew up in a well-off family, but sadly my father passed away when I was young. I lived with my mother and my half-sister, Tam. My mother made Tam do all the household chores while I had an easy life, spoiled by my mother. I did nothing but eat, sleep, and play while Tam worked tirelessly all day. My mother and I would often scold and bully her. I knew Tam was suffering, but I enjoyed seeing her endure it, which made me feel content and happy.

One day, my mother gathered us and said: 'You two, go catch crabs. Whoever catches the most will earn a red scarf, and the one who catches none will get a beating.' Tam eagerly went off and filled her basket with crabs. I, on the other hand, was distracted by butterflies and forgot all about it. When it was time to return, Tam’s basket was full, while mine was empty. I quickly devised a plan. I called out to Tam, saying: 'Tam, your head is dirty! Go dunk it in the deep part of the pond, or mother will scold you.' She followed my advice and went to the deeper part of the pond. I seized the opportunity to transfer all the crabs from her basket to mine, then hurried home to claim my red scarf from my mother. When Tam returned with an empty basket, she was scolded, and I happily showed off my reward.

After that, my mother grew suspicious when she noticed Tam often went to the well after meals. She sent me to spy on her. I discovered the truth, and the next day, my mother sent Tam to herd cattle far away while we took her fish from the house to eat. When Tam came home and found her fish gone, she cried. Oh, how weak and helpless she was, always crying.

Soon after, the king announced a royal event. My mother and I went to attend. Tam wanted to join, but my mother made her stay behind to sort rice and corn. No matter how much Tam cried, my mother and I went without her. At the event, I saw Tam, and she looked so beautiful that even I and my mother didn’t recognize her. Jealousy surged in my heart, and I decided to make her suffer when we returned home.

The king then announced that any woman who could fit into a particular shoe would marry him. Everyone tried it on, but none could fit. When it was Tam’s turn, the shoe fit perfectly. The king sent for her and brought her to the palace as his bride, much to the displeasure of my mother and me.

On the anniversary of her father’s death, Tam returned home for the ceremony. My mother asked her to climb a betel nut tree to gather fruit for the offering. While Tam was up in the tree, my mother cut it down, causing Tam to fall and die. I took her clothes and entered the palace, pretending to be Tam.

Since Tam’s death, the king had been obsessed with a golden bird. I became enraged and told my mother. She instructed me to capture the bird and feed it to the cat, burying its feathers outside. Not long after, a beautiful tree grew where the bird’s feathers had been buried. The king admired the tree, so much so that he ordered a hammock to be hung from it. My mother told me to cut the tree down and make a loom. As I sat weaving, I heard a voice from the loom saying, 'Creak, creak. Steal your sister’s husband. Gouge out her eyes.' Following my mother’s advice, I burned the loom and scattered the ashes far from the palace, hoping for peace.

When the king brought Tam back to the palace, I was completely shocked. Not only was Tam alive, but she had become even more beautiful. I was consumed with jealousy and wondered how she could be alive. Tam told me to bathe in boiling water to become more beautiful, so I eagerly followed her advice, only to die immediately. When my mother heard of my death, she died from grief as well. If I had known this would happen, I would have treated Tam better. Now I understand the meaning of the saying 'You reap what you sow.'

I am Cam, and I live with my mother and my step-sibling because her father passed away long ago, and my mother took care of her. But I never really liked her because she always acted like the older sister. Every day, she worked hard around the house: feeding the pigs, herding cattle, cooking, and doing laundry. I thought these tasks were beneath me since I was busy picking fabrics for clothes and doing my hair. After all, I was in my twenties!

One day, my mother gave us both a task: each of us had a basket to fill with crabs and shrimp. The one who filled their basket the quickest would win a beautiful red scarf my mother had just bought. But I didn't know how to wade in the pond without getting dirty. Tam, however, was taking forever to finish her task, so I thought, why not pick some flowers and chase butterflies for a bit before heading to catch the crabs and shrimp? By the time I got there, it was already late, so I decided to trick her:

'Tam, Tam,'

'Your head is all dirty,'

'Go wash it in the deep pond, or mother will scold you.'

She believed me, and while she was busy washing her hair, I quickly transferred all her crabs and shrimp into my basket. When I got home, I claimed my red scarf, and I was so pleased with myself.

One day, I noticed Tam wasn't eating much and was saving some of her rice. My mother and I decided to keep an eye on her. We saw her secretly saying:

'Bang bang, my little fish, eat the rice and fish from our house, but don't touch the cold rice and porridge of others.'

A small fish popped up, and my mother and I decided to catch it and make a stew. The next day, we tricked Tam into going far to herd the cattle so no one could steal them. While she was away, we caught the little fish and ate it, leaving its insides behind. We hid the bones in the corner of the kitchen so she wouldn't find out.

As the royal ball approached, my mother and I prepared beautiful clothes and shoes for me to wear in hopes of finding a husband. Tam wanted to go too, but I was furious. I convinced my mother to make her sift the rice and beans together. I knew she'd never finish in time, and she would look ragged.

At the ball, the king declared that the woman whose foot fit the shoe would marry him. My mother and I both tried, but none of the shoes fit. I tried one from here, another from there, but my feet hurt, and I gave up.

Then another woman came up to try on the shoe—she looked a lot like Tam but even more beautiful. How could her foot fit? I was furious! When I called out to her, I realized it was indeed Tam. The king took her to the palace immediately and prepared for their wedding, and I was left seething with jealousy. How could the king marry a maid like her?

On the day of her father's memorial, Tam came home to pay respects. Now she was acting all proud, and I knew it was time to deal with her.

Time passed quickly, and before long, the orphaned child who once wandered through the deep, deserted forest was now a young girl. I had become the beloved adopted daughter of the Buddha. The dangers of the forest were no more, and the place that nearly took my life now provided me with a father, family, and friends. I befriended the trees, animals, and nature, spending my days gathering herbs to heal the villagers. One day, the Buddha called me over and spoke gently to me:

"Lan Hoa, illness is not the greatest suffering of mankind. Many people living below the mountain face hardships similar to yours. There is a girl named Tấm who needs our help. Take my place and bring happiness to her, and also experience the world outside this forest."

- "Is Tấm suffering greatly, Father?" I asked.

- "Tấm has a younger sister, Cám. The two sisters share the same father but different mothers, and they are close in age. Tấm's mother died when she was very young, and soon after, her father passed away. Tấm lives with her stepmother, who is very cruel. Every day, Tấm works tirelessly—herding cattle, fetching water, peeling potatoes, and gathering water lilies. At night, she grinds rice and hammers grains, while her sister Cám is spoiled, never having to do any hard work."

"But that is not all, my child. Tấm will face even more challenges ahead."

Hearing this, I remembered my own childhood and felt even more sympathy for Tấm. The next day, I was transformed into a fish and settled into a pond near the village, waiting for the two sisters to appear. In my small form, I darted between the rice paddies. Everything was strange! There were no forest trees, only weak grass, no tigers, birds, or lovely insects... Instead, the creatures here had odd names: Snail, Crab, Fish, and many more. I quickly befriended them and listened to their tales about weather patterns, harvest seasons, and their fears of being caught in Tấm’s basket. Oh! That’s when I realized—Tấm must visit the fields often to catch fish and crabs!

The pond was so peaceful. While lost in thought, I felt the water stir beneath me. The creatures around me stopped whispering and began frantically scurrying to hide. I heard footsteps coming closer… "It’s Tấm!" cried a fish. It was indeed her! Just as the Buddha had said, I would meet Tấm when she came to gather shrimp and crabs. I didn’t flee but quietly jumped into Tấm’s basket. To my surprise, her basket was already full of fish and shrimp after just a short while. Then, a voice from nearby called out:

- "Tấm, your head is dirty! You should dip deeper, or else your stepmother will scold you!"

(I thought to myself, "That voice can only belong to Cám!")

In an instant, Cám emptied Tấm’s basket and hurried away. Only I remained, unnoticed in the basket, as Tấm sat down crying when she realized it was empty. At that moment, the Buddha appeared and asked:

- "Why are you crying?"

Tấm explained, and the Buddha comforted her:

- "Stop crying, child. Look in the basket again. Is there anything left?"

Tấm peered into the basket and replied:

- "Only a fish left."

- "Take that fish home, release it in the well, and feed it. For every three bowls of rice you eat, leave one for the fish. Always call it like this when you feed it:

‘Bống bống, bang bang,

Come eat our golden rice,

Don’t eat the cold rice from others.’

If you don’t say it just like that, it won’t come out. Remember this!"

After giving this advice, the Buddha vanished. From that day on, I lived peacefully in the well, swimming freely and eating delicious rice. Tấm and I had unknowingly formed a deep connection. I waited for her not just for the food she brought but because I felt an emotional bond growing between us. Was there an invisible thread connecting us, two souls with shared fates?

One afternoon, just like any other, I heard the usual call, but it seemed different—more tense. "Perhaps Tấm is sick and her voice is weak," I thought. As I surfaced, I was shocked to see Cám and her mother waiting to capture me. I wasn’t afraid of being eaten; the Buddha was with me. My fish body was just a vessel for my spirit, which could not be harmed. But I felt sorry for Tấm—without me, who would she talk to? I had been her only friend, the one she confided in. Without me, she would cry, feel lonely, and despair.

In a cruel act, Cám’s mother killed me and buried my bones in the ashes. How would Tấm ever find me now? I could hear her crying, filled with regret and anger. But then, the Buddha appeared again:

- "Your fish has been eaten. Stop crying. Go collect its bones, place them in four jars, and bury them beneath the four corners of your bed."

With the help of a rooster, Tấm gathered my bones, carefully placing them into jars and burying them as the Buddha instructed. From then on, I quietly nurtured Tấm’s dreams, knowing that her journey was not easy. She would face many trials, but with the Buddha’s guidance, she would triumph.

Not long after, I heard news that the king was holding a grand festival. People from all over the region gathered to attend. Cám’s family dressed up and went to the festival. Tấm wanted to go too, but her stepmother made her sort rice and beans. She cried, and the Buddha appeared again, sending a flock of sparrows to help. The birds quickly finished the task, but when they flew away, Tấm was still crying. The Buddha asked her why, and she replied:

- "I’m too poor and shabby to attend the festival."

- "Dig up the jars of bones you buried, and you will have everything you need for the festival."

Following the Buddha’s advice, I transformed the jars into beautiful clothes, shoes, a horse, and a carriage for Tấm. She rushed to the festival, and while crossing a stream, she lost a shoe in the water. The king found the shoe and declared that whoever fit it would become his wife. When Tấm tried it on, it fit perfectly. The soldiers cheered as she was brought into the palace. From then on, Tấm lived happily with the king, loved and cherished.

I was glad that Tấm found happiness, but I could no longer follow her. My mission was complete, and there were many people waiting for my healing herbs. I returned to my life as a young girl in the forest, no longer a fish, but still connected to Tấm through the bond we shared. I continued to hear of her struggles with Cám, but with the Buddha’s help, Tấm overcame all obstacles. She emerged victorious, proving that good always triumphs over evil, and her beauty and kindness were rewarded. Cám, on the other hand, faced the consequences of her cruelty and jealousy.

I grew up in a well-off family. My father passed away early, and I lived with my mother and my half-sister, Tấm. All the household chores, from tending buffaloes, fetching water, to cutting water plants and harvesting sweet potatoes, were left to Tấm. Meanwhile, I, the pampered child of my mother, was exempt from any work.

One day, my mother called us together, handing each of us a basket and asking us to go to the fields to catch shrimp and fish. She promised that the one who caught the most would be rewarded with a red scarf.

Out in the fields, Tấm, who was skilled at catching crabs and snails, quickly filled her basket. As for me, I wandered from one field to another. Remembering what my mother had said, I called out to Tấm:

- Tấm, your head is wet, go deeper into the water, or mother will scold you when you return.

Surprisingly, Tấm immediately believed me. She waded to a deeper part of the pond to wash her head. Seizing the opportunity, I dumped all of Tấm’s shrimp into my basket and hurried home. When I arrived, my mother scolded Tấm for not catching anything, while I secretly smirked inside, thrilled to have earned the beautiful red scarf.

From that day on, my mother and I often caught Tấm secretly hiding a bowl of rice behind the well. One day, I snuck up to see what she was hiding. When I discovered the truth, I ran to tell my mother, and she devised a plan to send Tấm far away to tend the buffalo. Once Tấm was out of sight, my mother and I hurried to the well, killing the small fish we had kept there.

Not long after, the king announced a grand festival and invited people from all over the country. Everyone was excited to buy new clothes in preparation for the event. Tấm asked my mother for permission to attend, and my mother agreed, setting her a task to finish a mixture of rice and seeds before leaving.

- Once you’ve finished this, you can go. Don’t leave it unfinished, or I’ll punish you when you return for not having anything to cook for the family.

My mother and I dressed up and headed to the capital for the festival. There, I saw a beautiful woman who resembled Tấm. I heard that the king had crossed a river when his horse refused to move, so his men investigated and found a lost shoe. The king, struck by the sight of the shoe, declared that the one who fit the shoe would become his wife. My mother and I tried, but the shoe didn’t fit us. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Tấm stepped forward and the shoe fit her perfectly. The king took her to the palace and made her his queen. Seeing this, I was furious and asked my mother to come up with a plan for me to take Tấm's place.

On the day of the ancestor’s memorial, Tấm asked the king’s permission to return home for the ceremony. My mother then ordered Tấm to climb a betel nut tree to gather the best bunch for the offering. Tấm, unsuspecting, did as told. While she was up in the tree, my mother and I plotted to cut it down. When Tấm asked what was going on, my mother lied:

- There are ants on the base of the tree; I’m chasing them away to keep them from biting you.

Believing her, Tấm continued to climb. But as she reached the top, the tree was chopped down, and she fell into the pond, drowning. My mother then sent me to the palace, replacing Tấm. The king, still grieving for Tấm, paid no attention to me, and this made me furious. One day, while I was washing clothes at the well, a golden bird flew down and sang:

- Dry my husband's clothes, don’t dry them by the fence, or they will tear!

Upon hearing this, I was terrified but tried to calm myself. The golden bird flew to the king’s palace, and the king became so fond of it that he forgot to eat or sleep.

Jealous, I went home and told my mother. She devised a plan for me to catch the golden bird and cook it, then throw the feathers in the garden. When the king asked about it, I lied, saying I was pregnant and craving the bird’s meat. The king, believing me, didn’t question further.

Strangely, from where the bird’s feathers had been, two trees sprouted. The king noticed these trees providing shade and ordered a hammock to be set up between them so he could relax. Every day, he would come to rest under those trees, which always seemed to grow taller and stronger.

I went back to tell my mother, who advised me to have the trees chopped down during a storm. The wood was used to build a loom for weaving clothes for the king. As I worked at the loom, I heard a voice saying:

“Cót ca cót két, Take my husband’s picture, And gouge out my sister’s eyes!”

Hearing Tấm’s voice, I was so frightened I ordered the loom to be burned. After some time, Tấm returned, even more beautiful than before. The king loved her more than ever. One day, I asked her:

- Tấm, how did you become so beautiful?

Tấm didn’t answer directly, only asking me:

- Do you want to be beautiful? I can help.

Trusting her, I followed her advice. She instructed her people to dig a deep pit and told me to climb in. Unaware of the danger, I complied, and that was when I met my end, burning in the flames. It was then that I realized I had done so many wicked things that my fate was sealed.

I lived with my mother and my stepsister, Tam, who was my father’s daughter from another marriage. Being spoiled by my mother, I never had to lift a finger for any chores. Tam, on the other hand, worked tirelessly from dawn till dusk and still had unfinished tasks.

One day, our mother called us together, handing each of us a basket and saying:

- The one who catches the most shrimp will be rewarded with a red sash.

We both went out to the fields. Tam, being diligent and experienced, quickly filled her basket with shrimp. I, however, was distracted by play and had nothing by the end of the day. An idea struck me, and I ran over to her, saying:

- Tam, your head is dirty! Dive deeper, or Mother will scold you when we return.

Tam believed me and dove into the deep pond to wash herself. Seizing the opportunity, I dumped all of Tam’s shrimp into my basket and rushed back home to collect my reward. Tam returned home with an empty basket and was scolded by our mother. I felt quite smug about it.

But from that day on, I noticed Tam secretly taking a portion of her rice and hiding it near the well. Curious, I decided to spy on her. When I discovered the truth, the next day, my mother sent Tam far away to tend cattle under the pretense that the village was restricting access to the fields. Meanwhile, my mother and I secretly took some fish from the well and cooked it.

Not long after, the king hosted a grand festival, inviting people from all over. My mother and I prepared new clothes to attend. Tam also asked to join, but my mother had her finish sorting rice before allowing her to go. Days later, word spread that anyone who could fit into a shoe the king had found would marry him. The villagers rushed to try on the shoe, but none could fit. When it was Tam’s turn, the shoe fit perfectly. The king invited her to the palace as his queen. I was extremely jealous but powerless to stop it.

When the anniversary of our father’s death arrived, Tam asked the king for permission to visit. This was the perfect opportunity for me to take her place. My mother instructed Tam to climb the betel nut tree and pluck a bunch of nuts to offer our father. While she was distracted, we cut the tree down, and Tam fell into the pond and drowned. My mother then took me to the palace, claiming to be grieving and requesting that I stay in Tam’s place to serve the king.

One day, while I was washing clothes for the king, a golden bird appeared and sang: “Hang the clothes for my husband, not on the fence, for it will tear his shirt.” The bird flew into the palace and, from that day on, became so close to the king that he ignored me completely. I was furious and asked my mother for advice. She told me to kill the bird and throw its feathers in the garden. When the king inquired, I lied, saying I was craving bird meat due to pregnancy, and he didn’t ask further.

From the bird’s feathers, a tree grew with dense branches that provided cool shade. The king enjoyed resting under its shade every day. Seeing this, I went to my mother for guidance. She advised me to have the tree cut down to make a loom. When the king questioned me, I lied again, claiming the tree had fallen in a storm and we were using it to build a loom to weave clothes for him. But while I was weaving, I suddenly heard a voice eerily similar to Tam’s:

"Cót ca cót két Taking your husband, sister, I’ll gouge out your eyes."

I was terrified and immediately told my mother. She told me to burn the loom and dispose of it far from the palace.

Some time later, Tam returned to the palace, looking even more beautiful than before. The king lavished more affection on her. I was stunned and asked Tam how she became so beautiful. She told me to bathe in boiling water. Without thinking, I followed her advice, only to suffer a painful death. It was only then that I realized that evil deeds bring their own punishment, but it was too late to undo my actions.

My name is Cam, and I lived with my mother and my stepsister, Tam, who was my father’s child from a different marriage. Being favored by my mother, I never had to do any household chores. Everything in the house, from tending cattle, fetching water, to cooking, cleaning, and gathering water lilies, was all done by Tam.

One day, my mother called us both and handed each of us a basket, saying:

- Whoever fills their basket with shrimp will be rewarded with a red sash.

Tam and I went to the field. Being diligent and skilled, it didn’t take long for Tam to fill her basket with shrimp. As for me, I spent the afternoon playing and forgot about the task my mother had given me. When I checked my basket, it was empty. Jealous and frustrated, I decided to trick Tam. I said to her:

- Tam, your head is all muddy! Dive deeper to avoid getting scolded by mother.

Trusting me, Tam dove into the deep pond to wash herself. Seizing the moment, I dumped all of her shrimp into my basket and ran home to claim my reward. My mother didn’t suspect anything and praised me for my hard work. It wasn’t until later that night that Tam returned with an empty basket. My mother was furious and scolded her severely.

From that day on, I noticed Tam secretly hiding part of her rice. I decided to spy on her and discovered that she had been feeding a fish in the well. I immediately told my mother. The next day, my mother sent Tam far away to tend cattle, while we secretly caught the fish. My mother even called the fish in the exact way Tam did:

“Bong bong bang bang Come eat our gold and silver rice, Don’t eat the stale rice and porridge from others.” Sure enough, the fish appeared, and we caught it, cooked it, and threw the bones in the corner of the kitchen.

Some time later, the king announced a festival where everyone from all over the kingdom was invited to attend. My mother and I were excited, preparing new clothes for the event. Tam also wanted to go, but my mother mixed a measure of rice with a measure of husked rice and made Tam stay home to finish sorting it. At the festival, I saw someone who looked exactly like Tam. Not long after, the king announced that anyone whose foot fit into a shoe he had found would become his queen. People rushed to try on the shoe, but none could fit. When it was Tam’s turn, the shoe fit perfectly, and she was brought to the palace as the queen.

Despite living in the royal palace, Tam didn’t forget her father’s death anniversary. I saw this as a perfect opportunity to take her place. I devised a plan, and my mother told Tam:

- You used to climb betel trees, so please climb and pick a bunch to offer your father.

Tam obeyed and climbed the betel tree. While she wasn’t looking, my mother and I cut the tree down. Tam fell into the pond and drowned. My mother then took me to the king, crying and telling him that Tam had accidentally fallen into the pond and died, and now I was here to take her place. The king was uneasy but didn’t say anything.

One day, while I was washing clothes for the king, a golden bird flew over and chirped:

- Hang my husband’s clothes carefully, not on the fence, or you’ll tear them.

After singing, the bird flew to the palace. From then on, the bird and the king grew very close, and he completely ignored me. I was furious and decided to kill the bird, throwing its feathers outside in the garden. When the king asked, I lied and said:

- I was craving bird meat and secretly ate it.

The king didn’t ask any further. Strangely, a tree grew from the bird’s feathers, its branches dense and shady. The king ordered people to set up a hammock under it, where he rested every day. Seeing this, I went to my mother for advice. She suggested that I have the tree chopped down to make a loom. When the king saw the chopped tree, he asked, and I lied again:

- The tree fell in a storm, so I had the workers cut it into a loom to weave clothes for you.

As I started weaving on the loom, I kept hearing a voice eerily similar to Tam’s:

“Cót ca cót két Stealing your husband, sister, I’ll gouge out your eyes.”

Terrified, I rushed home and told my mother. She instructed me to burn the loom and take it far away from the palace.

Not long after, Tam returned, even more beautiful than before. The king loved her even more. One day, I asked Tam:

- Tam, how did you become so beautiful?

She didn’t answer but instead asked me:

- Would you like to be beautiful? Let me help you.

I eagerly agreed, only to meet a painful end from the boiling water.