The Story of My Chau and Trong Thuy

In the ancient land of Au Lac, during the time when Vietnam was divided into warring kingdoms, there ruled a wise and powerful king named An Duong Vuong. His kingdom was prosperous and strong, protected by massive fortifications and defended by the most advanced weapons of the age—magical crossbows that could fire arrows with supernatural accuracy and force.

The secret of these mighty weapons lay in a single magical crossbow called Linh Quang, forged by the Dragon King himself and presented to An Duong Vuong as a reward for his just rule. This celestial weapon was so powerful that a single arrow from it could penetrate any armor and strike down enemies from impossible distances.

King An Duong Vuong had one daughter, Princess My Chau, who was as beautiful as she was intelligent. Her beauty was legendary—poets compared her face to the full moon reflected in still water, her graceful movements to willow branches dancing in spring breezes. But more than her physical beauty, My Chau possessed a sharp mind, a courageous heart, and a deep love for her people.

My Chau had grown up hearing stories of her father’s magical crossbow and understanding its importance to their kingdom’s defense. She knew that as long as Linh Quang remained in Au Lac, their people would be safe from any invader.

“Remember, my daughter,” King An Duong Vuong would tell her, “the strength of a kingdom lies not just in its weapons, but in the wisdom of its rulers and the loyalty of its people. Power without honor is meaningless, and strength without compassion leads only to destruction.”

These lessons shaped My Chau into a princess who was both fierce in protecting her people and gentle in her daily interactions with everyone from palace servants to visiting dignitaries.

Meanwhile, in the neighboring kingdom of Nam Viet, ruled the ambitious King Trieu Da, who had long coveted the rich lands and strategic position of Au Lac. He had tried many times to conquer An Duong Vuong’s kingdom, but the magical crossbow and the fierce loyalty of the Au Lac people had made victory impossible.

King Trieu Da had a son named Trong Thuy, a prince who was as handsome as he was skilled in warfare. Unlike his father, however, Trong Thuy possessed a noble heart and often questioned the wisdom of constant military campaigns.

“Father,” he would ask, “why must we always seek to expand our borders through war? Could we not achieve greatness through trade and diplomacy instead?”

But King Trieu Da was determined to add Au Lac to his realm, and he began to devise a plan more subtle than direct military assault.

“My son,” he said to Trong Thuy one day, “I have a special mission for you. You will disguise yourself as a merchant and enter Au Lac to study their defenses. Learn the secret of their magical weapons, and discover any weaknesses we might exploit.”

Trong Thuy was reluctant to engage in such deception, but loyalty to his father and duty to his kingdom compelled him to agree.

Disguised as a wealthy silk trader, Trong Thuy entered Au Lac with a small retinue of servants who were actually skilled spies. His cover story was convincing—he brought beautiful silks and precious gems to trade, and his refined manners and obvious education quickly gained him entry to the royal court.

When Princess My Chau first saw the handsome young merchant at a court reception, she was immediately intrigued. Unlike the boastful warriors and calculating nobles who usually sought her attention, this stranger possessed a quiet dignity and spoke with intelligence about poetry, philosophy, and the arts.

“Tell me, noble merchant,” My Chau said during their first conversation, “what news do you bring from the wider world? We hear so many conflicting reports about events beyond our borders.”

“Your Highness,” Trong Thuy replied, his heart already beginning to betray his mission as he looked into her intelligent, kind eyes, “I have traveled far and seen much, but I have never encountered a court where wisdom and beauty are so perfectly combined.”

As days turned to weeks, Trong Thuy found himself torn between his duty as a spy and his growing feelings for the princess. My Chau, meanwhile, was drawn to this mysterious merchant who seemed to understand her thoughts and share her dreams for a world where kingdoms might coexist in peace rather than constant conflict.

They began to meet secretly in the palace gardens, talking for hours about everything from statecraft to poetry. Trong Thuy found himself sharing his true thoughts about war and peace, while My Chau spoke of her hopes for her people’s future.

“Sometimes I wonder,” My Chau confided one moonlit evening, “whether there might be ways to resolve conflicts between kingdoms without bloodshed. If rulers could see each other as potential allies rather than inevitable enemies…”

“You speak wisely, Princess,” Trong Thuy replied, his voice heavy with the weight of his deception. “Perhaps the next generation of leaders will find better ways than their fathers.”

As their meetings continued, friendship blossomed into love—deep, pure, and tragically complicated by the secret that stood between them.

Trong Thuy’s original mission became secondary to his desire to spend time with My Chau, but his servants continued their spying activities. They mapped the palace defenses, studied the guard rotations, and tried desperately to learn the secret of the magical crossbow.

It was My Chau herself who inadvertently provided the key information they sought.

One evening, as they walked together through the royal armory where her father kept his most precious weapons, My Chau pointed with pride to the magnificent crossbow displayed in a place of honor.

“This is Linh Quang,” she said, “the Dragon King’s gift to my father. They say it has the power to defend our entire kingdom.”

Trong Thuy studied the weapon carefully, his trained eye noting its unique construction and the mystical symbols carved into its frame. Despite his love for My Chau, the spy in him automatically memorized every detail.

But then My Chau did something that would seal both their fates—she showed him the secret of the weapon’s power.

“The crossbow itself is magnificent,” she explained, “but its true strength comes from this.” She revealed a small claw, golden and gleaming, that was embedded in the weapon’s mechanism. “This is a claw from the Dragon King himself. Without it, Linh Quang is merely an ordinary crossbow.”

That night, Trong Thuy lay awake in torment. He now possessed the information his father desperately wanted, but using it would mean betraying the woman he loved and destroying the kingdom she cherished.

For weeks, he agonized over his choice. He sent no messages to his father, hoping to delay the inevitable. Instead, he made a decision that he believed would solve everything—he would reveal his true identity to My Chau and propose marriage, uniting their kingdoms through love rather than conquest.

“My beloved,” he said to her one evening as they sat beneath a flowering plum tree, “I must tell you the truth about who I am.”

With a heart full of hope and fear, he revealed his real identity as Prince Trong Thuy of Nam Viet.

My Chau’s initial shock gave way to understanding as she saw the genuine love and anguish in his eyes.

“You came here as a spy,” she said quietly, “but you stayed because of love.”

“Yes,” Trong Thuy confirmed. “And now I want to find a way for our love to bring peace between our kingdoms. Marry me, My Chau, and let our union end this cycle of conflict.”

My Chau’s heart soared with joy, but her practical mind understood the complications.

“My father may never forgive the deception,” she warned, “and your father may see marriage as a sign of weakness rather than strength.”

“Then we will prove them both wrong,” Trong Thuy declared. “Our love will be stronger than their politics.”

But when they approached King An Duong Vuong with their plan, his reaction was swift and furious.

“You have harbored a spy in our midst!” he thundered at his daughter. “A son of Trieu Da, our greatest enemy!”

“Father, please listen,” My Chau pleaded. “Trong Thuy’s love is genuine, and our marriage could bring lasting peace—”

“Peace through marriage with a family of conquerors?” the king interrupted. “Never! This prince will leave our kingdom immediately, or face execution as a spy.”

Faced with his daughter’s tears and his own conflicted feelings—for he had grown to respect the young man he had known as a merchant—King An Duong Vuong made a compromise.

“Prince Trong Thuy,” he said formally, “you will return to your father with this message: if Nam Viet ceases all hostile actions against Au Lac for one full year, proving their peaceful intentions, then we will consider a marriage alliance.”

It was a test that King An Duong Vuong believed Trieu Da would never pass, but it gave the young lovers hope.

Trong Thuy returned to Nam Viet with a heart full of determination to convince his father to accept the peaceful path. But King Trieu Da’s reaction was explosive.

“Marriage alliance?” he roared. “You were sent to gather intelligence for conquest, not to fall in love with our enemy’s daughter!”

“Father, this could be a better path than war,” Trong Thuy argued. “Through marriage, we could achieve everything you want without bloodshed.”

But Trieu Da had already made his decision. Using the information about the Dragon King’s claw that Trong Thuy had reluctantly shared, he began planning a surprise attack on Au Lac.

“We strike during the next new moon,” he declared. “And since you have proven your loyalty to be… questionable… you will lead the assault to prove yourself.”

Trong Thuy was trapped. Refusing the order would mean execution for treason, but following it would mean betraying My Chau and destroying any hope for their future together.

On the night before the planned attack, Trong Thuy made a desperate decision. He secretly sent a message to My Chau, warning her of the coming assault and begging her to convince her father to prepare the kingdom’s defenses.

But My Chau faced her own terrible choice. Warning her father about the attack would mean revealing that Trong Thuy had shared military secrets with her—information that could only have come from espionage. It would confirm her father’s worst suspicions and likely lead to a price being placed on Trong Thuy’s head.

In her anguish, My Chau decided to handle the situation herself. On the night of the new moon, as Nam Viet forces approached the borders of Au Lac, she crept into the royal armory and removed the Dragon King’s claw from Linh Quang.

Her plan was to hide the claw until after the battle, making the magical crossbow temporarily powerless and forcing both armies to negotiate rather than fight. She believed that without the overwhelming advantage of the magical weapon, neither side would risk a major battle.

But My Chau had underestimated her father’s military skill and the loyalty of Au Lac’s defenders. Even without Linh Quang’s magical power, King An Duong Vuong’s forces fought fiercely to protect their homeland.

The battle raged for three days and three nights. Trong Thuy, leading the Nam Viet forces with a heavy heart, tried to minimize casualties on both sides, but war has its own terrible momentum.

On the third day, as defeat seemed inevitable for Nam Viet, King Trieu Da himself took the field, demanding to know why Linh Quang had not been used to end the battle swiftly.

King An Duong Vuong, discovering the missing claw and his daughter’s role in its disappearance, felt betrayed by the child he had loved and trusted above all others.

“You have chosen your lover’s kingdom over your own people,” he said to My Chau with a coldness that broke her heart. “Your misguided mercy has prolonged this suffering and cost countless lives.”

In his anger and disappointment, King An Duong Vuong banished his daughter from Au Lac.

“You are no longer my child,” he declared. “Go to the man you chose over your family and kingdom.”

My Chau, heartbroken and exiled, made her way to the Nam Viet camp, hoping to find comfort with Trong Thuy. But when she arrived, she discovered the terrible truth—Trong Thuy had been killed in the final day of battle, struck down by an Au Lac arrow while trying to prevent his own soldiers from pursuing fleeing civilians.

Standing over his body, My Chau finally understood the full tragedy of their situation. Their love, which had seemed so pure and hopeful, had become the instrument of destruction for both their kingdoms. Her attempt to prevent bloodshed had instead prolonged it, and the man she had sacrificed everything for was gone forever.

In her grief and guilt, My Chau took the Dragon King’s claw—the cause of so much sorrow—and cast it into the Eastern Sea, ensuring that its power could never again be used for war.

Then, unable to live with the consequences of her choices, she threw herself from the cliffs where she and Trong Thuy had once dreamed of a peaceful future for their peoples.

The bodies of the two lovers were found together at the base of the cliffs, finally united in death as they could never be in life.

Both kingdoms mourned the tragic end of My Chau and Trong Thuy, and their story became a cautionary tale about the terrible complexities of love, loyalty, and duty in times of conflict.

Years later, a temple was built at the place where they died, dedicated to the memory of two people whose love was pure but whose choices were tragically flawed. Couples would come to pray there, asking not for passionate love like My Chau and Trong Thuy’s, but for the wisdom to love without causing harm to others.

And fishermen in the Eastern Sea would sometimes report seeing a golden light beneath the waves where My Chau had cast the Dragon King’s claw—a reminder that some powers are too dangerous for mortal hands, and that the price of peace is often higher than anyone is prepared to pay.

The legend of My Chau and Trong Thuy endures as one of Vietnam’s most complex love stories—neither purely heroic nor entirely tragic, but deeply human in its portrayal of how good intentions, conflicted loyalties, and the fog of war can transform love into sorrow and hope into devastation.