The Story of the Magic Lamp

In the ancient scholarly city of Thăng Long, where libraries held thousands of classical texts and students from across the kingdom came to study, there lived a young scholar named Học whose greatest passion was discovering lost knowledge. While other students focused on memorizing texts for government examinations, Học spent his time exploring forgotten corners of old libraries and seeking out ancient manuscripts that might contain hidden wisdom.

Học came from a humble family of scribes and had to work as a copyist to pay for his education. Every evening after his classes and copying work, he would search through old collections, hoping to find something that previous scholars had overlooked.

One rainy night, while organizing scrolls in the basement of the Imperial Library, Học discovered a bronze lamp buried beneath centuries-old documents. The lamp was clearly ancient, covered with intricate carvings of dragons and phoenixes, but tarnished black with age.

Thinking it might be a valuable historical artifact, Học began cleaning the lamp carefully. As he rubbed away the tarnish with a soft cloth, something extraordinary happened – golden smoke began pouring from the lamp’s spout, swirling and condensing into the form of a majestic spirit.

“Greetings, young scholar,” the spirit said in a voice like distant thunder. “I am Thần Đèn, guardian of the Lamp of Knowledge. You have freed me from centuries of slumber, and according to ancient law, I must grant you three wishes in return.”

Học stared in amazement, hardly believing what he was seeing. The spirit was magnificent – tall and powerful, with eyes like stars and robes that seemed to be woven from clouds and moonlight.

“Three wishes?” Học stammered. “Any wishes at all?”

“Indeed,” Thần Đèn confirmed. “But choose carefully, young seeker. I have granted wishes to many throughout the centuries, and I have learned that what people think they want is not always what will make them truly happy.”

Học’s mind raced with possibilities. He could wish for wealth to end his family’s poverty, for success in the imperial examinations to guarantee a prestigious position, or for knowledge that would make him the greatest scholar in the land.

But something in the spirit’s wise expression made him pause. “Before I make my wishes, honored spirit, may I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” Thần Đèn replied, seeming pleased by the young man’s thoughtfulness.

“You say you have granted many wishes over the centuries. What happened to those who received them? Were they happy with what they gained?”

The spirit’s expression grew solemn. “That is a wise question, and one that few have thought to ask. Some found happiness, but many did not. Those who wished for wealth often became consumed by fear of losing it. Those who wished for power found it brought more problems than solutions. Those who wished for knowledge sometimes discovered that knowing too much could be a burden rather than a blessing.”

“Then what kinds of wishes brought happiness?” Học asked.

Thần Đèn smiled approvingly. “The happiest were those who wished not for themselves alone, but for the ability to help others. Their joy came not from what they gained, but from what they were able to give.”

Học thought carefully about this wisdom. After several minutes of contemplation, he spoke his first wish.

“For my first wish, I want the ability to understand and remember any text I read, no matter how ancient or difficult the language.”

“Granted,” the spirit said, and Học immediately felt his mind expand with new linguistic abilities and perfect memory.

“For my second wish, I want access to the lost libraries and hidden knowledge of past civilizations, so that important wisdom will not be forgotten.”

“Granted,” Thần Đèn replied, and suddenly Học could sense the locations of hidden texts and buried libraries throughout the land.

The spirit waited expectantly for the third wish, but Học hesitated for a long time.

“Take your time,” Thần Đèn encouraged. “The third wish is often the most important.”

Finally, Học spoke. “For my third wish, I want the wisdom to know how to use the knowledge I have gained to help others and make the world better.”

The spirit’s face lit up with genuine joy. “Young scholar, in all my centuries of granting wishes, no one has ever asked for wisdom rather than power, for understanding rather than advantage. Your third wish shows that you already possess the greatest treasure – a wise heart.”

“Granted,” Thần Đèn said, “but in truth, this wish grants itself. The wisdom you seek will grow within you as you use your gifts in service of others.”

As the spirit began to fade back into the lamp, he left Học with a final message: “The lamp is yours now, but it will only work for wishes that serve the greater good. Use your gifts well, young scholar.”

Over the following months, Học discovered the true extent of his wishes. He could read and understand texts in ancient languages that had puzzled scholars for generations. He found hidden caches of manuscripts that contained lost knowledge about medicine, agriculture, engineering, and philosophy.

But most remarkably, he began to understand how to apply this knowledge to solve real problems. When plague threatened the city, Học found ancient medical texts that described effective treatments. When floods damaged the irrigation systems, he discovered forgotten engineering techniques that could repair and improve them.

Instead of keeping this knowledge to himself or using it for personal advancement, Học began sharing it freely with anyone who could benefit. He translated important medical texts into common language so village healers could understand them. He taught farmers improved techniques he had learned from ancient agricultural manuals. He helped engineers rediscover lost methods for building stronger bridges and better water systems.

Word of Học’s remarkable abilities spread throughout the kingdom. The emperor himself summoned the young scholar to court, curious about his extraordinary knowledge.

“I have heard that you possess wisdom from the ancients,” the emperor said. “What do you want in return for sharing this knowledge with the imperial court?”

“Your Majesty,” Học replied respectfully, “knowledge belongs to all people, not to any one person. I want nothing except the opportunity to help solve problems and improve lives.”

The emperor was so impressed by this attitude that he appointed Học as the Royal Scholar and gave him resources to establish schools throughout the kingdom where ancient wisdom could be preserved and shared with new generations.

But Học’s greatest achievement was not any single discovery or invention. It was the example he set of using one’s gifts in service of others. Students from across Asia came to study not just the knowledge he had uncovered, but the principles that guided how he used it.

“Remember,” he would tell his students, “knowledge without compassion is meaningless, wisdom without service is worthless, and power without responsibility is dangerous. The greatest scholars are not those who know the most, but those who use what they know to help others.”

Years later, when Học had become one of the most respected figures in the kingdom, a young student asked him about the source of his extraordinary abilities.

Học smiled and showed the student the ancient lamp, now kept in a place of honor in his study. “This lamp taught me that the most powerful magic is not getting what you want, but wanting what will help others.”

“But master,” the student asked, “do you ever regret not wishing for wealth or power for yourself?”

Học looked around his study, filled with students from many countries learning to use knowledge for the benefit of humanity, then gazed out the window at the prosperous city where ancient wisdom was being used to solve modern problems.

“My young friend,” he said gently, “I am wealthier than any merchant and more powerful than any king, because I possess something money cannot buy and force cannot take – the joy of knowing that my life has made a difference in the world.”

The magic lamp remained in Học’s family for generations, passed down along with the wisdom that true power comes not from what magic can do for us, but from what we can do for others. And the lamp continued to work its magic, but only for those who understood that the greatest wishes are those that help create a better world for everyone.

Vietnamese Cultural Note: This story reflects Vietnamese Confucian values about scholarship and social responsibility, emphasizing that knowledge should serve society rather than individual advancement. The concept of “học để làm người” (study to become a better person) is central to Vietnamese educational philosophy.