Chapter 4 — A Sweetness Forgotten

The eighteenth birthday of a classmate - the daughter of a famous fashion store chain owner in the city - was held at a rooftop restaurant, where the entire thirty-second floor of the building overlooking the city was lit up like a golden painting.

Diệp Chi did not intend to leave. She did not have a nice dress to wear, did not have time after afternoon tea, and more importantly, she felt like she didn't belong at these kinds of parties. But Thế Khôi texted and persuaded her for two days in a row, and finally she agreed, partly out of curiosity, partly because she didn't want to let him go alone among a group of friends that she knew well that not everyone was friendly with him.

She wore the most beautiful dress she had - a floral dress bought from a market stall two years ago, carefully laundered last night - and stood in the crowd of unfamiliar faces, holding a glass of orange juice in one corner, the feeling of being lost increasing every minute.

The restaurant was so luxurious that Diệp Chi had to try to keep a calm face when she saw the banquet table filled with dishes she had only seen in photos online - grilled lobster with cheese, pan-fried Wagyu beef, a multi-layered tower of macarons arranged elaborately like works of art. She remembered the pot of taro sweet soup her mother was cooking at home, remembered the old aluminum spoon used to scoop sweet soup for guests, and for a moment, she wondered if she had made a mistake in accepting the invitation to come here.

DJ music played to a bustling beat, colored lights swept back and forth across the glass floor, young faces laughed and chatted in dresses that Diệp Chi guessed each cost as much as several months of her tea shop's profit combined. She stood in a corner near the balcony, trying not to be noticed by anyone, until Thế Khôi found her, pulled her sleeve and led her to a group of friends standing nearby to introduce herself.

"This is my classmate, Chử Diệp Chi." Thế Khôi introduced her to a group standing nearby, his voice natural as if nothing needed further explanation.

A girl in the group—Diệp Chi vaguely remembered her as the daughter of one of the Thế Khôi family's business partners—looked her up and down, her gaze moving from the old floral dress to the discolored shoes before she turned to Thế Khôi and smiled faintly.

"Chử Diệp Chi? The name sounds familiar. Is that the girl selling tea in the alley near the school?"

The whole group laughed softly, not out loud, but enough for Diệp Chi to feel the hint of laughter hidden within.

"That's right," Diệp Chi replied, her voice calm even though her fingers were clenching the juice glass. "Is there a problem?"

"No, I was just asking." The girl waved her hand, her voice still polite. "I was just a little surprised that Thế Khôi also had friends... from such a diverse group of people."

"Cẩm Tuyết," Thế Khôi spoke, his voice suddenly cold, completely different from his usual calmness. "What do you mean by that?"

"Eh, I didn't mean anything." Cẩm Tuyết smiled wryly, realizing the atmosphere had changed. "It's just a comment, there's no need to be so tense."

"Diệp Chi is the best student in the grade for three years in a row," Thế Khôi said, his voice still cold, each word clear as if declaring an obvious truth that needed to be remembered. "She's better than everyone standing here combined, including me. If 'diversity' as you understand it means having people who really work on their own, then I'm proud of that."

The air around the group slackened. Cẩm Tuyết blushed, mumbled an apology, then pulled the group of friends away. Diệp Chi stood still, feeling both embarrassed and warm spreading in her chest - she was not used to being defended so openly by anyone, and was even more unfamiliar with the feeling of a person in "another world" standing up straight to defend her in front of people from the same world as him.

"You don't have to do that," she said softly, as the two of them separated from the crowd, standing alone by the railing looking down at the city.

"Need," Thế Khôi replied, his voice softened but there was still some determination. "I don't like hearing anyone talk about my friend in that tone."

"Your friend?" Diệp Chi laughed lightly, trying to dispel the heavy atmosphere. "Sounds a bit strange."

"So what do you want me to call you?" Thế Khôi turned to look at her, the city lights reflected in his eyes.

Diệp Chi did not answer immediately. The night wind blew gently, carrying the scent of flowers from nearby bonsai pots, mixed with soft music coming from the party. She looked down at the sparkling city below, suddenly realizing how far the distance was between where she stood now — the thirty-second floor of a luxury restaurant — and the small alley where she grew up, even though geographically they were only less than three kilometers apart.

"My friend is fine," she replied, trying to keep her voice light. "At least for now."

"What do you mean, 'now'?"

"I mean..." Diệp Chi hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "You see, your world and my world are very different. Friendship is not always strong enough to bridge that gap."

"I don't believe in that 'different world' concept." Thế Khôi shook his head, his voice surprisingly firm. "I believe in people. You are Diệp Chi, the one who taught me how to wash dishes, the one who knows which recipe gives a sweeter taste without adding sugar. That is more important to me than any property name standing behind you or standing behind me."

Diệp Chi looked at him, her heart filled with a complex feeling that was hard to name - both touching and fearful, as if standing in front of an open door to something too beautiful to believe was real.

"You say it so easily because you've never had to live in that distance," she said, her voice not harsh, just a truth she needed to say. "I do. Every day."

Thế Khôi was silent and did not refute. He understood, although not completely, that there were things he had no right to deny other people's experiences just because he had never experienced them himself.

“Then let me learn to understand it,” he said after a moment, his voice sincere. "Slowly. I'm in no hurry."

***

On the way home, sitting behind Đình Bách on the scrawny motorbike his friend borrowed from his brother to take Diệp Chi home (because she firmly refused to let Thế Khôi's private driver take her to the alley, fearing disapproval from the neighbors), Diệp Chi looked back and saw Thế Khôi still standing at the restaurant door, watching until the car completely disappeared behind the corner of the street.

"Hey, I saw him defending you so fiercely just now," Đình Bách said, his voice deliberately gentle because he knew this was a sensitive topic. "Cẩm Tuyết must be so angry."

"Forget it," Diệp Chi replied, but Thế Khôi's words from earlier still echoed in her heart - "I believe in people" - like a mantra that she wanted to believe was true but did not have the courage to believe fully.

"But I'm telling the truth," Đình Bách continued, eyes still looking straight at the road, "Khoi is very different from his old friends. I've been together for a few months and can see clearly. He doesn't pretend, doesn't discriminate, he learns everything sincerely. It's rare to see rich kids like that."

"Yes, I know." Diệp Chi nodded slightly, the night wind blew her hair.

"So what are you going to do?"

Diệp Chi did not respond immediately. She looked up at the night sky sparkling with a few rare stars filtering through the city lights, thinking about the way Thế Khôi stood up straight to protect her in front of a crowd of strangers, thinking about the notebook filled with lines about her that he thought she didn't know.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "But I think, maybe I like someone that I don't dare admit that I like." Đình Bách laughed, still holding the steering wheel firmly. "So you two are exactly the same, have the same disease."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing." Đình Bách shook his head and smiled mysteriously. "Slowly, you'll know."

The car turned into a familiar alley, the yellow light shining on the mottled road surface. Diệp Chi got out of the car, stood and watched until Đình Bách disappeared, then returned to the house, her heart still mixed between vague joy and unformed anxiety - as if a part of her had known in advance that the most beautiful things often come with a price, but no one had yet calculated how big it was.

***

The next morning, the story about Thế Khôi "protecting his tea-selling friend" in front of Cẩm Tuyết spread throughout the twelfth grade, gaining more embellishments in every classroom. Some people said that Thế Khôi had nearly fought a group of old friends; others said that the two of them had held hands on the restaurant balcony. Diệp Chi entered the classroom, feeling curious eyes following her, but she simply held her head high and walked back to her seat without explaining.

"Are you okay?" Tường Vy asked softly, pulling the chair closer.

"Fine," Diệp Chi replied, opening the book to prepare the lesson. "People can spread rumors whatever they want. I don't have time to worry."

When it was time to play, Thế Khôi stopped by her desk and put down a small box of cakes wrapped in simple kraft paper. "I'm sorry that yesterday made you the center of attention."

"It's okay, there's nothing to gossip about every day." Diệp Chi opened the cake box and saw inside were several irregularly shaped cookies, clearly made by someone clumsily. "Did you do this yourself?"

"Yes. Study online." Thế Khôi scratched his head, feeling a little embarrassed. "It's not as good as your sweet soup, but I want to try making something myself, instead of just eating it."

Diệp Chi took a bite, the taste was slightly burnt, unevenly sweet, but she still chewed slowly, feeling strangely warm in her heart. "That's pretty good. Better than the bunch of people who've never held a pan before."

"So you passed the first test?" Thế Khôi smiled, his eyes lit up as if an invisible burden had just been lifted.

"That's okay," Diệp Chi teased, but the corner of her mouth curled up, unable to hide it.

That morning, amidst the rumors and curious eyes of the whole class, the two of them sat next to each other and ate an entire box of misshapen cookies, not saying another word about last night, but both understood that there was something between them that had just been confirmed, even though no one was willing to name it out loud.