Chapter 6 — A Sweetness Forgotten

Mr. Ôn Bách Quân rarely appears at the school gate. During the past two semesters, Thế Khôi's transportation was always done by a private driver, while he was busy with business trips and board meetings that lasted from morning to night. So when the familiar car stopped in front of the gate of Đông Hòa High School on a Friday afternoon, and he got out instead of the driver, both Thế Khôi and Diệp Chi - standing nearby talking - were surprised.

"Dad?" Thế Khôi was surprised and walked forward. "Why are you here, Dad?"

"Dad has something to do nearby. I'll stop by to pick you up," Mr. Bách Quân replied, his eyes flicking toward Diệp Chi standing next to his son. He nodded politely but searchingly. "Is this your classmate?"

"Yes, hello." Diệp Chi bowed her head in greeting, trying to stay calm even though she was a little nervous. "I'm Chử Diệp Chi, in the same class as Thế Khôi."

"Ah, Diệp Chi." Mr. Bách Quân nodded, his eyes seemed to have heard this name before - perhaps from his son's own mouth, or from the report of the butler who still followed his daily activities. "The homeroom teacher praised this girl as the best in the grade, right?"

"Yes, that's right," Thế Khôi replied, his voice showing a bit of pride that he couldn't hide.

Mr. Bách Quân looked at Diệp Chi for a moment longer, his eyes were not disdainful or judgmental like what she had feared, but had the frank curiosity of someone used to evaluating people based on their true abilities.

Diệp Chi stood straight, neither lowering her head nor appearing overly withdrawn like she thought she would react when facing such a powerful person. She remembered what her mother always told her - even if you are poor, you must keep your back straight, keep your eyes straight, and don't let anyone look down on you just because of the situation. That sentence, at this moment, became a strong support in her heart.

"What major are you planning to take to university?" He asked, his voice as natural as if he were having a normal conversation.

"Yes, I plan to take the Food Technology major," Diệp Chi replied, although a bit surprised by the question.

"That industry is good. The food industry in Vietnam still has a lot of room for development." He nodded, then glanced at the clock. "Okay, you two continue talking, I won't bother you. Thế Khôi, get in the car in five minutes, dad has to go to the company." He turned and walked towards the car, but after a few steps he stopped, turned around and said one more sentence, his voice gentle but serious enough for both children to listen.

"So Khoi, do you remember what dad told me when I changed schools?"

"Yes, I remember," Thế Khôi replied, his voice becoming more serious.

"Remind me again, Dad," Thế Khôi hesitated for a second, then spoke, as if rereading something deeply engraved in his heart. "Dad said, you need to learn to see the true value of a person, not through the outer shell. And you need to prepare to later shoulder responsibility for the thousands of families working for Bách Khang, not just living for yourself."

"That's right." Mr. Bách Quân nodded, his eyes looking at his son meaningfully. "I don't forbid you to be friends with anyone or know anyone. I just hope you always remember that every choice you make, whether it's love or something else, needs to be accompanied by maturity and responsibility. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes, I understand," Thế Khôi replied, his voice firm.

Mr. Bách Quân nodded one last time, then got into the car, without saying anything more to Diệp Chi, nor did he show any discomfort or objection to her presence next to his son. The car slowly rolled away from the school gate, leaving the two children standing silently for a moment.

"Your father... doesn't object to me?" Diệp Chi asked, her voice still a bit surprised.

"My father is not someone who is against love based on family background," Thế Khôi explained, sitting down on the school steps. "Dad always said that he himself came from nothing and worked in many jobs before building Bách Khang. He was most afraid that I would grow up without understanding the value of labor and not knowing how to appreciate what I have."

"So why transfer you from the international school to here?"

"Because dad wanted me to experience it for myself, not just hear about it." Thế Khôi looked into the distance, his voice low as if reminiscing. "When I was young, I once asked my father why the housekeepers had to work so hard while I just had to sit and play. He didn't answer right away. He just took me on a business trip to the raw material area, showing me how the workers worked from early morning until late at night. After that trip, I began to understand many things."

Diệp Chi sat down next to him, listening with genuine curiosity, not the kind of curiosity about money, but curiosity about how someone born in luxury could think so clearly.

"So your father sent you here not to test or punish you, but really wanted you to understand life," she said, her voice mixed with surprise and admiration.

"That's right. And I think dad was right." Thế Khôi turned to look at her, his eyes sincere. "If I hadn't changed schools, I would never have known the feeling of carrying a bucket of tea on a morning delivery run, wouldn't have known how truly delicious tea tastes different from a standardized recipe, and certainly would never have met you."

Diệp Chi blushed and turned away to avoid his eyes. "You said some cheesy things again."

"It's true." Thế Khôi smiled, but then his face suddenly darkened, as if he had just remembered something. "But I'm also worried."

"What are you worried about?"

"I'm worried that in the future, when I have to officially enter my father's job, things will be different. I won't have as much free time as I do now. I'm afraid..." he hesitated, "afraid that what I have now — friends, afternoons at the tea shop, the feeling of being myself — will become a luxury I can no longer keep."

Diệp Chi was silent, looking at him with suddenly understanding eyes. She never thought that behind Thế Khôi's full appearance, there also existed worries about the future, just different in shape than her worries, but no softer.

"Then let's just cherish the present," she said, her voice gentle. "Everyone has things to worry about in the future. But at least now, I'm still here, I still have afternoons like this." Thế Khôi looked at her, nodded slowly, a relieved smile gradually appeared on his lips. "Yeah. Thanks for saying that."

The two of them sat next to each other on the school steps, watching the afternoon sunlight gradually turn yellow on the empty schoolyard, saying nothing more, just letting that comfortable silence pass naturally, like a moment they both wanted to keep for a long time, even though deep down each of them vaguely felt that the most beautiful moments usually don't last forever.

That evening, when he got home, Thế Khôi went into the office to look for his father, and saw him still sitting at the table, the light shining on the wrinkled face of a man in his fifties.

"Dad, I want to ask you something." Thế Khôi stood at the door, his voice serious.

"Say it." Mr. Bách Quân put down his pen and looked at his son.

"If in the future I really like someone, and that person has a difficult family background, will you object?"

Mr. Bách Quân was silent for a moment, looked straight into his son's eyes, then slowly answered, each word clear as if engraving an important lesson in his heart.

"I will not object because of a person's family situation. I just want you to choose someone based on personality, not based on appearance or assets. But I also hope you understand that love, no matter how beautiful, needs to be accompanied by responsibility and maturity, so as not to hurt anyone, including yourself." Thế Khôi nodded, feeling relieved. "I understand. Thank you, dad."

He turned and walked out of the room, not knowing that just a few months later, his father's answer tonight would become the only thing he clung to, when the beautiful little world he had just begun to build suddenly collapsed without warning.

That night, Mr. Bách Quân sat alone in his office long after his son had gone to bed. He opened his desk drawer and took out an old, faded photo — a photo of him when he was a twenty-year-old man, standing in front of a tiny grocery store, his face thin but his eyes full of determination. He looked at the photo for a long time, then put it back in the drawer and sighed lightly.

He remembers the years when he had to run every meal, remembers the feeling of being looked down upon when he took out a loan to expand his first store, remembers the nights when he did not dare to dream of a future beyond tomorrow. Because he went through all of that, he clearly understood the value of a person who knows how to stand on his own two feet, rather than understanding it through mere theoretical lessons.

He didn't tell his son, but the girl named Diệp Chi that Thế Khôi had just introduced today, with her straightforward, fearless eyes in front of a powerful stranger, reminded him of himself twenty-five years ago - a young person with nothing but resilience and self-esteem that did not allow him to bow down in the face of adversity.

"Hope the road ahead is smooth for the two of them," he muttered to himself, turned off the desk lamp, and left the office in the quiet darkness of the large house.