Chapter 12 — Leaving You, I Shine

I turned off the chat box. Don't reply, don't delete, don't block. Just let it lie there. I don't have to rely on deleting messages to prove I've let go.

—

The closed salon for the creative and cultural industry was held at the end of the month, the location was an art museum in the north of the city. The space is not large but is decorated extremely delicately. Twenty-three brand owners, mostly entrepreneurs between 30 and 40 years old, make jewelry, make perfume, make handmade leather goods, and do independent publishing. A small but very beautiful circle. I was the only outsider as an operations consultant. Luc Dich introduced me at the opening: "This is Lam Chieu, a brand operations expert, recently helping friends in the creative culture field upgrade their brands. Anyone who has any needs can talk to her." Short and practical. The salon format is a round table discussion combined with free exchange. In the roundtable, I shared a case study – the process of taking a small local scented candle brand from a revenue of 50,000 yuan/month to 300,000 yuan. The data are real, the methods are real combat skills. Having finished speaking, three people immediately asked to become friends on WeChat. After the party ended, a girl who made handmade silver jewelry pulled me aside: "Ms. Lam, my brand has been in business for two years and still hasn't opened up. Do you have time to look at it for me?"

"Maybe, I'll send you the documents."

“How are the costs calculated?”

“I'll check it out and report.”

That evening I made WeChat friends with 6 people, of which 3 had clear intentions of cooperation. The project volume of cultural creatives is smaller than real estate and F&B, but is flexible, has fair payments, and is not bound by the relationship networks of large corporations. Most importantly - on this route there is no shadow of Tham Van. I started building the beginnings of my own small brand consulting studio. He did not resign immediately, but continued to work at boss Chau's company during the day to accumulate resources, and worked outside in the evenings and weekends. Wait until the income from outside projects is stable enough to cover double my living expenses, then I will consider going independent. I didn't tell anyone about this, including Phuong Du. It's not because I don't believe it, but I want to wait for the results before speaking. I don't need cheerleaders, I need results. Three days later, I took a key step – Registering my own company. The name is "Chieu Bach". Chieu Bach, Trieu Bach Bach, clearly and clearly. It's also a play on words separated from my name. The day the business license was issued was Wednesday. I took a photo and saved it on my phone, didn't post it to Moments (WeChat Timeline), and didn't report it to any group. Just watch it for yourself over and over again.

“Lam Chieu, Legal Representative”.

After six years of looking at someone else's name on paper, now it's finally mine. That same Wednesday evening at 8 o'clock, I was at home fixing plans, when the doorbell rang. This apartment complex does not have a security card, the hallway is open, anyone can go up. I looked through the battlements. Co Hanh is standing outside the door. Wearing a black coat, a scarf loosely draped around her neck. Hands holding nothing, just standing there. The sound-sensitive light in the hallway illuminated his face, his expression difficult description - not like negotiating, nor like asking for forgiveness. Just a tired face. I don't open the door.

“Lam Chieu, I know you're inside.”

His voice came through the door, a tone deeper than in my memory. I stood behind the door, my hand on the lock, not moving.

"I didn't come to argue. I also didn't come to talk about money. Those things are my mother's mischievous actions, I told her to stop."

I didn't speak up.