Chapter 3 — Old Street Corner Gold Shop

On Monday morning, Ngan Lu street changed completely. From early in the morning, a large speaker system was set up in front of the land that used to be the parking lot, emitting vibrant electronic music mixed with the MC's voice introducing the opening program. A bright red banner stretches across the front, with metallic gold letters printed in capital letters: "HAO KIM JEWELRY — OPENING THE 47TH BRANCH — SHOCK DISCOUNT UP TO 50% ON ALL PRODUCTS." Two rows of gold and silver balloons were tied in a long line along the sidewalk. In front of the door was a small makeshift stage, with a girl wearing a metallic dress standing and handing out leaflets to passersby.

Vy stood behind the glass cabinet of her shop, looking at that scene through the window, feeling like she was watching a movie filmed in a different world completely unfamiliar with the old street where she grew up. Inside Hao Kim, blue-white LED lights illuminate the vast space, glass cabinets lined up in long rows display hundreds of jewelry models identical in style but different in size, each item has a flashing electronic price list displaying real-time discounts, creating a sense of urgency that makes buyers unable to consider.

"Oh my god, it's so big," Thanh Tra exclaimed as she entered the shop, her eyes still glued to the other side of the street. "I passed by and saw people lining up since early morning to buy at shocking prices, Ms. Vy."

Vy did not respond immediately. She looked at the line of people, among whom she recognized a few familiar faces — customers who had visited her shop to buy small earrings or repair broken necklaces, now eagerly waiting to enter the bright space across the street. She doesn't blame them. Everyone has the right to find what suits their budget and preferences, and she understands that a fifty percent discount is too attractive a number to ignore, especially for young people just starting a job, saving every penny to buy the first piece of jewelry in their life.

That morning, Tan Phat gold shop was deserted. Not a single customer entered for three hours straight, something that has never happened since Vy took over the store. She sat at the workbench, trying to concentrate on perfecting the wedding rings of Mr. and Mrs. Van Thinh - Ngoc Hoa, but her hands kept shaking involuntarily, her mind was caught up in the blaring music coming from the other side of the street.

Near noon, Mr. Thinh walked down with his cane, looking at his daughter sitting quietly at the workbench, his eyes full of worry but trying to keep his voice calm. "On the first day of opening, there weren't many people. Don't worry too much. People were just curious to see, and then they returned to their usual places."

"I hope so, dad," Vy replied, her voice unable to hide the fatigue.

In the afternoon, when the sunlight began to shine fiercely, a customer entered the shop - not to buy goods, but Mr. Sau, a newspaper seller, who often passes back and forth on this street every day. He stopped by to say hello and conveniently gave Vy the local morning newspaper.

"Look at page three, there's an article about that newly opened branch," Mr. Sau said and hurriedly continued, having to deliver newspapers to other stalls.

Vy opened the newspaper, glanced at a short article introducing Hao Kim Jewelry - a jewelry chain with large investment capital, rapidly expanding to provinces and cities, with the strategy of "cheap jewelry for everyone, designs that keep up with international trends, produced with modern molding technology at the central factory." The article quoted a branch representative, named Pho Anh Dung, affirming that the company will continue to open dozens more branches next year, "bringing quality jewelry closer to ordinary consumers, eliminating the unreasonable price gap that traditional gold shops have imposed for so long."

That sentence made Vy frown slightly. She doesn't think her shop's prices are "unreasonable" — each item is priced based on effort, time, and pure gold quality, with no unreasonable profits. But she also understands that, in the eyes of the public who have never stepped foot into a handmade jewelry factory, the comparison between the listed price of a mass-milled ring and a meticulously hand-made ring can easily be simplified into a story of "expensive or cheap", completely ignoring the value hidden behind each detail.

Late in the afternoon, when Vy was cleaning up the workbench and preparing to close early because of a slow day, the doorbell suddenly rang. A young man, elegantly dressed in a light gray suit, entered the shop with a professional, commercial smile on his face. He gave Vy his business card and introduced himself as Pho Anh Dung, regional branch manager of Hao Kim Jewelry.

"Hello, I just stopped by to say hello to the new neighbors," Dung said, his voice was warm but something made Vy feel uncomfortable, as if every word had been premeditated. "Your shop is really beautiful, classic style, must have a long history, right?"

"Since 1979," Vy replied briefly, not inviting guests to sit.

"Wow, almost fifty years. That's impressive." Dung looked around the glass case, his eyes glancing over each piece of jewelry as if assessing its price. "I think we don't have to be competitors, Ms. Vy. My shop serves the general customer segment, while your shop probably still maintains its own group of loyal customers, right? The market is large enough for both."

Vy looked straight into his eyes, unable to hide the reserve in her voice. "I hope so, Mr. Dung."

"If in the future you need any advice on market trends, or want to cooperate in importing some industrial product samples to diversify products, just contact me," Dung said, handing out another business card, even though the first one was still on the counter. "We are always ready to help small salons adapt to the new era."

The last sentence, although spoken in a polite tone, carried an underlying meaning that made Vy feel like she was being looked down upon. She smiled politely, did not respond to the offer, just saw the customer out the door. After Dung left, she stood still for a moment, looked at the business card printed with glossy gold letters in her hand, then placed it in the bottom drawer of the workbench, where she kept things she didn't want to see every day.

That evening, when the whole street was lit up, the music in Hao Kim had not completely stopped, even though it was calmer than during the day. Vy sat with her father at a simple tray of rice upstairs, both speaking less than usual.

"How much revenue did you make today?" Mr. Thinh asked, although he probably already guessed the answer.

"Nothing, dad. Not a single customer bought anything all day, only two people came to repair the chain." Vy tried to keep her voice calm, but couldn't hide the worry in her eyes.

Mr. Thinh put down his chopsticks and sighed deeply. "I went through a much more difficult time than this, back in the nineties when western gold began to flood the market, the price was much cheaper than our gold. At that time, your grandfather was as worried as you are now. But he still survived, because he believed in one thing - customers can be attracted to new things for a while, but then they will come back to look for something real, something durable, something with passion in it."

"But was there Hao Kim back then, Dad?" Vy asked, her voice a bit harsher than she intended. "Is there anyone who is livestreaming a sale, is there anyone offering a fifty percent discount right at my door?"

Mr. Thinh was silent, there was no answer to that question. He knew his daughter was facing a completely different challenge than what the family had experienced, a challenge that the previous generation's experience was not enough to fully guide.

After the meal, Vy went down to the shop again, even though it was late. She stood in front of the glass cabinet, looking at the jewelry that she and her father, and before that, her grandfather, had put so much effort into creating - the unfinished lotus-engraved bracelet, the nearly completed wedding rings of Mr. and Mrs. Van Thinh, a few carefully repaired marble bracelets. Each dish has a story, a face, a specific name behind it.

She took out her order book and reviewed the list of regular customers over the years, trying to find some comfort in those familiar names. But even as she closed the notebook, the question still hung in her mind: will the loyalty of old customers be enough to resist the lure of cheap prices and modern convenience? And if not, where will her family's three-generation gold shop go?

Little did she know, the answer to that question would be much more complicated than a simple price war — because just a few days later, a ghost from the distant past would knock on the store's door, bringing with it a story that even her grandfather, who had been gone for twenty-six years, had never had the chance to fully tell.