Chapter 10: Chapter 10 Coffee with an Opponent — Rebellious Symphony

Three days after the list of semi-finalists was announced, Ngô Vĩnh Phong texted Linh, asking to meet at a coffee shop near the City Conservatory of Music, where they both studied together in the past.

"I think we should talk, adult to adult," the message read. "Not to compete, but to share the perspective of someone who was one step ahead of you on this journey."

Linh hesitated for a long time before agreeing. Part of her wanted to refuse outright, but another part was curious to know what Phong really thought, especially after the implicit message about her love life last week.

Small, quiet cafe, hidden in an alley near the Conservatory. When Linh arrived, Phong was already sitting at the corner table, in front of him was a cup of black coffee without sugar, looking calm and confident as always.

"Thank you for coming," Phong said, motioning for her to sit in the chair opposite.

"What do you want to talk about?" Linh asked directly, not wanting to waste time on unnecessary social questions.

Phong took a sip of coffee, then put the cup down, his eyes becoming more serious. "I heard that your qualifying demo was highly appreciated by Mr. Hoàng. Combining the Beethoven Sonata with electronic music. That's daring."

"Did you call me out just to compliment me?" Linh raised her eyebrows, not believing that the compliment was completely sincere.

"Not really," Phong admitted, his voice turning serious. "I wanted to warn you, honestly, before you entered the semi-finals."

"What warning?"

"I learned about this year's jury," Phong said, pulling out his phone and opening a list of names. "Of the seven judges, five are artists and conservatory professors who follow the mainstream classical school, and have publicly criticized the trend of 'genre hybridization' in press interviews. In particular, Juilliard's representative judge, Professor Laurent, is known to be extremely strict with what he calls 'the dilution of artistic purity'."

Linh remained silent, feeling a wave of anxiety rising in her heart, even though she tried not to show it.

"I'm not saying this to put you down," Phong continued, sounding more sincere than Linh expected. "On the contrary, I respect your creativity. But there is only one Juilliard scholarship, and I don't want to see you lose the opportunity because of an unnecessarily risky gamble."

"So what do you think I should do? Go back to playing the original Sonata like before?" Linh asked, her voice a bit sarcastic.

"That's a safe choice," Phong nodded. "You have perfect technique, Linh. You don't need to take risks with unproven experiments. Let me be the risky tester, and you, be the sure winner with your own strengths."

Linh looked at him, suddenly realizing something incomprehensible in these words. "If you really want me to win for sure, why do you care whether I win or not? We are competitors for the same scholarship."

Phong paused for a second, then smiled slightly, a smile that was hard to read. "Maybe because I respect a worthy opponent more than an easy victory thanks to the opponent eliminating himself from the game because of a wrong decision."

That answer sounded reasonable, but Linh still felt like something was wrong, a vague discomfort that she couldn't yet name.

"Thanks for the advice," she said, her voice regaining its usual firmness. "But I've made up my mind. I'm going to keep this combination for the semi-finals."

"Even knowing the risks?" Phong asked, his eyes searching.

"Even knowing the risks," Linh affirmed, her voice without hesitation. "I learned something important recently, Vĩnh Phong. Playing safe is not the same as playing right. Sometimes, the safest path is the path that makes people regret the most later."

Phong was silent, looking at her with complicated eyes, mixed between surprise and a little bit of disappointment. "You've changed a lot, Phương Linh. You're no longer the rule-following girl I knew ten years ago."

"Maybe that's a good thing," Linh replied, standing up and preparing to leave. "Thanks for the coffee, Vĩnh Phong. But I have to go home and prepare for practice tonight."

***

On the way home, Linh couldn't stop thinking about the conversation just now. There was something in Phong's attitude that made her feel uneasy, a vague premonition that "sincere warning" was not simply the concern of an old friend.

When she recounted the entire conversation to Minh that night in storage room No. 4, he listened attentively, occasionally frowning at important details.

"He studied the panel of judges so carefully," Minh commented, his voice thoughtful, "it shows that he considers this scholarship so important that he calculates every move. A person who calculates so carefully rarely acts out of simple kindness."

"Do you think he has other intentions?" Linh asked, feeling her worries were confirmed.

"I'm not sure," Minh shook his head. "But I think we should be more careful with him. Especially after the text messages about your love life last week. Someone who only focuses on pure music wouldn't spend that much time prying into his opponent's private life." Linh nodded, agreeing with his assessment. "So what should we do?"

“Keep doing what we're doing,” Minh said, his voice steady. "Perfect the mix, practice performing well live. If he really has bad intentions, the best way to deal with it is to make yourself so strong that no one can shake it, whether by warnings or any other means."

"Agreed," Linh nodded, feeling more reassured by his steadfastness.

Minh opened his laptop and switched to the live performance practice session that they started a few days ago. "Let's try the climax again. This time, I'll simulate real stage conditions, including background noise from the audience."

He turned on a background sound that simulated the applause and murmurs of the crowd, so that Linh could get used to staying focused even when there were distractions around.

Linh closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then began to play the violin. This time, even though the simulated noise rang in her ears, she still maintained a steady rhythm, letting her emotions guide her hands just like what she had learned over the past month.

When the music ended, Minh clapped his hands lightly, his eyes full of pride. "Much better than last week. You're improving at an amazing rate."

"Thanks to a good coach," Linh replied, the corners of her lips curling up into a slight smile.

"That's right," Minh nodded, not hiding his complacency, causing Linh to laugh out loud, a rare sound that only Minh could evoke from her during the past stressful weeks.

But behind those rare moments of joy, both of them could not completely get rid of the vague feeling of insecurity about Ngô Vĩnh Phong, about what he was really planning behind the cover of "sincere advice" that he had just given. A storm was still silently building, just waiting for the right moment to strike, and neither of them knew for sure which direction it would come from first.

***

The next evening, after practice, Minh sent Linh to the school gate, something he had never done before, because usually the two were careful to separate in an area out of sight first. But this time, perhaps because the story about Vĩnh Phong was still lingering in his mind, he wanted to make sure she got home safely.

"You don't need to worry too much," Linh said, realizing that his eyes kept following every passing person on the street. "Vĩnh Phong is not the type of person who would do anything dangerous."

"I'm not worried about your physical safety," Minh replied, his voice serious. "I'm worried that he might use psychological tricks to make you doubt yourself, right before the most important semi-finals. That's the real danger."

Linh remained silent, realizing the deep concern hidden behind those seemingly simple words. "Thanks for noticing that."

"That's the producer's job," Minh shrugged, trying to make a joke to lighten the seriousness of the atmosphere. "Protecting the spirit of the main artist is just as important as sound editing." Linh laughed, feeling her anxiety ease somewhat. They stood there for a while under the yellow streetlight, neither of them in a hurry to leave, as if both wanted to prolong this rare moment of peace before facing the challenges that lay ahead.

"The semi-finals are two weeks away," Linh said, breaking the silence. "I think we should add an extra practice session to Sunday afternoon."

"Okay," Minh nodded without hesitation. "Whatever it takes for you to confidently step on that stage."

"Both of us," Linh corrected, her eyes looking straight at him. "You will also be there, even behind the scenes, right?"

Minh paused for a moment before that question, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'll be there. No matter what happens."

That promise, seemingly simple, carries a weight that neither of them are fully aware of at the moment, a weight that will soon be tested by the events that await in the next chapters of the story they are writing together.