Chapter 14 — Ten Years of Love, His Proposal Was Just a Bet

"Why did you take these things from the Song family? Aren't you cooperating with them? Don't you want to protect Song Yi?"

He was silent for a few seconds, then said something. The voice was extremely light, so light that it seemed to disappear into the wind:

“Chi Ha, I have never sided with the Tong family.”

“I just stand up for myself.”

“But after you left,” He paused, “I discovered that on my side, there was nothing left.”

I looked at him. He did not avoid my eyes, nor did he use any deep, penitent look to confront me. He was just very calmly stating a truth. But that very calmness made a certain corner of my heart ache a little. I see a true Luong Thuat. Not a noble Luong Thuat, not a happy and sad Luong Thuat who doesn't show his face, but a normal person: Knowing regret, knowing loneliness, knowing that he has chosen the wrong path. But it's just a little stinging.

“Thank you for returning these to me.” I said, put the envelope away. “But you and I, we no longer have any relationship.”

He nodded, didn't hold back, just stood leaning against the railing and watched me turn and leave. There was no sound of footsteps behind us. I suddenly remembered many years ago, he was waiting for me in front of the cemetery gate. After I cried and walked out, he gave me a bottle of water without saying a word. That was the first time I felt that although this man was cold, his coldness was sometimes also a kind of gentleness. But it's not ten years ago anymore. I pushed the door open and walked back into the brightly lit banquet hall. When the party was almost over, I once again heard news about Tong Y. The Song family's capital chain was completely broken, Tong Vien Chau was investigated for suspicion of economic crimes, and all assets in his name were frozen. Tong Y's mother could not stand the attack, had a stroke due to a brain hemorrhage and had to be hospitalized, and has not regained consciousness until now. As for Tong Y, he still had hope in Luong Thuat, but he couldn't even meet him in person. Huong Van looked at me: "Chi Ha, do you... feel angry?"

“There is no such thing as venting anger or not.” I replied, "She got to where she is today, not because of me. It was because of her, because of the Song family's own actions."

“Besides,” I paused for a beat, “Hating someone is too tiring, I don't want to waste my energy on hatred anymore.”

Huong Van looked at me for a moment, then suddenly laughed: "Chi Ha, you have really changed a lot." I also smiled and said nothing more. The party ended, I stood by the window looking at the Hong Kong night scene, letting my thoughts drift away. Footsteps were heard behind him, and a person with a leisurely and leisurely gait walked forward.

“Standing here alone, don't you get bored?”

I turned around. Tham Bac Thanh stood behind me.

“Why did you come here?” I asked in surprise. “Aren't you saying you're too lazy to deal with social situations like this?”

“Originally, I'm lazy.” He took a sip of wine, his eyes scanning my face. “But thinking back, seeing how many people you had to deal with alone, I was afraid you would be tired.”

“So you came?”

I looked at him and suddenly burst into laughter.

“What are you laughing at?” he asked.

“Laugh at me,” I replied. “The person you are, cares about people too I have to act so forced and reluctant.”

He raised his eyebrows, not bothering to refute. After two seconds of silence, he suddenly spoke: "Just now on the balcony, what were you and that man talking about?" I was a little stunned, then immediately realized - You saw me and Luong Thuat on the balcony.

“Did you see it all?” I asked.

“Yes.” He replied, "From the room on the second floor."

I said nothing. The night wind blew in from outside the window, blowing his hair across his forehead. He stood right in front of me, his whole body covered in a warm halo of light from the banquet hall's lights, so beautiful that it was unreal. The lights in the banquet hall turned off one by one, and the crowd gradually dispersed. Tham Bac Thanh took me back to the hotel. The car stopped downstairs, he took something out of his pocket and gave it to me. It's a small velvet box.

“Open it and see.”

Inside is a brooch — shaped like a small cinnamon flower branch, crafted from silver and studded with crushed diamonds, incredibly delicate.

“The osmanthus tree in your yard,” he said, “has already bloomed this year.”

I looked up at him.

"When you come back, the flowers probably won't fade yet."

I squeezed the box in my hand, my nose suddenly stinging. Not because I'm sad, but because — I finally understand, what it feels like to truly have someone put in your heart. Quietly, steadfastly, day after day. Standing behind you, watching you, waiting for you. Show up when you need it, and stay away when you don't need it. I raised my head and looked at the Hong Kong night sky through the car window. The sky had no stars, but was filled with lights. Under each of those lights, there is a person waiting for another person to return home.

“Tham Bac Thanh.” I call.

“When you come back,” I said, “Teach me how to recognize the constellations in the Southern Hemisphere. Last time you said it, I forgot.”

He looked at me, something softly lit up in his eyes. Very bright, very bright. Just like the most distant, yet most steadfast star in Melbourne's night sky.

“Okay.” He replied.

The car started and merged into the busy traffic of Hong Kong. Leaving behind the bright lights of the Shangri-La Hotel, it gradually recedes. In my heart, I say a wordless goodbye to this city, to the shadows of the past, and to the man standing on the balcony tonight. This time, there really is no date to meet again. The plane took off again. I sat in the position next to the window. Outside, Hong Kong's night scene became increasingly smaller and farther away, eventually turning into a faint area of light and then completely sinking into the pitch black night. Tham Bac Thanh sat next to me, concentrating on flipping through a stack of documents. I tilted my head to look at him. He felt my gaze and raised his eyes: "What's wrong?"

“Nothing,” I smiled, “Just feeling…”

“Feel what?”

“Feeling the stars in the Southern Hemisphere will definitely be more beautiful than in the Northern Hemisphere.”

He looked at me for about two seconds, the corners of his lips curled up slightly — that was the closest expression to a smile I'd ever seen on him.

“Come to Melbourne,” he said, “I'll take you to see it.”