Chapter 10 — Unnamed Perfume Shop

Bach Nguyen went to his uncle's office on a Monday afternoon, when he knew that Mr. Vinh Khang had no other appointments. The small office is located on the second floor of an old building near the town center, simply furnished with a few filing cabinets and a planning map hanging on the wall, marked with red and yellow boxes to represent areas undergoing land use conversion - including a small red box at the exact location of Hang Diep Street.

"Did you come to see me for something important?" Mr. Vinh Khang asked, without raising his head from the stack of papers he was looking at, his voice somewhat tired.

"I want to talk about house number 14," Bach Nguyen replied, pulling a chair and sitting down opposite him, trying to keep his voice calm even though he was mentally preparing for an uncomfortable discussion. "Uncle, I think you should reconsider selling that house."

Mr. Vinh Khang looked up, put down his pen, and looked at his nephew with searching eyes. "Why are you suddenly interested in this? Up until now you've only done technical survey work."

"Because I learned more about that place," Bach Nguyen replied, trying to choose his words carefully. "You know, my mother used to be a regular customer there, when I was little. I just found a record that shows that, when I was thirteen years old, my mother commissioned a scent for me when I grew up, a scent for my grandmother. But she passed away before she could return to receive it."

Mr. Vinh Khang's voice sank a bit, seemingly surprised by this information. "I don't know about that," he said, slowly. "I also remember your mother. When I was young, she was gentle and often came to my house every holiday. But Bach Nguyen, love is one thing, but my business decisions are another. I can't let my emotions control a decision that affects the rest of my life."

"I'm not asking you to make a decision based on your emotions," Bach Nguyen said, his voice more determined. "I just want you to consider other options, instead of having the only option of selling outright to that group. For example, if Hang Diep neighborhood is recognized as an area with architectural heritage value, you can still receive renovation support from the local budget, rent at a higher price thanks to the cultural tourism value, without having to sell off ownership. I have begun to collect documents about the architectural value of the entire row of houses, so I can present them to you. present a specific plan for you to see."

Mr. Vinh Khang was silent for a moment, his fingers lightly tapping on the table, seemingly seriously considering his nephew's proposal, although his face was still skeptical. "The architectural heritage thing, the procedure is complicated, takes several years, I'm not sure I can wait," he said. "But okay, just prepare a plan, I will consider it. I only ask for one thing, don't let your personal relationship with that store owner cloud your judgment. I'm not blind, Bach Nguyen, you'll know right away when you see it."

Bach Nguyen was slightly stunned by that straightforward comment, feeling his ears burn. "I... I'm just trying to do the right thing, uncle," he replied, his voice much more awkward than the composure he'd been trying to maintain since the beginning of our conversation.

Mr. Vinh Khang laughed, a short laugh but without any malice. "Okay, okay, I believe you. Just prepare the documents, bring them here in two weeks, I will review them carefully."

Leaving his uncle's office, Bach Nguyen felt somewhat relieved, even though he knew the road ahead was still long and full of uncertainties. He drove straight to Hang Diep street, without an appointment, simply wanting to see Bao Nghi and tell her about the conversation just now.

She was standing on the shop's porch when he arrived, holding a small watering can, tending to the pots of jasmine flowers placed along the windowsill - a habit she had kept since her grandmother's time, believing that the scent of jasmine in the afternoon would help the shop always be filled with a layer of gentle background scent. Seeing him, she stopped and smiled. "You came without notice, what's going on?"

"I just talked to my uncle," he replied, recounting the entire conversation, from the proposal on the architectural heritage plan to Mr. Vinh Khang's unexpected comment about love. When he got to the last part, he hesitated, not daring to look her straight in the eyes.

Bao Nghi put down the watering can and felt her cheeks burning. "Your uncle said that... is it true?" she asked, her voice quiet, barely loud enough for him to hear.

Bach Nguyen looked at her, didn't say anything for a long time, then stepped closer, only a short distance away from her. "I think it's true," he said, his voice so deep and sincere that it made her heart pound. "From the first time I entered this shop, I felt something was different, not only because the house reminded me of my mother. The more I spent with her, the more I realized that what made me want to come back here was not just the job, nor just the story about my mother."

Bao Nghi bowed her head, her heart was racing, not knowing how to respond. During the past two years, since the day her mother fell ill, she had devoted all her energy to taking care of her mother and maintaining the shop, to the point of almost forgetting that she also had the right to love and to cultivate something for herself. "Me... me too," she said finally, her voice shaky but sincere. "It's just that I'm afraid. My life now has too many unstable things - my mother, this shop, even Hoai Huong formula. I'm afraid that if I add love to the mix, I won't be able to maintain it all."

"You don't have to hold it all by yourself," Bach Nguyen said, reaching out to gently hold her hand that was placed on the window sill, warm and firm. "I don't promise to solve everything, but I want to be here, going through each matter with you, whether it's about the perfume formula or about this house."

Bao Nghi looked up at him, her eyes were filled with tears but her lips were smiling, the first smile in many months that did not carry any burden. She did not withdraw her hand, leaving her hand still in his hand, feeling the warmth spreading along her arm, deep into her throbbing chest. Behind them, the smell of jasmine from the potted plants on the windowsill wafted in the afternoon breeze, mingling with the familiar smell of old wood and stained paper of the shop - a scent that, Bao Nghi thought to herself, perhaps from this day forward, she would always be associated with this moment, the moment she allowed herself to trust someone other than her family, for the first time after many years of living alone in worry.

"Hey," Bach Nguyen said after a moment of silence, his voice somewhat hesitant as if he was considering whether to ask or not, "are you busy tonight? I want to invite you out to eat, it's simple, it's not for any work."

Bao Nghi laughed softly, feeling a strange relief at that simple invitation, different from the heavy atmosphere of their previous meetings, which always revolved around paperwork, formulas, or worrying news. "I'll have to ask aunt Xuyen to stay and look after mom a little longer, but it should be okay," she replied, then suddenly remembered something and quickly added, "but don't go too far, I don't feel safe leaving mom alone for long."

"Then let's walk to the noodle shop at the end of the street, nearby so she can come home early," he suggested, and Bao Nghi nodded in agreement immediately.

They closed the shop earlier than usual, told Aunt Xuyen a few words and then walked together along Hang Diep Street in the sunset that was gradually turning dark purple. On the way, Bach Nguyen told her more about the years he was growing up after his mother passed away - his father, out of grief, sold the old house, took him to live with his grandparents for a while before he went to college, and perhaps it was that feeling of loss that made him choose to study architecture, as an unconscious way to preserve the buildings and spaces that people had lived in, instead of letting them disappear without a trace like the way his childhood home had disappeared. lost. Bao Nghi listened, occasionally interjecting a few small questions, feeling that each word he told her made her understand a little more about the man walking next to her, about why he, of all the architects who could be hired to survey this house, was the only one who could see the soul hidden inside those old wooden walls.

They sat together at the noodle shop at the end of the street until it was completely dark, not saying much else, just quietly enjoying the rare peace amidst all the turmoil that lay ahead - the Belle Époque chain store was about to open just a few houses away, the decisive appointment with Mr. Vinh Khang was still hanging in the balance, and the Hoai Huong recipe was still unfinished somewhere among the burned pages and her mother's fading memories. But at least, in this moment, under the sunset that dyed Hang Diep street yellow, Bao Nghi felt she no longer had to shoulder everything alone.