Chapter 16 — Unnamed Perfume Shop

The official announcement about the Lam Kieu Old Quarter Fragrance Festival will be posted on the Town Committee's bulletin board early next week, accompanied by an invitation to artisans and traditional business households in the old town to register to participate in the display. Nha Truc was the first person to run over to report the news, holding a color-printed leaflet that still smelled of new ink. "Here it is, exactly the festival Mr. Nguyen talked about the other day," she exclaimed, placing the flyer on the counter. "It's held right at the square in front of the market gate, lasting three weekends, with the provincial television station also reporting."

Bao Nghi held the leaflet and read each line carefully. This year's festival, according to the announcement, especially emphasizes the theme "preserving the soul of the old town", with the participation of representatives of the Provincial Department of Culture, to survey and compile a list of proposals to recognize a number of works and neighborhoods with typical architectural and historical value. That is exactly the opportunity that Bach Nguyen mentioned - not only an opportunity to introduce the shop to a wider public, but also an important stepping stone for the application for heritage recognition that he is preparing.

"I will register to participate," Bao Nghi said, her voice determined, although she was inevitably a little worried. For many years, the shop has never participated in any public events, always operating quietly, relying on word of mouth and the trust built over each generation of customers. Standing in front of a crowd, introducing herself and her family's story publicly, was something completely foreign to her.

That evening, when Bach Nguyen stopped by, she immediately reported the news. He was visibly happy and immediately took out his notebook to discuss a specific plan. "I have nearly two months to prepare," he said, "just enough time for you to perfect the Hoai Huong formula, just enough time for me to complete the heritage proposal with actual evidence - the public's interest, the cultural value recognized through the festival, will be the strongest argument to convince both my uncle and the corporation to invest."

"But what do I have to display at the booth?" Bao Nghi asked, her voice somewhat confused. "My shop has never participated in this type of business before, I don't know where to start."

"Just be yourself," Bach Nguyen replied, smiling. "Tell the story of the store — not advertising, but telling the truth. The story about her grandmother, about her mother, about Hoai Huong, about how a scent can last a lifetime. I believe, that is something no modern chain store can copy."

The next morning, Bao Nghi personally brought the registration documents to the Town Committee headquarters, a two-story yellow-painted building located not far from Hang Diep street. She waited nervously in the hallway, clutching the shop's introduction file that she had stayed up late drafting for two nights in a row, trying to write it so that it was both truthful and convincing enough. The person receiving the file, a young cultural officer, skimmed a few lines and then looked up at her with curious eyes. "Perfume shop without a name? What would you like to register as the store's name so we can put it on the list?"

That seemingly simple question made Bao Nghi pause a bit. "Yes, just write 'Unnamed perfume shop, Hang Diep street', okay?" she replied, and the officer nodded, without asking any further questions, taking careful notes on the form. Stepping out of the Committee building, Bao Nghi stood for a moment in the midday sun, looking at the name of her shop that had just been written down on black and white paper for the first time in an official document, and felt a stronger urge than ever to find a real name that could not forever remain "nameless" in every file, every conversation, and every memory of others.

In the days that followed, the nameless perfume shop transformed into a small, busy construction site. Nha Truc volunteered to help design the display space, bringing dozens of vases of fresh flowers to decorate, skillfully combining the rustic beauty of the shop with a bit of modernity to attract the eyes of young visitors. Mr. Ta Khac Nguyen, after hearing the news, also stopped by more often, bringing with him stories and old memorabilia to supplement the store's historical display - the first small scale that Ms. Anh Nguyet used, a few old photos, and even the story of the old fire that he agreed to allow to be told, although still keeping some of the most private details private.

Uncle Bat also contributed in his own way, volunteering to distribute leaflets introducing the shop to all his acquaintances on the newspaper delivery route every morning, proudly showing off to everyone he met that he was the oldest living customer of "this shop that is about to become famous throughout the province". Mr. Chung Vinh Vuong, upon hearing the news, also stopped by and offered to tell his story to the local documentary film crew if needed, as long as it could help her. Even Ms. Au Kim Phuong, when she stopped by to buy a few small bottles of essential oils as gifts for her partners, stopped to look at the sketch of the display room, nodding and commenting: "This story is enough to beat every advertising campaign I've ever done, Ms. Nghi. I sincerely wish you luck."

Bach Nguyen, along with helping prepare the booth, spent most of the evening completing the proposal to recognize the architectural heritage value for the entire Hang Diep street, measuring every carved detail on the wooden door, every ancient encaustic tile, taking documentary photos, and interviewing a few other old households in the neighborhood to enrich the dossier. He also contacted a lecturer in the architecture department of the provincial university, who agreed to write an expert review in favor of preservation, adding academic weight to a proposal that was inherently based on emotions and memories.

Bao Nghi spent most of the remaining time perfecting the Hoai Huong formula, tirelessly testing in the direction she had identified — reducing honey grass, enhancing the durability of cork flower with a gentle fixative extracted from benzoin tree resin. Each time she tried, she took meticulous notes, compared it with the feeling in her head, trying to find the right balance that her grandmother had envisioned but had not yet completed.

One evening, while testing with Bach Nguyen, Bao Nghi suddenly stopped and looked at him with serious eyes. "Do you think," she asked, "if I complete this recipe, should I give the shop an official name? For many years, my shop has not had a name, I still think it is a special part, a unique mark. But now, when things are changing so much, I feel that perhaps it is time for the shop to need a real name, to affirm its position, so that no one can easily erase it from the map anymore."

Bach Nguyen looked at her and nodded slowly. "I think it's a beautiful idea," he said. "But I also think, you should wait until you actually complete Hoai Huong before deciding on the final name. There are names that only have complete meaning when the story behind it is complete."

"Then wait," she replied, smiling slightly, closing the recipe book. "But I've started to think of a few names, I just haven't dared to say them yet, I'm afraid I won't be able to get past them."

"So when you're ready, tell me first," Bach Nguyen replied, his eyes filled with sincere anticipation.

Bao Nghi smiled, feeling that he said exactly what she was thinking in her heart but did not dare to admit it clearly. The empty wooden sign above the door now no longer makes her feel insecure like before, but becomes a promise, a void waiting to be filled at the right time, in the right meaning.

The days of preparation for the festival passed in a busy but unusually warm pace - a whole network of people around Bao Nghi, from Nha Truc, Mr. Ta Khac Nguyen, Aunt Xuyen, to Bach Nguyen, all quietly contributed in their own way, turning the burden that she had to shoulder alone for the past two years into a collective effort of a small community working together to protect something they believe is worth keeping. Standing in the middle of a shop cluttered with unfinished preparations, Bao Nghi felt for the first time in a long time that she was not alone in this fight, and that belief, more than any chemical formula, was what gave her the greatest strength on the remaining journey ahead.

Late at night, after everyone had gone home, Bao Nghi often lingered alone for a while, sitting in the middle of a shop cluttered with papers, fresh flowers, and old memorabilia, quietly looking around and clearly feeling something changing, not only outside but also inside her heart. Over the past two years, she has gotten used to carrying all the burdens alone, used to considering her family's sadness as something that cannot be shared with anyone but herself. But now, looking at the busy traces left by so many people throughout the shop - a roll of ribbon from Nha Truc, a walking stick by Mr. Ta Khac Nguyen's door, a set of drawings from Bach Nguyen - she realized that perhaps this is exactly what her grandmother and mother always wanted for the shop: not only a place to preserve the memories of each individual family, but also a place to connect an entire community together, through the seemingly invisible but present scents. more weight than anything else tangible.