Chapter 17 — Unnamed Perfume Shop

Three weeks before the festival, Bach Nguyen received an urgent summons from his uncle. When he arrived at the office, Mr. Vinh Khang was already sitting there with a strange man wearing a black suit, introducing himself as the legal representative of the investment group. The atmosphere in the room was tense and different from usual.

"Honey, I just received some unpleasant information," Mr. Vinh Khang said as soon as the other representative left after a brief exchange, his voice much heavier. "The group said that if your estate file is approved, causing the transaction to be delayed or broken, they will sue for compensation for having signed some previous preliminary commitments with you. The compensation amount is not small, Bach Nguyen, enough to make you lose all of the old age pension you are expecting, and even have to sell other assets to make up for it."

Bach Nguyen was stunned, a feeling of guilt rose in his heart. "What kind of contract did you sign with them that I don't know about?" he asked, his voice a little harsher than he intended.

"A memorandum of understanding is not completely legally binding, but it is enough to give them an excuse to cause trouble if you change your mind midway," Mr. Vinh Khang replied, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "I don't blame you for trying, Bach Nguyen, I understand you do it for your own reasons. But I need you to understand, I'm also in the middle of a dilemma, it's not as simple as you think."

"So what are you going to do?" Bach Nguyen asked, trying to keep his voice calm even though he was confused inside.

Mr. Vinh Khang was silent for a long time, then sighed, his voice lowered, revealing a part of himself that he rarely let anyone see. "I'll tell you a story that I've probably never told anyone in my family. Ten years ago, I invested a large sum in another real estate project, trusting the promise of a close friend. That project collapsed, I lost most of my life savings, had to sell the main house I was living in to pay off the debt, and moved to live in my current small apartment. Since then, I have always lived in fear of falling into nothing again when I got old, not knowing what to do. Who to rely on. The money from selling three houses on Hang Diep Street, to me, is not simply money, but the last feeling of security that I can still hold.

Bach Nguyen remained silent, feeling his heart sink at the story his uncle had just told - a very human, very legitimate fear, that he had never truly understood before, only seeing his uncle simply through the lens of someone who was hindering what he thought was right. "I don't know about that, uncle," he said, his voice softening. "I'm sorry for not asking more carefully before pushing things."

"I don't blame you," Mr. Vinh Khang replied, smiling wryly. "I just want you to understand, this isn't a simple right or wrong thing. We both have good reasons for doing what we're doing."

Leaving his uncle's office, Bach Nguyen drove around for a long time before arriving at the store, his mind filled with conflicting thoughts. When he told Bao Nghi the whole story, she was equally pensive. "Maybe we need to find another solution, not just relying on mere persuasion," she said. "If the corporation can exert financial pressure, perhaps we also need to prove the real economic value of conservation, not just the spiritual value."

"You're right," Bach Nguyen nodded and took out his notebook to take notes. "I will contact a few travel agencies in the province to see if they are interested in including Hang Diep street in the old town tour route. If it proves its tourism potential, it can convince both the corporation and the local government that keeping this neighborhood intact is more profitable than razing and building a new one."

The next day, when Bao Nghi recounted Mr. Vinh Khang's story to Nha Truc, her friend pondered for a moment then spoke up. "You know, sometimes I find adults very pitiful," Nha Truc said, still nimbly trimming a bouquet of gladiolus flowers. "Everyone has their own fear, they just don't say it out loud. Uncle Khang is afraid of being poor when he gets old, you are afraid of losing your mother and losing your business, Mr. Nguyen is afraid of losing again something attached to his mother. Everyone is trying to protect something for themselves."

Bao Nghi nodded, deeply absorbed by that simple but profound comment. She realized, the deeper she went into this story, that the line between "good people" and "bad people" that she thought was simple at first — she and her family on one side, Mr. Vinh Khang and the investment group on the opposite side — has now blurred a lot, replaced by a more complex picture, where everyone has their own legitimate reasons, and the best solution is probably not to defeat one side, but to find a path that both sides can enjoy. acceptable.

In the following days, Bach Nguyen worked non-stop, sending dozens of emails and making dozens of phone calls to travel agencies, cultural researchers, and even a few local journalists interested in the topic of heritage preservation. He also spent time sitting down with the architecture lecturer who agreed to support, and together they built a detailed proposal, combining both cultural and economic factors, trying to create a plan that was convincing enough for all stakeholders.

One of the travel agencies he contacted, a company specializing in organizing old town tours foreign tourists, showed special interest after looking through the images and documents he sent. The company manager called directly and made an appointment to conduct a field survey on Hang Diep Street next week, saying that the type of "memory scent experience" that Bao Nghi store is providing is an extremely rare experiential tourism product that can be included in high-end tours at a good price. That news made both Bao Nghi and Bach Nguyen excited, as if they had found another important piece to the persuasive picture they were trying to complete.

At the same time, Bach Nguyen also did not forget to keep in regular contact with his uncle, trying to heal some of the tension in the relationship between uncle and nephew. He proactively visited him on weekends, without talking about work, simply eating together like in the days when he was young, when Mr. Vinh Khang used to take him fishing every summer. "No matter what the outcome, I still want you to know, I always consider you as the only relative left on my father's side," he told his uncle on one such evening, making Mr. Vinh Khang, even without saying it, somewhat touched, his hand squeezing his nephew's shoulder in a rare way.

One evening, when the two were reviewing the proposal one last time before sending it out, Bao Nghi looked at Bach Nguyen with worried eyes. "Are you afraid," she asked softly, "if things don't work out, your uncle will lose his money, and you'll lose your relationship with the only close family member left?"

Bach Nguyen stopped, looked at her for a long moment, then replied, his voice slow but sure. "I was scared," he admitted. "But I'm more afraid if I do nothing, then one day look back, knowing that I had the opportunity to protect something as meaningful as this but chose to silently stand by and watch. My mother died when I was too young to do anything for her. But this time, I am no longer small, and I don't want to lose anything associated with her a second time."

Bao Nghi took his hand, didn't say anything more, just let that silence contain everything she wanted to say — a deep sympathy, a firm belief that no matter what the final result was, together they had tried their best for what was truly important.

That night, after Bach Nguyen left, Bao Nghi sat alone at the mixing table, opened her grandmother's recipe book, and placed it next to the thick legacy proposal that Bach Nguyen had just left a copy of. Two documents, one old and yellowed, one brand new and still smelling of printed paper, lie next to each other on the same table, like two generations working together for a single purpose. She thought of her grandmother, of twenty-three failed attempts before finding the right direction, of Mr. Vinh Khang with his secret fear of lonely old age, of Bach Nguyen standing between the lines of love and righteousness. Each person in this story, she realized, was trying their best in their own way, and perhaps, the only thing she could do was to continue persevering with her part, trusting that when all those disparate efforts were added together, they would be enough to create an outcome without anyone having to completely lose what they cherished most.