Chapter 18 — Unnamed Perfume Shop

Two weeks before the festival, Belle Époque launched a massive advertising campaign, inviting a famous TV host to launch the new season perfume collection right at its Hang Diep street branch, accompanied by a light party, live music, and a series of shocking discounts that lasted for a week. The crowd was packed, electronic music echoed throughout the street until late at night, causing the number of visitors to the nameless perfume shop to be almost zero during those days.

Bao Nghi tried not to let herself get caught up in the feeling of discouragement, but on Friday night, when she closed the shop early because she hadn't had a single customer all day, feelings of exhaustion and doubt began to creep into her heart. She slumped behind the counter, watching the bright flashing lights streaming through the window from down the street, wondering if all her efforts—the Hoai Huong recipe, the heritage profile, the festival booth—were really enough to withstand such a powerful commercial tide.

Nha Truc ran to comfort her that afternoon, carrying a small bouquet of daisies, placing them on the counter as a wordless encouragement. "My flower shop is also empty these days," she said, plopping down on the chair opposite. "But you know, this morning I saw a few kids standing outside Belle Époque, trying out one bottle after another for fun, then going home empty-handed, not buying anything. That noise, I think it's just a temporary noise, not something that can retain people for a long time."

Bao Nghi nodded, but that comforting word was not enough to dispel all the worries weighing heavily on her heart. She looked back at the shop's income and expenditure records. The increasingly meager numbers over the past week made her feel uneasy, especially when thinking about the expenses incurred in preparing the festival booth and purchasing rare materials to complete Hoai Huong. After Nha Truc returned, Bao Nghi sat alone for a while, the feeling of loneliness and doubt creeping in endlessly, until the familiar sound of the shell bell rang.

Bach Nguyen arrived at that moment, carrying a small box of flan bought at a restaurant he knew she liked. Seeing her gloomy face, he didn't ask right away, just quietly sat down next to her and placed the cake box on the table. "Are you tired today?" he asked softly.

"I don't know how long I'll have enough strength left," Bao Nghi admitted, her voice rare with fatigue. "There are days when I wonder if I'm trying to hold on to something truly meaningful, or if I'm just stubbornly clinging to the past because I don't have the courage to let go."

Bach Nguyen was silent for a moment, then gently held her hand. "I don't think it's bigotry," he said. "I think, there are values that cannot be measured by the number of visitors in a week, or by the noise level of an opening ceremony. Mr. Vinh Vuong still sprays the bottle of perfume she mixed for him every night, right? That is proof that what she does has real meaning, even though it does not show up in immediate revenue."

Bao Nghi smiled weakly, feeling somewhat relieved by his sincere words of encouragement. “Thank you,” she said. "I don't know how I would have managed without you by my side these past few days."

"Then let me invite you somewhere to forget everything for one evening, okay?" he suggested, his eyes earnest. "I know a place, not far from here, the view is beautiful. I often go there to think when work is stressful."

Bao Nghi nodded, called Aunt Xuyen to look after her mother for a while, then got in the car with Bach Nguyen and headed towards the outskirts of the town, where there was a high dike overlooking the river flowing through Lam Kieu territory. They sat down on the grass along the dike, the cool night wind blew through, bringing with them the faint smell of young mud and the chirping of insects from the neighboring fields.

"This place is so beautiful," Bao Nghi said, looking up at the rare starry sky not obscured by street lights. "I don't remember the last time I sat and looked at the stars like this."

"When I was young, after my mother passed away, I used to hide on the terrace of my grandparents' house to sit alone and look at the stars every night," Bach Nguyen said, his voice low, his eyes still looking up at the sky. "At that time I kept thinking, maybe one of those stars was my mother, looking down at me. Later, when I grew up, I understood that it was just a childish thought, but the habit of looking at the stars when I'm sad is still there to this day."

Bao Nghi turned to look at him, feeling a deep harmony between the two of them - both carrying a personal loss in their hearts, both trying to preserve what was left in their own way, even though one person chose to mix scents, the other chose to look up at the stars. "I think," she said softly, "maybe that's why I felt so close to you, right from the beginning, even though we were on opposite sides at the time."

"I feel the same way," Bach Nguyen replied, turning to look at her, his eyes sparkling in the darkness with reflected starlight. He raised his hand to gently brush a strand of hair flying in front of her face, a gentle but affectionate gesture. "Bao Nghi, can I kiss you?"

That straightforward but gentle question made Bao Nghi's heart pound. She didn't answer, just nodded slightly and closed her eyes. Bach Nguyen bent down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, warm and gentle like himself, not rushed, not demanding, simply an affirmation of everything they had both silently felt over the past few months. When they separated, Bao Nghi opened her eyes and saw him smiling, a completely happy smile that she had rarely seen on his face.

"I've been waiting for this for a long time," she whispered, laughing softly at her own sudden confession.

"Me too," he replied, pulling her close, hugging her, they both sat silently looking at the stars for a while longer, not needing any more words to express the peace that filled their hearts. In the distance, the lights of Lam Kieu town sparkled like a second galaxy underground, and somewhere in that strip of light, the nameless perfume shop was still standing there, quietly waiting, carrying within it many untold stories.

On the way home, Bach Nguyen held Bao Nghi's hand the whole way, occasionally glancing at her with undisguised affection. "Tomorrow," he said, "I will continue to fight, with both the Hoai Huong formula and the legacy records. But tonight, I just want you to know, no matter what happens, I will still be here, by your side."

Bao Nghi leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling her heart filled with a warmth that she had not felt for a long time since her mother fell ill. Even though there was still Belle Époque ahead with its bright lights, there was still Mr. Vinh Khang's ultimatum, there was still an unfinished formula, but in this moment, sitting next to the man who had just given her first kiss under the starry sky, she allowed herself to believe that, no matter what the final result was, she no longer had to continue alone on the road ahead.

The car stopped in front of the store, Bach Nguyen got out and opened the door for her, sending her inside as an old courtesy that he had kept since childhood. Before parting, he held her hands and looked straight into her eyes with surprising seriousness. "Bao Nghi, I want you to know something," he said. "No matter how things go with my uncle, with the investment group, I won't let that affect how I feel about you. You're not part of a project I'm investigating anymore, you're... someone I want in my life for a long time."

Bao Nghi felt his eyes sting with emotion. "Me too," she replied, her voice shaky but sincere. "Thank you, for appearing right when I needed someone like you the most."

He gently kissed her forehead again before leaving, leaving Bao Nghi standing in front of the store, watching the shadow of his car disappear into the night, filled with a rare feeling of peace. She walked inside, locked the door carefully, then stood silently for a moment in front of the empty wooden sign, smiling alone in the darkness, feeling as if, although Belle Époque was still glowing outside, inside her heart, a smaller but more enduring fire had been lit, enough to light the way for her to continue through the coming days.

She went upstairs to visit her mother one last time before going to bed, and saw her sleeping soundly, her face peaceful in the moonlight filtering through the curtains. Bao Nghi sat down on the edge of the bed for a moment, gently held her mother's hand, whispering things she had never dared to say out loud when her mother was fully awake and listening. "Mom, I think I'm in love, Mom," she whispered, her voice so low that only she could hear. "I wish mom could be completely awake so I could tell her everything, like in the past, mom used to sit and listen to me tell stories about school every night." Mrs. Bich Van stirred slightly in her sleep, not waking up, but her hand seemed to gently tighten around her daughter's fingers, an unconscious reflex but enough to make Bao Nghi feel warm, as if even though she was no longer awake to hear everything, a part of her mother was always present, always by her side.