Chapter 25 — Unnamed Perfume Shop

On the last day of the festival, the organizers reserved the last half hour of the program for a special activity: each booth was invited to the main stage to briefly introduce their profession to all remaining visitors. When it was the nameless perfume shop's turn, Bao Nghi stepped onto the stage, her hands trembling, holding the finished bottle of Hoai Huong - the batch she had mixed the night before, based on the sincerity she rediscovered after her conversation with Nha Truc, combined with everything her mother and Mr. Ta Khac Nguyen had helped her piece together over the past many months.

Standing in front of hundreds of eyes, Bao Nghi took a deep breath, looked down at the crowd, saw Bach Nguyen standing in the front row, his eyes full of encouragement. Next to him was Mr. Vinh Khang, his face serious but no longer as tense as the previous days. A little further away, Nha Truc, Mr. Ta Khac Nguyen, Aunt Xuyen and a few familiar neighbors were standing, all of them looking towards her with undisguised support.

"Hello everyone," Bao Nghi began, her voice a bit shaky at first but gradually becoming steadier with each sentence. "I am Bao Nghi, the third generation in a family of perfumers on Hang Diep Street, at a shop that has existed for more than fifty years but has never had an official name." She recounted, briefly but emotionally, about her grandmother Anh Nguyet, about the unfinished Hoai Huong recipe, about the journey to find it again through the burned pages of the notebook, through the trip to find cork flowers, through the help of so many people.

"Today," she said, her voice choked but determined, "I want to share with everyone this scent — not because it's perfect, but because it's real. It contains the story of a girl who lost her mother in a flood more than sixty years ago, the story of a mother who has spent her life preserving that memory, and the story of myself, who is trying to learn how to let go of fear to sincerely live fully in the present, even when the future is still uncertain."

She opened the lid of the bottle, let the fragrance spread gently in the air, and invited people standing near the stage to come up and smell it. Many people closed their eyes, some shed tears, an old man whispered something to his wife standing next to him, and a young girl exclaimed with excitement because "this smell is like the smell of my grandmother cooking green bean soup". The whole stage was immersed in an emotional silence, with only the sound of the breeze and the murmurs of admiration from the crowd.

In the crowd, Au Kim Phuong was also present, standing silently listening from beginning to end of Bao Nghi's short speech. When their eyes accidentally met when Bao Nghi stepped off the stage, she nodded slightly, a respectful gesture that spoke a thousand words. "Miss Nghi," she spoke up as Bao Nghi passed by, "I think Belle Époque will propose a small collaboration in the future, inviting you to be a guest to share about the art of traditional blending at some of our events, if you agree. Not to compete, but to benefit both — our customers also need to be reminded that, behind every bottle of industrial perfume, there is always a respectable artisanal origin."

Bao Nghi smiled and nodded in agreement, feeling an incredible sense of relief when realizing that the battle between the old and the new, between tradition and modernity, does not necessarily end in mutual destruction, but sometimes, it is possible to find an intersection that respects both.

When Bao Nghi stepped off the stage, Mr. Vinh Khang was the first to approach, his face full of thought. "Miss Nghi," he called, his deep voice different from his usual seriousness. "I've been thinking for a few days now. I can't completely cancel the signed memorandum of understanding, but I just called the group this morning, suggesting another option - instead of razing the entire thing to build a shopping center, they will only renovate the old building behind, which is already in disrepair, while keeping the facade and space of your shop intact, combining it to develop into a cultural-tourist destination in a joint project. The group's representative initially objected, but after I sent them a report about the festival, about her story, they agreed to consider, because they realized this could be a much more unique commercial highlight than a normal row of kiosks."

Bao Nghi was stunned, not daring to believe what she had just heard. "Really, uncle? You're not kidding me, are you?"

"I'm not kidding," Mr. Vinh Khang replied, smiling, a rare warm smile. "I still need a reasonable compensation for the land converted to use in the back area, but for the house in front of her, where she is doing business, my family will sign a long-term lease contract at a preferential price, fully notarized, ensuring she no longer has to live in fear of being reclaimed at any time. Consider it a belated thank you to Mrs. Anh Nguyet, who was once a good friend of my grandfather, and also an apology for causing trouble. She must have gone through a period of anxiety recently."

Bao Nghi's tears flowed uncontrollably. She bowed her head to thank Mr. Vinh Khang, her voice so choked that she could not speak. Bach Nguyen walked over and hugged her, both happy and emotional. "I know you can do it," he whispered in her ear.

Not far away, a representative of the Provincial Department of Culture, who had been monitoring all three days of the festival, also came forward and gave Bao Nghi a temporary certificate, announcing that her perfume shop and her family-owned blending profession had officially been included in the list of proposals for recognition as a provincial-level intangible cultural heritage, an important step even though it still needs more time to complete the official procedures. The surrounding crowd applauded, the applause spread throughout the square, mixing with the gradually setting afternoon sunlight, dyeing the entire sky yellow on Hang Diep old street.

Amid all that joy, Bao Nghi looked for Mr. Ta Khac Nguyen and saw him standing quietly in a corner, tears rolling down his wrinkled face, his trembling hands holding an old photo of Ms. Anh Nguyet that he always carried with him during the festival days. She walked over and hugged him tightly. "I did it, Mr. Nguyen," she whispered. "Your grandmother must be smiling somewhere."

"I believe so," he replied, his voice trembling but filled with happiness. "I have accomplished what you have not yet done, Nghi. I have done much more."

Nha Truc ran over, hugged both of them, crying and laughing at the same time. "I told you, you can do it," she said as she wiped away her tears, her voice equally choked. Aunt Xuyen, standing nearby, could not hide her emotions, clasping her hands and bowing lightly towards the photo of Mrs. Anh Nguyet in Mr. Ta Khac Nguyen's hand, as a respectful greeting to the deceased.

That evening, after the festival officially ended, Bao Nghi and Bach Nguyen took their mother - Mrs. Bich Van, who was brought by aunt Xuyen to see the final part of the ceremony according to Bao Nghi's wishes - to walk around the square that was gradually emptying, the remaining lantern light from the festival casting a warm, gentle light on the street. Although she did not fully understand what had just happened, Mrs. Bich Van still felt the joyful atmosphere around her, occasionally smiling when strangers came to congratulate and praise her daughter.

"I did it, mom," Bao Nghi whispered in her ear, holding her thin hand tightly. "We won't have to leave anywhere else."

Mrs. Bich Van, even though her eyes were somewhat hazy again after a rare moment of clarity the previous morning, still nodded slightly, as if a part of her still felt the great significance of this moment, even though she could not fully express it in words. Bao Nghi looked at her mother, at Bach Nguyen standing next to her, at the brightly lit square behind her, and felt her heart filled with a complete peace that she had not dared to hope to have for a long time.

Bach Nguyen gently put her arm around Bao Nghi's shoulder, all three of them - she, her mother, and him - slowly walked across the square, joining the stream of people leaving after a long day. In the distance, the last music of the festival still echoed, mixed with the chatter and laughter of the stalls being tidied up. Bao Nghi looked back again and saw Mr. Ta Khac Nguyen still standing there, his hand still holding the old photo tightly, his eyes following the silhouettes of three people disappearing in the lantern light, like a silent witness to a whole journey that had just completely ended, to open a new and even more beautiful chapter ahead.