Chapter 26 — Unnamed Perfume Shop

One week after the festival, Mr. Vinh Khang invited Bao Nghi and Bach Nguyen to his office to officially sign the agreed documents. This time, there was no cold legal representative sitting and supervising, just the three of them and a personal lawyer Mr. Vinh Khang invited to ensure all terms were transparent and beneficial to both sides.

"This is a long-term lease contract, twenty years, the fixed rent only adjusts according to the minimum price fluctuation every five years," Mr. Vinh Khang explained, pushing the file towards Bao Nghi. "I have also finished discussing with the investment group. They have agreed to a plan to renovate the land behind into a small cultural experience area, combined with other craft stalls in the neighborhood, keeping the facade intact and a few neighboring houses with similar architectural value. The compensation for the land behind is enough for me to satisfactorily resolve personal financial issues, without having to sell the entire thing like before."

Bao Nghi held the pen, her hands shaking slightly with emotion, carefully reading each clause before signing, witnessed by Bach Nguyen standing next to her with a smile that could not hide his pride. "Thank you so much," she said, her voice choked up. "I know this is not an easy decision for you."

"It's not easy," Mr. Vinh Khang admitted, "but I think this is the best decision I've ever made in recent years. There are things that, once lost, can never be bought back with money, no matter how much money." He looked at his grandson, his eyes filled with pride. "Bach Nguyen, I also want to thank you, for persistently persuading me, even though I know the past few days have not been easy for you."

The lawyer, after checking the signatures one last time, neatly folded the file and commented with a smile. "I've been in this profession for more than twenty years, and I've rarely seen a signing ceremony where both sides were in tears of joy like today," he said, making all three people laugh, dispelling some of the solemn atmosphere remaining from the dry legal provisions that had just been read.

After the signing was completed, the three people had a simple lunch together to celebrate, the atmosphere was more intimate than any previous meeting between them. Mr. Vinh Khang, during the conversation, also offered to sponsor part of the cost to renovate the store's frontage in accordance with its ancient architectural state, as a gift to compensate for the days of worry he had unintentionally caused to Bao Nghi's family.

On the way to take Bao Nghi home, Bach Nguyen drove slowly, not in a hurry as usual, enjoying the rare moment when both of them no longer had to worry about anything. "You know," he said, still looking at the road but his voice full of thought, "after this incident, I started thinking about opening a private consulting office, specializing in renovating and preserving old town buildings. My old job now makes me feel constrained, I want to do truly meaningful projects, like what I just went through with your shop."

"I think that's a great idea," Bao Nghi replied, turning to look at him with proud eyes. "I was born to do that, I believe."

"If I were to open an office, I would probably choose to put it right on Hang Diep Street," he added, glancing at her with a mischievous smile. "Being close to her and being near the right place inspired me to change my career direction."

Bao Nghi laughed, feeling warm at the prospect — not just of keeping the shop, but also of imagining a future where the two could build a life together, right on the very street that saw their love blossom.

In the afternoon, when Bao Nghi returned to the shop, she immediately ran upstairs to tell her mother the news, even though she knew that she might not fully understand the meaning of the news in her current state. "Mom, we can keep the house, Mom," she said, sitting down next to the bed and holding her mother's hand.

Mrs. Bich Van, in an afternoon that was relatively alert although not completely lucid like the day before the festival, smiled, her eyes shining with joy even though it was unclear whether she fully grasped all the details or not. "That's good, Nghi," she said, her voice gentle. "You're very good. Mom always believed you could do it."

Bao Nghi showed the old photo that Mr. Vinh Khang had just given to his mother, pointing to the image of his grandmother when she was young. Ms. Bich Van looked at the photo for a long time, her trembling fingers gently stroked the worn surface, a gentle smile appeared on her lips even though her eyes had begun to look a bit distant again. "You're so beautiful," she whispered, not sure if she was talking about her grandmother or to herself in a moment of vague nostalgia. Bao Nghi sat quietly next to her mother for a while longer, not in a hurry to leave, cherishing every moment with the woman who taught her everything she knows about loving and preserving memories.

Before leaving the office, Mr. Vinh Khang held Bao Nghi for a moment and gave her a small envelope. "I found this in a pile of old family papers when I was going through the house records," he said. "It's a photo my grandfather took with Mrs. Anh Nguyet in front of the store, probably from the first days she rented the house. I think you should keep it."

Bao Nghi opened the envelope and saw a black and white photo that had yellowed over the years, capturing the moment of two people - a kind-looking old man and a young woman with steadfast eyes, standing in front of a new wooden door, the sign above was also blank and nameless at that time. She hugged the photo tightly, tears welling up again, feeling like a circle was closing - from the moment the two families first met more than fifty years ago, today, when the descendants of both sides continue to write that story together.

That evening, after everything had temporarily stabilized, Bao Nghi sat alone in the shop, looking around at the familiar space that now, for the first time in many months, she no longer had to live in fear that it would disappear at any moment. She glanced at the empty wooden sign above the door, and this time, instead of feeling uneasy like the first days this story began, she felt an eagerness, a real readiness to finally fill that void with a worthy name.

She took out her notebook and began writing down the names she had been thinking about for the past few weeks — not only "Hoai Huong" as her grandmother's original will, but also other names that arose from her own journey, trying to find the name that truly touched her heart the most, the name that could embrace all three generations of women, the budding love story with Bach Nguyen, the friendship and neighborly love that had accompanied her through the recent storm. then.

Nha Truc stopped by at that time and saw Bao Nghi writing intently, so she curiously looked over her shoulder. "Are you choosing a name for the shop?" she asked, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Yes," Bao Nghi nodded, not hiding it. "But I haven't decided yet. There are many things to consider."

"Tell me some names you're thinking of," Nha Truc said, pulling up a chair to sit next to her, no less excited than the owner of the name about to be chosen.

Bao Nghi read a few names from the list to her friend — "Old Town Memories", "Mother's Shop", "Nguyet Huong" in memory of her grandmother - and the two of them discussed, laughed, crossed out, added to, like two children playing the most important game of their lives. "This sounds too luxurious, not suitable for your rustic shop," Nha Truc commented on one name, then cooed at another name. "This sounds more like the name of a coffee shop than a perfume shop."

"So which name do you think is best?" Bao Nghi asked, laughing at her friend's excessive enthusiasm.

Nha Truc pondered for a moment, lightly tapping her finger on the notebook. "I think, whatever name you choose, it should have the word Hoai in it," she said, her voice suddenly serious. "Not because I have to follow your grandmother's wishes, but because I see, throughout this story, the word Hoai - remembering, nostalgia - is always the thread running through everything you do. You just keep that word, then add the rest to your own story."

Bao Nghi nodded, feeling that the advice touched something very real in her heart, even though she was still not sure what the final name would be. Although she did not find the final answer that night, Bao Nghi felt that, for the first time, the search process was no longer a burden, but a true joy - the clearest sign that she was ready to move on to a new chapter, not only for the shop, but for her own life.