The next morning, Bach Lan sat by the window, holding a cup of coffee long since cooled. Soft sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, spilling golden patches across the edge of the wooden table. Yet in her mind, the images from last night's dream lingered, vivid and unreal at once, the voice, the gaze, and a name that hovered on the edge of memory, impossible to recall.
The name didn't seem to belong to her present. So why had it appeared so clearly in her dream? Why did her heart tighten every time she tried to grasp it?
She tried to reach for the name within her memory, but it was like peering into a thick fog. And behind that mist, she felt something quietly waiting to be called. A fragment of the past hidden away, or a part of her soul that had never truly slept.
In the days that followed, Trach Hien became more proactive.
At first, it was just a few chance encounters at the tea shop near the office. Then came polite messages inviting her to lunch, and sometimes brief conversations in the hallways, where he would quietly appear just as she finished a tense meeting.
He was never pushy, never forceful, but always maintained just enough distance, enough for her to feel safe, enough for her to slowly open up.
One late afternoon, when the first summer rain fell unexpectedly, Trach Hien stood under the stairs holding an umbrella, waiting for her. There was no prior arrangement, no clear reason.
"What a coincidence." – He smiled, tilting the umbrella toward her. – "You forgot your umbrella again."
She paused for a moment. Clearly, the morning had been sunny. Who could have predicted the rain?
"Thank you." – She accepted the umbrella and stepped closer, letting her shoulder slip under the shared canopy.
The damp breeze carried the faint scent of rain, making her heart beat a little faster.
They walked side by side along the soaked sidewalk, speaking little. Only the click of their shoes punctuated the soft patter of rain.
The rain was gentle, yet enough to calm the city streets. Streetlights reflected on the water, forming soft patches of golden light. In that moment, everything seemed to slow down the traffic, even the rhythm of her heartbeat.
Bach Lan glanced subtly to the side. Trach Hien's shirt sleeve was soaked, yet he still tilted the umbrella toward her, his left shoulder exposed under the rain. She frowned slightly:
"You're all wet."
He looked at her, smiling lightly.
"It's okay. As long as you're not wet, that's enough."
The words were ordinary, a simple expression of concern. Yet inside her, a small wave of warmth rose. There was something gentle in his eyes, unshowy, effortless, simply warm.
They slipped into a small tea shop by the roadside. The place was decorated with wooden panels and Japanese-style lanterns, the scent of tea mingling quietly with the warm wood, making the space feel even cozier against the rain blurring the glass outside.
Bach Lan chose a seat by the window, gently rotating her cup of hot tea. The warmth seeped through her palms, carrying a familiar feeling she could not quite name.
Trach Hien sat across from her, his gaze softening as he watched her watching the rain.
"You like the rain?" – He asked, his voice flowing gently, like a stream slipping through cracks in the stone.
She nodded slightly, smiling.
"Rain makes the heart quieter."
"And I like watching people when it rains." – He said straightforwardly.
She looked up, surprised.
"Because they are usually the most honest then. Less guarded. Less pretending to be strong."
A quiet pause hung between them. Bach Lan didn't reply, but inside, she felt an invisible thread stir. Being with him, she didn't have to brace herself like in the office battles, didn't have to defend herself like when facing Trach Dong. She could simply breathe, sit there, just as she was.
By the time they left the shop, the rain had stopped. The city lights glittered in the night, and a thin crescent moon peeked out from behind a layer of clouds.
"Let me take you home." – Trach Hien said softly.
Bach Lan intended to refuse out of habit, but somehow, her lips pressed together lightly, and she nodded.
That night, when she returned home, Bach Lan stood silently before the mirror for a long time.
She didn't know when, but a small corner in her heart had come to belong to his presence. Gentle, unbinding, yet enough to make her wait for his next message, enough to make each encounter stir her heart.
There was no need for intensity.
It was enough that today, he still smiled because of her.
Bach Lan lay quietly on her bed. The night wind slipped through the window, carrying the scent of dry grass. She closed her eyes softly, and a fragment of memory drifted back like silver smoke.
***
A small, thatched cottage nestled at the foot of a hill. She, a fox spirit in human form, sat by the modest fire, gently blowing on a pot of porridge. Beside her, a gentle young man, back then only a poor scholar, diligently copied books.
"Don't forget to water the apricot flowers in the back." – He said.
"I haven't forgotten a single time." – She replied.
"Last time you watered them with fish broth."
"..."
He pulled her into his arms, whispering.
"The flowers still bloom because you're foolish enough for even heaven to pity you."
They lived together like a devoted couple. No gold, but clear, bright laughter. No power, but hand in hand by the fire every evening.
***
Bach Lan suddenly opened her eyes, feeling as if someone had gently squeezed her heart. The memory offered no clear face, only lingering emotions.
One autumn afternoon, Bach Lan received an invitation from Trach Hien:
"If you're free, I know a small bookstore and a place that serves really good red bean pudding. Interested in coming with me?"
She didn't know why, but she nodded.
They arrived at a narrow alley tucked behind the Western quarter, where sunlight filtered through leaves, scattering over quiet rows of old bookshelves. Trach Hien chose a corner near the window, ordering two cups of oolong tea and a hot portion of red bean pudding.
"The pudding here is pleasantly sweet." – He said, placing the spoon in her hand. – "But things that are pure, if kept for a long time, are the truly precious ones."
Bach Lan smiled softly.
"You always say things that make people think more than they need to."
"So, what do you think of me?" – He tilted his head, half teasing, half serious.
She froze for a moment, then lowered her head, letting the spoon of pudding touch her lips.
Her heart skipped a beat.
In the days that followed, they met more often. There were no flashy dates, no flowers, no candles, just quiet walks together, simple meals shared, or sometimes, sitting side by side in the car after work, listening to instrumental music. It was as if he had learned how to step into her life so gently that she could never bring herself to refuse.
One evening, with rain drizzling down, she received an unexpected message:
"I'm downstairs at your apartment. Nothing much, just want to give you an umbrella."
Bach Lan looked out the window. He was really standing there in the rain.
She ran down without an umbrella.
"Are you crazy?" – She whispered, tugging his hand under the eaves.
"Probably." – He said, smiling, his hair soaked. – "Ever since I met you, I haven't really been thinking straight."
Amid the patter of rain, with hearts beating in some indistinct rhythm, who's faster, she couldn't tell, she lifted her head, words failing her. She just stood close enough for a little warmth to drift from his shoulder to hers.
That night, Bach Lan dreamed again.
***
In her dream, she stood by a lotus pond, the moonlight quietly draping silver over the water. Late-blooming lotus flowers swayed in the wind, petals trembling as if sighing with the passage of time.
The young scholar, dressed in simple cloth robes, his hair tied lightly, stood opposite her. His eyes held a deep, unspoken attachment, mingled with a subtle, lingering regret.
"Tomorrow you leave." – He said, his voice low and warm. – "To the capital to take the exams."
Bach Lan lowered her head, fingers clutching the hem of her garment. The breeze brushed past, lifting strands of her hair, lightly resting against her cheek.
"The exams are your lifelong wish. I believe you will succeed." – She whispered.
Trach Hien stepped closer, lifting her hand, his palm brushing the cool, dewy skin of hers. He pressed it gently against his chest.
"But my heart has long stayed here."
His breath trembled slightly, as if afraid he could not hold back the words:
"Little Bach, if tomorrow I pass, gain wealth or status, trust me, this life, I will love only you."
The moonlight reflected in his eyes, sincere and unwavering, leaving no room for doubt.
She said nothing, only nodded gently, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
He drew her into his arms. The familiar warmth seeped into her, into her very blood, engraving itself into her memory.
"Little Bach, I swear, in this life, in this destiny, I will love and marry only you. If I break this vow, may I not rest in peace."
She quickly raised her hand to cover his mouth, her tone sharp yet tender: "Do not speak such ominous words."
***
Bach Lan woke up, an emptiness curling cold around her chest.
That place, that memory, that vow.
Something had just stirred deep within her, a quiet tremor that made her want to cry, though she could not say why.
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