The autumn breeze in Shanghai today carried a slight chill, not as biting as in Moscow a few days ago, but enough to make one want to pull their hands into their pockets and walk quickly. Đặng Hoàng Khánh stood still across the street, leaning casually against his shiny black Mercedes, holding a bouquet of fresh flowers in a variety of types — all with gentle yet sweet fragrances, just like the girl he was waiting for. After the meeting with Louis in Russia, he returned to Shanghai that very night. No time to rest, no time to sleep, only enough time to bring with him the lingering emotions from a deal full of gunpowder and blood. And now, he stood here — amidst the rush of students leaving their classes, like a stranger lost in a world of innocence he once knew so well.
Across the gate of Shanghai University of Finance and Economics, Nguyễn Kiều Thiên Kim stepped out, walking slowly, her long hair gently swaying in the soft autumn breeze. Today, she wore a cream cardigan that hugged her graceful figure, holding her phone as she checked a message from her private driver. Khánh saw her from afar, and the world seemed to slow down. All the gunfire, all the spilled blood, all the toasts and billion-dollar deals in some dark corner... all of it seemed to fade away when he saw that familiar figure.
Kim looked up — and her gaze met Khánh’s.
"Khánh?" Her voice was surprised, but her eyes held a sense of familiarity. "When did you come back?"
Khánh smiled, still holding the bouquet of flowers as he walked closer. His eyes rested on her, as if it were a habit from long ago — a gaze that didn’t say anything, but only expressed a quiet, steady presence.
"I just landed this morning. I missed Shanghai... and I missed the person who likes gentle, sweet-smelling flowers, thin petals, and graceful shapes." He held out the bouquet, his voice carrying something light, like the autumn wind that had just passed through his chest — soft, yet heavy with meaning.
Kim was a little surprised, her eyes shifting between the flowers and him. "You still remember?"
Khánh nodded, his eyes never leaving her face — a face he knew every detail of. But the words that came out were just a playful joke:
"Good thing you haven’t changed your taste, or I wouldn’t have had time to update."
Kim laughed softly, playfully tapping his hand. "You’re still good at making people laugh like always, huh?"
The autumn wind blew through again, carrying the scent of flowers and memories. The two stood in the midst of the busy crowd, laughing together naturally, like old friends teasing each other.
"My car should be here in a bit, should we walk a little?"
"Okay, but don’t start telling me stories about Russia again. I’m so tired of hearing it, like: 'It’s so cold there,' 'People over there don’t talk much,' and so on..."
"Alright, then let’s talk about you. Weren’t you saying something about a cursed group project the other day?"
She shrugged, pulling him along a small path by the lake.
"Yeah, it’s still cursed. My group’s like stuck between ten different deadlines..."
The two continued walking slowly together, without hurrying, without any hidden meanings. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only a familiar scene: one person always talking, the other quietly listening, occasionally he would drop a short comment that made her laugh. Their feelings for each other weren’t something that could be named. It was closeness. It was affection. But not quite love. Or perhaps it was, but only on one side. Khánh tilted his head to look at her. A little gust of wind messed up Kim’s hair, and she brushed it behind her ear, the sunlight shining on her face — her carefree expression, unaware of the effect it had on him, made his heart skip a beat. But then, he turned away. It didn’t matter. As long as she was here, smiling at him like this, that was enough.