Nameless Dreams

A high-end restaurant in the heart of the city.

Soft yellow lights reflected gently off gleaming glass surfaces, casting a warm glow amid the bustle of urban life. The delicate clinking of silverware blended with the mellow notes of jazz drifting from the ceiling speakers.

Bach Lan sat awkwardly across from Trach Dong, while he calmly enjoyed his steak, as if dining in such a place was an everyday affair.

She reached up to adjust her hair, her gaze darting nervously around the room before she cautiously asked, "Do we... really have to eat here?"

"You're hungry, aren't you?" he replied flatly, without lifting his eyes from his plate.

At that very moment, her stomach let out an untimely growl. Embarrassed, she covered her face with her hands.

"But this place feels... too fancy."

He set down his knife and fork, dabbed his lips with a napkin, and looked straight at her. "Worried people might get the wrong idea?"

She froze, face flushing red. "That's not what I meant…"

He shrugged, clearly unbothered. "Just eat. I don't care about trivial things like that."

Throughout the meal, Bach Lan tried her best to remain polite, though the awkwardness lingered.

Trach Dong, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease—almost as if making others uncomfortable was second nature to him. Every so often, he'd throw in a teasing comment that left her so flustered she couldn't even finish a bite properly.

The afternoon light faded, dyeing the sky a golden hue before yielding to the endless dark. The wind rustled through the treetops, whispering softly like traces of time slipping by.

Thanh Nhi stood by the window, her eyes unable to hide their worry. She murmured under her breath,

"Where could that girl have gone? It's so late, and she's still not back."

Just then, an orange BMW came to a halt at the entrance of a narrow alley. The well-dressed young man in the driver's seat turned slightly toward the passenger beside him and said,

"Miss, we've arrived."

Bach Lan looked up, her gaze distant, as if lingering somewhere between unspoken thoughts. She reached for her bag and was about to open the door when a low voice suddenly spoke up,

"You live here?"

"Yes," she replied.

His voice carried a trace of surprise, followed by a faint chuckle.

"This place… is quite something. Are you a forest dweller or what?"

Bach Lan pressed her lips together, a storm rising inside her. She thought to herself:

Of course—this place can't compare to his luxury mansion. Was that jab really necessary?

He turned to the driver.

"Mr. Hoan, walk her to the door. Wouldn't want her getting lost."

Mr. Hoan immediately got out of the car and politely opened the door.

"Miss, this way please."

Bach Lan gave a polite smile.

"That's not necessary. I know the way. It's not dangerous."

"Please, Miss," he said gently, "don't make it hard for me."

Seeing that Trach Dong remained seated in the car, his face indifferent as if none of this concerned him, Bach Lan had no choice but to step out and walk alongside Mr. Hoan.

As they made their way, Mr. Hoan gave a small smile.

"You're only the second woman the young master has ever invited to dinner. That kind of thing has never happened before."

Bach Lan furrowed her brows slightly.

"Is that so?"

"The young master usually keeps to himself. He rarely pays attention to anyone. You must be someone quite special."

She remained silent, a faint smile brushing her lips. But inside, thoughts stirred restlessly.

Special? Was it just a passing amusement… or something else entirely?

When they arrived, she bowed her head politely.

"Thank you. I can take it from here."

"Wishing you a pleasant evening, Miss."

As soon as the door opened, Thanh Nhi stood with her arms crossed, eyeing Bach Lan from head to toe.

"This late? Where have you been?"

Bach Lan immediately put on a playful pout.

"Come on, sis, I'm a grown woman. It's nothing. My boss just invited me to dinner, that's all."

"Really?" — Thanh Nhi spun her around to inspect her.

"Really!"

Seeing her like that, Thanh Nhi sighed.

"Next time you're coming home late, at least call to let me know."

"Yes, ma'am!" — Bach Lan raised her hand in a salute like a soldier, making Thanh Nhi burst out laughing.

Soaking in the warm water of the bathtub, Hoan's words echoed in her mind:

You're someone special.

Special?

To someone like Trach Dong, what could that possibly mean?

She gently touched her cheek, her heartbeat skipping for just a second.

But then she shook her head, trying to steady herself.

No. Stop overthinking. Don't be ridiculous.

***

That night, she dreamed again.

The scene was hazy, wrapped in a soft pink glow. A gentle breeze passed by, carrying the faint fragrance of flowers—like a memory from a distant past.

A young scholar appeared amidst the white mist. Dressed in flowing white robes, a scroll in hand, his eyes seemed to hold the weight of a thousand unspoken thoughts.

"False or true—how can I discern?

One word—devotion—makes my spirit burn.

A bond once tied, no fate can sever,

For kindred souls are etched forever."

The scholar's voice was gentle and clear, his every movement graceful. As he recited the poem, his words drifted through the air like mist, wrapping around Bach Lan's consciousness like tendrils of smoke curling through memories long buried.

She tried to open her eyes wider, to see his face clearly—but all she could make out was a blurred outline, indistinct and hazy.

And yet, strangely, a wave of familiarity surged through her chest, deep and aching.

He took a step closer, hesitation in his posture.

"Little Bach… I'm sorry for what I did. I now know you're not human… but that no longer matters."

She trembled, lashes fluttering as emotion welled in her chest. Her voice was soft as the night wind.

"Trach Hien…"

Her hand reached out, closing gently around his. He caught her in his arms, letting her rest against his shoulder.

"Don't say anything… I understand. Just rest now."

Bach Lan closed her eyes, resting her head on that warm, steady shoulder—like a wall that had sheltered her through countless seasons. In that moment, nothing else seemed to matter anymore: not identity, not form, not even the cycles of life. Everything faded into the tenderness she believed was love.

"Trach Hien…" she whispered with a faint smile, her breath barely audible. "If I can be by your side... even if I lose all my spiritual power, I won't regret it."

He pulled her tighter into his arms and kissed her—deeply, hungrily, with a passion that spoke of yearning and desperation.

But right in that moment...

Bach Lan's body began to weaken. A chill crept along her spine. The flow of energy within her slowed, her life force thinning—like the quiet fall of ash in a windless night.

***

At that very moment, in another part of the city, Trach Dong stepped into the house.

Hoan was already waiting by the door.

"Young Master, about tonight—"

"Enough. Don't overthink it. It was just dinner," Trach Dong cut him off curtly. "Watch what you say."

Hoan quickly lowered his head.

"Yes, sir. Madam is waiting in the living room."

A middle-aged woman, elegantly dressed, stepped forward with a stern expression.

"So, you do remember the way home? It's been ages since you last visited your father. If this keeps up, one day you'll be cast into the cold palace yourself."

"What now, Mother?" Trach Dong sighed, clearly exhausted.

"This morning, that illegitimate son of your father's sent over all sorts of gifts—ginseng, tonics—you name it. The old man was very pleased. Just now, he even mentioned bringing him back to help manage the company. Look at that—exiled so far away, and he's still scheming to win favor. And you?"

Trach Dong let out a cold laugh.

"Whatever he does is none of my concern."

She slapped him, her hand trembling with fury.

"If you don't start protecting your position, you'll be kicked out of the company sooner or later!"

He let out a low laugh, his gaze darkening.

"I've been carrying this company on my shoulders for years. And that bastard son thinks he can compete with me? He's nothing. He'll never replace me. Don't worry, Mother—he won't get far."

With that, he turned and walked away, his figure slowly disappearing up the stairs, leaving the woman standing still in silence, her eyes clouded with calculation.

The one they called the 'bastard' is returning...

And this time, he's not just coming back to reclaim his place—he's coming for everything.