Thud.
"Done."
The last chair hit the white tile floor, marking the end of Phong's exhausting moving day.
Trần Ngọc Thanh Phong, twenty years old, majoring in Crop Science.
With his big, round eyes inherited from his mom, and long, curled lashes that could make a whole classroom jealous, he was already blessed in the looks department. Add to that his spotless white skin (thanks to years of dating the library and using skincare), and it was no surprise people found him oddly attractive.
It was already 6 PM. His mom had set the food out on the table, and Phong headed to wash his hands.
His family had three people: mom, dad, and himself. He was an only child, born when his mom was already 35. She said it had been a tough journey.
Back when he was a toddler, he cried all the time, broke stuff, and caused chaos... but he was chubby, round, and looked like a baby puppy when he cried. How could any mother hate that? That's why she called him "Cún" — Puppy.
Dinner ended quickly. His mom opened the fridge and pulled out a few boxes of sweets.
"Cún, take these over to our new neighbors with your dad, okay? Actually, you go first. I think the house next door is really cute!"
She handed the tray to her tall-as-a-lamppost son and pinched his cheek.
"Go on, my good boy. And please smile properly, no more polite-but-grimacing eyebrow frown. That thing looks... creepy.
Wait, your glasses! Where are they? Don't you dare go out there nearsighted!"
Phong sighed, amused. His mom — Madame Yến — was the perfect example of an elegant Literature teacher… who nagged a lot.
She never got over how his fake smile once helped his dad (a man quieter than a Buddhist temple) land a wife at 36. Luckily, she had weird taste.
As for her son? Gorgeous, but hopeless at dating — probably because he hardly spoke.
This was her excuse to send him out.
New neighborhood = new chances. If not a girlfriend, then maybe some friends?
---
Phong stood in front of a beautiful two-story house. Not small. Big. A proper fence. A car garage on the side. Definitely upper-middle-class.
He gently pressed the doorbell.
Ding—dong~
Inside, An was lying face-first on the sofa, absolutely lifeless. The bell startled her upright.
"?! What the heck? It's only Wednesday.
Mom, Dad, and my brother didn't say they were coming home. No delivery either. Better go check."
An was 15. Long legs (1.66 meters tall), short black sporty shorts.
A few steps later, she stood in front of the big black gate. Through it, she saw… a tall, handsome guy. But she didn't open the gate.
"Hi. Who are you? Can I help you?"
Phong was focused on the boxes in his hands. He looked up, forcing the friendliest smile he could manage.
"Hello. I'm Phong. My family just moved in. My mom asked me to bring over a gift. Hope you'll enjoy it."
He tried to pass the box through the gate.
But it was too thick. No go.
"Could you open the gate?"
An narrowed her eyes.
"Open the gate...?!?!? What if he's one of those 100-IQ kidnappers with clever tricks? With those muscles, he could totally carry me and my brother into a truck and sell us to Cambodia!"
"Just put it on the ground! I'll go grab the key. No need to wait. Thanks to you and your mom!"
But Phong didn't want to place food on the ground. Patience was his default setting. He decided to wait.
Inside, An realized something.
"Wait. If he's the patient-and-picky type, he's definitely still standing there."
She needed another plan.
Aha!
She ran into her room and grabbed a tiny pig-shaped folding stool from the time of the dinosaurs (okay, maybe just from elementary school).
Sure enough, the tall, cute, glasses-wearing neighbor was still there.
She pushed the stool through the gate and set it down. Phong got the idea. He placed the box on top.
"Okay. Bye bye, kiddo."
"Thank you! And please thank your mom too!"
Back inside, An bounced happily to the table.
The box was cocoa-brown paper, labeled *"Tiệm bánh nhà Y Meo" — her favorite bakery. The logo? A cartoon giraffe with a round face. Ridiculously adorable.
Inside were four thick cups of *flan. Her favorite kind.
(banh flan: the Vietnamese version of crème caramel, often made with condensed milk and served chilled, sometimes with coffee or coconut milk.)
(Totally a fictional bakery made by Meo.)
She scooped half a flan, popped it into her mouth.
Sweet. Smooth. Cold. Perfect.
Her brother wouldn't be home until Saturday.
And even if she saved them, he was too lazy to eat them anyway...
Three minutes later, all four flans were gone.
She lay back, arms outstretched in bliss.
"Oaaaah! Nothing makes me happier than good food! So goooood, sooo gooood!
...Huh? What a coincidence. My brother's annoying bestie is also named Phong."
Back in his room, Phong was still thinking about that girl.
Probably just a teen, but her legs were long.
Still, her baby face, round eyes, high-pitched voice… Not his type.
"I like girls under 1.6 meters," he thought.
"Short girls are the cutest."
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