The taxi wheels rolled along the main road, the sound of car horns blaring everywhere. The soft afternoon sunlight slipped through the window, casting a glow across a pale, smooth face.The boy, Thiên Ân, with long eyelashes, was completely absorbed in the game on his phone — Subway Surfers. His slender fingers swiped swiftly across the touchscreen.
The middle-aged driver in the front seat kept his eyes on the road, though from time to time he glanced at the boy through the rearview mirror. His repeated glances made Thiên Ân feel a little uneasy.
Suddenly, the driver spoke up:"Hey, young man, are you a celebrity? You've got that kind of face — you must be famous, right? You look so familiar, but I can't remember which one you are."
Still playing the game, Thiên Ân lazily replied,"No, I'm just a student."
The driver chuckled. "Ha ha, my mistake then. You just look so much like someone famous."
Thiên Ân answered calmly, "It's fine, people often say that."On his screen, the game character dashed so fast it made one dizzy, while his high score kept climbing non-stop.
It seemed the conversation would end there — but no. The driver was quite the talker. He kept asking about Thiên Ân — which school he went to, what grade he was in, whether he had a girlfriend. Even though Thiên Ân gave short, polite answers, the man continued chattering, telling stories about his youth: his first love in tenth grade, how he had chased her, and how she had turned him down.
Thiên Ân only half-listened until his phone suddenly lit up with messages. Dozens of texts from his two friends, Đức Minh and Hoàng Nam, flooded the screen:"Thiên Ân, have you arrived yet?""Thiên Ân, do you think this outfit looks good?""Thiên Ân, what are you doing? Why aren't you replying?""Thiên Ân, are you in the bathroom or something?""Thiên Ân… Thiên Ân!"
Between the chatty driver and the avalanche of messages, Thiên Ân's eyelid twitched slightly; his brow furrowed. He silently cursed under his breath, then typed a single word in reply:"Sleeping."
With that, he snapped the phone shut and said coldly,"If you keep talking, I'll get out of the car."
The driver instantly fell silent. Catching a glimpse of the boy's dark aura in the rearview mirror, he quickly turned his eyes back to the road.
Thiên Ân leaned back against the seat. His brown hair fell to either side as his eyes slowly closed. His long legs stretched out in front of him. Before long, he drifted off to sleep.Outside, the trees, buildings, and lampposts glided past. The world grew still, peaceful — the only sound left was his quiet breathing.
Time passed. The taxi finally stopped.The driver turned around and called, "Hey, kid. Wake up, we're here."
Thiên Ân stirred, blinking. Still half-asleep, he mumbled,"We're here already?"
The driver smiled. "That's right, we've arrived."
"How much is the fare?" he asked, voice still husky.
The driver gave him the amount and showed the payment code. Thiên Ân scanned it quickly, paid, and stepped out of the car.
As he closed the door, a light breeze brushed past, ruffling his hair and making his clothes flutter. The boy's refined face, violet eyes, and slightly pink lips caught the sunlight; his cheeks were still flushed from sleep.
Today, he wore a pale blue blouse with lightly puffed sleeves and frilled cuffs. Around his neck was a grayish-brown silk jabot tied loosely, one end fluttering with the wind. His high-waisted black trousers accentuated his slim figure, fastened with a thin leather belt. A soft leather messenger bag hung at his side, completing his artistic look. His charcoal-gray ankle boots clicked rhythmically against the stone pavement.
Before him spread a public square paved with stone, dotted with symmetrical fountains and trees. At its center stood a grand cylindrical building, reminding Thiên Ân of ancient temples. Its vast domed roof, made of colored glass framed in steel, shimmered in the light. Surrounding it were massive columns and tall windows stretching from floor to ceiling.
Thiên Ân walked down the stone path. The theater stood on a broad site beside a lake, whose waters reflected its architecture in a dreamy shimmer.
Around him, everyone was elegantly dressed — men and women alike, exuding wealth and status. Some held albums of the diva Kudo Shizuka and maestro Kitaro.
Not only did Thiên Ân look around; everyone else was looking back at him. Some girls even dared to lift their phones and snap his picture. He looked like a prince from another era, striding gracefully through the crowd.
As he drew nearer to the grand structure, his eyes lifted toward the entrance — a massive golden lyre. At its center stood a gilded statue of a winged goddess, majestic and radiant, her wings stretching toward the sky.
Overwhelmed by the sight, Thiên Ân recalled a line that perfectly matched his feelings:
"It was magnificent, resplendent — a palace of the kings erected in honor of Art. From the marble pillars and wide staircases to the gilded ceilings and grand hall where ladies in silk gowns glided by… it was a place of brilliance and mystery."(Excerpt from "The Phantom of the Opera" by Gaston Leroux, France, 1910.)
As Thiên Ân stood there lost in admiration, a loud voice called out:"Thiên Ân! Thiên Ân, over here!"
He turned instinctively toward the sound. The sunlight was bright, so he squinted to see clearly. It was Hoàng Nam, waving at him. Behind him stood Đức Minh and his family.
They were all beautifully dressed. Đức Minh's mother, Mrs. Mai Linh, wore an elegant jade-green gown, her hair neatly pinned up, a string of pearls around her neck. Her face radiated warmth. Beside her, Mr. Đức Huy, Đức Minh's father, was the image of sophistication in a black tuxedo, crisp white shirt, black bow tie, and polished leather shoes.
Holding Mrs. Linh's hand was a little girl about six or seven years old, adorable in a cream-colored princess dress with a puffy skirt and a tiny bow in her hair. Her wide eyes sparkled with excitement as she took in the grand surroundings.
Thiên Ân quickly walked toward them. As he approached, Hoàng Nam — ever the lively one — clapped him on the shoulder and exclaimed,"Thiên Ân, you look way too handsome today!"
Đức Minh chimed in cheerfully, echoing the compliment.
Thiên Ân smiled faintly. "You two look great as well."
Pleased, Đức Minh grinned widely. "Right? I spent forever finding the perfect outfit. But this guy here"—he pointed at Hoàng Nam—"I swear, he can't dress to save his life. Even for a fancy place like this!"
Hoàng Nam protested, "Hey! My outfit's not that bad!"
Đức Minh gave him a look of pure disbelief.
Then a gentle voice spoke up, "So this is Thiên Ân."
Seeing that it was Đức Minh's mother, Thiên Ân greeted politely,"Hello, Auntie, hello Uncle. How have you been?"
Mrs. Mai Linh smiled warmly. "We've been well. And you, Thiên Ân — you look very handsome today."
The little girl piped up in a sweet voice,"Hi, big brother Thiên Ân!"
Thiên Ân's cold expression softened. He smiled gently and patted her head."Hello, Đức An."
She giggled happily. "You look like a prince today!"
Thiên Ân replied, "Thank you. And you look just like a princess."
That made the little girl beam even brighter.
Then Mr. Đức Huy spoke up with a kind but firm tone,"Alright, that's enough compliments — the concert's about to start. Let's go inside."
As he said that, Thiên Ân noticed the crowd around them beginning to move toward the theater entrance.Their group joined in, walking together toward the grand hall.