As a devout lamb of God, Hạ Đan continued to show up at the church every afternoon at half past one. She wanted to maintain this habit for as long as possible—after all, it was rare to have so many free days like this summer break.

Thanh Quang also always appeared at the same time. He had begun attending Mass much more frequently, though the purpose for each of them was different. At least showing up was already praiseworthy.

For her, there was always a small joy flickering in the corner of her eyes whenever she caught sight of him—a persistent urge to befriend this person she considered kind and worth getting to know. If one wanted something, one would find a way; if not, one would find an excuse. If this way didn't work, she'd try another, she thought.

She had tried to strike up a conversation with him several times. Each time she saw him, her eyes would light up and she would start walking toward him—only to receive a cold glance before he walked away. Her heart would sink; she didn't know what she had done wrong. But if he didn't want to speak directly to avoid hurting her feelings, she would reflect on herself so they could both be at ease.

One afternoon the next day, she was standing near the lamppost in the stone-paved courtyard. Today was a solemn feast, so the Mass lasted longer than usual. Hải Đường and Xuân An had gone home early, but she had been told her ride would be a little late, so she was simply standing there waiting. Of course he had come today too, but this time she had no intention of approaching him. Her heart felt restless; she looked down at the ground in disappointment, letting the sound of passing footsteps fill her ears. It wasn't that she didn't want to—it was just that she was afraid of bothering him, and unfortunately there was no excuse left.

When the crowd had thinned out through the main and side gates, she lifted her face toward the cool evening breeze. She was still just waiting. This time her eyes scanned the surroundings, narrowing when she noticed Quang hadn't left yet. He was sitting right at the edge of the stone courtyard (which was built one step higher), holding a book, his gaze fixed intently on it. Unable to suppress her curiosity any longer, she tilted her head to try to read the title, but the distance was too great. So she quietly and silently walked around behind him and sneaked closer. What she saw next was another surprise—it was the book that lived forever in her heart. Seeing someone with the same passion made her want to jump for joy, but all she could do was smile secretly without making a sound. Everything remained silent.

A few minutes later, she noticed no movement at all. When she looked again, he was still clutching the same page, not having turned even one page. She thought: What? Has he been stuck reading this?

This time she couldn't hold back. She gently sat down beside him at a respectful distance and spoke:

"Do you have any part you don't understand?"

Thanh Quang's expression was just like the first day—startled and surprised. This time he was even more shocked, caught right in the act. He awkwardly looked down at the book, clearly wanting to avoid it, but perhaps this time he couldn't.

"Um... there's one part I'm wondering about..."

Her eyes lit up brightly. He had hit exactly the right spot—she could spend the whole day talking about this book with him, pointing out the details she found meaningful, and never stop loving and exploring it.

"You're wondering about which chapter?"
"The part with the fox, when it tells the Little Prince the secret..."
"Ah, right—'People can only see clearly with the heart. Eyes are blind to what is essential.' Is that the one?"
"That's it! I've been sitting here and just can't get it. And why does the Little Prince say that taming the fox will bring him nothing when the fox cries? Why is the image of wheat brought in?"
"Okay, now listen to me."

She cleared her throat a little, preparing for her own explanation. Then she leaned in closer, her eyes looking straight through him.

"First, about taming: taming means building a relationship. It's not just getting acquainted in a day or two, chatting a little and then done. That's wrong. Taming is a process—from being strangers to becoming a true friend, or even more than that. A person we are willing to engrave in our bones and remember, someone we give a warm place in our heart: 'To you, I will be unique in the world; to me, you will be unique in life.' It's a special bond—not necessarily romantic—hopefully a joy, not a sadness.

If they don't take responsibility for those they've tamed, it will be very sad. Because every time they are reminded, they will feel sorrow in their hearts, since everything engraved is painful. But think about it..."

She paused for a second before continuing. Her eyes were still bright, her words flowing smoothly as if they had been absorbed into her blood; she didn't even notice how close she had leaned toward him:

"Let me give an example—just an example. If the two of us had a very close friendship, laughing together, talking about everything under the sun, going through ups and downs together—if I'm sad, you worry; if you're hurt, I feel pain—simply because you are my friend.

Sounds nice, right? Having a friend like that isn't easy, so anyone who has such a friendship would surely treasure it. Because treasuring also means it's very important. And the first place we met was at church. Just like how the fox, looking at fields of wheat, remembers the color of the Little Prince's hair—even though wheat used to be useless to it! And... when you come to this place, or any other church, you will remember the day I met you—the day we became friends. That's it! With so many things that could happen like that, how could anyone else replace it? Therefore, we will be each other's one and only.

All of that ultimately becomes memories and emotions—two things that flow in our hearts. Ordinary eyes cannot see the true joys that exist there; what sees them is the heart."

When she finished, she nodded once, feeling immensely relieved and happy that she had finally been able to speak the words that always flowed through the blood of her life. Meanwhile, he sat frozen, Quang's eyes fixed on Đan's. He was truly very surprised. She was a whole year younger than him, yet right now he felt he lacked so much understanding of life. He thought:

"Wow... I never thought I'd hear these words from a 15-year-old girl. You explained it really well. Now I understand the meaning completely..."
"Really? I'm so happy you understand! Thank God, I didn't distort the true meaning that Saint-Exupéry wanted to convey."

Then the two exchanged a smile, truly understanding each other. And the way he looked at her had changed.

After a few seconds of silence, he unconsciously flipped through the pages and stopped at the chapter with the "drunkard."

"It's true that hidden deep in the book are the core lessons the author wanted to impart. You can't necessarily realize them in just a day or two. Reading the Little Prince's journey through these six planets really reflects a lot."

Đan truly felt everything was happening at the same rhythm she could keep up with. She nodded as she listened to him and glanced at the page he had just opened:

"That's right, some things seem unimportant at first, but actually contain something really good... Hey, this is the illustration from the drunkard chapter! This is also the shortest journey—the Little Prince only stays for a few lines..."
"Anyone who was the Little Prince at that moment would have left early anyway. Did you hear his answer? 'Why do you drink so much alcohol?' 'To forget my shame.' 'Shame about what?' 'About drinking so much alcohol.' Seriously, it's completely circular—no logic at all."
"Well, once you're that deeply sunk in addiction, it's hard for anything to save you. Addiction to anything is the same. I bet at first he just drank a few bottles for fun, but too much isn't good, of course it leads to addiction. The sad thing is, once you're in that deep stage of addiction, just being away from it makes your heart restless and uncomfortable—uncomfortable to the point you can't bear it, painfully so. Then it becomes too embarrassing, shamefully unbearable. So how do you forget? Sink back into the addiction and the worries disappear—then gradually the self itself will 'disappear' too."

When Đan finished, both of them chuckled. They understood clearly what she had just said: you can't quit it, but you can't keep it either—just looking at it, you know that very action is eroding the self. While she was speaking, an image had appeared in Quang's mind, but he immediately suppressed it. Hạ Đan said:

"That's just how it is, but it can still be saved. Not by relying on anyone, anything, or anywhere—but by the person themselves. If you don't realize it and save yourself, no one can save you."

After that there was another moment of silence, but this time it felt more comfortable, without any awkwardness or discomfort—just each of them lost in their own thoughts.

Right after that, the familiar sound of a car engine rang out. Đan looked up and saw her mother had come to pick her up. She stood, brushed off her skirt, and waved goodbye to Quang:

"Talking with you today was really fun. If there's a chance, I hope we can have more conversations like this. Bye, I'm heading home."
"Yeah, today was really fun. Have a good evening."

They exchanged a friendly, pleasant smile. Then she ran to her mother, got in the car, and left. A few seconds later, he stood up too, took one last look at the church scene in the evening, and decided to head home. As he walked, he murmured:

"And when you come to this place, or any other church, you will remember the day I met you..."

He smiled to himself as he left through the church gate:

"If you don't realize it and save yourself, no one can save you."

As he finished speaking, that image appeared in his mind once more. While walking, he realized it—so starting now, that person would also feel better.