As Thien An stepped into the house, Mrs. Lan immediately turned to her husband and asked, "Do you think the boy will pass the exam?"
Mr. Trong put down his newspaper, glanced at his wife, and said, "I don't know. But seeing how serious he is, we should just let him give it a try."
Hearing her husband say that, Mrs. Lan decisively picked up her phone and dialed a number. "Hello, Alex? Yeah, I'm fine. Actually, I'm calling to ask a favor. Aren't you teaching music now? I'd like to ask you to help my son, Thien An."
Hearing his wife talking on the phone, Mr. Trong quietly shook his head, set his glasses down, then picked them up again and went back to his work.
That morning, the alarm rang—ring... ring... A pale hand lazily reached out to turn it off. Thien An was still half-asleep on the bed, wearing loose white pajamas, the hem of his shirt slightly lifted, revealing smooth white skin. He sat up, washed up, got dressed, and went downstairs.
"Good morning, Mom, Dad," he greeted politely before sitting down at the breakfast table.
At that moment, his mother placed a coffee pot on the table and said, "I called a friend yesterday to ask for some help. I'll send you the address later. After school, go there and check it out, okay?"
Thien An nodded. "Yes, Mom." Then he finished his breakfast, grabbed his schoolbag, and pedaled his bike through the school gate.
Time passed. The bright blue sky gradually turned into the warm colors of dusk. When the school bell rang, signaling the end of class, groups of students streamed out. Hoang Nam and Duc Minh stood up, slinging their bags over their shoulders.
"Hey, Thien An, want to hang out today?" Hoang Nam asked.
Thien An shook his head. "No, I'm busy today."
Duc Minh raised an eyebrow. "Busy with what? You never seem to have plans."
Hoisting his backpack, Thien An replied calmly, "Meeting someone."
Hoang Nam's jaw almost dropped. Duc Minh was also surprised, though he didn't say anything—he just pushed up his glasses slightly and said, "Then maybe another time. We'll head out first."
Hoang Nam tried to speak, but Duc Minh had already dragged him off. From the hallway came Hoang Nam's voice: "Hey, what are you doing? I wasn't finished talking!"
Thien An watched his two friends leave. The soft golden light of sunset filtered through the classroom window. His phone lit up—a message from his mother with the address. He turned it off and left the school.
He followed the directions to the house of his mother's friend, Alex. The house was large, surrounded by a lush flower garden. He walked up to the door and pressed the bell—ding dong.
The door opened. Standing there was a woman with short black hair, her youthful face almost matching his height. Thien An was momentarily surprised but quickly composed himself.
"Hello, ma'am. I'm Thien An. My mother said I should come here to meet Mr. Alex."
The woman looked at the handsome boy before her with a bit of surprise, then smiled kindly. "Ah, you're Thien An? Come in. I've heard about you from your mother, but I didn't expect you to be this good-looking. Come in, come in."
Thien An nodded politely and stepped inside. The house looked entirely different from his own—decorated in an elegant, classical style. He could tell everything was expensive, so he moved carefully, afraid to accidentally break something.
The woman led him to the living room. It looked even more luxurious inside—brilliant chandeliers, elegant sofas, intricately carved wooden tables, and a glass cabinet full of trophies and medals.
"Have a seat. I'll call my husband down," she said.
Thien An sat quietly at the edge of the sofa, placed his schoolbag neatly beside him, and rested his hands on his knees as he waited.
After a short while, a man came down the stairs. His hair was brown and slightly curly, tied loosely behind his neck, and his eyes were a warm shade of brown. Thien An had to look up. This was Alex.
"So you're here," Alex said with a friendly smile, his eyes assessing. "You really are as handsome as your mother said."
Thien An's expression darkened slightly. He knew what he looked like, but he didn't like being called "handsome" or "pretty."
The atmosphere turned slightly awkward until the woman—Mrs. Tuyet Linh—brought in a tea set and placed it on the table. "Have some tea," she said kindly.
"Thank you," Thien An replied politely.
Alex thanked his wife, "Thanks, darling," then took a sip of tea and looked at the boy. "Your mother said you want to apply to the Royal Harmonic Academy, right?"
"Yes, sir," Thien An replied.
"So, what's your musical talent?" Alex asked.
Thien An looked slightly embarrassed. "Um... I can sing a little."
Alex froze with his cup midair. "You say 'a little'? You do realize that getting into that academy isn't easy, don't you? Every year, hundreds of gifted students apply—people who've been trained since childhood. If you only 'know a little,' then we have a problem."
Thien An couldn't deny that applying to such a prestigious school on impulse was reckless, but he still wanted to try. He said earnestly, "Even if it's just a small chance, please give me a chance to learn from you."
Alex said nothing. Thien An's hands clenched slightly.
Then, setting his cup down, Alex said, "First, let me hear you sing so I can judge for myself."
Thien An took a deep breath, relaxed his hands, and said, "Yes, sir."
"Sing here," Alex instructed. "No need for any preparation."
Thien An nodded, stood up, and stepped forward to the center of the room. He closed his eyes and recalled the melody of Amazing Grace—a song etched deeply in his heart.
This is my one chance. I have to give it everything, even if it's plain and simple, he told himself.
Then he began to sing softly:
"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me."
Unlike the polished, operatic voices of trained singers, Thien An's was a pure tenor—clear, unadorned, like a fresh spring. He sang slowly, each word imbued with sincerity and reverence.
When he reached,
"I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see,"
his voice trembled slightly on the high note—not out of showmanship, but from genuine emotion.
As his voice rose, it became brighter and freer—not harsh or forced, but soaring like a prayer released into the sky.
Then came,
"'Twas Grace that taught my heart to fear,
And Grace, my fears relieved."
His tone turned gentle, filled with gratitude and faith. He handled the high notes naturally, as though the voice itself were a gift from heaven.
Returning to the refrain,
"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound..."
his voice opened completely—pure, resonant, and full of life. The final high note rang long and bright, carrying hope and peace.
When the song ended, Thien An opened his eyes and looked toward Alex. The man was silent, unreadable.
Then came the sound of applause—it was Mrs. Tuyet Linh. "You sing beautifully," she said sincerely.
Alex remained quiet, making Thien An worry he had failed. But then the man's deep voice broke the silence.
"Come here after school tomorrow. I won't go easy on you just because I'm your mother's friend."
For a moment, the usually composed Thien An couldn't hide his joy. A bright, youthful smile bloomed on his face. "Yes, sir! I won't be late!" he said cheerfully.
Now that Alex had agreed to teach him, Thien An finally felt at ease. Seeing that it was getting late, he stood up and said, "Thank you for today. I'll be going now."
He picked up his bag, bowed politely, and rode his bike home under the evening sky.
Watching him leave, Mrs. Tuyet Linh turned to her husband. "So, the boy has potential?"
Alex chuckled. "Absolutely. He's untrained, sings mostly by instinct—but that voice is heaven's gift."
His wife was surprised. Alex was known to be strict when it came to his profession. For him to praise the boy like that meant Thien An was truly a rough gem worth polishing.
"I'll let Mrs. Lan know," she said softly.
Alex nodded and took another sip of tea.