The cool afternoon breeze blew through the rows of coconut palms, clouds drifting across the sky, the blue sea waves rolling in— all of these things were considered utterly ordinary to the people who lived and grew up here. It would always be like this: the sky forever blue, the waves forever crashing, the seawater forever crystal clear. That was simply a given, not just for them, but also for Thanh Quang.

But today, at this very moment, it was different.

Hands tucked into the pockets of his light brown shorts, wearing a half-unbuttoned white short-sleeved shirt—the top button left undone because, he thought, it wasn't necessary. To fully enjoy the fresh, pure air of this place, this felt the most appropriate.

His eyes were fixed on the sea, but his heart kept beating faster and faster. Now he understood the feeling of the fox—the moment of waiting for the Little Prince to arrive. Just this waiting itself, and everything that would come after, was worth it all.

Right after that moment, soft footsteps glided over the fine golden-white sand—so light they made no sound at all. A gentle hand touched his shoulder, followed by an adorably sweet smile:

"Have you been here long?"

The instant he turned to look, his heart skipped a beat. She was wearing a white dress with puffed sleeves and two layers of light, airy fabric—not as elaborate as a party gown, yet far from casual or ordinary. The material was elegant but cool and comfortable against the skin, smooth silk that shimmered like satin. Under the afternoon sunlight, her beauty was etched perfectly clear:

"Wow... dressing up today, huh?"
"Hey, you're not exactly casual yourself!"

Then their bare feet stepped onto the smooth, soft sand—not rough at all, but yielding and gentle. This was the first time Hạ Đan had ever fully savored the beauty of the sea like this, so completely and freely. Unable to wait any longer, she hurried down to the water's edge, wading in until it reached just below her knees. Not far up on the shore, Thanh Quang called out loud enough for her to hear:

"Aren't you afraid of getting your dress wet?"
"We're here to play—what's there to be afraid of? I can just wash it!"

With that, she turned and strode along the waterline, the foam from the waves wrapping around her ankles, the small ripples only adding to her comfort. Her feet skipped eastward, eyes toward the sun, toes enjoying the warm, clear green water that reflected the pure sky. The surface was so transparent it felt like you could see right through it. She stretched out her arms, spun once in place; the cool breeze brushed across her skin. Maybe in her whole life she might never get another moment like this, Hạ Đan thought. This scene would be the one she cherished most—always.

Thanh Quang watched her, smiling at the girl who felt as sweet and refreshing as spring wind. Then he too began to walk—but he stayed on the sand, heading westward. Here the sand was slightly coarser because the waves didn't reach as often, and especially, there were shells and clams scattered about. He walked slowly, searching for something beautiful.

Seeing Thanh Quang going the opposite direction, she played to her heart's content, but being alone eventually grew boring. So she quietly moved toward his side—though her feet remained in the water.

Soon she felt shells and clams under her toes, so she waded a little closer, right to the boundary where the waves broke into foam, the line between sand and sea.

And so the two of them searched in silence for beautiful shells—only the sound of waves crashing and seagulls wheeling overhead. In Đan's hands she had already collected quite a few shells, each with different colors, all intact, none damaged by the pounding surf. She wanted to pick up every single one—every one was so pretty. Meanwhile, Thanh Quang—who had been searching longer—hadn't picked up a single shell. His eyes were sharp, scanning, feet moving steadily, searching for one that stood out above all the rest.

Đan found that strange. She glanced at her pile of shells, then at Thanh Quang, puzzled. Right at that moment, he paused, bent down, and picked one up. Perfect. Yes—perfectly symmetrical, the patterns on its surface arranged flawlessly. Just looking at it brought satisfaction. He held it up to the sunlight; the rays hit it and a soft blue-green glow shimmered across the shell. Quang smiled and nodded—he was pleased with this choice.

Seeing that, Hạ Đan ran over, eyes full of admiration and envy as she gazed at the shell. She pouted—after all her searching and collecting nearly ten, none compared to his one:

"Wow... how can there be such a beautiful shell... it's so pretty!"

"Of course. Shells like this aren't easy to find."

He said it with a smug little smile, holding his prize. Her eyes remained glued to the blue light reflecting off the shell in the sun:

"Not fair... give it to me!"
"No way, little one. Go find your own."
"Hey! You're so stingy! Look—I've been searching forever and got a whole bunch, but none of them shine or have such perfect patterns like yours..."

She pouted again, holding out her hand to show him her collection—pretty in their own way, but ordinary, no glow, no intricate delicate lines. This time she really couldn't hold back the jealousy and the desire to claim it. She shook his arm, pleading:

"Come on... Quang, please give it to me."
"Well then, that's too bad for you... hmm, this is tough... alright, I've decided—"
"You're giving it to me, right!?"
"Nope, ahaha."

As soon as he said it, he hid his hands behind his back, clutching the shell tightly in both fists, eyes flashing with playful challenge and teasing at her frustration and envy. She couldn't help but scrunch her face, utterly annoyed. So annoyed that her eyes began to glisten; she turned away, refusing to look at him, lips still pouting.

Seeing that, Quang softened. He thought he'd teased her too far. He dropped his defensive stance, relaxed, and stepped closer:

"I'm sorry, I—"

Before he could finish, Hạ Đan seized the moment of his guard being down, snatched the shell, and bolted eastward along the shore. Her slender legs flew over the sand, hand gripping the shell tightly, face full of triumphant satisfaction. She ran and laughed like she'd won the lottery:

"Got it!"

Thanh Quang's eyes widened in shock. He was stunned—he hadn't expected those teary eyes and pout were just a trick so she could steal it so blatantly! But this time he wasn't going to let pride lose. He shouted:

"Hạ Đan! Come back here!"

Then he took off after her. His advantage was in his legs—she was fairly tall, but he was taller still. This time he wasn't afraid; he chased her down. She was both surprised and anxious that he might take her prize back—she hadn't expected him to actually pursue her. But once she had something she wanted, she wouldn't give it up to anyone. So it turned into a full marathon—both running with all their might, yet both laughing, because they were so happy. How long had it been since either of them had let themselves go like this, completely immersed in something they loved?

She might not have played tag often, but if she had, she'd be an expert. Her speed couldn't match his, but her agility—dodging, twisting, evading every grab while still protecting the shell—was impressive. The harder he tried to catch her, the more cleverly she slipped away. Neither would yield.

Taut like a drawn bowstring, exploding into a playful war. At one point he even managed to grab the shell, but she played dirty—distracting him and snatching it back. Like cat and mouse, neither clearly had the upper hand:

"I didn't expect you to be so slippery!"
"Better than being petty like you—bullying a kid!"
"Hey, who's bullying who?!"
"You are!"

Then she took a risk. The waves were rolling in harder now, larger ones reaching above the knees, more white foam everywhere. Yet she ran right back out into the water.

"If you're so good, come get it!"

He saw her silhouette against the sun that was beginning to set, its last rays shining—the final chance, the last light, the most beautiful light—falling on her. He smiled. The white clouds were slowly losing their blue, shifting toward sunset orange—just beginning, but the change was visible. Seagulls swept low one last time across the sky, their cries echoing far over the sea. All these beautiful things seemed invincible, yet right beneath the clouds, in the waves lapping at her white dress, was her smile—the most formidable opponent of all.

"Fine—you challenged me!"

Without any more hesitation, he charged toward her. What was there left to wait for? This time she couldn't escape. The water slowed her down; the resistance of the waves helped Quang win. He pulled her left arm closer—dodging her right hand (the one that had just hit a rock yesterday)—and took back the shell, using enough force to retrieve it but not enough to hurt her:

"Thought you could get away, huh? Open your hand and let go."
"No! I'm not giving up!"
"Stubborn, aren't you? You won't give it back?"
"It's not yours to begin with!"

Seeing how stubborn she was, he couldn't take it anymore—he had to use his ultimate move. He tickled her waist, making her jump and release her grip in surprise. Then he quickly snatched the shell back and let out a victorious breath. She clutched the spot he'd tickled, stood up straight, and smacked his shoulder—pouring all her frustration into it. He yelped:

"Ouch! I barely touched you and you're trying to kill me!"
"Because... you took my shell..."

Then she burst out laughing, satisfied with getting to hit him like that. Fair enough, she thought. She rubbed the spot she'd just smacked:

"Fine, you win. Keep it—I won't take it anymore."

He chuckled in relief—finally, it was over. He nodded in agreement, holding the shell more carefully now, rubbing its surface. Then he looked up at the sun about to set; the sky's colors were shifting more clearly now. He said:

"The sun's about to set! Let's go up to the dry sand and catch this priceless moment."

They walked back up the shore together. Her dress and his legs were soaked, but neither minded or felt annoyed—because it was worth it.

The two young friends sat down on the sand, staring at the sinking sun. The sky was now orange mixed with pale gold, a touch of pink—honey, sugar, or any sweet thing couldn't describe the sweetness of this color. The blue of day was slowly being swept away, letting the sunset hues wash in. The water's reflection changed too—no longer green, but cool tones of the dying sun; the foam, the waves, all grew gentler, softer, quieter on the surface.

He let out a breath, both pairs of eyes fixed on this breathtaking seaside scene:

"If I remember correctly... in The Little Prince, he once told the pilot that on a certain day he watched the sunset forty-four times. Only after the pilot asked did he admit he was very sad..."
"But sunsets aren't sad... when both people are watching together."