Van limped back to the low-ceilinged rented room in Đống Đa district, pushing the skeletal remains of his Honda Wave. Dusk had settled. The stinging pain from his shoulder and knee grazes was nothing compared to the emotional storm raging within him.
Pushing open the door, he found his mother asleep after her medicine, breathing heavily but more steadily. Mai was doing homework under the weak bulb. She rushed over as he entered, her face anxious. "Brother! You're back! Your bike… your clothes…"
"I'm alright, little fall." Van forced a smile, not wanting to worry her. He put down his backpack, carefully placing the medicine bottle beside his mother's pillow. Then, he hesitated, pulling the thick wad of million-dong bills, still warm from his body heat, from his inner pocket.
Mai gasped, hand flying to her mouth. "Brother! So much money! Where…?"
"Shh…" Van gestured for quiet. "It's… a loan. From a good person." He divided the money. The largest bundle, three million dong, he carefully wrapped. He'd pay it to Strong Brother first thing tomorrow – not enough, but proof of effort to buy time. From the rest, he counted out five hundred thousand for mother's medicine and essentials. He handed Mai two hundred thousand: "Mai, for next semester's textbooks. Keep it safe. The rest…" He clutched the remaining notes. "I must keep for emergencies."
Mai nodded, understanding dawning. She didn't ask more, just looked at her brother's weary but determined profile. "Brother, you must be tired? I'll heat food."
Watching his sister's slight frame moving in the cramped kitchen, Van sat on the small stool by the bed. He gripped the slip of paper with Kim Hải's number fiercely. Its edges were soft from his sweat.
Go? Or not?
Going to the construction company meant completely abandoning the familiar world of Grab, leaving behind the relative freedom (however grueling) of choosing his fares. It meant diving into a totally unknown field, starting at rock bottom, doing the dirtiest, heaviest work, for likely less money. It meant facing unfamiliar challenges, complex social dynamics, potentially more disdain and prejudice than he ever got driving a taxi. And what if he failed? What if he couldn't learn? What if… he squandered Mr. Chen's trust and the staggering million dong?
Cold vines of fear coiled around his heart.
But not going?
His gaze swept the shabby room. The scrap motorbike lay outside like a cruel joke. Without wheels, he couldn't even drive Grab. Strong Brother's five-day deadline hung like a blade over his neck. His mother needed medicine. Mai needed tuition. Rent was due… Not going meant surrender. It meant he and his family would be crushed under life's wheels.
Mr. Chen's words roared back: "Fear will drive you to fight!" "You deserve to rot in that bog forever!"
A surge of defiance and raw stubbornness shot through him! Was he, Nguyễn Văn, truly destined to wallow in the mud? Did he have nohope at all? Mr. Chen gave him an opportunity, the seed money, even paved the way… If he couldn't even summon the courage to take that first step, what kind of man was he? How could he protect his mother and sister?
"Brother, food." Mai brought over a bowl of warm rice and a small plate of pickles.
Van took the bowl, staring at the simple meal, then back at the name "Nguyễn Kim Hải" on the slip. His eyes slowly hardened with resolve.
"Mai," he said quietly. "Brother might… need to change jobs."
"Change jobs?" Mai sounded surprised. "Not drive motorbike anymore?"
"Hmm. Maybe… construction site. Or warehouse." Van shoveled rice into his mouth.
"Will it be very hard?" Mai worried.
"Maybe." Van nodded. Then he managed a small smile. "But maybe… better. I want to try."
Mai didn't fully understand, but her faith in her brother was absolute. "Brother, you can do it!"
Her faith was a warm current in his heart. Van finished his bowl. Strength returned to his limbs. He pulled out Chen Qiming's IOU, reading it carefully again. One million dong. Two years. Not charity. A wager! Mr. Chen was betting Nguyễn Văn was worth investing in! He could notlose!
10:00 AM the next day. Van stood outside the small corner shop at the lane entrance, a public phone available. He clutched the slip, palms slick with sweat. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. Deep breath in, slow exhale. Calm down.
9:55 AM. He picked up the receiver. With trembling fingers, he dialed the number.
Beep… Beep…Each ring was a blow to his chest.
"Hello? Who is it?" A somewhat low, impatient male voice answered.
"You… You… good morning! Is this Mr. Nguyễn Kim Hải?" Van's voice cracked with tension.
"Speaking. Who's this?"
"Mr. Hải! My name is Nguyễn Văn! I am… Chen Qiming told me to call you!" Van blurted it out, holding his breath.
Silence on the line for several heartbeats. Van's throat tightened.
"Ah? Old Chen?" Kim Hải's voice seemed to soften fractionally. "He mentioned you. You want work?"
"Yes! Sir! Yes! Mr. Hải! I can do anything! Not afraid of hard work!" Van declared urgently.
"Hmm." Kim Hải paused. "Fine. Got time now? Come to the office. Cầu Giấy district, Tân Mỹ Development Zone, Kim Hải Construction. Tell security you're here for me."
"Now? Yes! Yes! I'm coming!" Van replied excitedly.
"Make it quick." The line went dead.
Van lowered the receiver, realizing his shirt was soaked with cold sweat. He paid the shopkeeper and half-ran back to the rented room. He rummaged out his cleanest, though faded, set of clothes – a light blue work shirt and dark trousers. He washed his face meticulously, combed his hair, and looked at his reflection in the small, warped mirror on the wall. The young man staring back was nervous, yes, but his eyes held the desperate resolve of someone with their back against the wall.
"Mom, Mai, I'm heading out!" Van called softly to his resting mother and studying sister. He tucked the slip of paper and some small change into his pocket, took a deep breath, and stepped out. No motorbike now. He walked to the bus stop and squeezed onto the crowded, sweltering public bus bound for Cầu Giấy.
Kim Hải Construction was on the edge of the Tân M�ỹ Development Zone, beside a dusty construction site. The company gate wasn't grand – just a two-story concrete building with a sign. Several muddy pickup trucks and work vehicles were parked in the yard. The security guard, a dark-skinned middle-aged man, eyed Van suspiciously but used a walkie-talkie to confirm his appointment before letting him pass.
A young woman in an office skirt suit and neat makeup led Van up to a second-floor office. She knocked. "Mr. Hải, he's here."
"Send him in."
Van pushed the door open. The office was modest and functional. Behind a large desk sat a man in his mid-forties. He was slightly stocky, wearing a Polo shirt, hair neatly combed back. His gaze was sharp, conveying the assessment of a man used to business. This was Nguyễn Kim Hải.
"Mr. Hải! Good morning! I'm Nguyễn Văn!" Van bowed deeply, nerves making his palms sweat.
Kim Hải leaned back in his leather chair, studying Van. Young, lean, tanned, poorly dressed but clean, eyes nervous yet holding a tough core, forged at the bottom. He recalled Chen Qiming's words over the phone: 'Quick thinker, tough worker, reliable. A good sapling. Just needs a patch of sun.' Old Chen's eye was sharp.
"Sit." Kim Hải gestured to the chair opposite the desk, his tone flat.
Van perched awkwardly on the edge of the chair, spine rigidly straight. "Mr. Hải, I… drove Grab motorbike. Three years. Know Hanoi streets well. C-can fix bikes a bit." He stated his meager credentials honestly but emphasizing his potential strengths.
"A taxi driver?" Kim Hải raised an eyebrow, surprised but masking it quickly. "Education?"
"High school… didn't finish." Van's voice dropped, face flushing.
Kim Hải nodded, expression unreadable. He picked up a pack of cigarettes from his desk, tapped one out, lit it, and took a slow drag. "Old Chen vouches, I owe him. We need hands at the bottom. Stockroom needs an assistant keeper. Register in-out. Organize shelves. Tag along on deliveries. Help move stuff sometimes. Work's messy. Tough." He exhaled smoke. "Pay…" He let the word hang for a moment. "Trial month, three hundred fifty thousand dong (about $150 USD). Full-time? Four to four-fifty after trial, depending. Interested?"
Three hundred fifty thousand dong!A big drop from his peak Grab earnings! Messy, hard work! Van's heart sank. But images of Mr. Chen's expectations, his family's plight, the crushing debt flashed before him. He had no choice. He stood up instantly. "Yes! Mr. Hải! I'll do it! I'm not afraid of the work!"
Kim Hải noted the decisive answer and the fire in Van's eyes. He flicked cigarette ash. "Alright. Seven tomorrow morning. Stockroom. Report to Foreman Hùng. He'll tell you what to do. Remember," his gaze sharpened. "We don't tolerate slackers or incompetents here. Old Chen brought you in. Staying? That's on you."
"Yes! Mr. Hải! I'll work hard! Thank you, Mr. Hải!" Van bowed repeatedly, elated.
Leaving Kim Hải Construction, Van walked down the dusty development road, emotions in turmoil. Excitement, apprehension, pressure, and a flicker of hope for a new beginning twisted together. Three hundred fifty thousand was a drop in the ocean. But he knew it was just a start. Mr. Chen was right. He hadto break the cycle.
He passed a bus stop. A huge billboard loomed, showcasing the grand vision of Hanoi's future new urban area. Van stopped, tilting his head back to gaze at the soaring images symbolizing prosperity and opportunity. The sun glared. He squinted, imagining a new road – thorny, yet promising – stretching out before him.
Tomorrow was a fork in his life's road. He took a deep breath, set his shoulders, and walked firmly towards home, and into the unknown of tomorrow.