The relentless heat descended upon Hanoi once more after the rain, thick and suffocating like a wet cloth pressed over the mouth and nose. Van navigated his motorbike through the afternoon traffic, sweat trickling down his temples and splattering onto the sun-baked fuel tank cap, vanishing instantly into tiny white rings. The digits on the trip meter crawled slowly upward, mirroring the heavy thudding of his heart.
The risky, rain-drenched long-haul journey from last night, coupled with the early morning run to fetch Mr. Chen from Gia Lâm, had yielded decent income but drained his last reserves of strength. Weighing heavier on him, however, were the words Mr. Chen had spoken over breakfast about "seeds" and "urban cracks." Those concepts glimmered like distant stars, alluring yet separated from the gritty reality under his wheels by an insurmountable chasm. The thirty-million-dong debt sat like a boulder on his chest, each breath tasting like rust. The smug, insincere face of Lộc, Strong Brother's underling, and the five-day ultimatum echoed relentlessly in his mind.
He had just delivered a passenger near Long Biên Station and was looking for a scrap of shade to choke down the hardened bánh mìin his backpack when his phone shrilled. It was his mother.
"A Văn… cough… A Văn…" Her voice, weak, was nearly drowned out by hacking coughs. "Medicine… medicine's gone… cough, cough… Bad…"
Van's heart plummeted. "Mom! Don't worry! I'm coming! I'll get the medicine now!" He immediately swung his bike around, gunning the engine towards the community pharmacy near home. His mother's chronic bronchitis had been worsening lately; the expensive medicine prescribed by the doctor cost nearly a million dong per bottle – another heavy stone in his burden.
At the pharmacy counter, Van handed over crumpled high-denomination bills in exchange for a small bottle of white pills. He carefully tucked the bottle deep into his backpack, handling it like his mother's life. Forgetting his hunger, he twisted the throttle, his motorbike weaving through narrow alleys back to the rented room.
Pushing open the creaking wooden door, he was met by the pungent scent of medicinal herbs and stifling heat. Inside the cramped room, his mother lay curled on a mat-covered plank bed, face sallow, her frail body convulsing with each violent cough that seemed determined to rip her lungs out. His younger sister, Mai, sat on a small stool beside the bed, wiping their mother's sweat with a damp cloth, her young face etched with worry and helplessness.
"Mom!" Van rushed over, lifting her gently. He unscrewed the bottle and shook out two pills. "Quick, take these!"
His mother swallowed the pills with the water he offered, gasping for breath as she fought the coughing fit. After several moments, the spasms subsided somewhat. Her clouded eyes looked at her son, filled with guilt. "A Văn… More money spent… Useless mother…"
"Mom, stop saying that. The medicine will help." Van forced lightness into his voice, suppressing the lump in his throat. "Rest well, don't worry about money."
Mai took the cup, whispering, "Brother, Mom's been coughing all morning, barely ate…"
Van patted her head. "I know. Be good Mai, do your homework. I'll look after Mom."
He settled his mother back down and sat on the small stool beside the bed. Watching her brows knit in pain, listening to the agonizing rasp of each cough, the weight of the boulder on his chest seemed to grow heavier. Thirty million dong… Five days… Mother's medicine… Mai's tuition… Rent… Fuel… These figures coiled around him like icy chains, binding him tight. Mr. Chen's vision of "cracks" and "seeds" felt desperately pale under the crushing weight of his reality.
In the afternoon, Van pushed through fatigue to keep driving. His distracted mind and weary body slowed his reflexes. Delivering an order to a new residential complex in Cau Giay, he accelerated to make a right turn on a green light.
Just then, a large blue dump truck, loaded with construction materials, surged forward from his blind spot! The driver, perhaps caught off guard by Van's sudden acceleration, couldn't stop the massive vehicle's momentum as it barreled straight towards the small Honda Wave!
The ear-splitting shriek of brakes and the metallic screech of tearing metal erupted simultaneously!
Van felt a colossal force slam into him from the side. Instantly, both he and the motorbike were flung out of control! He instinctively clenched the brakes hard, his body hurled forward by the momentum!
Thud!Van crashed heavily onto the scorching asphalt, the sickening crunch of his helmet hitting the ground ringing loud. The motorbike was shoved several meters by the truck's front bumper, grinding to a halt with a tortured scream of scraping metal.
The world spun violently for Van. Intense pain flared from his shoulder, arm, and knees, burning hot. A high-pitched ringing filled his ears, muffling the truck driver's furious curses: "Thằng chó mù! Mày chết à? Xem đường đi!(You blind dog! Want to die? Watch the road!)"
Bystanders quickly gathered. Someone helped him sit up; others examined his bike. Van shook his head, fighting for clarity. He tentatively moved his limbs – sharp pain made him gasp, but thankfully nothing seemed broken. Luck was on his side!
He struggled to his feet, limping towards his motorbike. The sight plunged him into an icy abyss.
The Honda Wave, his faithful companion through wind and rain, the lifeline for his family, lay twisted on its side. The front wheel was grotesquely deformed, the hub nearly shattered. The forks were severely bent, the handlebars askew. A long, jagged tear opened the fuel tank, gasoline dripping steadily onto the hot pavement where it quickly vaporized. The bodywork was covered in scrapes and dents. The rearview mirror was shattered, glass littering the ground. The bike was, essentially, scrap metal!
The truck driver stomped over, jabbing a finger at Van. "Your fault! Turning without yielding! Look at my truck!" The truck's bumper was indeed dented and scraped.
Van stared at his ruined 'old friend', then at the irate driver, and thought of his mother needing medicine, the five-day deadline… A wave of despair chilled him to the bone. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Liability? Compensation? With what? This broken machine was his only means of earning, now destroyed!
"Call the police! Get traffic police!" the driver yelled, pulling out his phone.
Van's heart sank to rock bottom. Police? Accident report? Compensation? Towing fees? Repairs? He didn't dare imagine! Instinctively, his hand flew to his pocket – only some small bills and the damp but carefully smoothed 100,000-dong note Mr. Chen had given him – the tip he hadn't dared spend.
"B… Boss," Van's voice was hoarse and scratchy, pleading, "My mistake… I wasn't paying attention… Could we… settle this privately? I… I'll pay…" His trembling hand pulled out the small bills and the 100,000 dong note – less than 200,000 dong total.
The truck driver glanced contemptuously at the money, then appraised Van's dusty, battered state. He sneered. "This? Barely covers spit! Painting this bumper costs more! Police! No discussion!"
Just then, a middle-aged man in a residential complex security uniform approached, evidently recognizing the driver. "A Hùng, what's up? Blocking the entrance!"
"Wang, this idiot's bike clipped me! Trying to buy me off with scraps!" The driver pointed at Van.
Security Wang surveyed the scene, Van's pale face, the mangled bike, and frowned. He sidled closer to Van, lowering his voice. "Kid, take the loss. A Hùng's truck is hauling for the construction site behind us. Can't be delayed. You're clearly at fault. Police come, bigger trouble: fines, bike impounded, all that." He paused. "How about… you scrape together more cash? I'll smooth things over?"
Van felt the ground spin. More money? Where from? The bottle of medicine for his mother in his backpack suddenly burned against his back. Return it? But what about Mother?
"I… I really don't have it…" Van's voice cracked with desperate tears, the shoulder pain and utter helplessness making him unsteady. "Boss, please… Give me a few days… I…"
"Days?" Driver Hùng bellowed impatiently. "I don't have time! Pay up now, or I call the cops and they seize this junk! Your choice!"
Bystanders murmured. Their gazes held pity, indifference, or the glee of spectators. Van stood isolated in the blazing sun, sweat streaking dust down his forehead, stinging his eyes. He felt stripped naked, exposed in the marketplace square, scrutinized by all and mocked by fate. The thirty-million debt, his mother's sickly face, Mai's worried eyes, Strong Brother's cold threat, the totaled bike, the bullying demand for payment… It all surged like countless invisible hands, dragging him toward a chasm of despair.
Just as he felt the immense pressure might crush him, a calm, familiar voice cut through the crowd noise.
"How much?"