Van's head snapped up, searching.
The crowd parted slightly. Chen Qiming stood there, still in his plain grey jacket and slacks, the worn canvas satchel over his shoulder. His expression was neutral, his gaze steady on Driver Hùng. He repeated, "His fault, you said. How much does he owe you?"
Hùng blinked, looking Chen Qiming up and down. The man's clothes were ordinary, yet his bearing was different. Not a local. "Who are you? What's it to you?"
"His friend," Chen stated simply, walking up to Van. He glanced at the wrecked bike and Van's wretched state, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. "Name your price."
Security Wang stepped in quickly, mediating: "Boss, here's the situation. A Hùng's truck bumper got scratched, needs repair. How about… five hundred thousand dong (about $21 USD)? Let it go, eh? Times are tough for everyone." He clearly wanted the problem gone.
Hùng's eyes narrowed. Five hundred thousand wasn't much, but more than the scraps Van offered. And this Chen guy… something about him felt… substantial? He didn't really want police delays either. "Fine! Five hundred! For Wang's sake! Hand it over!"
Five hundred thousand dong! Van's heart felt pierced. He barely had twenty thousand total on him! He looked pleadingly at Chen Qiming, lips trembling. "Mr. Chen… I…"
Chen Qiming didn't speak. He simply pulled out his worn wallet, counted five crisp 100,000-dong notes, and handed them to Hùng. "Count it."
Hùng took the money, eyed it suspiciously, glanced back at Chen Qiming, grunted, climbed into his cab, fired the engine, and the large truck rumbled into the compound.
Wang breathed a sigh of relief, nodding at Chen Qiming before walking away. The crowd, deprived of a spectacle, quickly dispersed.
Only Chen Qiming and Van remained, beside the ruined bike.
"Mr. Chen… Thank you… I…" Shame burned Van. Immense gratitude warred with deeper despair. Five hundred thousand dong! Another crushing debt! "The money… I will repay it as soon as…"
Chen Qiming ignored the platitudes. He crouched, examining the Honda Wave. Bent forks, shattered wheel, punctured tank, cracked bodywork… It was beyond economical repair. He stood up, dusting his hands. "The bike's done. Forget it. People matter more."
Van stared at the 'old friend' who'd carried him through years, his eyes stinging. It wasn't just metal; it had been his backbone. Now snapped.
"Let's find somewhere to sit." Chen Qiming noted Van's pallor and the obvious pain in his shoulder.
Van nodded numbly, pushing the skeletal remains of the bike, limping painfully after Chen Qiming. Every step sent fresh waves of agony from his knees and shoulder. They found a relatively quiet street corner and sat at an open-air tea stall under a large banyan tree. Chen ordered two cheap glasses of iced tea.
The cold liquid washed down Van's throat, restoring some energy, but the inner chill remained. He looked down at the sticky plastic table, unable to meet Chen Qiming's eyes, his voice raspy. "Mr. Chen… I'm sorry… Causing you trouble again… That five hundred thousand… and the hundred thousand for the tube… I…" He couldn't finish. Six hundred thousand dong debt, plus Strong Brother's thirty million, mother's medicine… He felt utterly crushed.
"Forget the money for now," Chen Qiming's voice remained calm, unreadable. "Tell me about yourself. Your family? How did the debt happen?"
Under Chen Qiming's steady gaze, Van's tightly coiled nerves found an outlet. Words tumbled out hesitantly: his early departed father, frail mother, younger sister in school, the desperate loan for medicine and survival, Strong Brother's relentless pressure, today's disastrous accident… By the end, the young man who'd endured rain and scorn without breaking felt his voice crack, tears welling up despite his efforts.
"So," Chen Qiming summarized, his tone clinical, devoid of pity, only stark clarity. "No bike. No income. Mother needs constant medication. Owe tens of millions to a loan shark. Five days until deadline?" Van nodded heavily, his head bowed low.
Chen Qiming was silent for a moment, fingers lightly tapping the cheap plastic tabletop. Banyan leaves rustled softly overhead, casting shifting shadows. He seemed to be thinking, or perhaps observing Van.
"Do you consider yourself clever?" Chen Qiming asked abruptly.
Van blinked, confused, but answered honestly. "Did alright in school… But we were poor, didn't finish high school… Been driving motorbike taxis, fixing bikes, manual labor…"
"Is your mind quick?" Chen pressed.
"I… I think so? Learn things… decently fast?" Van sounded uncertain.
"Can you endure hardship?"
"Yes!" This time Van's answer was firm. Rain or shine, driving ten hours a day, he never complained.
"Are you responsible?"
Van pictured his mother on the bed, Mai at her books. He nodded vigorously. "Yes!"
Chen Qiming took a sip of his iced tea, his gaze shifting to distant high-rises under construction. "Then tell me, why have you trapped yourself on this motorbike? Why do you think spinning two wheels is the only way to earn your family's living? Why can't you see the world beyond these handlebars?"
Van was stunned. Beyond? What world? A high-school dropout like him, what else could he do but sell his strength?
"You said you learn decently fast," Chen Qiming refocused on Van, his eyes sharpening. "Then why aren't you learning something more valuable? Why aren't you trying to climb to the headwaters?"
"Headwaters?" Van was lost.
"Like I said this morning. Run one Grab trip: the platform takes a cut, you get the sweat pay. But those sitting in offices, managing the platform, dispatching drivers, setting the rules – what do they take? Brains! Management! Capital's cut! Headwaters!" Chen Qiming's tone held undeniable force. "You have strength. Responsibility. A mind that's not dull. Why resign yourself to the tail end forever, waiting for crumbs? Why not try to climb?"
Climb?The word hit Van hard. It felt alien, unreachable. A place he'd never dared imagine.
"I… what could I do? I know nothing…" Van's voice was thick with shame and impotence.
"Then learn!" Chen Qiming stated flatly. "You're young! You're trapped here because you've locked yourself in! Locked onto this broken bike and its pittance! Locked into accepting that thisis all you can ever be!"
He leaned forward slightly, his voice low but hammering each word into Van's consciousness: "I know someone. Nguyễn Kim Hải. He's in construction here in Hanoi, runs a decent-sized firm. He needs hands, especially at the bottom: warehouse keepers, site drivers, material handlers. Starting point is low. Hard work. Pay might be less than Grab at first." He paused, emphasizing the next words. "But! There's room to move! Learn. Work hard. Use your mind. Opportunity! From managing a stockroom to managing supplies to managing projects… Step by step upwards! That'sthe path to genuinely change your fate! Not grinding your youth into dust on two wheels, only to be destroyed by one bad turn!"
A construction company? Warehouse keeper? Van's heart raced wildly. A door to an entirely new, unimaginable world swung open before him. Low start? Hard work? But… advancement? A chance?
"But… Mr. Chen… I… no experience…" Van felt both excitement and fear.
"Experience starts at zero!" Chen Qiming cut him off. "Who was born knowing? Attitude! Learning ability! Willingness to endure!" He locked eyes with Van. "I've watched you days. You drive carefully, navigate expertly, stay calm under pressure (except today). Fix bikes efficiently. Shows smarts and hands-on skill. You know Hanoi's streets – that's your strength. You lack an opportunity. The guts to break the cycle!"
Break the cycle…Van tasted the words. Yes. Grab driving. Paying debt. Buying medicine. School fees. An endless loop with no visible end. Today's accident was a sledgehammer shattering his wheel of survival. Struggle in the wreckage? Or grab the rope being offered, leading into the unknown?
"Mr. Chen… I…" Van's voice trembled with a mix of awe and terror.
Chen Qiming pulled a small notebook and pen from his satchel. He wrote a name and number, tore out the page, and handed it to Van. "Kim Hải's number. Call him tomorrow morning at ten. Tell him Chen Qiming sent you, looking for work. He'll arrange something."
Van's hand shook as he took the slip. The name Nguyễn Kim Hảiseemed to weigh a ton.
"Also," Chen Qiming took out his wallet again. This time, he pulled out a thick wad of 100,000-dong notes. He counted out ten. One million dong (about $430 USD). Placed them on the table before Van.
Van stared, dumbfounded, recoiling as if burned. "Mr. Chen! Th-this… no! Too much! I can't!"
"Take it!" Chen Qiming's tone brooked no argument. "It's not a gift. It's a loan. Write an IOU."
He tore a blank page from the notebook, slid it towards Van. "Write clearly: Borrower Nguyễn Văn, hereby borrows one million Vietnamese dong from Chen Qiming, for urgent debt repayment and essential family expenses. Repayment date… Write two years from now. Interest at prevailing bank savings rate."
Van looked at the paper, the stack of money, then back at Chen Qiming's calm yet powerful gaze. The impact left him nearly paralyzed. One million dong! Could relieve his mother's crisis, pay for some medicine, ease the pressure from Strong Brother slightly… But it was another crushing debt!
"Mr. Chen… I… I'm afraid I can't repay…" Van's voice cracked.
"Afraid?" Chen Qiming fixed him with a look. "Good! Fear will drive you to fight! Fear will make you value this chance! Fear will stop you from slipping back into that dead-end life where one bad bump can finish you!" He jabbed a finger at the slip. "Go to Kim Hải. Start at the bottom. Use your brain. Use your strength. Learn! Fight! Two years! If you can't even make a single million back in two years there… then I was wrong about you! You deserve to rot in that bog forever!"
Rot forever in that bog!The words lashed Van's soul. He looked at Chen Qiming, at the IOU, at the lifesaving money, then down at his own dust-and-grime-stained hands.
A fierce flame—kindled from humiliation, defiance, and raw survival instinct—exploded within him!
No more hesitation. He picked up the pen. His hand still trembled, but the words he wrote on the IOU were clear and firm. Then, he picked up the thick stack of bills, gripping it tightly in his palm, as if clutching the final thread of hope fate had offered.
"Mr. Chen… Thank you!" Van stood, bowing deeply, his voice thick with emotion yet resolute. "I… will not let you down!"
Chen Qiming noted the fire rekindled in Van's eyes. He gave a slight nod. "Remember. The opportunity is yours. The path? You walk it. Ten tomorrow. Call on time."