Uyên’s new job had transformed her, and Vấn was surprised to find that she no longer displayed any signs of annoyance or weariness when being intimate with him. She seemed to be in a constant state of arousal. She appeared far more responsive to him than before, and she treated him with greater patience. At times, Vấn imagined he might actually be able to fully satisfy Uyên—at least on occasion—though he wasn't entirely sure. Uyên’s transformation delighted him at first, but as time went on, Vấn began to grow suspicious and found himself raising many questions.

Uyên’s peculiarities, though subtle, were impossible for Vấn to overlook. Certain positions or techniques she employed were entirely novel to him. Her gestures and actions seemed to have been imported from some outside source—caresses and acts of affection accompanied by strange, unfamiliar forms of stimulation. Even her laughter and the sounds she made while in his arms had undergone a change. Vấn had a distinct intuition that her newfound uninhibitedness during intimacy must have a root cause. And so he concluded—or rather, he *knew*—that Uyên was having an affair; that there was another man in her life.

No sensation is more agonizing for a man than the feeling of being cuckolded. A friend of Vấn’s had once told him exactly that while recounting the story of his own marriage’s collapse. Vấn had merely offered a smile of pity back then, never imagining that such a thing could ever happen to him. Accidents, misfortunes, and horrors of all kinds always seem like things that happen to *other* people—never to oneself—until the moment they actually strike. Vấn was perceptive enough to realize that Uyên was being unfaithful—that he had indeed been cuckolded—yet he could not bring himself to accept it fully; a part of him still clung to the hope that it wasn't true, desperately attempting to delude himself.

Perhaps he was simply being overly suspicious and jealous, seeing as Uyên had begun leaving early in the morning and returning late at night? Could Uyên’s changes be merely a matter of social obligation—that she still loved him, and everything remained just as it was? Vấn had sat for hours, trying to convince himself, searching for every possible excuse to vindicate Uyên. Yet, from the deepest recesses of Vấn’s soul—that place where his calculating, strictly rational nature held sway—he weighed the conflicting facts and conclusions. Vấn could do nothing other than accept the truth: he had, indeed, been cuckolded!

The only remaining issue was concrete proof—for Vấn, a man of exemplary propriety and meticulous method in all his dealings, felt compelled to see it with his own eyes, to witness it clearly so that not a shred of doubt could possibly linger. Vấn had hired a private investigator to tail Uyên for several consecutive days, and he awaited the man’s report like a condemned prisoner awaiting a death sentence. One afternoon, amidst a torrential downpour, he was at work when his secretary informed him that a Frank Rutter was insisting on speaking with him immediately. It was a matter of the utmost urgency—a private affair!

Vấn picked up the receiver. His heart pounded as if he had just run a grueling cross-country mile. His spirits sank instantly. Rutter spoke in a flat, detached tone—the voice of a man who performed this task every day, sounding utterly bored, as if this were nothing more than a mundane way to earn a living:

"I’m parked right outside the Holiday Inn. Your wife just went inside with another man. I followed them and saw them rent a room. Would you like to come over right now?"

Vấn asked in return, his voice cracking and barely audible, as if he had been winded:

"Are you absolutely sure? Is it definitely my wife?"

Rutter replied curtly:

"I cross-referenced her with the photo you gave me. There’s no mistake!"

"I’m on my way!"
 
He dropped the receiver and, as if fleeing from a ghost, bolted from his office, calling out over his shoulder as he rushed past his secretary’s desk in the outer room:

"I have to leave early!" Family matters!

The secretary watched in astonishment; for nearly eight years, Van had never left the office even half a minute early!

Van drove to the Holiday Inn, where he found Rutter waiting for him right at the entrance. Rutter said:

"They’ve rented Room 305. What do you want to do?"

Van had regained his composure during the drive from the bank to the hotel. He asked Frank Rutter in return:
 
"What do you think I should do?"

Rutter shrugged:

"That depends entirely on what you want. Do you simply want to know for certain, or do you want concrete evidence—photographic proof? The matter rests entirely on your decision!"

Van nodded and said to Rutter:

"I just want to know for certain. That’s all. However, I do want you to take a few photos when they leave the premises—close-ups, as well as shots that clearly show the Holiday Inn signage in the background."

Van sat inside Rutter’s car—parked on the opposite side of the street, directly across from the hotel’s main entrance—waiting for Uyen and for a glimpse of the man who had cuckolded him. In the back seat, Rutter had his camera—equipped with a state-of-the-art telephoto lens—ready to shoot. Van tried to clear his mind, yet the image of Uyen inside that hotel room, making love to a man who was not him, flashed vividly before his eyes.
 
Suddenly, Van felt a wave of nausea; he felt as though he were about to vomit. He could even perceive the pathetic nature of his own presence there—sitting with a private investigator poised to take photographs, waiting for Uyen and her lover to emerge from their hotel bedroom. Why didn't he simply fly into a rage—roaring like any other ordinary man—and storm in to catch the adulterous pair red-handed, letting the chips fall where they may? He even found himself wondering: why hadn't he simply done the tailing himself and then shot them both? Questions arose, and various courses of action were hypothesized...

 
Questions were raised, and various solutions hypothesized, yet Vấn knew he could not act rashly or thoughtlessly—actions that would ultimately prove self-destructive. He was neither hot-headed nor foolish enough to let everything come crashing down. He had already been wounded by Uyên’s infidelity; he could not allow that pain to deepen any further.

Rutter called out loudly:

"There they are!"

He snapped photos furiously. Vấn watched as Uyên wrapped her arms around the man’s waist; his heart skipped a beat, and his stomach clenched tight. The man who had cuckolded him was none other than Lữ—Uyên’s client, the very man preparing to go into business with him and his wife!

Uyên stood on her tiptoes to embrace Lữ around the neck, sharing a passionate, fervent kiss before each headed toward their respective cars. Vấn watched with bitter resentment. Had Uyên ever kissed him like that? The truth struck him suddenly, like the lash of a whip across his face. Uyên had never loved him; she had shared his bed, yet he had never possessed her heart.
 
His body went cold. Had Uyên once loved him only to grow tired of him now—seeking a new romance—perhaps Vấn would not be suffering so acutely in this moment. Instead, he was forced to confront the utter emptiness of his marriage: a union defined solely by his own unrequited love for Uyên.

Vấn watched Lữ’s retreating figure as he headed toward a white convertible Mercedes parked near the entrance. His enemy! Vấn made a swift decision. He would proceed with the business venture with Lữ, just as Uyên had discussed with him; the potential profits were simply too vast, too lucrative—he would be a fool to let such an opportunity slip away. Doing business with one’s enemy for the sake of profit was, after all, the mark of a shrewd man. Yet, Lữ would be made to pay a steep price for this grave insult.
 
Vấn watched Frank Rutter continue snapping photographs, and a sneer curled across his lips. Uyên and Lữ would remain oblivious to the fact that Vấn had uncovered their affair. Everything would proceed as usual, as if nothing untoward had ever occurred. Yet, step by step, he would ensnare Lữ in his trap—Lữ and Miriam, along with their colossal fortune and vast business empire. They would become prey choking within the tightening noose Vấn had fashioned. He would draw it taut ever so slowly, savoring the death throes of his enemies—a death a thousand times more agonizing than the swift release a bullet would have offered.

Vấn would never forgive; yet, in the execution of his vengeance, he intended to reap the maximum possible benefit. Only a fool acts in the heat of the moment merely to vent momentary rage, thereby inflicting further damage upon himself. Vấn sought to exact the most brutal retribution upon the man who had cuckolded him, but simultaneously, he demanded that this act of vengeance serve as a conduit for immense profit and personal advancement. Only then—as he watched his enemies writhe in their death throes—could he truly feel vindicated and take pride in his own cunning!

 
Chapter 19
 
Vấn did not know how he was supposed to treat Uyên. He was acutely aware of his own misfortune—whether he wanted to be or not. Vấn had become a cuckolded husband, and he knew it with absolute certainty. He now had to assume a new role in the drama that he and Uyên had scripted for their marriage. Vấn thought to himself with bitter irony: Is not every life merely a stage play? The only difference, perhaps, lies in whether the actor is conscious of the fact—whether they deceive themselves, in addition to putting on an act for those around them and for the outside world.

Vấn wondered: Now that he had seen with his own eyes Uyên and Lữ emerging from the hotel, to what extent would he be able to maintain his composure when he next encountered Uyên? How would he speak? How would he behave? A sudden surge of curiosity rose within Vấn. For a brief, fleeting moment, he felt a sense of detachment—as if he were a dispassionate bystander, calmly observing himself from a distance, coldly analyzing the couple that was "Vấn and Uyên," and scrutinizing the reactions of the cuckolded husband and the unfaithful wife.

Vấn smiled. Was there any husband quite like him? Why was he still capable of such detached analysis and self-examination? Why couldn't he simply be like other ordinary men, reacting in the standard way when faced with such circumstances? But then again—why *should* he be like anyone else? While having an unfaithful wife might be a common occurrence in life, for him, it was by no means a simple matter that could be reduced to a generic formula. This was a monumental tragedy in his life; how he chose to react to it was his own private affair—why should he question it or feel the need to justify himself?

Uyên walked through the door and began speaking in a rapid, ceaseless stream:

"It’s pouring outside! Did you get soaked coming home from work?" "I took this couple out to look at houses, but we got stuck in the rain and couldn't get back to the car; we had to wait forever before we could finally head home!"
 
Vấn simply stared at Uyên, saying nothing. What a truly deceitful woman! Had he not witnessed it with his own eyes—Uyên and Lữ walking out of the Holiday Inn with their arms around each other—he might have felt sympathy for his wife’s arduous work and loved her even more. Vấn took note, recalling the days when Uyên came home late—days when she was far more talkative and cheerful than usual. He had rejoiced in her happiness then, but now he knew the truth. Those flushed cheeks and that radiant smile were brought about by another man—not him.
 
And perhaps, at some point, they had laughed at him, turning him into a farce to mock and toy with, all to heighten their own thrill and gratification! Vấn suddenly flared with anger. His hands trembled slightly. He took a deep breath and composed himself. When Vấn finally spoke, he was surprised to find his voice remained outwardly calm—merely carrying a subtle, measured chill:

"Go change your clothes, then come eat. I’ve already prepared a few things. You just need to warm them up a little!"

Vấn poured himself a glass of wine. It had been a long time since he had touched a drop of alcohol. Vấn was not a heavy drinker; he only indulged on special occasions or when meeting with close friends. He gave a wry smile at himself. If today wasn't a "special occasion" for him, then what day could possibly be?

Uyên descended the stairs. Vấn looked at his wife and was stunned to realize he had never seen her look so beautiful. He had married Uyên because she was beautiful and alluring, yet after years of married life, Vấn had all but forgotten that fact. He remained conscious that he possessed a beautiful wife, but he had come to take it for granted—no longer a source of fresh excitement, nor something he felt the need to cherish and remind himself of every single moment of every day. Vấn was forced to confront a banal truth—one that felt almost like a cliché—namely, that his wife was truly stunningly beautiful, alluring, and seductive precisely when she was no longer his. She belonged to another man now. She had committed adultery and was no longer his possession.

It pained Vấn to realize that she had never looked as beautiful as she did today—at this very moment—fresh from an intimate encounter with a bastard who was, in every respect, even more despicable than he was, and who had ruthlessly cuckolded him. Vấn shook his head. He would deal with that adversary later. For now, the time had come to resolve matters between himself and Uyên first. Everything had its own time.

The meal was nearly over. Uyên chatted cheerfully about her day selling real estate—stories about the clients she had taken to view properties: people who appeared unremarkable on the surface yet were ready to pay cash for a massive house worth three or four hundred thousand; couples who insisted on touring luxury neighborhoods even though their combined income wouldn't be enough to buy a kitchen nook; and a few single men who had tried their hand at flirting with her. She chattered away incessantly, while Vấn sat in silence, eating and listening.
 
Several times, he had been on the verge of asking her about this afternoon—specifically about the Holiday Inn—intending to confront her directly and listen to her evasive denials, but each time, Vấn held back.

Vấn contemplated the consequences of letting Uyên know that he was fully aware of her infidelity. The inevitable outcome would be that Uyên would demand a divorce. Vấn did not want that to happen. He would suffer heavy losses; he would lose Uyên completely. And he would lose a portion of his assets—a substantial sum of money—something Vấn absolutely never wanted! He looked into Uyên’s eyes and said:

"I want to discuss something with you."

 
There was something unusual about Vấn’s tone, and Uyên sensed it immediately. Throughout the meal, she chattered incessantly, yet every now and then she would cast a furtive, probing glance at her husband. Something was weighing on Vấn’s mind, and his expression filled her with dread. Her intuition told her that it could only be about the affair between her and Lữ. Could it be that Vấn already knew everything? Was this the moment he was going to confront her?

"What did you want to talk about? Wait—hold on! Let me run out to the car and grab the flan for you. I got so caught up talking that I completely forgot about it. I stopped by the bakery specifically to get it for you, but how silly of me—I forgot to bring it inside!"

Without waiting for his reply, Uyên stood up and headed out. She simply could not let Vấn initiate the conversation—a conversation she was certain could only be about her and Lữ. Uyên returned with the flan—drizzled with a splash of rum, just the way Vấn liked his favorite dessert—and began chattering away once more:

"I bought this flan at 'La Petite Parisienne'! I really hit the jackpot today. Once this house sale closes, my commission alone should come to at least twenty thousand."

Vấn asked in surprise:

"That much?"

Uyên smiled. She knew Vấn’s weakness—she knew him inside out. There was only one thing that could make Vấn temporarily forget the difficult conversation he had intended to have: the subject of profit—the subject of money.

"I took a couple to look at a house in Palos Verdes. It’s listed for nearly nine hundred thousand. They absolutely loved it and are dead set on buying it. There are so many wealthy Vietnamese people these days! Once the sale goes through—and even after splitting the proceeds with the listing agents—I’ll still walk away with over twenty thousand. Do you have any idea how much I’ve made in just the last two months?"

Vấn shook his head. He thought of his own annual salary—a mere fifty thousand dollars a year. With just a single afternoon spent showing a house, followed by a few days of handling paperwork, Uyên could earn a sum equivalent to half of his entire annual income.
 
"Over the past two months, I’ve brought in over thirty thousand. At this rate, I’ll be opening another branch up in L.A. before long!"

Vấn did the mental math instantly. The money she earned—plus the commission from the house sale currently in the works—already amounted to far more than his annual salary. Then there was the matter of her business dealings with Lữ and Triệu Tôn. He now found himself in the disadvantaged position of a man who earned less than his wife. Their future wealth would be brought in by her, no longer resting solely within his own grasp. Vấn realized he couldn't possibly bring up the fact that he had caught Uyên red-handed—at least, not right now.

Observing Vấn’s demeanor, Uyên knew immediately that she had struck a psychological nerve. She asked gently:

"Oh! What was it you said earlier that you wanted to discuss with me?"

"Nothing, really! I just wanted to remind you to come home a little earlier tonight. There’s been a lot of muggings and petty crime lately—it’s really getting out of hand! It’s just not safe for a woman to be out too late at night."

Uyên wrapped her arms around her husband. She knew she had successfully subdued Vấn. He might harbor suspicions about her, but he dared not voice them—and that was all Uyên needed. Once words are spoken, they can never be taken back, and everything would come crashing down. A silent, mutual understanding was enough; it allowed everything to remain outwardly beautiful and made life easier to navigate. Everything was currently going Uyên’s way; she simply needed to play her cards right, and her husband—along with Lữ and all the other men—would be forced to follow the path she dictated.

Vấn wanted to push his wife’s arms away, but he found he couldn't. Uyên clung to him like a serpent, her body beginning to radiate an intense, burning heat. A flicker of anger flared within Vấn. Uyên had just finished being intimate with her lover; was she demanding sex from him now merely to cover her tracks, to make amends, or simply because she remained unsatisfied?
 
For the first time, Vấn felt only contempt for the woman writhing there, attempting to arouse him; and suddenly, he was astonished to find that his rage had transformed him into a new man. He made love to Uyên with a savage intensity—with a vigor he had never before felt he possessed—and for the very first time in his life, he was able to carry Uyên to the absolute pinnacle of sexual fulfillment.

 
Chapter 20
 
The bank’s waiting room was vast and cavernous, with towering columns supporting a soaring ceiling. The marble floor was cool to the touch—as if meant to soothe the anxiety of the borrowers who sat restlessly in massive armchairs, waiting for their turn to try and persuade the bank to invest capital in their business ventures.
 
Lữ and Miriam sat amidst this crowd. Observing Miriam’s demeanor, Lữ could tell she was uncomfortable—indeed, "miserable" would be a more accurate description. Lữ had spent half the day trying to convince her to accompany him to the bank to sign the paperwork for a loan to purchase a shopping complex on Bolsa Avenue. She had said to him:

"You know I don’t like concerning myself with financial matters. Why do I have to go to the bank and deal with all that hassle? You could just bring the documents home for me to sign; that would work just fine!"

Lữ explained to his wife:

"The company purchasing this shopping complex is a joint venture—shared between me and two other partners—but the bank will only approve the loan if you agree to co-sign with me. They want to meet you in person before giving their final approval."

Miriam offered no further comment; she simply nodded. Lữ watched her intently. There was something about her—a certain air—that made him feel uneasy; it seemed to carry a hint of detachment, of indifference. It was as if money had become a dark cloud, casting a shadow over both his and Miriam’s lives. Lữ was becoming increasingly consumed by his business ambitions, and Miriam had begun to sense his growing neglect of her—particularly after she had inherited her late father’s entire estate, with all his assets and properties placed solely in her name.
 
The acute awareness of this fact had created a sense of emotional distance between Lữ and his wife. Miriam understood the dynamic, yet she felt powerless to change it. She still loved Lữ, but his wounded pride had become a source of vexation for her—for it only drove him to pursue wealth with even greater determination. It was as if he felt compelled to prove to Miriam that he, too, could earn a fortune—and that he was, indeed, a worthy man.
 
Miriam had often wanted to ask Lữ why he felt the need to prove his worth. Why couldn't he simply accept himself and live contentedly with the life he already had? Yet, she dared not. For Miriam knew that love could never be as powerful as pride. And whatever love remained between her and Lữ would crumble overnight if she were to voice any reproach regarding his determination to amass wealth. Was it not she herself who had once encouraged Lữ to pursue further studies to advance his standing in this society? Was it not she who had prevailed upon her late father to appoint Lữ as the administrator of their chain of restaurants, thereby giving him his chance? She could blame no one but herself.

Miriam had vaguely understood—having grown up amidst books and novels—that money does not bring happiness; yet, she had always scoffed at such a trite observation. But in truth, for those with a soul akin to hers, money truly was an impediment to happiness. Especially now, when all their assets were held in her name—just as Lavitz had made her promise to keep them—while Lữ, her husband, remained merely an employee earning a fixed monthly salary!
 
Vấn stepped all the way out to the waiting area to escort Lữ and Miriam inside. He had already apologized to the loan department manager for handling the paperwork regarding the acquisition of the Bolsa shopping complex himself explaining that, as this was a Vietnamese commercial district, he was uniquely qualified to accurately assess its true value compared to the other staff members.
 
Vấn cast a glance at Lữ and Miriam as he invited them to take their seats. A surge of rage threatened to erupt within him as he found himself face-to-face with his enemy—flesh and blood—sitting right before him. Vấn imagined the exquisite gratification he would derive from plunging a sharp blade deep into the heart of the rival who had cuckolded him. But there are many ways to exact revenge. And everything has its proper order.
 
Vấn needed to expedite the loan paperwork so that Uyên could finalize the acquisition of the commercial complex. Profit was the priority—something to be seized at the very first opportunity. Moreover, the deeper he could entangle Lữ and his wealthy American wife in his and Uyên’s business dealings, the easier—and more insidious—their opportunity for revenge would become.
 
Vấn turned to Miriam and said:

"We require collateral in the form of your two restaurants, as well as the title to the Santa Barbara estate, before the bank can approve the loan."
"What do you think, Mr. Lữ?"

Lữ replied:

"The loan amount isn't *that* substantial. I believe the value of the South Central restaurant alone—combined with the Santa Barbara estate—should suffice as collateral for this mortgage. I suggest you discuss this matter further with your superiors. While you're at it, you might want to contact the Leibovitz law firm; they can provide you with an appraisal of the assets currently registered in Miriam’s name. As I recall, Mr. Leibovitz happens to be acquainted with Mr. Schwartz—your department head, isn't he?"

Vấn stared at Lữ in stunned disbelief. A flicker of resentment flashed across his face, only to vanish instantly. This man possessed far greater mettle than Vấn had anticipated. Vấn forced a cordial smile:

"Yes, of course. I will certainly discuss this with Mr. Schwartz—though I suspect you are quite right! It is entirely possible that just one restaurant and the Santa Barbara estate will be sufficient. We will reach out to the Leibovitz firm. For now, if you would simply sign these loan documents, that will suffice. I am confident the application will be approved within a week."
 
Miriam glanced at Lữ, silently seeking his cue. Lữ nodded. He knew Miriam did not want to remain in this room for a single second longer—that she had signed the bank loan papers solely to indulge him. Lữ, too, wanted to expedite matters. He harbored little trust in Uyên’s husband regarding this bank loan arrangement, yet Lữ had no other recourse. The building’s owner had agreed to the sale on the condition that the closing take place immediately; consequently, they had been forced to rely on Vấn—an insider at the bank—to secure the mortgage approval with such speed.
 
Lữ reached for his wife’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Miriam looked up at her husband, slightly surprised, but she understood instantly. Lữ wanted to thank her. She had granted him the opportunity to pursue his dream of amassing wealth—a dream meant solely for himself. Her chest suddenly tightened with a pang of anguish. It was an opportunity that would take Lữ further away from her—an opportunity for him to no longer belong to her alone. And as this distance between them seemed to stretch on endlessly, had the fragile thread binding their two souls together grown so thin that, eventually, it would dissolve into nothing but mist and smoke?

 
Chapter 21
 
Sơn held his glass of wine and looked around. As the night wore on, the party grew increasingly lively and spirited, yet he recognized no one other than Lữ and Miriam. The faces around him were completely unfamiliar—as alien to him as if they belonged to an entirely different way of life. Every city abroad with a significant Vietnamese population seemed to have forged its own distinct world—a unique subculture specific to the community of Vietnamese refugees who had settled there.
 
And the Vietnamese in Toronto—as Sơn had observed—were markedly different from their counterparts in California. Just as the Vietnamese in San José bore little resemblance to those in Houston. Sơn smiled. Yet, for all their differences, one common thread running through every Vietnamese community in every city was the ever-growing presence of the *nouveau riche*—those of humble origins striving to project an air of sophistication. This was especially evident at parties like the one tonight.

Sơn accepted—and indeed admired—the upward mobility achieved by his compatriots. People who had been utterly unremarkable in every respect back in Vietnam now enjoyed prosperous lives—many, in fact, were downright wealthy. Families that had once lived in abject poverty now boasted children with advanced degrees and high social standing. The wealthy and prominent figures gathered at tonight’s party were, for the most part, self-made individuals who had built their fortunes from scratch.
 
What Sơn could not stomach, however, was the way so many of them attempted to conceal their pasts and fabricate an air of elegance. Why not take pride in their humble origins—the very foundation from which they had risen to such extraordinary success? Why engage in such gauche, affected posturing—a charade that fooled absolutely no one? Sơn genuinely felt pity for such people. And he hoped that Lữ—his friend—would not fall prey to the lifestyle of the new acquaintances he had recently made in the Little Saigon district.

Lữ had called him down from Toronto to help oversee a new shopping complex on Bolsa Avenue. Sơn had just completed his university studies in accounting and management; having yet to secure a suitable job, he had happily accepted the offer without hesitation. Lữ said:

"What are you doing up there? There are far more opportunities down here. Help me oversee the renovation of this building—let's turn it into a Vietnamese commercial hub. Once that’s finished, we can add all sorts of other things."
 
Sơn asked in return:

"I heard you have a few partners, though! Will they be on board with this?"

Lữ laughed:

"Of course they will! They listen to whatever I say! Besides, I still have to look after Miriam’s restaurants; I can’t possibly handle everything by myself. I need someone I can trust—and down here, the streets are crawling with crooks. If you don't come down to help me, who else am I supposed to find?"

Sơn laughed back:

"I’m coming down, alright! I haven't landed a job yet, and here you are offering me a great gig—why on earth would I pass that up? I’d snatch that up in a heartbeat!"

Lữ said:

"I’ve already spoken to my partners about it! Your salary will be $55,000 a year. Full benefits included! How does that sound?"

"That sounds absolutely fantastic! I’m practically broke right now, so a salary like that is a real godsend! I bet I’ll even be able to save up enough to get married!"

Lữ laughed heartily:

"Then get down here, and fast! Beautiful women are everywhere down here. You won't be left lying in bed all alone! Instead of enjoying life while you’re young, you just kept your nose to the grindstone, obsessing over finishing your studies. You really are a fool, Sơn!"

Sơn bade farewell to his aunt—with whom he had been boarding for the past few years—and flew down to California. He had grown accustomed to the cold climate of the North and wasn't particularly thrilled about having to relocate, but Lữ was right: opportunities were far more plentiful in this region than anywhere else. He also needed to step out into the real world and earn his own keep; he couldn't keep living off his aunt forever.
 
Sơn didn't feel the need to become filthy rich or to achieve success in every conceivable aspect of life, but he did desire a comfortable, modest existence—one that was simply "enough." He didn't want to have to chase after massive wealth or sacrifice everything for the sake of making money, yet neither did he want to spend his days constantly worrying about his livelihood or where his next meal would come from. Say what you will—no matter how romantic or artistic one might be—poverty remains a sin. Poverty so extreme that it breeds destitution and desperation can never be a beautiful sight!

Lữ effectively handed over the entire renovation of the newly acquired building to Sơn. Sơn supervised the contractors as they partitioned the space into various storefronts, even pitching in with the manual labor whenever necessary. He soon realized that no lesson learned in school could ever be as comprehensive as the practical application found in the real world of business. He also took charge of negotiations with prospective tenants looking to open shops and service businesses. Just as Uyên had predicted, the moment the renovations were complete, people flocked to the building in droves, eager to lease space for their ventures.

Sơn had never imagined that commercial activity among the Vietnamese community in Little Saigon could burgeon so rapidly. He found himself harboring a quiet admiration for the shrewdness of Lữ, Uyên, and even that detestable half-Chinese fellow, Triệu Tôn. Investing in real estate along Bolsa Avenue—at a time when Vietnamese immigrants were once again streaming in from all corners to resettle in California—had proven to be a stroke of perfect timing.
 
Thanks to its prime location right on Bolsa Avenue, Lữ’s commercial complex was fully occupied the moment it was finished; not a single unit remained vacant. Sơn also handled the bookkeeping and could immediately see the substantial profits being generated. Although it was a relatively small commercial complex, the high rental rates ensured a monthly cash flow totaling a staggering sixty thousand dollars. After deducting mortgage payments, salaries for himself and other staff members, and various miscellaneous expenses, the partnership—comprising Lữ, Uyên, and Triệu Tôn—still netted a profit of thirty thousand dollars per month.
 
When distributed according to their respective equity stakes, Lữ—holding a 40% share—earned twelve thousand dollars a month. Uyên and Triệu Tôn, each holding a 30% share, took home nine thousand dollars apiece. Uyên, her face beaming like a blossoming flower, was absolutely radiant with delight every time she met with Sơn to review the financial ledgers. Her first major investment had succeeded beyond her wildest dreams. The most remarkable part was that she hadn't had to put up a single penny of her own capital!

Sơn knew that the success of this Bolsa commercial complex lay not merely in the monthly profits generated for each partner. The key factor was that—with the shopping center fully occupied by tenants and the level of commercial activity showing no signs of slowing down—the property's value would instantly double were they to put it on the market right then. Lữ had discussed with him their plan to sell the complex after two years.
 
He estimated that, given the current growth trajectory, the prosperity of the entire Little Saigon region would peak within the next three or four years. However, Lữ intended to exit the commercial real estate sector before that point. For a peak, by definition, implies that a downturn is soon to follow. The essence of the game lay in precise timing: knowing exactly when to enter—and, more importantly, knowing exactly when to get out.

 
Chapter 22
 
Sơn glanced toward the corner of the room. He had just spotted Uyên and her husband. Nearby stood Triệu Tôn and a woman wearing a *sườn xám*—a traditional high-slit dress. As was his habit whenever he encountered Uyên, the Triệu Tôn stared at her with a ravenous gaze, oblivious to everyone around them. Sơn smiled. His friend’s partnership was built upon the sexual currency of a single woman, and he couldn't fathom how long it could possibly last.
 
All he knew was that, for the moment, everyone seemed content—especially given the extraordinary success of their investment venture. Yet Uyên was a ticking time bomb, liable to explode at any moment; Sơn had little faith in the stability of a business enterprise fraught with such intense sexual tension. Although Lữ hadn't confided in him directly, Sơn was astute enough to realize that the connection between Lữ and Uyên ran far deeper than mere business investments. Sơn mused to himself that he ought to advise Lữ to sell off this Bolsa commercial complex sooner rather than later—before something disastrous occurred.

A soft voice drifted into his ear:

"She’s quite beautiful, isn't she? Don't you think so, Sơn?"

Sơn turned around; Miriam was standing right behind him. He smiled:

"She’s alright. But she’s not really my type."

"I always assumed that you men—all of you—were drawn to that particular type of woman."

There was a subtle, unusual note in Miriam’s voice. Sơn studied her intently. Had Miriam grown suspicious about the nature of Lữ and Uyên’s relationship? Sơn deftly steered the conversation in a different direction:

"This party is quite lively, isn't it? Have you ever attended a gathering with this many Vietnamese people before, Miriam?"

"No, never! This is actually my first time. Lữ insisted I attend so I could meet some new people. But I feel a bit out of place. Thank goodness you’re here to talk to."

Sơn asked, sounding slightly surprised:

"Where is Lữ, anyway? I’ve only caught a fleeting glimpse of him once since I got here. Where did he go?"
 
"He’s inside, discussing some business deal with a few other people. I got bored, so I came out here. Why does it always have to be about chasing after money like that?"

Miriam frowned, a flicker of anger beginning to rise within her. Son felt a pang of awkwardness:

"Why don't you just tell Lữ exactly how you feel?"

"I have! But Lữ is completely obsessed with making money now! No matter what I say, it’s useless! He doesn't care about anything else anymore—nothing but business. It’s *always* just business!"

Son tried to defend his friend:

"Maybe it’s just a phase! I don't think he’s *that* consumed by it."

Miriam shook her head and remained silent. Son steered the conversation in a different direction:

"Are you still studying Psychology at UCLA?"

"No! I dropped it. Now I’m studying the Arts—painting and sculpture."

Sơn was delighted. He shifted the topic of conversation to help Miriam forget her frustration with Lữ. Sơn, too, had a passion for drawing and painting; back when he was studying in Toronto, he had even enrolled in painting classes himself.
 
He chatted with Miriam about famous paintings, various art schools, and modern artists. He was pleased to discover just how many things they had in common. But more importantly, Miriam had begun to cheer up; she was no longer preoccupied with the fact that Lữ had left her alone at the party to attend to business matters. Nor did she pay any further attention to Uyên or the men standing around in the corner of the room.

Sơn continued discussing art with Miriam—partly as a way to distract and comfort his friend—yet, at the same time, he began to sense a vague feeling of unease. Was there something amiss in the way he was speaking so enthusiastically about painting and art with his friend’s wife? Was the sheer pleasure of discussing a favorite subject with a beautiful, captivating, and kindred spirit a completely normal, natural occurrence—or was there something else at play?
 
Sơn shook his head, feeling sheepish. Perhaps he was worrying too much about the future, and his moral and social reflexes were a bit excessive. Likewise, his instinct to protect his friendship was perhaps overly intense. What, after all, was wrong with engaging in a mutually enriching conversation about painting with Miriam—an American woman—and feeling drawn to her, captivated by her charm? Why did he have to question himself and blow the matter out of proportion like this?

Yet, Sơn still felt uneasy. Miriam, meanwhile, seemed to become even more immersed in their conversation. She began to transform. The scowling, irritable demeanor she had displayed earlier vanished completely. Her eyes sparkled, as if she were someone who had just rediscovered her true self. And Sơn began to feel a genuine sense of apprehension.
 
Sơn had never been in love before. He had never felt his heart flutter at the sight of a particular figure, a specific glance, or a smile. Although he held an absolute conviction that true love existed—that it resided somewhere out there, in a place he had yet to discover—he simply believed that, one day, he would find that love for himself.

Sơn used to have frequent debates with Lữ back in the days when they still lived in Vietnam. Lữ—driven by a powerful sexual instinct—never believed that anything could exist between a man and a woman other than mere physical attraction. Sơn—with his inherent romantic nature—was forever seeking the sublime beauty of emotional resonance with a member of the opposite sex—a connection he had never actually managed to achieve.
 
The two men were like polar opposites; yet, perhaps that very contrast was precisely why they were able to be such close friends. There was never any rivalry between Sơn and Lữ when it came to women, for the objects of their desires were entirely different.

Sơn vaguely sensed that something extraordinary was happening within him as he stood there at the party, discussing art with Miriam. He struggled to resist the powerful emotion slowly rising within him—a sensation he had never known before—welling up, intoxicating him, and utterly consuming his soul. Could it be? Could this truly be it? Sơn’s rational mind began to race...

 
Miriam was the wife of his friend—the closest friend he had ever known. The man who had faced life and death alongside him through the fiercest battles of the South. The man who had saved him from death countless times, just as he, in turn, had saved his friend on so many other occasions. Sơn and Lữ had never once had to concern themselves with the same girl or the same woman; they had never known rivalry or conflict of any kind. Yet now, Sơn found himself acutely aware of a strange, novel, and utterly irresistible sensation emanating from the wife of his closest friend.

His reason commanded him to stop—to halt the conversation and find a way to remove himself from the scene. A quagmire was spreading out before him, slowly rising to engulf him—creeping past his heels, up to his knees, and rising ever higher. Sơn knew he was sinking deeper and deeper, yet he could not step out—indeed, he did not *want* to step out.
 
For half his life, Sơn had been searching for these very sensations, these very tremors of the soul. This newfound discovery felt like an intoxicating elixir, a sublime stimulant that rooted him to the spot, compelling him to ignore the screaming protests of his reason, the logical arguments of his conscience, and the moral qualms within him.
The existence of love must be a tangible reality—like a natural law, or rather, an immutable principle.
 
Sơn perceived this with absolute clarity; it was as if a veil of mist obscuring the eyes of his soul had suddenly vanished, leaving behind a blinding flash of light. Love originated from deep within him, yet Sơn also distinctly perceived it as an external entity—something that surged in from the outside, crashing down upon him to envelop and utterly possess him. Was love, then, something mystical—flickering, elusive, and shifting—waiting for a specific time and place to suddenly reveal itself and make its grand entrance? There had been no warning, no sign to foretell precisely where or when love would suddenly descend upon him. Like a thief. Like a tsunami on a clear, cloudless day. Like a quagmire suddenly appearing upon a granite floor.

Sơn no longer understood. The Miriam of the past was, to him, merely a beautiful woman—attractive, certainly, but no different from the countless other beautiful women in this world. He had viewed Miriam simply as the beautiful, foreign wife of a friend. Nothing more. Sơn could never have imagined that love would come to him in the form of a woman like Miriam. He had always believed he could only ever love a Vietnamese woman—one who embodied, in both appearance and spirit, the very essence of his homeland.

Sơn was not a zealot, yet he could neither fully accept nor truly adapt to the lifestyle, customs, perspectives, and mindsets of the West. He knew, deep down, that he remained—purely and simply—a Vietnamese man living the life of a refugee in this foreign land. He sought only to integrate into the life of this country, never to assimilate completely. And so, Sơn was truly astonished when love came to him in such a strange manner—running completely counter to his expectations, at odds with his innermost feelings, and betraying everything he had once held as absolute truth regarding the nature of men and women, of Vietnamese and Americans, and of the refugee existence in this land of temporary refuge.

Could it be, then, that love is a matter of destiny? Sơn still refused to believe it; indeed, he loathed the very concept of destiny. On this point, he and Lữ were in perfect accord. Destiny, they believed, was a fabrication of weak, fearful souls—minds all too ready to surrender. Destiny had no place in the lives Sơn and Lữ had lived back in Vietnam—lives spent in constant, inseparable proximity to death, every second of every minute. For destiny, to them, was synonymous with failure, with injury, and with death itself.
 
Was there ever such a thing as a happy destiny? A bright and radiant destiny? No—there was only the destiny of suffering, of loss, and of mortality. Sơn refused—he would never bring himself to believe in destiny. He considered this ingrained belief, characteristic of the Asian people, to be their greatest flaw—the very cause of the vast disparity between the progress of the West and the backwardness of the East.

Yet, Sơn immediately perceived the contradiction within himself. He held an absolute faith in the reality of love. And the most plausible explanation for the very existence of love was destiny—that very concept he disbelieved and rejected. How, then, could he explain the sudden arrival of the love he felt for Miriam—something he had neither anticipated nor believed possible?
 
Indeed, he could not even explain how love could have come to him at all. He had grown convinced that love would never visit him again—not with each passing day, as his years accumulated, as his thoughts grew ever more profound, and as his view of life became increasingly clouded. Love, it seemed, came easily to the young and the innocent; yet, it had chosen to alight upon a soul as parched as his own. Was that not, perhaps, the most astonishing and magnificent wonder of all?

 
Chapter 23
 
Lữ looked over the financial statements detailing the cash flow of VietCal Investment, L.P.’s various holdings, and he smiled with satisfaction. The partnership between himself, Uyên, and Triệu Tôn was growing stronger by the day; every single investment venture had exceeded expectations.
 
In less than a year, the value of the Bolsa shopping center had more than doubled. He had leveraged the equity in the shopping center to secure a bank loan for an investment in a 120-unit apartment complex in Garden Grove. This time, the bank approved his loan immediately, without a single hitch. He hadn't needed to ask Miriam to pledge her assets as collateral as he had the last time—a fact that gave him a quiet sense of pride when he shared the news of his latest business venture with her.
 
Miriam simply looked at him and said, her voice soft:

"You’ve become a wealthy man now, Lữ."

Lữ looked back at her. Was there a hint of coldness—perhaps even a touch of bitterness—in her words? Lữ couldn't be sure, but he didn't dwell on it much. Success had intoxicated him like fine wine; whether Miriam approved or not—what did that matter? Lữ replied:

"I’m still not as rich as you are!"

Miriam stared at Lữ for a long moment. *Why must you use me as a benchmark for competition? What is the point of accumulating even more wealth? And what of our life together as husband and wife? Do you even realize how far apart we’ve drifted?* These were the words she longed to scream at Lữ. But she knew it would be futile. Instead, Miriam simply offered a faint smile and walked into the inner rooms of the house.

Lữ watched her go, but he immediately dismissed the thought of her, turning his attention elsewhere. He had far more pressing matters to occupy his mind. And making money—piles of money—had become an all-consuming obsession for Lữ. Why should he waste his time fretting over his wife’s inexplicable discontent?

Lữ had come to realize one thing: To get rich in this society, you needed momentum. The hardest part is earning your first hundred thousand. After that, it becomes much easier to become a well-off, prosperous individual. Of course, true wealth requires much higher figures. And Lữ believed that the most difficult milestone on the path to great wealth was the first million.
 
He had set himself a specific timeframe to reach this level: exactly one year from the day he signed the papers to purchase the Bolsa shopping center. Uyên had been instrumental in assisting him with his business ventures. The real estate market in California had never been as booming as it was during this period; for rapid wealth accumulation, nothing beat having the capital to invest—at precisely the right time and in the right location—in commercial real estate. Just a few months after the Bolsa shopping center was operating smoothly and its equity value had appreciated significantly, Uyên said to Lữ:

"I know of an apartment complex that just went up for sale. It’s a beautiful, upscale property—almost entirely leased out to white tenants. The only drawback is its size: 120 units. They’re asking for $10 million, but I think we could probably acquire it for $9.5 million."

Lữ replied:

"Have you looked into it thoroughly? I’m not usually keen on investing in apartment complexes, but if the price is a bargain and the property is solid, I’ll go with Sơn to check it out."

He tasked Sơn with evaluating the location, the demographic makeup of the current tenants—specifically how many were employees of nearby factories and their ethnic backgrounds. He instructed Sơn not to overlook a single detail, no matter how trivial, in order to accurately assess the property's true value and its potential profitability should he decide to invest in acquiring it.

Sơn spent a full week conducting his research. He compiled a comprehensive, detailed report for the partnership. Handing it over to Lữ, he offered a concise assessment:

"I think this property is sound; it’s worth buying. How do you plan to finance it?"

Lữ replied:

"I can handle that. The equity we’ve built up in the Bolsa property is sufficient collateral for a bank loan. We might just have to get Triệu Tôn to put up a little more cash for the down payment. Hey, Sơn!" "Take a good look at those Hong Kong Chinese backing up Trieu Ton. Down the road, who knows—we might end up dealing directly with them, cutting this devilish middleman out of the picture entirely!"

In the end, Lữ successfully purchased the apartment complex for $9.6 million. Given the skyrocketing real estate prices in Orange County, Uyên assured him that within a year, they could easily flip the property for a cool $12 million. Lữ chuckled:

"You make it sound so easy! I certainly hope it turns out just like you say. But we still have to be cautious. I don't think housing prices here can keep rising forever. Even the most inflated bubble has to burst eventually. We’ll get out before that happens. I’m not going to wait until prices hit the levels you’re predicting. The moment we’ve cleared a profit of one million, we’re selling—immediately!"
 
Uyên laughed:

"You’re just worrying over nothing! I think housing prices still have a long way to go before they peak. Look at all the Hong Kong and Taiwanese investors pouring their capital over here to snap up homes and land. With people flocking to California in such massive waves, housing prices can only go up; they certainly won't be coming down anytime soon!"

Lữ grew pensive:

"You can't be quite so optimistic. Everything has its limits. I’ve been keeping a very close eye on the local construction industry. The moment you see the price of an older home climb higher than that of a brand-new, comparable property, that’s when you know you need to be careful. I certainly won't be waiting around until things reach that point!"
 
Uyên threw her arms around Lữ 's neck:

"Oh, forget about that for now! We’ve successfully bought this apartment complex—so what kind of reward are you going to give me?"

Lữ smiled but remained silent. He knew Uyên’s nature all too well. And lately, she had become increasingly amorous, making ever-greater demands of him. Nothing made her cheeks flush crimson—or made her body heat radiate with the intensity of a blazing fire—quite like the thrill of making money and amassing wealth.
 
He had already booked a hotel suite for the day of the closing to celebrate with Uyên—and had arranged for room service to deliver their most expensive bottle of Dom Pérignon. What could be better in life than becoming wealthy?

 
What could life offer that is better than achieving wealth and having a passionate lover—a woman consumed by a burning desire that offers the ultimate stimulation—like Uyên, standing right before him now? Lữ gazed at her through his glass of shimmering golden champagne. Uyên’s eyes were wide and glistening. Her lips parted slightly, full and moist. Lữ could hold back no longer. He set his glass down, swept her up into his arms, and carried her into the inner room.
 
The bedroom of the penthouse suite—vast and sprawling atop the hotel’s highest peak—looked down upon the city of Los Angeles, a metropolis ablaze with lights like falling stars, radiant as a paradise consecrated to the twin deities of wealth and desire.

° ° °

Lữ watched Triệu Tôn, who sat dwarfed within the tall, deep leather armchair facing his desk, and found himself genuinely surprised by his own patience. Triệu Tôn continued to haggle over his share of the quarterly profits, whining incessantly:

"Are you absolutely sure the books are accurate? This quarter it’s only fifty thousand—that’s over eight thousand less than three months ago. I thought our cash flow had increased significantly! Why haven't the profits gone up? Why have they actually gone down?"

Lữ retorted angrily:

"If you don't believe me, go ahead and check the books yourself! Have you forgotten that this quarter we had to pay more than double our usual estimated taxes to avoid penalties at year-end? And then there were the expenses for our investment in that spring roll company. The fact that there’s any profit left at all is impressive enough as it is!"

Lữ looked Triệu Tôn straight in his beady eyes and growled:

"Listen here, Triệu Tôn! You need to remember that in this partnership, I am the general partner; the entire investment operation is managed by Uyên and me. You merely chipped in a paltry sum at the start; the profits you’ve earned so far—relative to the capital you actually contributed—are already far more than you deserve!"


Triệu Tôn looked crestfallen and spoke in a strained whisper:

"I was only asking for clarification—why get so worked up over nothing? Fine, I’m leaving! Please give my regards to Uyên."

Lữ watched as Triệu Tôn trudged forlornly out of the room. He shook his head in exasperation. This Sino-Vietnamese fellow was a constant source of annoyance for Lữ. Yet, the initial phase of the business venture between him and Uyên required his capital. Lữ had made inquiries about Triệu Tôn immediately after deciding with Uyên to bring him in as a partner.

Triệu Tôn was born and raised in Vĩnh Long, the son of a Chinese father and a Vietnamese mother. At the age of twelve, he went to work for an uncle who owned a small eatery in Chợ Lớn. Triệu Tôn had to rise early and stay up late—steaming *bánh bao* and rolling *wonton* dumplings, waiting tables, scrubbing floors, and tidying up. He did it all, yet still found the time to carry his books to school.
 
He was shrewd enough to realize that if he wanted to escape his uncle's exploitation, he needed at least a modicum of education. However, Triệu Tôn studied only just enough. He dropped out of school after finishing the tenth grade to focus on business. Making money and getting rich in Vietnam didn't require excessive schooling, and he didn't want to waste any more time.

At seventeen, Triệu Tôn received capital assistance from the Teochew Guild to open an eatery of his own. He demonstrated his gift of the gab, convincing the Guild Master that he possessed the talent to manage a restaurant and would need only two years to repay the Guild the entire principal plus interest.
 
Triệu Tôn’s business flourished immediately, and he kept his promise to the Guild Master. The issue of military conscription cost him a considerable sum to procure a permanent exemption, but to Triệu Tôn, it was merely another business expense. It was also through his search for avenues to offer bribes and buy his way out of military service that Triệu Tôn discovered the intrinsic link between power, corruption, and the accumulation of wealth.

During the final years of the war in the South, Triệu Tôn established a highly effective network for fixing draft exemptions for young men seeking to evade conscription—particularly for ethnic Chinese like himself. Triệu Tôn’s network involved, for the most part, the wives of generals in Saigon, as well as a number of regional commanders. Furthermore, he became deeply involved in organizing smuggling operations on behalf of the highest-ranking general’s wife in the South.
 
Money flowed into his coffers like water, and by the age of twenty-three, Triệu Tôn had already amassed a considerable fortune. The longer the war dragged on, the more money Triệu Tôn made. His only wish was for the status quo to persist, allowing him to continue serving the generals' wives—enriching both them and himself in the process.

Triệu Tôn felt that April 30, 1975, had arrived far too soon; nevertheless, he decided to stay behind. Triệu Tôn reasoned that, given his talents, establishing connections with corrupt Communist officials was merely a matter of time, and that everything would eventually fall back into place. However, he failed to anticipate the border war that would erupt between Communist Vietnam and Communist China.
 
Anti-ethnic Chinese sentiment surged to an alarming level, and Triệu Tôn was forced to seek a way to flee. He left all his assets behind, though he did manage to escape with over three hundred taels of gold. Upon resettling in California, he immediately set about rebuilding his fortune, eventually opening a small grocery store in Santa Ana. Uyên came to know him through her frequent visits to this very market.

On that particular day, she scoured the entire store in search of a specific brand of shark fin soup—a favorite of hers and Vấn’s—but could not find it anywhere. A short, pot-bellied man approached her; wearing a smile of pure commercial eagerness that caused his already-narrow eyes to vanish into slits, he asked:

"What are you looking for? Let me find it for you. I’m the owner of this shop!"

She replied, telling him exactly what item she was trying to locate. He leaned over, pointing toward a corner of the shelf where a stack of boxes lay obscured beneath a pile of rice crackers. Uyên clearly saw him flare his nostrils to inhale her scent, and his eyes suddenly glazed over. She chuckled inwardly. Yet another fool! Uyên was well accustomed to such scenes. It seemed she possessed a natural allure for cunning market proprietors—particularly those who, like this fellow, bore the physical resemblance of a boar.
 
He followed her relentlessly, attempting to flirt with her right from the start. Although Uyên had no fondness for him, she responded to his advances cheerfully. Experience had taught her that rogues and scoundrels—like the Triệu Tôn who was now dogging her every step—were precisely the sort of men most willing to part with their money for the sake of a woman.
 
Such men might not hesitate to swindle a single penny from the poor if the opportunity arose, yet they would readily squander thousands of dollars just to court a beautiful woman like her—even if it amounted to nothing more than empty flattery! After sharing a few meals together, Uyên successfully sold Triệu Tôn a house valued at over three hundred thousand dollars, and in doing so, she discovered that he possessed a vast fortune.

Not all of that money, however, belonged to Triệu Tôn personally. He confided in her that the bulk of his capital consisted of investment funds provided by a group of brokers based in Hong Kong. This group was seeking to transfer their assets and invest them within the United States. Triệu Tôn explained to Uyên that these associates trusted him implicitly to manage their funds, entitling him to a commission on any profits generated. He asked her to keep an eye out for any lucrative investment opportunities, suggesting she bring him in so they could share the benefits. On a more personal level, he also simply wanted to get closer to her—hoping, perhaps, that one day he might even get to sleep with her!