Chapter 24 — Forty Billion And People Only Ask For A Kitchen

Five years after I bought the lottery ticket, Nha Khang Kitchen opened its fifth branch.

Minh Khang stood in front of the pot of broth, his hair had a few gray strands. He still tasted each spoonful, still adjusted the heat by hand, and still didn't let anyone say the sour soup lacked tamarind.

Moc Bep has a vocational training fund for women who have lost their jobs. Thao is in charge of training, Ngoc Han is in charge of recruiting and taking care of employees. She paid off her debt, and Duc Tai opened a small theater workshop with the money he had saved. The two of them are not rich, but they no longer stand in front of anyone's door asking for help.

Mrs. Huong sat in the corner of the shop, wearing a pair of silver earrings Ngoc Han bought with her first month's salary. She no longer asked for my account. She just asked if the customer's food was good today.

My daughter ran through the kitchen door, holding a small cake. Minh Khang pretended to be angry:

“The cake belongs to your mother, the rice belongs to your father.”

The girl smiled and gave him a piece.

“Dad eat together.”

He accepted, then turned to look at me.

“Were you scared that day?”

"Scared."

“Afraid of losing money?”

“Afraid of not being able to see who is sincere.”

He was silent for a while.

“So do you see it now?”

I looked at Thao instructing a new employee, Ngoc Han handling error orders, Mrs. Huong reminding customers to get more vegetables, and Minh Khang standing next to his pot of broth.

"Already."

That year's lottery ticket got me out of a job I no longer wanted to keep. It gave me money, but didn't give me answers. The answer comes from how each person behaves when they think I have nothing left, and how they change when they know I have everything.

I used to think I needed forty billion so I wouldn't be forced by anyone. Later I understood, money only opens the door. Whether a person passes or not depends on whether they have the courage to take responsibility for their own life.

Minh Khang still only asked for a kitchen. I gave you a kitchen, then you built four more.

That's why the largest amount of money I've ever received was not 38 billion in my account, but the words of a man who only had twenty million in savings but still held my hand the day I was empty-handed:

"It's okay. I'll take care of you."

Many years later, I still remember that sentence. Not because he really had to support me, but because when he had nothing to give, he still chose to stand next to me.

And people like that are worth more than any number on the ticket.