Chapter 17 — The Chorus of Those Out of Rhythm

Two weeks of Bao Quoc's request to the board of directors are about to pass, and he still has not found a truly feasible solution. He asked the company's legal and architectural team to research many different options — adjusting the project design to retain part of the area for the cultural house, finding an alternative location in the neighborhood, or even proposing that the company sponsor the construction of another facility for the choir. But each plan faces obstacles in terms of cost, legal feasibility, or opposition from the company's major shareholders.

"The plan to retain part of the area will reduce the commercial floor area by twenty percent, directly affecting expected revenue," the head of finance department presented in a separate meeting with Bao Quoc. "As for the plan to build a new location, it will incur costs that are not in the original budget, and I'm afraid the board will not agree easily."

Bao Quoc sat still, gently rubbing his temples, the feeling of deadlock increasingly weighing on his shoulders. He knew he was standing between two imperfect choices — either continue with the original plan and lose a part of himself that he had gradually regained over the past weeks, or find a way to protect the cultural house but face fierce opposition from the people who hold power in the company he worked so hard to build.

That evening, he stayed in the office very late, alone in front of the project planning drawings spread out on the table. He looked at the area marking the location of Phuong Vu Cultural House, now just a red square representing the area that would be flattened to build an underground parking lot for the commercial complex.

He opened the drawer, took out the wooden box containing his mother's mementos, and placed the old photo next to the planning drawing, as a way to remind himself of the real reason why he hesitated for the past two weeks. He remembered what Mrs. Chin Thoa said in practice the previous day — about the small moments that make life meaningful, about how her son was busy with work but still understood and forgiven by her. He wondered if his daughter, and himself in his remaining years, deserved to live with such meaningful moments, instead of just chasing soulless profit numbers.

His phone vibrated. Ha Uyen called.

"Dad," her voice said, filled with worry. "I heard that the two weeks you asked for the council are almost over. Have you decided anything yet?"

"I'm still trying to find a solution," Bao Quoc replied, his voice tired. "But everything is more complicated than I thought, son. It's not as simple as I just need to change my mind."

"I know business is complicated, I don't expect you to have an answer right away," Ha Uyen said, her voice steady. "But do you remember what you told me that day at home? You said you wouldn't make any decisions without thinking carefully. I believe you will find a way, because I know in your heart, you no longer want to destroy that place, right?"

Bao Quoc was silent for a long time, looking at the drawing in front of him. "Yes," he admitted finally, his voice low, as if a weight had been lifted from him that he had been carrying for weeks. "I no longer want to destroy it. But I also don't want to affect the hundreds of employees who depend on the success of this project, and don't want to break the commitments I made to investment partners."

"Then you need to find a third way," Ha Uyen said. "I don't know much about business, but I believe that if you really want it, you will find a way so that both sides don't have to lose everything."

The call ended, but his daughter's words kept echoing in Bao Quoc's head. He looked at the drawing again, and this time, instead of just looking at the numbers, he started looking at the whole picture — the location of the cultural house is in a hidden corner of the land, not the most prime location for main commercial items. A vague idea began to form in his mind.

***

The next morning, Bao Quoc convened an emergency meeting with the architectural team, asking them to research the possibility of adjusting the entire project layout - not by cutting the commercial area like the previous plan, but by restructuring the location of items, moving the underground parking lot expected to be located under the cultural house area to another location in the land, and at the same time maintaining or renovating the old building itself to become a part of the project, as a community space attached to the complex. new trade deal.

"This will be a different highlight for the project," he explained to the architectural team, his voice gradually regaining the confidence of someone who has found a direction. "Instead of just a purely commercial complex, we can turn it into a project that combines modernity and conservation, retaining part of the memory of the old neighborhood. That not only has social significance, but can also become a positive media attraction for the company."

The head of the architectural department, initially skeptical, was gradually convinced when he saw the potential of the idea. "We will need about a week to complete the adjusted drawings and recalculate costs," he said. "But technically, I think this is a viable option."

A young member of the architectural team, who rarely spoke up in meetings, suddenly raised his hand to speak. "I think this is a really good idea, Mr. Quoc. The current trend of sustainable urban development is increasingly focusing on preserving cultural heritage combined with modern development. If done well, this project can become a model highly appreciated by the press and experts, bringing long-term brand value to the company, not just immediate profits."

Bao Quoc nodded, grateful for that unexpected support. "Thank you for sharing that perspective. That's the same argument I plan to present to the board."

The meeting ended with a much more optimistic atmosphere than the previous tense meetings, and Bao Quoc left the meeting room with a new file that was gradually taking shape, carrying the hope that he could find common ground between business interests and the values he had learned to appreciate over the past few weeks.

Bao Quoc nodded, feeling relief for the first time after many stressful weeks. But he also knows, this is just the first step. He still has to convince the board of directors, convincing major shareholders, who may not easily accept a change that reduces expected profits, even by a small degree.

That afternoon, he called Ha Uyen, his voice had a rare excitement. "I think I've found a possible way forward," he said. "Not completely sure yet, but at least I have something concrete to present to the board."

"Really? Dad, tell me!" Ha Uyen shouted, her voice full of hope.

Bao Quoc briefly explained the idea of restructuring the project, retaining the cultural house as part of the new complex. Ha Uyen listened, and when he finished speaking, she was silent for a moment, then burst into tears on the phone, tears of joy and pride mixed together.

"I'm proud of you, Dad," she said, her voice choked up. "I know this is not an easy decision, but I believe you made the right choice."

"I'm still not sure of success," Bao Quoc reminded, although his voice could not hide his hope. "The board of directors may object strongly. But dad will do his best to protect this plan."

"I believe you can do it," Ha Uyen said. "And no matter the outcome, I want you to know that I have started to look at you with a different respect than before."

Those words made Bao Quoc choke, emotions welled up in his chest in a way that business work over the years had never brought. He hung up the phone, looked back at the drawing in front of him with a new determination, knowing that although the road ahead was still full of challenges, he would not turn back again.

The road ahead is still full of thorns, but for the first time, he feels he is on the right track, a direction that both his deceased mother and his living daughter can be proud of, and that, to him right now, is more valuable than any profit number on a financial statement.