Chapter 16: Chapter 16 Loan denied — Where the Sun Returns

The Agricultural Bank branch in Đá Bàn town is located modestly in a row of two-story houses painted in light yellow, opposite the central market. Miên and Phong arrived early, with a thick set of documents in hand: Mrs. Tám's red book, a statement of online sales for the past six months, and even photos of the organic farming process that Miên painstakingly printed in color to illustrate their business model.

They waited for nearly an hour on rows of hard plastic chairs, observing the bustling flow of people coming in and out to borrow money to buy cars, repair houses, and invest in livestock. Miên tightened her grip on the file in her heart, her heart pounding no less than the presentation in front of the largest customer panel she had ever experienced at her old company.

When it was their turn, they were invited into the office of Mr. Khanh, the credit officer in charge of the area. Mr. Khanh is quite young, wears thick glasses, carefully turns each file page with a serious expression.

"We want to borrow 150 million to expand and reinvest after the flood," Mr. Khanh tapped his pen on the table, his voice professional but somewhat reserved. "I took a look at the revenue report, the numbers are quite impressive considering the size of a small farm. But there are a few issues I need to discuss frankly."

"Just say it," Phong replied, his voice was calm but his eyes couldn't hide the tension.

"First, the red book is in Ms. Tám's name, not yours. Legally, we need her to directly sign the mortgage authorization, and with her age, the bank will have to further assess her civil capacity, which takes more time," Mr. Khanh explained. "Second, your organic agriculture model, to be honest, is still too new in this area. Our bank has a set of risk assessment criteria based on historical data of traditional farming models. Your model does not have enough data over many seasons to prove its stability, especially after just experiencing a flood that caused heavy damage."

Miên bit her lip, trying to stay calm. "But our revenue is still growing steadily, which you can clearly see in the statement."

"I understand, and I personally appreciate what you are doing," Mr. Khanh looked at Miên, his eyes were a bit genuinely guilty. "But the final decision depends on the appraisal council in the province. With the recent flood damage report, there is a high possibility that your application will be classified as high risk, the interest rate will be pushed up, or worse, it will be rejected outright. I advise you to wait one or two more seasons to have more stable data, the loan application will then be much more convincing."

Mr. Khanh's polite but straightforward words were like a bucket of cold water pouring directly into both of their hopes. Waiting for one or two more crops means they will completely miss this year's ideal planting time, which means Mộc Trại will have to operate at a leisurely pace, downsize, and risk losing the entire loyal customer base they have built.

Mr. Khanh saw them out the door, lowered his voice and added one more sentence as sincere advice outside the scope of work: "Don't be discouraged. I see many loan applications every day, but rarely see anyone as thoroughly prepared and dedicated as you. If you have a few more partners to cover long-term products with proper paper contracts, your documents will convince the appraisal board much more. Banks always prefer solid numbers rather than promises." Miên nodded in thanks, although in her heart she thought, finding a long-term sales contract at this time was no less a difficult problem than getting a loan.

They walked out of the bank with a heavy heart. The harsh noon sun shone down on the small street of Đá Bàn town, but both of their hearts felt cold as if they had just stepped out of a hail storm.

"We will find another way," Miên tried to reassure them both, although her voice could not hide the confusion. "I can borrow money from a few acquaintances, or I will try to contact a few partners in the city to see if anyone wants to cooperate and contribute capital."

Phong did not answer, just thoughtfully looking at the flow of people passing by. In his head, the numbers kept spinning endlessly: seed costs, greenhouse rebuild costs, labor costs, all of which needed cash immediately and could not be delayed any longer.

On the way home, when the two stopped for a drink at a roadside restaurant, a middle-aged man wearing a business suit, carrying a shiny leather briefcase, approached their table. He had a polite appearance, a smile always on his lips, but his eyes were sharp as if he were calculating something.

"Excuse me, are you the owner of Mộc Farm, the famous organic farm on the internet recently?" The man politely bowed and pulled out a business card printed with luxurious gilded lettering. "I'm Dat, a market survey representative for a large corporation in Saigon. We are exploring the investment potential in this plateau area, and by chance heard your name."

Miên held the business card and glanced at the words "Việt Xanh Group - Project Development Department". She had never heard of this corporation before, but the luxurious gold-plated logo and the man's neat dress made her guess that this was not a small company.

"We are planning to survey land prices and agricultural potential in the Đá Bàn valley area," Mr. Dat said, his voice was warm but every word was carefully considered. "If you intend to expand or need a financial partner, do not hesitate to contact me. Our group has very strong potential, ready to support potential clean agricultural models like yours."

Phong frowned, a vague but unpleasant premonition rising in his heart. As someone who has worked in a corporate environment, he clearly understands that sweet offers like this are rarely as simple as they seem.

"Thank you, but we are still financially independent," Phong replied, his voice polite but somewhat cautious. "We will consider it if necessary." Mr. Dat did not show disappointment, just smiled and nodded, leaving the business card on the table before leaving, walking leisurely as if he was in no hurry, as if he knew for sure that sooner or later they would have to call back the phone number printed on that business card.

Miên picked up the business card and turned it around in her hand. A vague feeling of insecurity crept into her heart that she couldn't clearly explain. "What do you think about this offer?"

"I don't know," Phong replied honestly, his eyes following the man's back as he disappeared into the traffic. "But big corporations come to small farms like ours not out of simple kindness. Just keep this business card as a backup plan, but don't trust it too quickly." Miên nodded, stuffed the business card into her bag, but in her heart, a question kept lingering: is this the salvation they need, or the beginning of a new storm, even bigger than the flood that just swept through the night of the village festival?

That night, after the two returned home, Miên secretly opened her laptop and typed the name "Việt Xanh Group" into the search box. A series of articles appeared, praising this group as one of the fastest growing real estate businesses combined with agriculture in the South, with ecological urban area projects and high-end resorts stretching from the plains to the highlands. Images on the company's website are sleek and professional, with slogans such as "For a green and sustainable Vietnam" printed boldly on the home page.

She scrolled down to the news section, suddenly stopping when she saw an old article posted half a year ago, listing the list of newly appointed leaders of the corporation. In the list of business development departments in the Central - Central Highlands region, a familiar name caught her eye, making her heart skip a beat: "Nguyễn Thị Thu Hà". Attached is a small portrait photo, a sharp face, familiar cold eyes that Miên cannot forget even in her dreams.

It's Ms. Hà. What year was her former department head at the advertising company?

Miên sat stunned in front of the screen for a long time, the memories of her last night at the old office, of the high-pitched voice on the phone, of the resignation letter she placed on the table, all came rushing back as if it had just happened yesterday. She did not expect that the career path of the person who pushed her to the end would turn to a corporation that intended to set foot on the very land where she was rebuilding her life.

She closed her laptop, her mind a mess. Perhaps this was just a coincidence, and the woman in the photo was just an accidental namesake. But the hunch of someone who had worked in marketing for many years told her that there was no such thing as an accidental coincidence, especially when it involved a corporation that had just sent someone to investigate the land where she was living.