Chapter 2 — Wind and Snow Falling, Ancient People Return

Call Amidst the Mist

The call to the phone number printed on the business card took nearly ten minutes before someone picked up. Diep Khanh stood in the corner of the backyard, one hand holding the phone, the other hand unconsciously twisting the hem of her sweater, while Lam Tuyen stood next to him, his ear pressed close to the other side of the phone to listen together.

"Van Hoa Highlands please listen." The voice of a switchboard operator was flat and lacking emotion.

"Hello, I am Diep Khanh, owner of Diep Suong shop, would like to meet Mr. Cung Vinh Vuong to ask about this month's bill." She tried to keep her voice as calm as possible, even though her heart was still beating fast.

"Yes, please wait." There was a long silence, interspersed with the buzzing music coming from the phone speaker. Then a deep, somewhat urgent male voice rang out.

"Hello, I'm Vuong. Is that Ms. Diep Khanh?"

"Yes, I'm calling to ask about this month's invoice that I just received. There are some items that I find do not match the actual delivery, and there are also additional fees that were not included in the original contract."

The other end of the line was silent for a few seconds, long enough for Diep Khanh to feel the hesitation therein. "Mrs. Khanh, there must be some data error from the accounting side. Let me check again and get back to you later."

"Mr. Vuong, I need a clearer answer than that." Diep Khanh tightened her grip on the phone. "The difference in amount is not small, nearly one and a half times more than every month. If it is a mistake, I hope it will be adjusted immediately, but if not, I need to know the specific reason."

"Don't worry, we will handle it properly." The man's voice was interrupted somewhat hastily. "Okay, I'm busy in a meeting, let the accountant contact you later."

The call ended abruptly, leaving a steady beeping sound in the quiet space of the backyard. Diep Khanh lowered the phone, looked at Lam Tuyen, both of them said nothing for a moment.

She stood still, looking down at her slightly shaking hands, trying to imagine the voice of the man named Vuong just now. There was something about the way he answered that chilled the back of her neck, a feeling more uncomfortable than the difference in numbers on the bill. A person who ran a decent company, when questioned by customers about financial errors, should show diligence and be ready to explain clearly. But here, there was only avoidance, roundabout answered deliberately prolonging time.

"How about I try to find out if that company has ever had anyone complain about it?" Lam Tuyen suggested, took out his phone to search online, but only received a few sketchy results, a company introduction page with pictures of beautiful flower gardens, without any reviews or feedback from old customers. "It's strange, the company has been doing business for a whole year without leaving almost any trace online."

"Sometimes they intentionally withhold information." Diep Khanh said, her voice lowered. "Or sometimes, customers who have had the same problem as me have chosen to solve it silently, not wanting to make it public for fear of causing trouble."

"Hearing this kind of answer is a real problem." Lam Tuyen shook his head. "Normally, the company does business properly. When customers ask, they have to explain each item in detail, but they don't just let it go like that."

Diep Khanh didn't have time to answer when a customer entered the shop, a young couple came to order flowers for a weekend engagement. She had to put aside her worries, put on her familiar professional smile, and lead guests to see the wedding flower samples on display. But in my heart, the numbers on the bill still lingered endlessly, like a gray cloud quietly covering the otherwise clear morning.

That afternoon, while Diep Khanh was watering the wildflower yard behind her, her phone rang again, this time it was an unfamiliar number. She picked up the phone, and on the other end of the line was a cold female voice, claiming to be the legal representative of Van Hoa Cao Nguyen.

"Hello Ms. Diep Khanh, I'm calling to inform you that according to the contract you signed, if you do not pay in full within seven days, our company has the right to apply the mortgage clause stated in the contract." The woman's voice read as if reading prepared text, without any hesitation.

"What mortgage? I don't remember this clause in the contract." Diep Khanh was stunned, his hand holding the watering hose dropped, water flowing out onto the stone walkway.

"Please review appendix two of the contract, clause twelve, section three. In case the buyer delays payment beyond the prescribed time limit, the seller has the right to request the court to allow the disposal of the mortgaged assets recorded in the security clause, specifically real estate at the buyer's business registration address."

Diep Khanh heard his ears ringing, the whole shop seemed to tilt. She vaguely remembered a long contract addendum that she signed more than a year ago, while the shop was in turmoil due to lack of flower supply. At that time, she only skimmed the main terms on price and delivery time, trusting the recommendation of an acquaintance, but did not expect that it contained such a serious clause.

"I... I need to review the original contract before answering you." Her voice trembled uncontrollably.

"Okay, you have seven days. After that time, if there is no satisfactory response, we will be forced to take the necessary legal steps." After the woman finished speaking, she hung up the phone without waiting for Diep Khanh to react further.

She stood rooted to the middle of the yard, the faucet still running, soaking the hem of her pants. Her mind went blank for a few seconds, then images of her mother appeared, images of the flower shop in the first days she opened, images of her entire childhood growing up amid the smell of flowers and the sound of scissors cutting branches. If the store was squeezed, she would lose everything — not just her livelihood, but the only place that still kept her mother's breath alive.

Lam Tuyen ran out when she heard the unusual sound of running water. Seeing her friend standing in the middle of the yard, she quickly turned off the faucet and pulled Diep Khanh into the house to dry her limbs.

"Who's calling, your face is so pale?"

Diep Khanh recounted the entire call, her voice broken because she was still shocked. After hearing this, Lam Tuyen's face also darkened, but she tried to stay calm to reassure her friend.

"Seven days is not short, I still have time to find a way. First I have to find the original contract, read each clause carefully, then find someone knowledgeable in the law to advise. Do you remember Viet Bang, my law classmate in college, now working as a lawyer in an office near the market."

That name made Diep Khanh suddenly remember a small ray of hope. Duong Viet Bang, a classmate in the same project group, graduated last year, later studied law and opened his own office. She nodded, trying to regain some composure.

"Yes, let me contact Bang to see. But first I have to find the original contract, it's probably still in my mother's filing cabinet."

That evening, after closing the shop, Diep Khanh stayed alone, rummaging through an old filing cabinet placed in the back corner of the warehouse, where important documents of the shop were kept from when her mother was still alive. The yellow light of the table lamp reflected the stacks of time-stained paper, the smell of old paper mixed with the characteristic musty smell of rarely opened drawers. She found the contract in a blue folder, just as she remembered, thick with dozens of pages of appendices.

She sat down on the warehouse floor, under the only bright light, turning each page slowly, carefully reading each tiny line of text that she had previously overlooked. The more she read, the more she realized she was too hasty when signing this contract. The clause on property mortgage was mixed in with a series of other clauses on flower quality warranty and complaint procedures, written in complicated legal language, easy for readers to miss if they were not really paying attention.

Outside, the wind began to blow stronger, passing through the warehouse door, making a small hissing sound. Da Lat is always cold at night, but tonight the cold seemed to penetrate deeper, not only because of the temperature, but because of the anxiety surrounding her heart. Diep Khanh hugged her knees, leaned her back against the filing cabinet, looking out at the dark yard behind the shop, where pots of wildflowers were curled up in the night dew.

She remembered what her mother often told her when she had difficulty at work: "Don't be afraid when it's dark, only afraid when you forget you still have a light in your hand." Diep Khanh smiled sadly, reaching out to touch the flower recipe book placed next to her, as if looking for a little warmth from her mother's remaining mementos.

She knew she couldn't let the flower shop fall into the hands of scammers hiding behind a contract full of traps. But she also understood that it would be difficult for her alone to deal with a company that seemed to have carefully prepared in advance, setting traps step by step to push her into a position with no way out.

She turned to the last page of the recipe book, where her mother left a few scattered notes about how to manage the books, about always keeping every receipt, every transaction document, no matter how small. "A good businessman is not afraid of anyone checking his books, he is only afraid of not taking careful notes." Diep Khanh reread those words, feeling like her mother was indirectly reminding her from a far away place, that caution is never redundant in business, even when selling beautiful things like fresh flowers.

She opened the bottom drawer of the cashier counter, took out an old tin box filled with invoices and delivery receipts, which she carefully kept according to her mother's habit, although sometimes she wondered if it was necessary to be so meticulous. Now, that seemingly cumbersome habit had become the only weapon that gave her a basis to confront the supplier.

That night, Diep Khanh stayed up until dawn, taking note of every suspicious clause in the contract, carefully comparing it with every receipt in the tin box, mentally preparing for a legal battle that she had a hunch would not be simple, although she could not have imagined that the person who would accompany her in that battle would be the person she thought she would never meet again in her life.

The next morning, when she rolled up the shop's door in the thick fog as usual, Diep Khanh did not know that just a few streets away, a pickup truck loaded with planning drawings had just stopped in front of the construction site on Xuan Huong Street, and the person stepping down from that vehicle, wearing an ash-gray dinner jacket, was the person named Ton Bach Du.