The building rose like a tightly closed lotus bud, standing proud in the heart of a city that seemed to be gasping for breath. Its glass panels reflected the misty sky, making it look as if it had just stepped out of a dream—a dream not belonging to any one person, but shared by millions from rural towns who once gazed up at the city with starry eyes.
Cún stood before the building.
Small. Anxious. Silent.
It had only been two days since she stepped off the plane at Tân Sơn Nhất Airport, carrying two heavy suitcases, a bachelor’s degree, and the belief that she would build a career here. She couldn’t hide her nervous excitement. Everything was so new. She had only just moved to this city—where the sound of motorbikes hummed like ocean waves and the locals spoke with that sweet, unmistakable Saigonese accent. Even ordering a bowl of phở in the morning required her to listen carefully just to understand the friendly vendor.
Everything was too fast.
Too big.
Too different.
But Cún was ready for a new journey.
Saigon had an irresistible charm.
This building was one of the most luxurious Grade A offices in the city. The people walking in and out looked sharp and intelligent—well-groomed and seemingly always in a hurry for some important meeting. No one looked at her. No one noticed the young woman standing quietly by the walkway, her heart still racing. But Cún observed them—carefully, curiously—as if trying to memorize each stride, every hairstyle, every pair of shoes, every sporty watch.
One day I’ll be one of them, she told herself.
One day, I’ll be waiting for this elevator each morning, having lunch among these brilliant young professionals, speaking in technical jargon, and living a life that feels… grown-up.
A soft ding—the elevator arrived.
Cún stepped in, forced herself to stand tall, and took a deep breath.
Don’t let them see you’re new. Don’t tremble.
Don’t let your dream feel like a lost detour.
The elevator opened onto a quiet floor. No noise. No rush. The office around her was calm and refined. This was a different world—the office of an international law firm, where she had applied for an internship.
This place didn’t need to shout to show its class.
Everything was said in the details: a pot of purple orchids beside the reception desk, like a proud exclamation mark; the counter polished and spotless, shiny enough to reflect her face; a TV quietly playing CNN with updates on the European stock market. The air was filled with a gentle scent—part tea, part fresh paper—that made her feel both at ease and slightly out of place.
This wasn’t Chicago.
This wasn’t New York.
This was Saigon.
It was real.
A place where the river still flowed quietly beneath this very building.
A man stepped out. Tall, brown-haired, polite but not cold—probably the HR officer. He looked at her and gave a small smile.
“This is your first-round test. Do you have a pen with you?”
“You’ll have three hours. I’ll be back at 11 AM. Just take your time and do your best.”
Cún nodded.
No time to tremble. No time for fear.
Only one thing left to do:
Sit down, and begin.
On the table was a printed sheet with three questions.
No introduction. No explanations.
Each question felt like a door leading to a new challenge.
Question 1: Propose a solution to a commercial dispute.
Question 2: What are the types of companies? Compare their pros and cons, and analyze types of preferred shares.
Question 3: What do you know about Vietnam’s signed free trade agreements? How is the Most-Favored-Nation principle understood under the WTO?
Cún glanced at the blank pages beside her. Then looked at the blue ballpoint pen she had just pulled from her bag pocket.
No internet.
No textbooks.
No whispered hints.
Just a test—but to her, it was a threshold.
On one side was the past.
On the other—something unknown, but vast.
She tightened her grip on the pen.
Her heart beat faster, but her mind had begun to steady itself.
No room for hesitation.
No way back.
Just write, Cún.
This isn’t the time to dream.
This is the time to start living the dream.
And that was Cún’s very first interview— at the big law firm she had once quietly dreamed of.
“Cún’s First Day”
– A Morning in August, 2012 –
