Chapter 20 — Champion Bodyguard of the Female President

Immediately after Luong Khac Viet and To Manh Kha were officially prosecuted with sufficient evidence, Bach Nguyen immediately contacted master Mo Thanh Hac to discuss a plan to prepare an antidote for Mr. Kieu Thanh Nghia. This is the most urgent task at the moment, when the blood toxin, although slow-acting, is still silently causing more damage to his nervous system with each passing day.

"Master has looked up all of the sect's ancient medical books," Mo Thanh Hac said via video call, his face appearing solemn on the phone screen. "As I expected, blood cloud grass exists side by side with a type of restraining herb, called 'white cloud chi' by folk, which also only grows in the high mountain areas near Van Son Mon, but is even rarer than blood cloud grass, usually only blooming at a certain time of the year."

Bach Nguyen tightened his grip on the phone in his hand. "Is it now the season for white clouds to bloom, master?"

Mo Thanh Hac was silent for a beat, long enough for Bach Nguyen's heart to stop beating. "Fortunately, it's near the end of this year's flowering season. But we need to act quickly, because there's only about a week left before the flowering season will end, and we'll have to wait until next year to have a chance to harvest again. And next year, I'm afraid Uncle Nghia won't be able to wait any longer."

Without hesitation, Bach Nguyen and Dinh Phong Vu immediately set out to return to Van Son Mon that night, bringing along Mr. Kieu Thanh Nghia's blood sample so that the elders knowledgeable in the sect's traditional medicine could accurately research the necessary dosage. This journey is more urgent than ever, every hour that passes is vital to the life of the man who has been in a coma for more than three months.

At Van Son Mon, under the direction of Mo Thanh Hac, a group of the most experienced disciples were sent to collect white clouds at the most dangerous cliffs, where this rare flower often grows between crags and cliffs. But on the first day, the whole gathering group had to return empty-handed with a heavy look on their faces - the familiar mountain patch where white clouds once grew the thickest, this year was bare because a landslide in the previous rainy season had washed away most of the humus layer that nourished the flower.

"There's only one other place left," one of the sect's oldest elders said, his voice filled with hesitation as he pointed up a steep cliff so high, the fog was so thick that the top couldn't be seen. "But that is Tuyet Van Nhai, the most dangerous place in this mountain range, even the best disciples of the Van Bo sect rarely dare to venture close, especially when it's about to rain like this."

Without hesitation, Bach Nguyen volunteered to lead the gathering group to Tuyet Van Nhai that afternoon, taking advantage of every remaining hour of light before night and mountain rain descended. The cliff stood up like a giant wall, damp moss covered the small rocks just large enough to place the tip of the toes, the wind blew through the ravine and hissed like an animal roaring. He tightened the protective rope around his waist, his hand gently touched the frayed red thread on his wrist as if it were a habit of finding support, then using Van Bo, he began to move across the cliff with steps as light as drifting clouds, just like what he had practiced for eighteen long years on this very mountain.

Halfway up the cliff, a piece of rock under his feet suddenly crumbled due to long-term rainwater, his whole body swayed in an instant, the deep space below revealed through the thin mist. But the reflexes honed through thousands of times of practice saved him in time - in a moment of free fall in less than a second, he turned around, two fingers tightly grasping a tiny crack in the rock next to him, his whole body hanging in the middle of the cliff, his heart pounding but his breathing still maintaining the familiar rhythm that his master had taught him since he was nine years old. Below, the sounds of the monks' panicked calls rang out, but Bach Nguyen was able to regain his balance and continue climbing, not letting a single moment of death falter his determination.

Finally, in the middle of a narrow rock crevice near the top of Tuyet Van Nhai, he found a patch of white clouds at the end of the season, delicate white petals like smoke still blooming amid the bitter cold of the high mountains, perhaps the last patch of flowers left in the whole mountain area that year. He carefully collected each flower petal, wrapped it carefully in a moisture-proof oilcloth, and then began the journey down the mountain as cautiously as when going up.

After three days of arduous searching amid the harsh weather of the high mountains, the gathering group finally collected the necessary amount of white clouds. The sect's knowledgeable elders immediately began preparing the medicine, combining traditional methods with remote consultation from Dr. Bui Anh Thu to ensure the dosage and method of use were suitable for the patient's current condition.

"This is a recipe that has been passed down through many generations of the sect," an elder explained via video call with Dr. Thu, "but we have never applied it in modern medical conditions like a hospital. Careful coordination between traditional methods and medical supervision is needed to ensure absolute safety for patients."

Doctor Thu, although initially skeptical about the effectiveness of a traditional remedy that has not yet been tested by modern science, but with convincing evidence of the mechanism of action detailed by the elders, and the patient's increasingly dangerous condition without timely intervention, finally agreed to coordinate a trial under the strictest medical supervision.

Five days after leaving Saigon, Bach Nguyen returned carrying a precious dose of antidote carefully prepared and safely packaged in a special preservation box to preserve its medicinal properties. His hands still had scratches from his slip on Tuyet Van Nhai a few days ago. Tue Lam was waiting at the airport, her face was both extremely hopeful and extremely worried when she picked him up, and as soon as she saw the scratch on his hand, she gently squeezed it, without asking anything else, just holding it tighter as if to give him more strength.

"Here it is," Bach Nguyen said, handing the box to her with utmost care. "We need to go straight to the hospital right now."

At the hospital, under the supervision of a specially convened medical board including doctor Thu and several leading neurologists, the first dose of the antidote was carefully introduced into Mr. Kieu Thanh Nghia's body via an intravenous line, at a strictly controlled speed and closely monitoring each vital index.

Tue Lam stood outside the hospital room, holding Bach Nguyen's hand tightly, her heart pounding with each passing second and minute in extreme suspense. "How long will it take to know the results?" Her voice trembled and she couldn't hide it.

"The elders said, if the body responds well to the medicine, the first signs of improvement may appear within twenty-four to forty-eight hours," Bach Nguyen replied, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "We need to wait patiently."

Two days passed in an extremely tense wait, Tue Lam almost did not leave the hospital, only taking a few short hours of sleep on the bench in the hallway. On the afternoon of the third day, when Dr. Thu was periodically checking vital indicators, a miracle happened - Mr. Kieu Thanh Nghia's fingers moved slightly, his eyelids fluttered slightly as if he was trying to open them after a long sleep.

"Call doctor Thu now! He's reacting!" The nurse on duty shouted, the whole hospital hallway was in chaos with broken hope.

Tue Lam rushed into the hospital room, tears flowing endlessly as she witnessed her father's eyes slowly open after more than three months in the darkness of a coma. His eyes, although still blurred and weak, gradually found and recognized his daughter's face bending over the hospital bed.

"Tue... Lam..." he whispered, his voice hoarse because he hadn't used it for a long time, but it was the sweetest sound Tue Lam had ever heard in his entire life.

"Dad! You're awake!" She choked, holding her father's thin hand tightly, tears of happiness falling continuously. "I have found out the truth, dad. The person who hurt you has been arrested. The company is safe. Everything is fine."

Bach Nguyen stood silently outside the hospital room door, witnessing that emotional moment of reunion, his heart also swelled with an indescribable happiness. After everything he had gone through, in the end, not only was justice served, but the precious life of the person who was indebted to saving his family's life was also successfully saved, completely ending an arduous journey that he and Tue Lam had resiliently walked through with their own preparation and hard work, not thanks to luck.

A few days later, when Mr. Kieu Thanh Nghia's health was more stable and could sit up and talk for a short time under the doctor's supervision, Tue Lam took Bach Nguyen to visit, wanting his father to see clearly the person who had silently protected and saved his family all this time.

Mr. Kieu Thanh Nghia looked at Bach Nguyen for a long time, his weak eyes suddenly stopped at the frayed red thread on his wrist, his eyes gradually shone with recognition. "You... are you Dinh Long's son? That red thread... I still remember, Tue Lam herself gave you the new year."

"Yes, sir," Bach Nguyen replied, bowing his head respectfully, his hand gently tightening the thread as a wordless confirmation. "I'm Bach Nguyen."

Tears rolled down Mr. Nghia's thin face. "I've been tormented by the death of your parents for the past eighteen years. I've tried to find ways to support you through many indirect channels without daring to make it public, for fear of rekindling your pain. Unexpectedly, today you are the one who saved my family's life and fortune."

Bach Nguyen's throat choked. "My father fulfilled his responsibility as a guardian until his last breath. I am just continuing what my father started, and returning some of the kindness that my master, Mo Thanh Hac, has given to my family over the years."

Mr. Nghia reached out his trembling hand, grabbed Bach Nguyen's hand and Tue Lam's hand, and placed them close together. "Looking at you two standing next to each other like this, I suddenly remember the days when you were little, always inseparable. Perhaps, fate has arranged for you two to meet again, not only to repay the favor, but also for something deeper than that."

Tue Lam blushed and glanced at Bach Nguyen, while he could not hide his rare confusion at Mr. Nghia's meaningful comment. But in that moment, they both clearly felt that the love between them had gone beyond the boundaries of childhood friendship or protective responsibility, becoming something much more sacred and profound.

Leaving the hospital room when Mr. Nghia was tired and needed to rest, the two of them walked along the hospital corridor, the afternoon sunlight passing through the large glass windows dyed the whole space yellow. "Thank you," Tue Lam said softly, "for persevering in finding the antidote, for not giving up even though everything seemed hopeless, for daring to hang yourself in the middle of a cliff just to pick a single flower petal at the end of the season."

"This is what I should do," Bach Nguyen replied, stopping and turning to look at her, his eyes containing a gentleness that he had rarely fully revealed before. "But honestly, the biggest motivation that makes me never want to give up is not only the debt of gratitude to your family, but also you, Tue Lam. I don't want to see you suffer any more pain."

Those words made Tue Lam's heart pound, a warm feeling spread throughout her body in the quiet space of the hospital hallway that afternoon, as if all the recent hardships had finally brought them closer to each other than ever.