Chapter 16 — Climbing Through the Storm

Three days after power was restored to the hospital, much of Hải Lộng town was still living on kerosene lamps and home generators, because restoring the entire power grid for nearly thirty thousand households was a much longer journey than saving a single priority point.

Thắng sat in his living room, his right arm in a cast propped up on a pillow, eyes glued to the phone where the team's communications team continuously updated the situation in each area. This was the first time in his twenty-two years in the profession that he had to monitor a major troubleshooting event from afar, and that feeling made him more uneasy than the pain in his arm.

"District 3 has power restored." He read the message, nodding to himself as if he were standing in the middle of the scene, not sitting in the living room.

"Just sit still, stop moving," Thắm spoke from the kitchen, without having to turn around to know what her husband was doing. "The doctor advised complete rest for the first week."

"I'm not going anywhere, just sitting here reading the news," he replied, but his voice was a bit forced like someone trying to justify his own impatience.

The phone rang, it was a video call from Cả Xuyên, standing in the middle of a residential area with newly installed low voltage lines, behind him was the image of a few children running and jumping and cheering when the porch light turned on for the first time after many days.

"Have you seen it?" Cả Xuyên grinned and turned the phone so that Thắng could see the scene clearly. "Quarter 5 just got electricity, the children are as happy as Tet."

"It looks real," Thắng said, a sincere smile appeared on his lips, although in his heart he still felt some regret for not being there.

"Khánh Thi and Vọng are working in Quarter 7, I just came from there," Cả Xuyên continued, his voice filled with undisguised pride. "That girl is now a very good little scene commander. Yesterday she decided on her own to connect a section of the route divided by a fallen tree, without having to ask anyone."

"Really?" Thắng asked, a mixture of pride and surprise in his voice.

"It's true. I stood and watched, didn't interfere, she did everything right," Cả Xuyên replied. "You're a good trainer, even though you're currently at home recovering."

The call ended, Thắng sat quietly for a moment, looking out the window where the afternoon sunlight was filtering through the trees, feeling both relieved and a little hard to name, like the feeling of a father seeing his child take his first steps without his hand supporting him.

Three spare steel columns from the neighboring branch, Thu Lượng, had requested support from the early days, finally arriving on the morning of the second day after the storm, when the flooded road had receded enough for heavy trucks to pass. With those additional materials, the industrial park team was able to rebuild column No. 7, restore power to the anti-flooding pump station that had to run the engine continuously for two days, and other teams also took turns handling the remaining blockages throughout the district.

The work took place in a different rhythm than the dramatic first two days, slower, less urgent, but still requiring no less meticulousness, each column, each wire section, each transformer station was systematically inspected and restored according to the priority list established from the beginning.

Vọng, now the main person in charge of the scene while Thắng recuperates, regularly calls him to ask for his opinion on complicated situations, even though most of the time he can make his own decisions without being asked.

"Column 55 shows signs of tilting slightly, but not to a dangerous level. Do you think we should reinforce it immediately or wait until after this period and check periodically?" He asked over the phone one afternoon, his voice now much more confident than in the early days.

"Reinforce now, don't wait until later," Thắng replied without hesitation, even though he was sitting at home and could not check with his own eyes. "After the lesson of column 42, I don't want to hear the word 'later' in any of my team's reports anymore, even the smallest column."

"Receive," Vọng replied, and Thắng could hear in his voice a true agreement, not just obedience to his superiors' orders.

That call made Thắng realize something: the lesson from column 42 was no longer just his story, but had become part of the way the whole team viewed its work—a silent but more substantial change than any proposal document he had ever written.

In the evening, Khánh Thi stopped by his house to visit him, her protective clothing was still dirty with dust, her face was much more tanned than a few weeks ago, but her eyes lit up in a strange way.

"I heard Cả Xuyên boast about me," Thắng said, inviting her to sit in the chair opposite. "Command the scene alone?"

"It's just a small part, no big deal," Khánh Thi replied, a bit shy at the compliment, but couldn't hide her smile. "I just followed what you taught me."

"Following is one thing, knowing when to adjust to the actual situation is another," Thắng said, his voice was serious even though he was praising. "If you can do the second thing, that is the sign of a true worker, not just a student anymore," he added, his voice filled with undisguised pride. "I intend to propose transferring you to the official status sooner than expected, without having to wait for the probationary period to expire as prescribed."

Khánh Thi was silent for a moment, those words touched something deep in her heart, something she had never dared to believe about herself until she heard it from the mouth of the teacher who had guided her over the past months.

"I'm still afraid of heights." She confessed, even though there was no need to say it right now. "Every time I climb up, my heart still beats fast."

"Good," Thắng replied, making her a bit surprised. "I told you from the beginning, fear doesn't disappear. It just doesn't control you anymore. Every day you feel your heart beating fast when you get high, that day you're still alert enough to be careful. The only people who should worry are the ones who completely stop being afraid, because that's when they start being subjective." She nodded, remembering that sentence like she had memorized dozens of other sayings of his throughout the journey of learning the profession, and in that quiet moment, between the steady rotation of the ceiling fan and the chirping of insects in the garden, they both felt a change had taken place, not noisy, not ostentatious, but certain and lasting.

"What about the journalist thing?" She asked, remembering the story she had vaguely heard through Vọng.

"Next week, when my hand is a little better, I will meet him with Mr. Lượng," Thắng replied, his voice becoming thoughtful. "We wanted to tell this story in a different way, not to place blame, but to make things better later."

"Can I join?" Khánh Thi asked, surprised by her own question.

Thắng looked at her for a moment, considering.

"Okay," he said. "You are the one who climbed up to save me in the middle of a level eleven wind gust. You have the right to speak up about what happened more than anyone, more than me and Mr. Lượng combined."

Khánh Thi smiled, a smile that was both relieved and somewhat nervous at a new responsibility that she never thought she would take on, but now, after everything she had been through, she felt like she was ready for it, in a way she had never been ready for anything before in her life.

Before leaving, she stood at the door for a moment, looking at Thắng clumsily trying to turn the TV remote with his left hand, and couldn't help but laugh.

"Let me do it for you," she said, walking closer and taking the remote from him.

"Thank you," Thắng replied, a rare bit of embarrassment flashed across the face of the man who was always in control in every situation. "This six-week cast probably taught me another lesson, about accepting the need for others' help."

"That lesson is probably just as important as the lessons on the pole," Khánh Thi said, her voice was a bit joking but her eyes were serious.

"Maybe so." He smiled, a relaxed smile that rarely appeared on his normally serious face. "Be careful on your way home, the road is dark, vehicles are still damaged after the storm, potholes and broken tree branches are still scattered everywhere."

"I know, stay healthy," she replied, put her bag on her shoulder, walked out the door, and before closing the door, she turned her head to look back once, seeing him sitting there, his arm in a cast resting on a pillow, the warm yellow light shining on his face full of wrinkles due to age and profession, and she suddenly realized that this man, no matter how strong he was on the high pillars, was just an ordinary person with very human limitations, and that made her respect him more, not less.