Chapter 23 — Contract of the Heart

Việt Anh's scholarship interview was scheduled for a Wednesday morning, held online with the admission board of the German university. During the previous week, Thảo Nguyên spent all her free time practicing with him, playing the role of different council members, asking the most difficult questions she could think of.

"Why did you choose Robotics Engineering instead of other engineering majors?" She asked, impersonating the stern voice of an old professor, during a practice session in her living room, where Mrs. Xuân also watched, occasionally giving comments using many years of teaching experience as a former teacher.

Việt Anh answered fluently, the story about the old toy robot, about the first lonely night in the new room, was told with the confidence and sincere emotions that he had learned over the past two months. Ms. Xuân, even though she had heard this story many times while giving feedback on editing the essay, still couldn't help but feel moved every time she heard it again.

"You spoke a little slower at the end," she commented after Việt Anh finished answering. "Let the listener have time to absorb the emotions, don't rush to move on to the next idea."

"Yes, thank you," Việt Anh replied, remembering the advice, his attitude of respect and request was completely natural, without any of the awkwardness of the first days of acquaintance.

Ms. Xuân also gave him a few tips to stay calm in front of the computer camera - take three deep breaths before answering, look straight at the camera instead of the screen to create a sense of eye contact, and always have a glass of warm water nearby to take a sip if you feel nervous. "In the past, when I took the provincial excellent teacher exam, I was very nervous," she said, "but thanks to these tips, I passed everything."

"I took notes," Việt Anh said, actually taking out a pen and paper to seriously write down each thing, making Thảo Nguyên couldn't help but laugh at his ridiculous meticulousness even in such small things.

In the last days before the interview, the two also spent time reviewing all background knowledge related to the curriculum, learning carefully about the professors on the admission committee through the articles they had published, so that Việt Anh could ask intelligent questions, showing real interest in the program when it was his turn to be asked back to the committee.

On Wednesday morning, Thảo Nguyên asked for permission to skip school for a day and went to Việt Anh's house early to cheer her up before the important interview. He sat in front of the computer in his private room, wearing a neat white shirt, his face with a rare tension even though he tried to maintain his usual composure.

"You'll do well," Thảo Nguyên said, standing behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders to reassure him. "You're more prepared than anyone I've ever known."

"What if I forget everything as soon as they ask?" Việt Anh asked, his voice had a rare bit of worry.

"You just remember my real story," she replied, smiling. "No need to remember every practiced word, just speak from the heart, like you told me the first time at the tea shop."

Việt Anh nodded, took a deep breath to calm down, then at the appointed time, he clicked to join the video call with the admission committee. Thảo Nguyên quietly left the room, waiting outside with Mr. Minh, both were as nervous as the person sitting in the interview room.

Forty-five minutes passed as slowly as hours. Mr. Minh kept standing up and sitting down, while Thảo Nguyên kept tapping her phone, even though she couldn't really read anything on the screen. Occasionally, Việt Anh's soft laughter or deep voice echoed from the half-closed door, enough for the two people outside to guess that the interview was going smoothly, even though they couldn't hear the specific content clearly.

"Do you think it will pass?" Mr. Minh asked, his voice still worried even though he tried to appear calm.

"I definitely believe it," Thảo Nguyên replied, smiling reassuringly at him. "Việt Anh prepared very carefully, and the story he told was so sincere that I still get emotional every time I listen to it."

Mr. Minh nodded, looking towards the door with silent pride. "Thank you," he said suddenly. "Not only for helping him write his essay, but for helping him learn to open up, something I, as a father, have not been able to do for many years."

"Don't blame yourself," Thảo Nguyên said softly. "Việt Anh understands and loves you very much, I believe so."

Finally, the door opened and Việt Anh walked out with an unpredictable face, making both people who were waiting hold their breath.

"What's wrong, child?" Mr. Minh asked immediately, his voice unable to hide his concern.

Việt Anh was silent for a second, then a smile slowly appeared on his lips, a radiant smile rarely seen. "They said they would announce the official results in the next two weeks, but the board chair told me privately that my essay and interview answers were some of the most impressive presentations she'd heard in years."

"Is that so?!" Thảo Nguyên exclaimed, unable to contain her joy, rushing to hug him. Mr. Minh also patted his son's shoulder, his eyes filled with undisguised pride.

"She asked me what made me most confident when talking about my passion," Việt Anh recounted, still a little nervous. "I told you exactly what Thảo Nguyên taught me — not about technical specifications or performance, but about the feeling of fixing something broken, turning it into something that works better. I said, that's also the reason I believe in the ability to heal, whether it's machines or relationships in life."

Thảo Nguyên looked at him, her eyes filled with tears of emotion and pride. "You did very well," she said softly. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," Việt Anh replied, squeezing her hand. "If it weren't for your help these past few months, I don't think I would have had the confidence to stand before the council and tell that story in such a sincere way."

That evening, to celebrate, both Thảo Nguyên and Việt Anh's family had a meal together at Mrs. Xuân's house, a simple but cozy meal, marking not only the initial success in Việt Anh's scholarship journey, but also the first meeting, although not yet official, between two families who were gradually getting closer together day by day, bringing with them both the old stories of the previous generation and the new hope of the next generation.

Ms. Xuân personally went into the kitchen to cook a small party to celebrate Việt Anh's success, although Mr. Minh stopped her because he was afraid that she would work too hard after her previous hospitalization. "Just cooking a few simple dishes," she smiled, dismissing all objections, and went into the kitchen to prepare braised chicken with ginger and sour snakehead fish soup, two dishes that she always reserved for the most special occasions in the house.

During the meal, Mr. Minh and Mrs. Xuân sat next to each other, chatting loudly about old memories, about Mr. Bảo Tín, about the difficult years that each family had gone through in their own way. Sometimes they both laughed at an old story, sometimes they were silent for a moment before a common memory that only they could fully understand. Thảo Nguyên and Việt Anh sat opposite, occasionally glancing at each other, smiling at this rare warm scene - two families, seemingly strangers, now gathered together as if they had been close for a long time, thanks to a series of magical coincidences that neither of them could have predicted when it all started.

"This is just the beginning," Việt Anh whispered to Thảo Nguyên as they both cleaned up the table after the meal, the sound of dishes gently colliding with laughter still echoing from the living room. "There's the official results, there's the celebration of life party, there's also something we need to talk about with Mr. Xuân."

"Yes," Thảo Nguyên nodded, looking towards Ms. Xuân who was smiling and chatting with Mr. Minh, filled with hope. "But I believe, after all we've been through, we're strong enough to face whatever lies ahead."

She looked at Việt Anh, who had changed a lot since that first confusing afternoon in the school cafeteria nearly three months ago — from a dry, closed-minded guy, he had now learned how to open his heart, how to express his emotions, how to believe in things that cannot be measured with formulas or numbers. And she knew that she herself had changed equally, learning how to face fear instead of running away from it, learning how to love sincerely, without calculation, without pretending, even though everything started from a spontaneous, seemingly harmless lie.