Chapter 2 — Elections and Hearts

Three days after the launching ceremony, the notice board in front of the Youth Union room was covered with campaign schedules. Each candidate is assigned a fixed time frame during flag activities and recess to set up campaign booths, distribute materials, and chat directly with students throughout the school.

Ngoc stood in front of the notice board, her finger gliding along the schedule line looking for her name. Her heart suddenly stopped when she read the bold red note at the bottom of the board.

"ANNOUNCEMENT: Due to an error in the room arrangement, two candidates Ngo Bao Ngoc (12A1) and Do Nguyen Khang (12A1) have been placed in the same position as campaign booth No. 3 (in front of the library) during recess every Tuesday and Thursday for the next three weeks. The organizers apologize for this inconvenience. Ms. Ha will discuss directly with the two candidates to find a solution."

"What is this," Ngoc muttered, her eyes never leaving the text as if reading it again would make it disappear.

"Eh, bad luck," Trang stood next to her, giggling, unable to hide her excitement. "You and Khang share the same booth? That's like making two competitors stand next to each other advertising for each other."

"It's not funny, Trang," Ngoc grimaced. "Booth number 3 is right in front of the library, the most crowded place. If I had to share that space with Khang, who knows what tricks he would play to gain attention from me."

At that moment, a familiar voice rang out behind her. "It sounds like you don't trust me very much."

Ngoc turned around. Do Nguyen Khang stood there, holding a cup of milk tea, with a calm expression as if he had just heard an interesting story rather than a serious problem.

"I'm just telling the truth," Ngoc replied, her voice firm. "Do you think this is okay?"

"Honestly," Khang shrugged, "I don't think it's too bad. At least standing next to you, my booth will probably be more crowded."

Ngoc rolled her eyes, not knowing whether to be angry or laugh at that brazen honesty. "Are you kidding?"

"Half joking, half serious," Khang took a sip of milk tea, his eyes sparkling with a rare mischief compared to the calm and indifferent look at the launching ceremony. "But seriously, I think we should meet with Ms. Ha to discuss a solution. Split the time in half, each person takes half the time to play, or change to two different booths if there is space."

Ngoc was surprised by this unexpected reality. She was prepared to argue, but Khang gently offered a solution as if there was nothing worth making a fuss about.

That afternoon, they both went to the Student Council advisory room to meet Ms. Ha. The room was small, the four walls were filled with pictures of generations of Student Council Presidents through the years - Ngoc suddenly recognized an old photo, with a note "Do Thanh Lam, class of 2001" underneath, a young man standing in the middle of a crowd of students, his fist raised in spirit.

"About the clash of schedules," Ms. Ha said, flipping through the assignment list, "actually the organizers have considered it carefully. Booths 4 and 5 are both fully booked because of Gia Huy and the library's activities. I think this could be an opportunity, not really a problem."

"What chance?" Ngoc asked, still doubtful.

"Think about it," Ms. Ha smiled, "a fair election is not about each candidate only talking about himself in a bubble." private. It's where students across the school get to see the candidates face each other, answer each other's questions, and show their true bravery. She will keep this same schedule, but add one rule: every recess at booth number 3, two students will spend the last fifteen minutes answering common questions from passing students. Consider it an informal mini debate."

Ngoc and Khang looked at each other, both unable to hide their surprise.

"I don't think that's fair to either of you," Ngoc said, trying to keep her voice calm. "If you don't answer as well as Khang, you will lose points right in front of the whole school."

"That's exactly what a real election means, Ngoc," Ms. Ha replied, her eyes serious but warm. "That pressure is not to make things difficult for them, but to train them the necessary bravery of a true leader. If you believe in what you're pursuing, you don't need to be afraid of facing anyone directly."

Ms. Ha's words made Ngoc silent. She remembered her speech on stage, recalling the determination that motivated her to stand there. If you truly believe in your goals, why fear a live Q&A session?

"Okay," she nodded. "I agree."

Khang also nodded, although his expression was somewhat more reserved. "I agree too, but I have a question."

"Tell me," Ms. Ha encouraged.

"What if we can't agree on how to answer the question? For example, if you want to answer first, does Ngoc also want to answer?"

Ms. Ha laughed lightly. "Then you two will have to learn how to negotiate with each other, right? It is as important a leadership skill as eloquence."

Leaving the consulting room, the two walked a parallel hallway in silence. Ngoc glanced at Khang, trying to figure out what he was thinking, but his face still remained as calm and unpredictable as usual.

"Hey," Ngoc spoke first, breaking the silence. "I'm a little curious. Why are you running for election? You don't seem very excited."

Khang stopped walking and looked at her for a moment before answering. "Good question. To be honest, my dad thought this was a necessary step to 'complete my profile'. He was Student Council President, always saying it was one of the experiences that shaped him the most."

"What about you? What do you think?"

Khang was silent for a long time, his eyes looking out the hallway window, where the phoenix trees were starting to turn dark green in late summer.

"I don't know," he finally replied, his voice rare with sincerity. "Maybe that's why my speech the other day sounded so bland. I never really thought about what I wanted to do with this position, if I won."

That straightforward answer surprised Ngoc. She was mentally prepared to face a confident, even somewhat arrogant opponent based on her family's shadow - but the person standing in front of her now seemed confused, even a bit lost.

"Then why don't you back out, if you don't really want to?" Ngoc asked, not with sarcasm but with genuine curiosity.

"It's not that simple," Khang shook his head, a forced smile flashing. "My father announced to all his relatives and business friends that I would run for office. Retreating now is no different What a slap to family honor."

Ngoc didn't know what to say. She grew up in a family where every decision came from practical necessity — scholarships, tuition, daily food and clothing — and she never had to face the pressure of "family honor" as Khang is describing. But she also realized that that pressure, although different, was still a real burden.

“So,” she said after a moment of thought, “maybe you should use this campaign period to figure out what you really want. Who knows, in the end, you will find your own reasons, not your father's reasons."

Khang looked at her, his eyes slightly surprised by the unexpected advice from his opponent. "Thank you," he said, his voice much softer. "It's a perspective I never thought of."

The two continued walking, and for the first time since learning of the conflicting dates, Ngoc felt the tension in her heart ease a bit. Maybe, she thought, the upcoming joint campaign booth wouldn't be as bad as she thought — as long as they both maintained mutual respect like the conversation just now.

But when they turned the corner of the hallway leading to the schoolyard, a familiar figure stood behind a pillar, observing them both with unsympathetic eyes. Lam Gia Huy stood there, holding a stack of his own campaign leaflets, watching Ngoc and Khang walk side by side, chatting surprisingly intimately.

"You two took the lead and started getting close to each other," Huy muttered to himself, his voice low, his eyes darkening for a moment. "Then I have to do something different."

He lightly tore off the corner of a leaflet in his hand, clenched his fist, then turned and walked in the opposite direction, carrying with him a thought that neither Ngoc nor Khang knew would soon cast a shadow over the entire race of all three people.