Chapter 10 — I Built an Empire in the Wasteland

A more stable life at Camp Dawn gradually brought changes to Yên Nhi that she did not expect. No longer having to worry about being discovered or running away, her body recovered quickly, her cheeks were a little rosy instead of pale like the first days, and most importantly, her mind began to have strange flashes of light - fragments of memories that suddenly appeared and disappeared, like lightning in the middle of the night.

The first time it happened was one afternoon, when Yên Nhi was helping Diễm Thư sort medicine in the camp's small warehouse. Her hand touched a bottle of light blue medicine, and immediately an image rushed into her mind, so clear it made her sit down, clutching her head.

A white room, bright fluorescent lights. An middle-aged man, wearing thin-rimmed glasses and a white blouse, was bending down to look at her with gentle eyes never seen on anyone else. "My daughter is very good," his deep voice rang out in his memories, "this time you don't cry during injections anymore." His hand gently stroked her head. Her hair was still short, probably only about seven or eight years old.

"Yên Nhi! Are you okay?" Diễm Thư quickly supported her, her voice full of worry.

Yên Nhi blinked, the image in her mind disappeared as quickly as it appeared, leaving only a vague aching feeling in her temples. "I... I just saw something," she whispered. "A man. He... called me his daughter."

Diễm Thư helped her sit up and gave her a glass of water. "Maybe that's your father. Do you remember anything else about him? Name, face, place?"

Yên Nhi shook her head and tried to search further, but there was only a blank space. "That's all. But it felt... so real. It was like I was reliving that moment, not just remembering it."

That night, when telling Bạt Phong about that strange experience, he listened attentively, gently holding her hand as a wordless way of comfort. "Maybe this is a good sign," he said. "Her memory is slowly returning. Maybe living in a stable environment, without constant fear, has given her mind space to recover."

"I hope so too," Yên Nhi replied, her voice was a bit shaky. "But I'm also scared. If I remember everything, maybe what I see will be even more painful than not remembering anything."

Bạt Phong gently squeezed her hand. "No matter what you remember, I'm still here." In the days that followed, pieces of memory continued to appear, a little at a time, like small bricks gradually joining together to form a larger picture. One time, Yên Nhi remembered the intimate name her father used to call her - "Children" - the warm tone made her burst into uncontrollable tears while helping Sáu Mộc cook. Once she remembered a large laboratory with dozens of test tubes lined up, and the noise of machines running day and night.

One evening, when the two sat by a small fire after everyone had gone to bed, Yên Nhi suddenly said, her voice trembling: "I remember his name. Good luck Vĩnh Khương. He is my father."

Bạt Phong turned to look at her, his eyes filled with concern. "Do you remember anything else about him?"

"He is a scientist," Yên Nhi said, her distant eyes as if trying to see through the fog of memory. "He worked for... some organization. I remember some days when he carried me into the lab, showed me the devices, explained to me how they worked, even though I was too young to understand them all. Maybe that's why I knew so many things about technology that I didn't even understand why I knew."

"What about that organization?" Bac Phong asked carefully. "Do you remember anything about it? Is it Black Eagle — the name the machine voice in the shelter mentioned?"

Yên Nhi frowned and tried to search further, but a sharp pain suddenly appeared in her temple, causing her to hold her head and breathe heavily. "I... I can't remember any more. Every time I try to think of that name, my head hurts like hell, as if something is blocking me, not letting me remember."

Bạt Phong quickly supported her and gently rubbed her back to reassure her. "Don't try too hard. Take it slow, there's no need to remember everything at once." Yên Nhi nodded, leaned her head on his shoulder, her breathing gradually returned to normal. "I think... maybe they did something to my mind, to prevent me from remembering certain things. It's not natural for me to forget everything for seven years, and then now remember every bit with such difficulty."

Her words made Bạt Phong speechless. If Yên Nhi is right, then the organization that imprisoned her did not simply lock her in the cylinder, but also directly interfered with her mind, intentionally erasing the most dangerous memories for them. Which means whatever she's about to recall, could very well be an important key that the organization doesn't want her — or anyone else — to know.

"No matter what they did to you," Bạt Phong said, his voice low but filled with determination, "I will help you find it all again. Little by little, no rush. And whatever truth you remember, I will be here to face it with you."

Yên Nhi looked up at him, her eyes were watery but shone with a new steadfast light. "Thank you, Bạt Phong. Since the day you saved me from that darkness, I have never felt lonely again, even though I still don't fully know who I am." A few days later, when Yên Nhi calmed down, she proactively suggested going back to the shelter to try to open the locked chest that Bạt Phong had left open since the first days. "If my father ever worked there," she said, "maybe this chest contains something related to him. I want to know. No matter how painful it is, I want to know."

Bạt Phong did not object, although he was a little worried about her psychology. Both of them and Tư Rỗ - the only person in the camp with enough mechanical experience to try to break the lock without damaging what was inside - returned to the circular room where the cylinder used to hold Yên Nhi.

Tư Rỗ squatted in front of the chest, using a few homemade tools to fiddle with the rusty digital lock. "This is an electromechanical lock, not as simple as a regular lock," he muttered, sweat beading on his forehead even though the weather in the tunnel was quite cool. "Needs the right code, or a specialized tool to destroy it without activating the self-destruct mechanism, if it has such a setting."

"Self-destruct mechanism?" Bạt Phong asked, his voice a bit worried.

"Old military chests often had that trick, to prevent secrets from falling into enemy hands," Tư Rỗ replied, constantly tinkering. "But this seems old, the backup battery is probably about to run out, maybe the self-destruct mechanism no longer works. Even so, I still advise you to be careful." After nearly an hour of hard work, Tư Rỗ sighed and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I don't have enough tools to open it right now. I need a specialized code detector, or I have to find a way to connect it to a computer system strong enough to crack the electronic lock. This is beyond my ability."

Yên Nhi looked at the chest with undisguised disappointment, but she still tried to stay calm. "It's okay. At least we know it's still intact, no one has touched it. When we have enough conditions, we will come back."

Bạt Phong put his hand on her shoulder, comforting her. "We'll find a way. Maybe in the pile of equipment left in the shelter, there will be something that can help. Just let Thanh Sơn and I learn more gradually."

On the way back to Camp Dawn, Yên Nhi walked next Tô Bạt Phong in silence for a long time, then suddenly spoke, her voice as light as a breath: "Do you think, if I remember everything, will I still be the same as I am now? Or will I become a completely different person, with burdens that I have never known?"

Bạt Phong stopped walking, turned and looked straight into her eyes. "Whoever you were in the past, the person I know now — the person who helped design the camp's defense system, the person who insisted on helping an old stranger even though she knew it might be dangerous — that's the person I care about. Your past may shape you, but it's not the whole of you."

Yên Nhi was silent for a moment, then smiled slightly, a smile much more relieved than she had ever shown since the day she was rescued. "Thank you for saying that." The two continued to walk in the pale sunset of Phế Thổ, their eyes directed towards the dark horizon, somewhere hidden the answer to Yên Nhi's past, and the dangers that both had not yet fully imagined would soon come from that past.