Chapter 19 — Mist Peak Rescue Team

"Be careful on the steps," Dieu Han said, reaching out to support Kien as he used his crutches to step down from the car that had just taken him from the district hospital to Heaven Gate station, his ankle in a white cast sticking out of his pants leg.

"I can walk by myself," Kien replied, but still let her support him, the slight smile on his lips showed that he wasn't really bothered by that concern.

It's been two days since the fateful rescue night, and Heaven's Gate station has gradually returned to its daily routine, although there's still something else in the air — a quiet relief that seeps into every little corner, from the way people talk to each other to the way they look at each other across the breakfast table.

Khanh Van was sitting on the station's porch, holding an equipment inspection book, but her eyes weren't really focused on the words in front of her. She looked up when she saw Kien coming, leaning on crutches across the yard.

"What did the doctor say?" she asked.

"Third-degree sprain, no broken bones, but must be in a cast for three weeks, followed by physical therapy for another period of time." Kien sat down on the chair opposite her, exhaling a long breath as if sitting down took quite a bit of effort. "The doctor told me I was lucky, it could have been much worse if the angle of the fall had been a little different."

"I couldn't go to the scene for three weeks," Khanh Van said, her voice a bit guilty. "I'm sorry for—"

"Don't." Kien interrupted her, his voice was decisive but not harsh. "Don't apologize for that, Ms. Van. It was my decision to let go of the tree instead of letting the stretcher turn over. If I had to do it again, I would still make the same choice."

She looked at him for a moment, then nodded, accepting that explanation without further argument. A comfortable silence passed between the two, only the sound of the breeze blowing through the eaves and the sound of birds singing somewhere in the trees near the station — the sounds of a normal day, something that just a few days ago seemed like an unattainable luxury.

"Do you remember when you said you would tell me the story of Ham Rong?" Kien asked, breaking the silence, his voice cautious as if he was touching something fragile.

Khanh Van put the notebook down on the table, looked into the distance, towards Sa Mu peak, which was now completely visible under the rare clear blue sky of a dew-free morning. "I remember."

She told the whole story, from beginning to end, without hiding any detail — about her recklessness two years ago, about her decision to persuade captain Hung to skip the half-hour wait, about the hastily installed anchor point, about the moment Nam Long fell into the abyss before her eyes. Her voice was steady throughout the story, as if she had retold it enough times in her head to no longer tremble when saying it out loud, even though this was the first time she had told it in its entirety to someone besides Uncle Tong and Dac Lam.

Kien listened without interrupting, his eyes gradually changed with every detail she told - from curiosity to shock, then finally to a deep understanding that only people working in the same profession can fully feel.

"So..." he said, his voice slow as she finished the story, "I'm more like my sister from two years ago than I thought."

"That's right." Khanh Van looked at him, not avoiding him at all. "And that's why I react so strongly to you every time you want to act immediately, even though sometimes your instincts are right. I'm afraid of seeing you repeat my mistakes, and I'm afraid that I will have to stand by and watch another person fall to the bottom because of a decision I could have prevented."

Kien was silent for a long time, his eyes looking down at his hands tightly clasping the two crutches. "Thank you for telling me. And I think... I understand why you became the person you are now. But I also want to tell you something."

"Say it."

"I'm not captain Hung, even though I fear that." He looked straight into her eyes. "Captain Hung, the way I tell it, chose to be cautious because his instincts were that way. As for me, I chose to be cautious because I learned a painful lesson, and I continue to struggle every day to find the right balance, instead of simply closing myself to a safe formula. That is the biggest difference between the two of us, whether you realize it or not."

Khanh Van felt something tighten in her chest, not from pain, but from a relief she had never allowed herself to fully feel in the past two years. She didn't respond right away, just looked into the distance, towards the mountain that still stood there, silent and eternal, witnessing both the pain and healing of so many people who had walked through its slopes.

"I also want to tell you something," she said finally, turning to look at Kien. "The way you handled Bao Khang's injury that day — reporting it right away, stopping at the right time, not trying to hide your mistakes — that's something I couldn't do two years ago. I let my confidence get in the way of listening to others. You learned that much faster than me."

Kien laughed softly, although there was a bit of bitterness in it. "I learned because I had my sister standing there, ready to argue with me in the middle of the station yard. If it weren't for her, I would probably still be rushing into every situation without thinking."

"So maybe," Khanh Van said, a small smile crossing her lips for the first time during the conversation, "we need each other more than we thought."

"Maybe so." He nodded, his eyes now carrying a new warmth, different from the tension that had existed between the two of them for months since he joined the station. "I think, from now on, every time we disagree about tactics, maybe I should remember this conversation."

"Agree." She held out her hand, and he shook it, a simple handshake that held the meaning of a true truce, built not on concessions on one side, but on mutual understanding after a day that had tested them both to the ultimate limit.

Dac Lam, standing from afar observing the two through the window of the command room, smiled slightly, then turned back to the pile of papers on the table, his heart much more relieved than he had dared to hope when he witnessed his two captains confront each other just a few days ago.

Dieu Han, who was cleaning the equipment warehouse nearby, did not intentionally hear the last part of the conversation, but it was enough to realize that the atmosphere between the two captains had completely changed. She smiled to herself, continuing her work, thinking to herself that perhaps this was the most valuable lesson she learned in her first week of real work — that even the best, most experienced people, need time and real encounters to understand each other.

Long walked out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of hot tea, placing it on the table between Khanh Van and Kien without saying much, just winking and turning away, letting the two continue their private conversation.

"Thank you," Kien said, then turned back to Khanh Van, poured two cups of tea, and pushed one towards her. "You know, when I was in the ambulance going back to the hospital, I kept thinking about what you said before I left that morning — about how you once stood in the same position as me. At that time, I didn't really understand, I just thought you were trying to stop me with a vague story."

"What about now?" Khanh Van asked, taking a sip of hot tea, feeling the warmth spread through her throat.

"Now I understand it wasn't an empty warning." He looked down at the tea cup in his hand, his voice lowered. "That's you trying to save me from having to live with what you've had to live with for the past two years. I wish I had listened more closely from the beginning."

"I was listening, it's just a little late." Khanh Van smiled, a genuine smile that had rarely appeared on her lips for a long time. "But better late than never, and more importantly, no one has to pay with their lives for that lesson this time."

The two sat in silence for a while, sipping tea, letting the words sink in, finding a solid footing in the working relationship that was slowly transforming into something closer to a deeper friendship between them.

"These three weeks in a cast," Kien said after a while, his voice softer, almost joking, "are you going to let me sit idle or give me something to do to ease the pain in my legs?"

Khanh Van burst out laughing, a rare clear sound resounding in the quiet morning. "I think you can help train Dieu Han and the new members in theory. You can still do it sitting in one place. Consider it an opportunity for you to pass on your quick reaction experience to the next generation, balancing what I teach about prudence."

"Sounds reasonable." He nodded, his eyes lighting up with a new goal, small as it was, but enough to make the next three weeks of vacation much less boring.