Chapter 22 — Mist Peak Rescue Team

"If visibility drops below ten meters, what do you do first?" Khanh Van asked, standing in front of a row of five new students standing seriously in the middle of the Heaven Gate station yard, her hand holding a small notebook to record each person's name.

"Stop, mark the location, report via radio!" All five people answered in unison, an answer they had learned by heart over the past three days of theoretical training.

"Yes. But theory and practice are two completely different things." Khanh Van walked along the line, her eyes scanning each young face, full of enthusiasm but also a lot of confusion. "Today, I'm going to simulate a real-life situation. Can anyone tell me why stopping is more important than trying to keep finding your way?"

A young practitioner, named Khoi, raised his hand. "Because traveling in poor visibility conditions can easily lead to getting lost or encountering unexpected danger, ma'am."

"Exactly." Khanh Van nodded, satisfied. "But there is another, equally important reason, which theory rarely emphasizes enough."

She stopped and looked around the group, making sure all eyes were focused on her before continuing. "That's because in an emergency situation, human instinct often urges us to act immediately, regardless of whether the conditions are right. Learning to stop, assess, then act — it's the hardest skill to master in this profession, much harder than learning rope techniques or reading a map."

Standing in the corner of the yard, Ho Thien Kien, his leg still lightly splinted after removing the cast, leaned on a walking stick, observing the training session with a slight smile on his lips. He offered to support the theoretical part during the three weeks of recovery, and today was the first time he witnessed Khanh Van directly train the new team since the rescue operation.

"But ma'am," another student, a girl named Vy, timidly raised her hand, "if I wait too long, will I lose my chance to save someone? I heard that there are many cases where speed is the deciding factor."

Khanh Van was silent for a second, that question was not new to her, but the way she answered it now was very different from what she could have said just a few weeks ago.

“Good question,” she said, glancing briefly at Kien before turning back to the student. "The truth is, both are true — sometimes caution saves lives, sometimes speed saves lives. There is no fixed formula that applies to every situation. The most important thing a good rescuer learns is not to always choose caution or always choose speed, but to learn to appreciate, in each particular situation, which is the most appropriate choice."

She motioned for Kien to step forward, and he walked closer with his cane, standing next to her in front of the row of students.

"This is Mr. Ho Thien Kien, captain of Team B, who will share with you a different perspective on this issue," she introduced. "The two of us had serious disagreements about approaches, and from those disagreements we learned more than any textbook could teach."

Kien nodded and began to recount, in a concise manner suitable for the training session, about his experience in rescuing people at Vong Phong ravine, as well as about the rockfall incident that injured Bao Khang because he had underestimated the speed of change in the weather. Students listened attentively, taking careful notes, realizing that the real lesson lay not in choosing sides, but in understanding the limits and strengths of both approaches.

"So how do you know when to choose which method?" Khoi asked, still looking confused.

Khanh Van and Kien looked at each other, a silent agreement was exchanged between the two before Khanh Van answered. "Experience will teach you that, through each real-life situation you experience. But there is one general principle I can share: always consider both the risks of action and the risks of inaction, and never let fear from a past mistake — whether your own or someone else's — cause you to box yourself into a rigid formula."

The entire group of trainees nodded, seemingly understanding something deeper than what was written in any training materials they had ever read.

The lesson turned to practice, with five technical stations set up throughout the station yard — a station teaching how to tie a figure eight knot, a station teaching how to set up a double anchor point, a station simulating lowering people with a pulley, a basic first aid practice station led by Uyen Nhi, and a topographic map reading station led by Uncle Tong.

Khanh Van walks around, observing each student practicing, occasionally stopping to correct a wrong move or an incorrect knot. She stopped longer at Khoi's station, who was trying to tie a figure eight knot but kept getting the order of the loops wrong.

"Slow down," she said softly, kneeling beside him. "Don't try to do it quickly when your hands are not used to it. Look carefully at the path of the rope, one turn at a time."

She instructed again from the beginning, her hand placed on his hand, guiding each movement until he could make a complete, precise knot.

"That's it!" Khoi exclaimed, his eyes shining with the pride of someone who has just conquered a new skill.

"Do it ten more times, until your hands can do it without looking," Khanh Van said, smiling at the young student's enthusiasm. "In real life situations, sometimes you have to do this in the dark, in the rain, with your hands numb from the cold. The body has to remember this movement even faster than the mind."

Vy, at the next station, was practicing with Dieu Han — who, although her wrist was still a bit weak, volunteered to help guide the new students with the patience of someone who had gone through a similar period of confusion herself just a few months before.

"Ms. Dieu Han, are you scared, this is your first time participating in a real rescue?" Vy asked, her eyes looking at Dieu Han admiringly.

"Scared," Dieu Han replied honestly, without hiding it. "But I learned that fear is not a bad thing, as long as you don't let it stop you from doing the right thing. The important thing is to always follow the process, trust your teammates, and never hide when you encounter difficulties."

The class continued until nearly noon, and Khanh Van spent the rest of the morning instructing each student, patiently correcting each knot, each movement, with a dedication that perhaps only those who have stood at the boundary between life and death can bring to their teaching work.

When the sun rose, Dac Lam walked out of the command room, carrying a tray of water and cakes for the group to take a break. He stood looking at the scene before him for a moment — Khanh Van was instructing a student, Kien sat telling stories to another group, Dieu Han and Uyen Nhi were both in charge of a practice station, uncle Tong seriously checked each anchor point the students had just set up — and a rare smile appeared on his lips.

"This whole station," he muttered to himself, "has finally found its rhythm."

Long, who was helping clean up equipment nearby, heard his words and turned around to ask. "What did you say?"

"Nothing." Dac Lam shook his head, the smile still on his lips. "Just thinking to myself."

At break time, the whole group gathered under the porch, sharing the cakes and water Dac Lam brought out. Khoi and Vy sat next to each other, eager to discuss what they had just learned, while Khanh Van sat down next to Kien, both looking out at the station yard, which was bustling with the laughter and chatter of new students.

"Looking at them, I remember myself when I first started my career," Khanh Van said, her voice carrying a bit of nostalgia. "Just as excited, I also believe I can do anything."

"You can still do everything," Kien replied, smiling. "It's just that you do it smarter now."

She laughed, gently pushing his shoulder, an intimate gesture she rarely showed to colleagues, but now it seemed completely natural between the two of them who had gone through the longest and most fateful day of their careers together.

"Thank you for being here, assisting with today's training," she said, her voice sincere.

“Thank you for giving me the opportunity,” he replied, and they both looked out at the station yard, where the next generation of the Pu Nhu mountain rescue team was gradually learning to face the treacherous mountains and unexpected storms that one day, inevitably, they too would have to face.

The sun shone down on the station yard, warm and gentle, completely different from the biting cold of that day on Sa Mu peak, and in this rare moment of peace, Khanh Van allowed herself to fully enjoy the feeling of someone who had found her rightful position in the job she had spent her entire youth pursuing.