Chapter 24 — Mist Peak Rescue Team

"What do you think about combining the two teams into a common training program?" Kien asked, sitting on the steps of Heaven's Gate station, his legs stretched out, a cup of hot tea placed next to him.

It has been more than half a year since the rescue operation on Sa Mu peak, and tonight, after a long day of training, the whole station was quiet, most people had gone home to rest, only Khanh Van and Kien sat on the porch, enjoying the cool air of a dew-free late autumn night.

"What do you mean?" Khanh Van asked, sitting down next to him, looking up at the rare starry sky clearly visible on the top of the mountain.

"Instead of Team A and Team B training separately like before, I combine the two, so that each student can learn both my cautious approach and my quick response." Kien turned the tea cup in his hand, his eyes looking far away towards the dim mountain peaks under the moonlight. "I think that's exactly what I wish I had learned from the beginning, instead of having to learn it myself through mistakes."

Khanh Van thought for a moment, feeling that idea gradually forming clearly in her mind. "I like that idea. But we need to design it carefully, so that students understand when to apply which method, not simply learn both separately."

"That's right. Maybe we could build simulation scenarios where students have to decide for themselves whether to act now or wait, based on the specific factors of each situation." Kien turned to look at her, his eyes shining with the excitement of a person cherishing a truly meaningful project. "Do you think Dac Lam will agree?"

"I think he will be happy to see the two of us cooperating instead of confronting," Khanh Van replied, a small smile on her lips. "After all he's had to witness between us over the past year."

They both burst into laughter, their laughter gently dissolving into the quiet air of the mountain night. A comfortable silence passed, with only the chirping of insects and the gentle wind rustling the leaves in the distance.

"You know," Kien said after a moment, his voice low, carrying a sincerity he rarely showed outside of work, "I've never had a friend in this profession that I truly trusted completely, until working with you through that campaign."

Khanh Van looked at him, feeling the sincerity in those words. "Me too. After losing Nam Long, I closed myself off a lot, not wanting to get too deeply attached to anyone on the team, for fear of having to go through that pain again if I lost someone I care about."

"But now?"

"Now I think, maybe that fear never really protected me from anything. It just made me lonelier." She looked at him, sincere trust in her eyes. "You are the first person after Nam Long that I feel like I can truly trust, not only in work, but also in times like this."

Kien nodded, didn't say anything else right away, just let the silence between the two have a deeper meaning than any words could express. After a while, he raised the tea cup.

"So, for a friendship that neither of us expected, and for a new training program that will keep us both much busier in the near future," he said, a mischievous smile returning to his lips.

Khanh Van laughed, raised her glass of water and gently touched his tea cup. "For all that."

They sat there for a while longer, silently gazing at the stars, until Kien broke the silence with another question, his voice a bit hesitant. "Miss Van, have you ever thought about leaving this profession? After everything you've been through?"

That question made Khanh Van stop and think seriously, something she rarely allowed herself to do in normal conversations. "Yes, once," she admitted. "Right after the Ham Rong incident, I wrote a resignation letter and kept it in my desk drawer for nearly a month."

"Why don't you submit it?"

"Because Dac Lam found it, and he asked me a question I'll never forget." She smiled slightly, recalling that moment. "He asked: if I leave, who will teach the next generation the lessons I paid so much to learn? Would it be fair, to let all that pain go in vain, without helping anyone else?"

Kien nodded slowly, absorbing the story. "He's right."

"I think so, finally." Khanh Van looked up at the starry sky, her voice became softer. "And now, looking back, I'm glad I didn't submit that application. If I had left, I would never have had the chance to stand here, tonight, talking to you about my plans for the future."

"I'm happy about that too," Kien said, his voice sincere. "This station wouldn't be the same without you."

A gentle wind blew, carrying the scent of forest leaves and damp earth, and they were both silent for a moment, letting the words they had just said settle in the still air of the mountain night.

"You know," Khanh Van said after a while, "I think what I cherish most from that rescue operation was not the fact that we saved three people, although that was most important. It was that I found the ability to trust others, to trust myself, after a long time I thought I had lost it forever."

"I understand that feeling," Kien replied, looking at her with deep sympathy. "Sometimes it takes a real crisis for us to realize how much we've changed, both for the good and for the right."

The wooden door of the station opened slightly, and Dac Lam walked out, unable to sleep for some reason, holding a small oil lamp in his hand even though the moonlight was bright enough to clearly illuminate the entire station yard.

"Are you two still awake?" he asked, his voice tinged with surprise to see both captains still sitting on the porch at this hour.

"We are discussing the joint training program," Khanh Van replied, motioning for him to sit with her. "Kien had the idea of combining the two teams and teaching students both approaches."

Dac Lam sat down on the opposite steps and nodded when he heard that idea. "Sounds good. Actually, I've been thinking about the same thing for a long time, I just haven't found the right time to suggest it, because before, you two haven't yet..." He hesitated, looking for the right words.

"We don't get along very well yet," Kien said instead, laughing.

"That's right." Dac Lam also smiled, a rare but genuine smile. "Seeing you two sitting here discussing like this, I'm very happy. Heaven's Gate Station needs both of you, together, not against each other."

"We also realized that, a little late but still on time," Khanh Van replied, glancing at Kien with a sympathetic smile.

Dac Lam sat for a while longer, telling a few old stories about his first years as station chief, about the team leaders who had previously worked under him, and about the lessons he had learned through decades of association with this mountain. Khanh Van and Kien listened attentively, feeling a deeper connection not only between the two of them, but between all three generations of Heaven's Gate station, each carrying their own scars and lessons, but sharing the same goal.

Finally, when it was late at night, Dac Lam stood up and stretched. "Okay, I'm going to bed. Don't stay up too late, you two have to get up early to train tomorrow."

"Yes, we'll come right in," Khanh Van replied, watching him step inside, the wooden door gently closing behind him.

The remaining two people, Khanh Van and Kien, sat for a while longer, not saying much, just enjoying the remaining quiet of the night before having to part ways to rest.

"Thank you for tonight," Kien said, standing up and brushing the dust off his pants. "It's been a while since I've had such a truly comfortable conversation."

"Me too." Khanh Van stood up and followed him, looking at him with a warm smile, bringing both relief and confidence in a journey ahead that had been forged through the red fire of one of the most difficult days of both of their careers. "Good night, Kien."

"Good night, Ms. Van. See you tomorrow morning, with new plans."

He limped inside, even though his leg had long since fully recovered, only the habit of walking a little more cautiously than before remained from the old injury. Khanh Van stood for a moment longer, looking up at the starry sky one last time before returning to her own room, her heart carrying a complete peace that she did not dare to believe she could find again, just over half a year ago.

Before closing the door, she looked back at the station yard again, where the moonlight was still spreading a thin layer of silver on each stone, each corner of neatly arranged equipment - a familiar, simple scene, but now carrying a much deeper meaning than what she had ever felt before that fateful day on Sa Mu peak.