Chapter 26 — Mist Peak Rescue Team

The one hundred and second routine equipment check since the day Khanh Van took over as Team A captain took place on an early winter morning, when frost was still forming a thin layer on the corrugated iron roof of Heaven Gate station and her breath dissolved into small puffs of smoke in the cold air.

She squatted in the middle of the yard, the tarp spread out in front of her, each piece of equipment lined up in neat rows—carabiners, anchors, and pulleys—each thoroughly inspected before being set aside. This was a job she had done hundreds of times, but she had never let herself do it lightly, not even once.

Dieu Han sat opposite, now becoming Khanh Van's deputy during these periodic inspections, her hands quickly classifying each piece of wire according to length and condition of use.

"Miss Van," Dieu Han spoke up, constantly working, "I heard that next week we will lead a group of new students to the top of Sa Mu to practice, is that right?"

"That's right." Khanh Van nodded, still checking the wear of a static rope. "It's time for them to experience real terrain, not just learning on the station yard anymore."

"Are you no longer afraid to go up there?"

That question, although simple, made Khanh Van stop for a second and think before answering. "I still remember. I think I will always remember. But remembering is no longer the same as being afraid, Dieu Han. Now every time I go up there, I see it as a reminder, not a trap I have to avoid."

Dieu Han nodded, did not ask further, just continued her work with a silent respect for that answer.

They continued working in silence for a while, the only sounds being the clanking of metal and the gentle wind blowing through the station yard. From afar, laughter echoed from the kitchen, where Uncle Tong was teaching Khoi how to cook a simple mountain soup, mixed with the sound of Long teasing Bao Khang about something, making both of them laugh loudly.

Khanh Van took out an old carabiner from her coat pocket, something she had carried with her for many months since she last visited Ham Rong abyss. She turned it in her hand, the morning sunlight reflecting dimly on the time-tarnished metal surface, then she attached it to the very harness she would take with her on next week's training trip—not as a decoration, but as an actual piece of equipment that, despite its age, was still sturdy enough to use.

"What is that?" Dieu Han asked, curiously watching her movements.

"An old friend left behind," Khanh Van replied, her voice was gentle, not as heavy as the previous times she mentioned this topic. "I carry it with me, to remind myself why I do this job."

Dieu Han nodded, did not ask further, just smiled slightly, understanding that there were stories that did not need to be told completely to be appreciated.

From a distance, a familiar motorbike turned into the station yard - Vu A Tua, carrying a basket of newly picked wild bamboo shoots, stopped by as a habit he had maintained every week since the rescue campaign the previous year, although now he was no longer required to participate in every shift as before.

"Hello everyone!" he called out, jumping out of the car with his familiar agility. "I brought some fresh bamboo shoots to cook in soup to warm my stomach this season."

"Thank you, Mr. Tua!" Dieu Han ran out to pick up the basket of bamboo shoots and brought it to the kitchen for Uncle Tong, leaving Khanh Van to continue her work of checking equipment in familiar silence.

Kien walked over, sat down next to her on the tarpaulin, and picked up a keychain to help her check faster. "What time do you plan to go to T7 next week?"

"Six o'clock in the morning, to avoid the harsh noon sun." Khanh Van gave him a list of equipment to prepare. "Will you take group B with you?"

"Sure." He glanced over the list, nodding in approval. "I think this time I should let the students practice grid search simulation exercises, like the day we searched for Son and everyone."

Khanh Van was silent for a second, then nodded. "That's a good idea. Just make sure not to scare the students into thinking it's a real situation."

"I'll explain clearly before we begin." Kien placed the checked keychain in its correct position. "You know, every time I talk about it, I feel a little lighter. As if telling it enough times, to the right people, will make it feel less heavy."

"I feel the same way," Khanh Van replied, a slight smile on her lips. "Maybe that's how painful stories gradually become lessons, instead of forever being wounds."

They continued working together, silently but comfortably, until all the equipment had been inspected, sorted, and neatly placed back into storage. The morning sunlight was now higher, warming the cold air left over from last night, and birds began chirping in the branches of the trees around the station.

Kien appeared at the station gate, walking steadily and completely normally, with no trace of the old injury left except a small scar near his ankle that only he noticed. He carried a small wooden board with simple words engraved on it: "Combined training program Team A - Team B, first year."

"Where are you going to hang this?" he asked, holding up the sign for Khanh Van to see.

"The entrance to the equipment warehouse, where everyone can see it every time they enter or exit." She stood up, brushed the dust off her pants, and looked at the board with quiet satisfaction. "That's beautiful. Who did that?"

"Bao Khang. He learned carpentry from his father when he was young. He showed it to me today." Kien smiled, placed the sign against the nearby wall, waiting for the right time to hang it up. "He said he wanted to do something meaningful for the station, after everything that happened."

Khanh Van looked at the board, then looked around the station yard — where she spent nearly a decade of her life, where she lost her best friend, where she found herself again after two years of being immersed in fear, and now, where a new generation was growing up with lessons learned from the losses and victories of the previous generation.

"Miss Van," Dieu Han called, handing her the last coil of static wire that needed to be tested, "You can do this coil too, I've been learning how to roll it from you but I'm still not as good at it."

Khanh Van took the coil and smiled. "There's no special secret, just do it enough times."

She sat down and began coiling the rope following the eight-turn technique that had been ingrained in her fingers through thousands of repetitions—one turn, then another, evenly, precisely, without a trace of waste. The morning sunlight slanted through the trees, illuminating long streaks of light across the station yard, and in her hands, the rope gradually formed into a neat, sturdy coil, ready for any next trip.

Dieu Han sat and observed, learning every move, and Kien stood nearby, silently watching the scene with a slight smile on his lips - two generations of rescuers, one older through pain, the other younger but learning quickly, preparing together for the dangerous mountain slopes that lay ahead.

Khanh Van tied the final knot, placing the completed coil in its rightful place on the equipment shelf, next to other equally neatly rolled coils — each coil with its own story, each story a lesson engraved in the very hands that rolled them.

She stood up, looking back at the entire canvas, now empty, all equipment checked, sorted, stored in the right place — ready, as she always should be, for the next time that Pu Nhu mountain, with all its beauty and danger, would call the Heaven's Gate rescue team to step out of this gate again.

Kien stood up, picked up the wooden sign Bao Khang had just made, brought it to hang on the door frame of the equipment warehouse, and hammered two sturdy nails to keep it in place. He took a few steps back, looked at the results, then nodded with satisfaction.

"It's beautiful," Khanh Van commented, standing next to him, looking at the words engraved on the wooden board in the morning sunlight.

"Yes, it's beautiful." Kien nodded, then turned to her, his eyes filled with deep respect. "Thank you, sister, for everything that brought us to this point."

Khanh Van did not respond verbally, just smiled, then returned to the equipment warehouse, where the coil of wire she had just finished winding was still on the shelf, neat, sturdy, ready for the next journey - like herself, after everything she had been through, had now found her own solid shape, not perfect, but solid enough to keep moving forward.