Chapter 9 — Mist Peak Rescue Team

The group continued to climb, and when they rounded a protruding rock shaped almost like a giant fang, Khanh Van felt a cold current running down her spine that had nothing to do with the outdoor temperature.

That cliff wasn't Ham Rong — it was nearly a kilometer away — but its shape, the way it protruded from the cliff at a characteristic angle, was eerily similar to the landmark she and the team had passed two years ago on the way to the scene of that fateful rescue.

"Miss Van, should I turn left or right here?" Dieu Han asked, pulling her back to the present.

"Left," Khanh Van replied, her voice still steady, even though in her head, fragments of memories had begun to break like a dam that could no longer hold.

Two years ago, she was vice captain, under a man named Hung — who led Team A for nearly a decade before retiring just months after that incident. At that time, she was twenty-five years old, full of enthusiasm and speed, always the first to raise her hand to volunteer for the most difficult tasks. Bui Nam Long is her best friend in the team, the person who always accompanies her in every rescue case, the person who once joked that the two were "the couple who are not afraid of heaven and earth" of Heaven's Gate station.

That incident started similarly to today — a solo climber became stranded near Ham Rong canyon when bad weather hit, temperatures dropped rapidly, a narrow weather window was closing. Captain Hung, who was instinctively cautious, wanted to wait another half hour to better confirm wind developments before approaching the most dangerous part of the cliff.

Khanh Van, at that time, was a protester.

"In half an hour, that person may not be conscious enough to hold himself onto the rope as he descends," she had said, her voice full of youthful conviction that instinct and speed always trump hesitation. "I have enough time and enough skills. Waiting longer will only increase the risk for the victims, not reduce the risk for our team."

She was right in theory — speed really is sometimes the deciding factor in survival. But she was wrong in something she didn't expect: Captain Hung eventually gave in to her persuasion, and in his haste to catch up on time, the process of establishing an anchor point at the top of Ham Rong abyss was shortened — only one main anchor point was thoroughly checked, the secondary anchor point was installed faster than necessary, against a rock block that no one had enough time to check for cracks inside.

Nam Long was the person in charge of lowering the victim using a pulley. He stood in the rope control position, his body leaning over the edge of the cliff to see the descent more clearly. When a sudden gust of wind stronger than expected swept through, causing the rope to become covered with a thin layer of ice, causing a sudden change in friction, the victim wobbled, and Nam Long, in reflex, held the rope with his whole body weight to stabilize the other person - an action that followed his life-saving instinct, but placed all the sudden pressure on the hastily installed auxiliary anchor point.

That anchor point breaks.

Nam Long, holding the rope with his whole body, lost his balance and fell just as the anchor point came off. The victim, thanks to the main anchor remaining stable, was pulled to safety a few minutes later by the rest of the team. Nam Long does not.

Khanh Van stood there, just a few meters away, witnessing the entire moment that happened in less than three seconds — from the moment the rope froze causing the victim to wobble, to the moment Nam Long held the person holding the rope, to the moment the anchor broke and he disappeared from her sight into the darkness of the abyss. She screamed his name, rushed to the edge of the cliff, and had to be held tightly by two other teammates to keep from rushing.

Another rescue team was dispatched soon after to search for him, but it took nearly six hours to get his body out of the ravine more than thirty meters deep, in the dark and with hail that started falling right after the accident - the weather front that Captain Hung was worried about arrived just as he predicted, only half an hour later than the time they had planned to wait.

That half hour haunted Khanh Van for the past two years. If they had waited, perhaps the secondary anchor point would have been properly installed, perhaps that gust of wind would no longer had been as dangerous when the humidity was different, perhaps Nam Long would still be alive, standing somewhere in this group of people today, teasing her about how she had become "old before her time" for being too cautious.

After that incident, captain Hung filed for retirement, even though he was not the one who directly made the final wrong decision — it was Khanh Van who convinced him to change the original plan. He never blamed her, not even a single word, which made the burden in her heart even greater than if he had blamed her. Station leadership promoted her to captain soon after—not because she was more worthy than anyone else at the time, she thought, but because no one else wanted to take on this heavy responsibility after such a loss.

From that day, Khanh Van swore to herself that she would never let speed overcome the necessary caution again. Every decision, no matter how small, she carefully considers, double-checks, and consults with others before acting — a complete change from the reckless, overconfident person of two years ago.

But standing here, in the middle of the group of people moving towards T7, looking at Kien walking ahead with a look that was still a bit restless even though it had calmed down after Bao Khang's incident, Khanh Van realized a truth she had never dared to say out loud to anyone, even to herself until now: Kien, with all his recklessness and belief in instinct, was a reflection of her two years ago.

And the real question tormenting her was not whether Kien was wrong or not. But whether, in her fear of becoming her old self, is she pushing the pendulum too far to the opposite extreme, to the point of becoming today's Captain Hung — the person who waits an extra half hour maybe a half hour who shouldn't have waited?

"Miss Van?" Uncle Tong, walking right behind her, lowered his voice enough for only her to hear. "You're thinking about that day, right?"

She didn't need to ask him how he knew. Uncle Tong was present that day, and was the one who held her tightly at the edge of the cliff when she wanted to rush down after Nam Long.

"Yes," she replied, without concealment.

"He wouldn't want you to live the past two years like this, Van." His voice was low, containing a gentleness he rarely showed. "Nam Long wouldn't want you to turn your pain into a cage."

Khanh Van did not answer immediately. She looked ahead, where the mist was still rolling slowly across the rocks, hiding the path ahead as it had hidden the fate of the three people waiting to be found. In her heart, Uncle Tong's words were like a stone thrown into a seemingly calm lake, creating waves that she didn't know how to handle, not now, not when there was still a long road ahead and three lives waiting.

"Let's move on," she said, her voice regaining its familiar stability, even though inside, something had just shifted, slowly but surely, like a block of ice starting to crack after a long period of freezing.

Uncle Tong nodded, didn't say anything more, just put a hand on her shoulder for exactly a second before continuing to walk, a short gesture but enough to convey what he wanted to say: he is still here, like two years ago, like he will always be here.

Ahead, Kien stopped waiting for the rest of the group to catch up. His eyes glanced at Khanh Van with a bit of concern, as if he sensed something had just happened but he didn't know the details. "Are you okay?" he asked, as she approached.

"Fine." She replied, then after a short silence, she added, her voice slower than usual. "Kien, when I come to T7 later, maybe I'll tell you a story. About the Ham Rong incident."

Kien looked at her, clearly surprised — this was the first time in two years working at the same station that he heard her actively mention it to anyone besides Dac Lam and Uncle Tong. "You don't have to—"

"I know I don't have to," she interrupted, but her tone wasn't harsh. "But I think you should listen. Not so you feel sorry for me, but so you understand why I did what I did today."

She didn't wait for him to answer, just continued walking, her feet still steady on the slippery stone ground, leading the group deeper into the mist that waited ahead, carrying both the burden of memories and a new ray of hope that maybe, this time, things would be different.