Chapter 29 — Music Sent After School

Before the school gate opened, Nhien and Duy stood in the hallway and heard the school bell sound in the first recording. It's a bit squeaky, off-beat, and there's the sound of someone sneezing at the end. Duy asked if it should be cleaned. Nhien shook her head. “Let everyone know I started from an imperfect room.”

Lam brought two sandwiches, saying one was a spiritual counseling fee. Khang held a bag of cables, complaining that no one paid the technical consulting fee. The group fought over the cake, then laughed when they discovered that Lam had cut one cake in half into four equal parts.

The morning before reopening, the school yard still smelled of new paint. Nhien walked along the hallway, posting small signs pointing the way to room 3C. She tried to write neatly, but Lam kept sneaking in a backward arrow, causing a group of students to go to the tool shed and then return with bewildered expressions.

“This is the art of creating experiences,” Lam explained when caught red-handed. “The listener has to be a little adventurous before entering the sound.”

Khang took down the board and changed it to a color-coded one. “Adventure is not in the safety plan.”

Nhien laughed while editing the entire diagram. In the middle of the map, she placed a red circle saying "Where are you?". That simple question made her think of the past months. She had stood in this room many times not knowing which side she belonged to: the daughter of a business trying to save her reputation, or a student who just wanted to do a decent program. Maybe you don't need to choose just one side.

Duy arrived ten minutes late because he had to deliver repaired radios to customers at Aunt Huong's counter. He brought a box of old components with him, saying he would use it as a gift for the attendees: whoever answered the sound question correctly would get to choose a capacitor, a knob or a broken headphone to take home and make it into a decoration.

“What kind of strange gift is that?” Lam asked.

“Even things that cannot be used can have a second life,” Duy replied. “Like this club.”

Those words made everyone quiet for a moment. Nhien looked at the name list, where the names of those who had participated were written in small letters at the bottom. She wanted to invite them back, even if just to listen to a piece of music. She sent each text message, without any big promises, just saying that room 3C still had seats available.

Late afternoon, a car stopped in front of the gate. Mr. Vu Tan walked in with two boxes of equipment. He said it was a grant without conditions, and requested that the source be clearly stated in the minutes. Nhien asked why he changed his mind. He looked towards the radio room and replied that there were things that should be continued more transparently, not hidden.

When the school bell rang, room 3C lit up. No one said this was a perfect start. They just check the microphone, open the door, and let the first track find its listener.

Before the reopening ceremony, Nhien printed the credit list on thick paper. She checked each name's Vietnamese accent, asking the person who chose to remain anonymous if they wanted to keep that spelling. Duy corrected an error in the accent of his father's name, then put his pen down for a long time.

Lam said nothing. She just gave him a glass of water, so that calling him by his correct name had time to become a normal action.

After-school music

Room 3C reopened with a small inspection session. Ms. Mai asked everyone to turn on the microphone, read their name, say a sentence and turn it off. Lam read his name and said, "I don't laugh without your permission," then burst out laughing laugh. Khang checked the wire. Read the procedure. Duy stood at the end of the line.

“Pham Quoc Duy,” he said. “I came to send a piece of music.”

The speaker played his voice clearly, without crackling.

“After Listening” is final edited. Duy kept the sound of the train, Nhien kept the sound of footsteps, Lam kept the licensed laughter. Khang added a not too long silence. Ms. Mai checked the contributor's name.

They decided to play the music during the room's reopening ceremony, commercial-free. Listeners can download the educational version, but cannot use advertising without asking.

Minh Quang arrived early, bringing Ha Audio documents to complete the transfer of equipment and maintenance funds to the school. He said to Nhien: "I won't come into the room if you don't invite me."

“Dad, you can come in. But let everyone listen.”

He nodded.

Duy met Minh Quang by the ice shelf. The two did not hug, just shook hands. Minh Quang said: "I will write your father's name in all documents."

Duy replied: "And if there is an error, write down your name."

"Okay."

The ceremony took place after school. Students stood around the hallway. Ms. Lan sent her wishes via video, and Ms. Huong brought a repaired radio as a gift. Bao and Ngoc join the technical council. Trong stood last, did not go on stage, but was called on the list of those who told the truth.

Lam introduced: "This is not a song about who wins. This is a song about the sounds people tried to hide, and the people who chose to open the door at the right time."

Duy plays the guitar. Control course. The first three notes sounded, then the sound of the gate, the sound of the train, the sound of rain and the sound of students calling each other. The space between the chorus allows each listener to have their own memory.

When the song ended, no one applauded immediately. Silence lasted three seconds. Then the sound of applause spread from the end of the hallway.

Nhien looked at Duy. He didn't laugh out loud, just exhaled as if he had just put down a heavy object.

After the ceremony, the two went to the rooftop. The city below has turned on its lights. From afar there was the sound of a train, a motorbike, and the sound of a salesman calling a customer.

“Are you planning on staying after your internship?” Nhien asked.

“I would go for six months, then come back every weekend if I could.”

“Sounds tiring.”

“But it's what I want.”

“I will study sound design.”

“In Lower Audio?”

"I don't know. Maybe in a place that doesn't know who I am."

Duy nodded. “I want to listen to your lesson when you don't have to explain your family.”

“I want to listen to your story when you don't have to talk about your father.”

Two people stood next to the railing. No one said love. No need, because they spoke with months-long options.

Duy took his phone and opened a new file. “I wrote this extra paragraph.”

The melody is shorter and brighter than the previous version. At the end there was a knock three times, twice, three times.

“That's hello,” he said.

“Not a secret code?”

“Now for greetings.”

Nhien knocked again on the railing. Three times, two times, three times. The sound spread across the rooftop.

Lam called out from the stairs: "If you two plan to turn the school roof into a recording studio, remember to ask permission!"

“We asked for permission!” Nhien replied.

“Who gave permission?”

“It's us!”

Lam shook his head. “This club is hopeless.”

They laugh. Downstairs, Ms. Mai turned off the light in room 3C. The hallway speaker no longer turns on by itself. No mysterious files, no threats.

Only the sound of school remains after school ends.

That night, Duy sent Nhien the song with the official title: **Song After School**.

Credits include Ha An Nhien, Pham Quoc Duy, Quynh Lam, Tuan Khang, Ms. Mai and all students contributed their voices. The last line reads: **Not fully transferable. Please ask before using.**

Nhien finished reading and texted: **I agree.**

Duy replied: **Me too.**

File 29 is in open storage, but the original tape 03 is still in closed storage. Everything has not yet turned into a product. It just becomes a testable promise.

The credits are read during the end-of-semester handout. Each name appears on the screen for just the right amount of time, without jostling. The person who chooses to remain anonymous appears as “a voice after school.” The whole room was silent when it came to that line.

Nhien and Duy check the final copy. The two of them have learned not to arbitrarily correct each other's parts. If a breath is added, the other person must be asked. If a period of silence is withdrawn, the reason must be recorded.

Lam said the process of making the program is slower, but the program sounds more real. Khang replied: "Slowness is the price for not causing others to follow your mistakes."

Minh Quang placed a new recorder in the warehouse, no logo required. Aunt Huong brought the first radio Duy repaired and placed it next to the door. Ms. Mai framed the old version of "Four Nos" and kept it next to the updated version.

Duy prepares to go back to the studio. He will be away from school, but the Open Frequency plan has many keepers. Nhien is no longer afraid of the room going silent if one person is absent.

“Are you afraid of being replaced?” she asked.

“Yes. But if I can change it, it means I have taught enough.”

“Sounds arrogant.”

“I'm practicing speaking at length.”

Nhien burst out laughing. She recorded laughter in the log, asking if he agreed. Duy nodded.

The session ended with the school bell ringing. No one cut it, no one added music. The bell rang throughout the hallway and disappeared out the gate.

“Are you afraid of being replaced?” she asked.

“Yes. But if I can change it, it means I have taught enough.”

“Sounds arrogant.”

“I'm practicing speaking at length.”

Nhien burst out laughing. She recorded laughter in the log, asking if he agreed. Duy nodded.

“Are you afraid of being replaced?” she asked.

“Yes. But if I can change it, it means I have taught enough.”

“Sounds arrogant.”

“I'm practicing speaking at length.”

Nhien burst out laughing. She recorded laughter in the log, asking if he agreed. Duy nodded.

After that, Duy sent a file named **30 — tomorrow's frequency**. Nhien is the first to open, but not the only one who has the right to keep it. The music belongs to those who contributed and those who will listen to it responsibly.