Chapter 32 — Summer After the Rain

Minh took Linh to the projection room, where he finished repairing the entire electrical system after many days of hard work. He said they could open the theater every weekend first, using the small initial revenue to gradually pay off debt and keep community activities uninterrupted.

Linh asked him if he believed she would stay. Minh was silent for a long time. She had never seen him silent for so long, to the point where the sound of the ceiling fan became unusually clear in that silence.

“I don't know,” he said, his voice slow and serious unlike usual. "I just know that if you leave, I'll still fix the theater. But I don't want to pretend that it doesn't make me sad."

Linh asked him if he loved her, the question popped out before she could consider it. Minh admitted that he did, but didn't want to use his feelings to keep her. He wanted her to choose to stay because of this place, because of what she had built, not because of a projector repairman standing in front of her.

Linh said she is not ready to promise anything right now. Minh told him he knew, not showing any disappointment. They sat next to the projector, listening to the steady sound of the fan, letting them do the rest of the conversation in silence.

Hau walked in at that moment, thinking the two were having a serious technical meeting. He handed over the newly prepared show schedule, then asked why the atmosphere in the room was like a tense parent-teacher conference. Minh told Hau to leave immediately. Hau asked if he could get popcorn before leaving. Linh threw him a package so he could quickly disappear.

That night, Linh started writing the official conservation plan. Minh did not joke when commenting on the electrical system, checking each number seriously, but still could not help but joke about the font style Linh chose for the text title. The two worked hard until morning, the cup of coffee gradually cooled on the table.

The complete plan includes a cinema, space to store historical documents, rescue skills classes for the community and a small business counter to generate additional revenue. More than just retaining the physical building, they are creating a compelling reason for the theater to continue to live and thrive.

Linh's mother proposed opening more filmmaking classes for children on weekends. Tan wants to have a training session on reading water level warning signs for people along the river. Ms. Nam requested that a corner be set aside to sell tea, otherwise people would only come for meetings and not stay long enough to truly bond.

Mai forced the group to calculate the costs of regular cleaning, equipment maintenance and movie copyright. Hau was assigned the task of scheduling volunteers, but he mistakenly created a schedule with his name appearing on every shift throughout the week. Linh forced him to erase six days, saying he couldn't sell tickets during the day and sleep in the projection room at night.

When they debated whether to change the name, Minh proposed “Ha Vang Center: not just showing movies”. Linh Bao sounds like a cheap billboard. Her mother said to keep the old name, just adding a small line below: "Where memories are verified and shared", both simple and meaningful.

Phuc sent an official written opinion, admitting that the theater has real community value but objecting to using flood records to put pressure on his old company. Linh read, not angry like before. She asked Mai to include him in the official consultation list, as long as all his contributions were recorded publicly and transparently.

On the day of submitting the application, the sun was so intense that it was blinding. Linh held a heavy pad of paper, Minh held a roll of technical drawings, and mother held a small box of popcorn as a gift for the staff receiving the documents. Hau asked if popcorn could be included in general operating costs. Mai said if he ate it all by himself, absolutely not.

They received an appointment to process the file. Not an acceptance, but not a harsh refusal either. Linh posted the appointment notice on the theater's general notice board. People passed by to read, some lamented the long wait, some said waiting was much better than having their names erased forever.

Linh writes the appointment date in the general calendar, placing it next to the movie schedule and weekly shifts. People see that the procedure, although slow but clear and specific, makes them less impatient. Minh said the appointment letter is like a movie ticket without a specific show time; At least it proves people have officially made a reservation.

While waiting for the results, Linh did not let everyone sit still in vain. She set up a large chore board hanging right at the projection room door: legal documents in blue, technical repairs in yellow, community activities in red. Whoever accepts the job must clearly state the expected completion date, and is not allowed to just vaguely write "will do". Hau looked at the board and asked if there was a separate color for things he had forgotten. Mai gave him a piece of pure white paper and told him to stick it on his forehead as a warning sign.

Tuan apologized for previously intentionally hiding copies of important emails. He said that the night he discovered the truth, he almost deleted the entire data folder for fear of internal conflicts with his father's old associates, fear of being considered a traitor to his own family, and then had to restore it from the old server in a not-so-honorable way. Linh did not scold him. She asked him to write a full report, clearly stating which parts were certain and which parts were just personal speculation. Tuan signed the report and was so relieved that he proactively invited the whole group to drink iced tea to celebrate.

That weekend, they tried running a small screening with only twenty test guests. No official ticket sales, only cards to count the number of people entering and exiting at the door. Minh proactively turned off the phone in the middle of the screening to rehearse an emergency evacuation situation. At first, the audience was a bit uncomfortable because of the interruption, but when they heard the reason explained, an elderly man told them to let him know in advance so he could bring more comfortable sandals. Linh records all customer feedback, including the most straightforward criticism. The application has not yet been officially approved, but Ha Vang has begun to prove itself worthy of trust.

After the rehearsal, the whole group sat down to summarize the points that needed improvement. Hau proposed drawing more glowing arrows to guide the way to the emergency exit, because the current emergency lights are still too weak. Mai noted comments and added them to the to-do list before the date the file is officially approved. Mrs. Nam complained that the last rehearsal made her drop the entire basket of popcorn she was carrying, but still admitted that it was better to practice in advance than to panic and not know what to do when it was really dangerous.

Minh spent the next evening rewriting a brief evacuation guide, posting it on each row of seats instead of just hanging a single one at the door. He also drew simple illustrations that are easy to understand for both the elderly and children. Linh took a look and suggested that he should write larger letters so that older people could easily read them in the dark. Minh corrected it immediately, without a single complaint, even though it was the third time he had to reprint the entire manual.

Late at night, when work was quiet, Linh and Minh sat on the steps in front of the theater, looking at the streetlights reflecting on the quiet river surface. She asked him if he was tired after all he had done these past few weeks. He said he was tired, but it was a kind of tiredness he had never felt before: tired because he was building something, not tired because he was just trying to survive the day. Linh nodded, understanding that feeling better than anyone else, because she herself was experiencing the same thing for the first time in many years.

She told him about her old job in the city, the projects she was in charge of, the long meetings just discussing numbers that didn't really change anyone's life. There, she said, she always felt like she was running on a treadmill, expending a lot of energy but not really getting anywhere. Here, even though it is much more tiring, every step leaves a specific trace: a chair is repaired, a witness is listened to, a child learns how to read flood warning signs.

Minh listened, didn't interrupt, just nodded occasionally. When she finished speaking, he was silent for a moment and then said that maybe that was the reason he never wanted to leave An Binh, even though he had been introduced to more stable jobs in the city several times by acquaintances. He wanted to be in a place where his work could be seen and touched, not just invisible numbers on a computer screen. Linh looked at him under the dim streetlight, feeling that the distance between them, even though they had never been named clearly, was naturally narrowing.