Chapter 18 — Summer Rescuer

Amid the stressful days of waiting for an official decision from the Department on Bach Duong's transfer, Trong Nghi, realizing that they were both mentally exhausted after a long series of non-stop struggles, decided to arrange for Thao Nhi to take a full day off - something that rarely happens in the middle of the peak season.

"Let's go somewhere, relax a bit," he said, his voice tinged with familiar severity but filled with sincere concern. "You can't fight effectively if you're exhausted. It's a day off tomorrow, I don't want to see you loitering around the station."

Thao Nhi, although initially planning to object, eventually realized he was right. She texted Bach Duong, and the two decided to spend the day visiting the old lighthouse on a hilltop north of town — a site that was decommissioned many years ago when modern navigation systems took its place, but still preserved as a relic, attracting a small number of tourists who love the quiet and panoramic views of the sea.

They hiked up the trail leading to the lighthouse early in the morning, when the sun was still mild and the fresh air carried the scent of weeds and the faint scent of sea salt. Thao Nhi wore a light cotton dress, different from the familiar red rescue uniform, and Bach Duong couldn't help but look back at her many times on the way, his eyes filled with undisguised admiration.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, smiling slightly when she met his eyes.

"I was just thinking, this is the first time I've seen you not wearing a rescue uniform," he replied, smiling slightly. "You look different, but you're also very... you."

They arrived at the top of the hill when the sun was high in the sky, shining warmly on the red and white painted lighthouse that had faded with time. From here, the entire Bai Duong beach and the entire Mui Sa Den area appear in sight, shrinking into an incredibly peaceful picture, far away from the turbulence they face every day.

"So beautiful," Thao Nhi exclaimed, standing still looking out at the deep blue sea stretching to the horizon. "I came here once when I was a child, with my dad. He told me that, even though this lighthouse is no longer active, it still stands there as a reminder that there used to be people guarding the ships to find their way home safely."

"Nice saying," Bach Duong commented, standing next to her, their shoulders lightly touching.

"My dad had a lot of sayings like that," she said, her voice carrying a gentle nostalgia instead of the sadness she used to have when she mentioned him. "I think, every day I remember those words more and more than I remember the pain of the day he passed away. Maybe that's a sign that I'm gradually healing."

Bach Duong turned to look at her, his eyes filled with tenderness. "I'm very happy about that. I'm glad that I was part of that healing process, even if just a small part."

Before resting, they walked around the base of the lighthouse, where an old relic keeper agreed to open the door for them to climb to the observation deck inside, although the rusty metal spiral staircase creaked with every step. From the top of the tower, the sea breeze blows much stronger, bringing with it a feeling of uncertainty but also full of freedom. Bach Duong pointed into the distance and explained to her the principles of light and refraction that lighthouse builders in the past had applied so that light could shine dozens of nautical miles away, helping offshore ships navigate their way to the port safely in the middle of the night or in dense fog.

"You know a lot of interesting things," Thao Nhi commented, listening and watching his eyes light up every time he talked about the things he was passionate about.

"My profession forces me to learn many things related to the sea," he laughs, "but honestly, I like to learn these things not only because of work. The sea for me is always a beautiful and complex problem, there is always something new to discover."

"Just like humans," Thao Nhi said softly, smiling at him. "There's always something new to discover, if you take the time to learn."

They stood there for a long time, looking at the panoramic view of Duong Xanh town stretching out below, the tiny rooftops close together, the coastal road winding along the white sand, and in the distance, the Diamond Bay construction site was still present like a scar on that beautiful natural picture - a reminder that, even if they temporarily put aside the war for a day, it was still waiting for them to return to face it.

After getting off the tower, they sat down on the grass near the base of the lighthouse and opened the bag of snacks Thao Nhi had prepared since morning — bread, fruit, and a cool pot of iced tea. In that rare peaceful atmosphere, Bach Duong began to tell her things he had never shared with anyone, even his family.

"After my shoulder injury, there was a period when I fell into a pretty severe depression," he confessed, his voice low, his eyes looking far away at the sea. "I spent my entire childhood and youth chasing a dream, and when that dream collapsed in a single moment — a wrong shoulder twist during practice — I felt like I had lost the meaning of my existence. I thought, if I can't be a swimmer, I won't be anything."

Thao Nhi listened, did not interrupt, just gently held his hand to let him know she was there, facing that difficult memory with him.

"What got you through?" she asked softly.

"An old teacher of mine once told me that talent is not the only thing that defines a person," Bach Duong continued. "He asked me, if not for the medal, what made me love swimming in the first place? I thought for a long time, and the answer I found was — I loved the feeling of being in water, the feeling of understanding and mastering a seemingly dangerous and unpredictable element. From there, I turned to studying engineering, finding a way to still be connected to the water, but in a different way — protecting others from the dangers that I myself had learned to master."

"It was a beautiful journey," Thao Nhi said, squeezing his hand. "From loss, he found a new meaning, another way to contribute. I think that's exactly what I did after losing my dad."

"We're more similar than I thought," Bach Duong said, smiling at her. "Both turned their pain into motivation to protect others, instead of letting it engulf them."

They sat together all afternoon, talking about simple things — the books they loved, the places they dreamed of going, the foods they missed from home. This is the first time since they met that they have time to be themselves, not as rescue workers and inspection engineers racing against time to find the truth, but simply as a man and a woman who are slowly falling in love.

When the sun began to lean towards the west, dyeing the sky into a strip of brilliant orange mixed with gentle pink light, Bach Duong turned to look at Thao Nhi, his eyes containing a new seriousness.

"Thao Nhi," he said, his voice holding a rare tremor, "no matter what happens next — no matter if I get transferred somewhere else, no matter how long this war lasts — I want you to know that I don't regret coming to Duong Xanh. Meeting you was the best thing that's happened to me in years."

Thao Nhi felt her heart warm at that sincere confession. "Me too," she replied, resting her head on his shoulder as the sunset gradually fell over the old lighthouse. "No matter how this summer ends, I will always be grateful that you came into my life, right when I needed someone to believe in me the most."

They kissed again, in the shadow of the lighthouse that had stopped working but still stood as a silent witness to the many stories that had passed through this place - and now, a new love story was budding amid the uncertain waves of that summer.

On the way down the mountain when it was dark, they held hands and walked slowly, letting the light from their phone flashlights illuminate the way through the winding slope. Thao Nhi felt lighter than at any time since the beginning of the summer, as if a full day with Bach Duong had helped her temporarily put aside the burden of the investigation and the pain of the past, to simply live, love, and be herself.

"Thank you for today," she said when they reached the foot of the hill, where Bach Duong's motorbike was waiting. "I had forgotten what it felt like to be this carefree."

"We'll have more days like this," Bach Duong promised, handing her the helmet. "Whatever happens next, I promise to try to make this time for us, not let work take over every moment."

Thao Nhi nodded, put on her helmet, then sat on the back of his car, wrapping her arms around his waist as the car began to roll down the coastal road, towards the town lights that were gradually lighting up in the falling night. In that rare moment of peace, both of them temporarily forgot the storms that lay ahead, just to fully enjoy the simple happiness of the present.