Chapter 23 — Summer Rescuer

Trong Nghi, Anh Thi and Do Gia Lam found two of the three remaining victims after nearly ten minutes of struggling with fierce waves, bringing them to shore in a state of panic but still conscious. Only one person — a young man named Phong, according to his panicked friends on shore — has yet to be found, and as time passes, the hope of finding him alive is dwindling by the minute.

"The current is pushing him southeast, away from the embankment!" Bach Duong shouted loudly, his eyes glued to the screen displaying the real-time flow model, his voice so tense that it was almost lost. "If not found in the next ten minutes, the current will push him out into deep water, beyond anyone's reach."

Trong Nghi, Anh Thi and Gia Lam swam continuously for nearly half an hour in the harshest conditions. All three of their strength was significantly depleted. As they returned to shore to retrieve more equipment and rest for a moment, tension filled the group — no one had the strength to rush out again right away, but time for victims was running out by the second.

Thao Nhi, standing next to Bach Duong, felt a fierce tug in her heart. She knows her physical limits after two consecutive rescues in stormy conditions, but she also knows that if no one goes into the water right now, the young man named Phong may not have a chance to survive.

"I'll go," she said, her voice determined even though her body was still shaking with exhaustion.

"No way," Bach Duong grabbed her shoulder tightly, his eyes filled with panic. "You just went through two extremely dangerous rescues. You don't have the strength to swim out into that water anymore. Let me go find more people from the rescue team in the next town."

"There's no time left, Bach Duong!" Thao Nhi shouted, her voice both fierce and painful. "With every minute that passes, his chances decrease. I'm the only one here who has the strength to swim out into deep water right now."

In that moment, the image of her father appeared clearly in her mind — the image of him, after saving two people, exhausted but still returning to look for the third person, because he knew, if he didn't go, no one else could save that person in time. She understands, more than anyone else, the feeling of facing that life-or-death choice — between preserving her own safety and the undeniable responsibility of a rescuer.

"I can't let him die just because I'm scared," she said, her voice choked with both emotion and determination. "My father didn't choose that. I can't either."

Bach Duong looked at her, his eyes filled with tension between the fear of losing her and a deep understanding of her personality, of the ideal she had pursued for the past eight years. Finally, he nodded, although his face was still filled with extreme fear.

"I'll guide you over the radio, inch by inch," he said, his voice shaking. "But you have to promise me — if I say come back, you have to come back immediately, don't be stubborn."

"I promise," Thao Nhi replied, even though they both knew that in the moment of life and death in the middle of the sea, that promise might be difficult to keep until the end.

She rushed into the water for the third time, her body was exhausted but her will was still as steadfast as steel. Storm waves continuously hit her, almost drowning her completely, but she still persevered in swimming following Bach Duong's instructions through the waterproof walkie-talkie attached to her ear.

"Turn left ten degrees, the current is getting stronger ahead!" His voice rang out through the noise of the storm, tense but still maintaining the necessary precision. "About fifty meters to go!"

Thao Nhi swam with all her might, each stroke seemed to burn all the remaining energy in her exhausted body. Finally, amid the towering waves, she saw a weak arm waving before sinking — Phong, almost completely exhausted, had only a few seconds left before he no longer had the strength to rise.

She dived down, used the last strokes of her strength to approach him, wrapped her arms around the almost motionless body, and pulled him out of the water. "I'm here, come on!" she shouted, even though her own voice was hoarse with exhaustion.

But as soon as she started swimming back to shore, she clearly felt her body could no longer cope. Her arms were numb, her legs no longer had the strength to tread water, and in a terrifying moment, she realized she was in the same situation that took her father's life eight years ago — exhausted in the middle of a rough sea, after exhausting all her strength to save others.

"Bach Duong," she whispered through the walkie-talkie, her voice so weak that she wasn't even sure he heard her. "I... I don't have enough strength..."

"Thao Nhi! Hold him, don't let go! I'm coming!" Bach Duong's voice rang out in panic over the radio, and just a few seconds later, she heard the sound of water being violently churned from behind — he had rushed into the water, despite the fact that he was not a formally trained lifeguard, despite the storm's fiercest roar.

In those hazy moments between consciousness and exhaustion, Thao Nhi felt a strong hand grab her, pulling her and Phong toward another life buoy being thrown from the shore. She no longer had the strength to swim on her own, so she could only cling to her last will to survive, letting Bach Duong and other arms from the shore pull all three people into safe waters.

When she felt the sand under her feet, when the sound of the waves gradually became more distant instead of screaming right in her ears, Thao Nhi let her body collapse, her consciousness flickering between consciousness and unconsciousness. The last image she remembered before falling into darkness was Bach Duong's face, wet and full of tears and rain, calling her name endlessly.

In that hazy moment, between the boundary of consciousness and darkness, Thao Nhi's mind drifted to a distant memory — not the memory of the day her father died, but an afternoon many years earlier, when she was a ten-year-old girl, her father took her to the beach on a rough sea day. He showed her how to recognize the rip current, how to swim at an angle to escape it, and when she asked him, with the innocent voice of a child, if he was afraid of the sea, he laughed, patted her head and said: "Afraid, Nhi. Those who are not afraid of the sea are reckless. But you know, it is because I am afraid that I have learned to understand it carefully, so that fear does not turn into disaster for others."

That memory, which had been dormant in her mind for many years, now returned with strange clarity, as if her father himself were there, in this moment of life and death, reminding her that courage is not the absence of fear, but the right action despite that fear. She felt a strange peace creep into her restless mind, as if she had accomplished something her father had always wanted — not revenge, not proving anything, but simply continuing his legacy, saving people with both heart and mind.

When Thao Nhi woke up, she found herself lying in a temporary medical tent set up near the rescue station, a warm blanket wrapped around her body, and Bach Duong sitting right next to her, his hand holding her hand tightly as if afraid that if she let go, she would disappear again.

"I'm here," she whispered, her voice still weak.

"I won't go anywhere," Bach Duong replied, his voice choked, leaning down to press his forehead against her hand. "You scared me more than anything in my life. Don't ever do that to me again."

"Phong, is he okay?" Thao Nhi asked as soon as she regained some strength, her worries about the victim were still intact even though she had just escaped the line of life and death.

"He's safe, he's in emergency treatment but he's awake and stable," Bach Duong reassured her. "Thanks to you, all six people in the group today were saved, no one died, even though this is the most dangerous storm we have ever faced."

Thao Nhi closed her eyes, letting tears roll down her cheeks, not because of pain, but because of a deep feeling of relief, mixed with silent pride for her deceased father. This time, no one has to die. This time, she did what eight years ago, cruel fate did not allow her father to complete completely.

Outside the medical tent, the storm was still roaring, but its intensity had begun to gradually decrease as the center of the storm moved farther out to sea than initially forecast. Trong Nghi walked in, his face was marked with fatigue but his eyes were filled with relief and pride. "The team completed the best mission in the history of this rescue station," he said, his voice trembling with emotion that rarely showed. "Six lives lost, no one lost, in the middle of the fiercest storm I've ever seen in my thirty years on the job. You made your father proud, Nhi, more proud than anything else."

Those words from the old captain, who had accompanied her family through both the darkest days and these glorious moments, made Thao Nhi unable to hold back her tears again. This night, she knew, would be remembered not just as a night of terrible storms, but also as the night she proved, by her own actions, that her father's legacy—his courage, his devotion, and his unconditional love for those in need—lived on, stronger than ever, in her.