Chapter 27 — Summer Rescuer

Three weeks after the press conference, when most of the technical survey work was completed and a temporary plan for the Sa Den Cape area was agreed upon — removing the damaged embankment, temporarily reinforcing the remaining part according to technical standards while waiting for a comprehensive redesign — the district government held a special ceremony at Bai Duong, combining an official announcement of reopening the entire safe swimming area and a memorial service for those who died at sea, including Mr. Pham Van. Loc.

The ceremony took place on a late August morning, when the harsh summer sun had begun to subside, giving way to cool breezes signaling the approach of autumn. Bai Duong is decorated simply but solemnly, with a small stone stele newly erected near the rescue station, engraved with the names of rescue workers who have died while on duty in this area over the years. At the top of the list is the name Pham Van Loc, accompanied by the words: "The person who sacrificed his life to save others, will forever be an example for generations of rescuers to follow."

Thao Nhi stood in front of the stone stele, holding her mother's hand tightly, her eyes filled with tears as she read each word engraved on it. This was the first time, after eight years, that her father's name was mentioned publicly with the dignity he deserved, no longer hidden behind rumors and suspicions.

"Your father is finally honored just like what he did," Mrs. Hoa said, her voice trembling but filled with pride. "I wish he could see this moment."

"I think dad saw it, mom," Thao Nhi replied, looking up at the clear blue sky without a single cloud. "Somewhere, hostage dad is smiling."

The ceremony was attended by a large number of townspeople, representatives of the provincial government, the entire rescue team, and the entire family of those who almost lost their lives due to dangerous water this summer - Ms. Chung Thi Mai and little Tom, now fully recovered and running around on the sand, with absolutely no trace of the nightmare that almost took his life; Phong, the young man whom Thao Nhi saved during the stormy night, was also present, carrying a bouquet of flowers and placing it in front of the stone stele with deep gratitude.

Mr. Dat, despite his old age, still personally attended, standing quietly in front of the stone stele engraved with the name of the most excellent student of his life. "It's been eight years, and you can finally rest in peace with honor, Loc," he whispered, his voice choked, his hand gently touching the cold stone.

Nghiem Bao Long was also present, standing next to Trong Nghi, his face carrying an expression of relief that only those who have carried the burden of a secret suppressed for many years can understand. "I've been waiting for this day even more than Nhi," he told Trong Nghi. "I can finally sleep well without being haunted by my silence from the past."

After the solemn ceremony, the Vice Chairman of the district - who was newly appointed to replace his old position after a series of upheavals - stepped up to speak, officially announcing the reopening of the entire Bai Duong area and a part of the Mui Sa Den area that had been safely reinforced, accompanied by a newly installed automatic warning system, capable of signaling immediately when detecting flows exceeding dangerous thresholds.

"This is the most modern current warning system in the Central region," he declared, "designed based on the data and recommendations that the Bai Duong rescue team and the maritime safety inspection team have diligently collected over the past summer. We would like to express our deep gratitude to the entire rescue team, especially Ms. Pham Thao Nhi and Mr. Huynh Bach Duong, who did not hesitate to face difficulties and dangers to protect the safety of residents and tourists."

Applause echoed across the beach, and Thao Nhi felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment at the attention, but also with pride at the sight of the new warning system — a concrete symbol of everything she, Bach Duong, and the team had fought to achieve.

In the afternoon, after the official ceremony ended, Thao Nhi's family and closest people - Bach Duong, Mr. Dat, Trong Nghi, the entire rescue team - gathered at a quiet corner of the beach, held a small, more private ceremony, releasing flower lanterns into the sea according to traditional customs to commemorate the deceased.

Thao Nhi lit the candle in the small flower lantern and whispered the words she had cherished for eight years but had never dared to say out loud. "Dad, I have found the truth. I have protected this sea, protected the people who still swim in the sea every day, just like you did. I hope you are proud of me, like I am always proud of you."

She dropped the flower lantern into the water, watching it slowly drift away along with dozens of other lights of the attendees, the shimmering light reflecting on the calm sea surface under the sunset sky dyed in brilliant red and orange colors.

Mrs. Hoa also released her own lamp, her hands shaking as the small candle flickered in the gentle afternoon breeze. "Mr. Loc," she whispered, her voice just enough for the wind to carry away, "we have done it. Eight years of waiting, in the end, it was not in vain. You can rest assured, your daughter has grown up, is as strong and kind as you ever wished." Thao Nhi stood next to her, holding her mother's hand tightly, both of them silently watching the lamp blend into the shimmering stream of light drifting away on the calm sea.

Mr. Dat, standing behind, also dropped his lantern into the water, not only for Mr. Loc but for all his fellow rescuers who have passed away during the forty years he has been involved in this profession. "Each lamp is a story, a sacrifice," he said to Trong Nghi standing next to him. "We don't do this job to be remembered, but it's heartwarming to know that, if something happens to us, there will still be people who will remember, someone who will continue the path we have chosen."

Trong Nghi nodded, his eyes following his young team - Thao Nhi, Anh Kiet, Anh Thi, Nhat Quynh, Gia Lam - standing together, each holding a lantern, preparing to drop it into the sea with their own wishes for a safer summer, a brighter future for all those still attached to this dangerous but meaningful rescue profession.

Bach Duong stood next to her, holding her hand tightly, both of them quietly watching the small lights drift away, bringing with them farewell and the promise of a safer future for this sea.

"Your father must be very proud," Bach Duong said softly.

"I know," Thao Nhi replied, smiling through her tears. "And I'm also proud because I was finally able to completely make peace with the sea, with no more fear or resentment creeping into my heart."

Ms. Chung Thi Mai, baby Tom's mother, came to Thao Nhi's side before the ceremony ended, her eyes filled with emotion. "Miss Thao Nhi, I can't thank you enough. Not only for saving my child, but for fighting to ensure that no other child has to go through what my child went through." Baby Tom, standing next to his mother, looked up at Thao Nhi with the clear eyes of a child, then suddenly hugged her leg. "Thank you, rescue lady," the boy said in an immature but sincere voice, causing the group of adults around him to burst into warm laughter amidst the still emotional atmosphere of the ceremony.

Thao Nhi bent down and patted the boy's head, feeling the full meaning of the job she had chosen. "I should be thanking you," she said softly, "for showing me that every time I save a life, I'm reminded why I chose this profession in the first place."

As the ceremony gradually ended, the sunset dyed the whole sky of Duong Xanh in brilliant colors, the lanterns continued to drift away on the calm sea, bringing with them many wishes, many memories, and even new hopes for a safer future of this small coastal town.

On the way out of the beach, Thao Nhi stopped one last time, looked back at the stone stele engraved with her father's name in the sunset, then looked out at the new warning system being completely installed near the Sa Den Cape area, the sensor light posts sparkling like small lighthouses guarding the sea that had witnessed so many losses. She felt a circle had closed — from the pain of a sixteen-year-old child standing helplessly on the shore, to the grown woman of today, standing firmly in the very place where tragedy once happened, not to gnaw on the past, but to protect the future.

"Let's go," Bach Duong said softly, putting his arm around her shoulder. "My mother is waiting at the restaurant. She said she will cook a sumptuous meal to celebrate tonight."

Thao Nhi smiled, nodded, and let him lead her away from the beach in the last sunset of an important day, filled with the peace she had been waiting for eight long years.