Chapter 14 — The Bookmobile Through the Mountains

The closer the meeting date gets, the heavier the pressure is on Nghi's shoulders. Mr. Vinh still does not have a definitive answer about whether he will participate in the field trip to Nam Cay or not, while the time to prepare documents, data, and confirmation letters is increasingly urgent. There were nights of White Ritual, where I sat and reviewed each number over and over again, afraid that I would miss something important, afraid that I would make a clumsy presentation in front of district officials who were familiar with administrative language, while she was just someone who was more used to driving on mountain roads than being used to standing in front of a crowd of people giving presentations.

One evening, after completing the Seo Lu route, returning home with an exhausted body, Nghi sat down in a chair, looked at the towering pile of documents on the table, and suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of despair. She remembered every word in her father's notebook, remembered the story about Tuat, about the difficult years he spent building the program, and wondered if she was ruining everything he had worked so hard to build.

"What if I fail this meeting, Mom?" Nghi asked, her voice trembling, when Mrs. Dung walked over and sat next to her, seeing her daughter's exhausted face. "What if I'm not capable of convincing them, not good enough like Dad, then what? I will be the one who causes the program to collapse, making sixteen years of Dad's effort go up in smoke."

Mrs. Dung was silent for a moment, then held her daughter's hand tightly, her voice serious but full of love. "Nghi, listen to me. You are not your father, and you don't need to be your father. You are Nghi, with your own way of working, with your own strengths. Your father also failed many times in the past, was rejected, kicked out of the village, but he didn't think he was useless because of that. Failure is not the end, it's just a part of the path."

Her mother's words partly eased Nghi's anxiety, but were still not enough for her to completely get rid of the lingering feeling of insecurity. That night, she texted Nam, recounting her feelings, although she was a little hesitant because she didn't want to appear weak in front of him.

Nam called right after reading the message, his deep voice rang through the phone in the middle of a quiet night. "Hey, do you know why I believe this program will be kept? It's not because I think you're better than your dad, but because I see you work with all your heart, just like how your dad used to do it. The way you sit down at eye level with Pao, the way you patiently wait for Kía to open up, that's not something that can be learned according to an existing model, it's something that comes from who you are."

"But what if I don't speak convincingly enough in the meeting?" Nghi asked, his voice still worried.

"Then I'll find another way," Nam replied, his voice unwavering. "That meeting is not the final battle, Nghi. Even if the results are not as expected, I still have many other ways to continue fighting — calling on the community, finding other sponsors, even bringing the story to public attention if necessary. You are not alone in this, and the program does not depend on just one meeting."

Nam's words were like a cool breeze blowing through Nghi's troubled mind, helping her gradually regain the necessary calm. She thanked him, then turned off the phone, but still couldn't sleep.

The next morning, while tidying up the pile of documents on the table, Nghi happened to see in her bag a small cardboard that Vang Thi My had given her the last time she visited Seo Lu - a painting of a bookmobile crossing a mountain road, behind a mountain range, and above a bright sun shining across the picture. My named the painting herself, neatly writing below in clumsy handwriting: "Sunlight Book Car — bringing light to the mountains and forests."

Nghi held the painting in her hand, looking at each stroke, feeling like a warm stream of energy was spreading throughout her body. This is exactly why she is fighting — not because of the pressure to be like her father, not because of fear of being judged as a failure, but for children like My, like Dinh, like Kía, like Pao, like Khoi, whose lives this program has touched in ways that cannot be measured in numbers.

She decided that, instead of just presenting a dry report with statistics, she would bring this picture to the meeting, along with a few other artifacts — My's sketchbook, a Math book that was worn out from being read over and over again by Pao, and a small letter that Khoi personally wrote thanking the program for helping him understand and be more proud of his father's work. These artifacts, although not official statistics, contain a convincing power that no table can match.

She called Nam and shared this new idea. He listened, then shouted excitedly. "This idea is great, Nghi! Sometimes, numbers just make people nod their heads, but real stories, real artifacts, really touch people's hearts. I will ask Ms. Ngan and her students to write a few more lines of thoughts to bring to the meeting."

In the remaining days before the meeting, Nghi was no longer immersed in anxiety and low self-esteem as before, but began to prepare with a new spirit - not trying to become a perfect version of his father, but bringing to the meeting his true self, along with the most honest stories about what the bookmobile program has brought and is bringing to the children of Van Thac highland.

She spent an entire afternoon stopping by Seo Lu outside of her usual schedule, just to meet My in private and ask permission to temporarily borrow the painting to present at the meeting. My eyes lit up when she heard that, unable to hide her pride. "Did you really bring my painting to show the guys in the district? Is my drawing bad, I'm afraid they'll laugh."

"It's not ugly, it's very beautiful," Nghi patted the girl's head, his voice firm. "This picture will help you guys in the district understand why the bookmobile is so important to you. You have done me a great favor."

My smiled widely, then ran into the house to get another piece of paper, carefully writing a few more neat lines behind the old picture: "I hope the book cart will always come to my village. I want to grow up to be an artist drawing pictures for children's books, like the books Ms. Nghi brought up." Nghi read those words, his eyes stung, he carefully folded the paper and put it in a file bag along with other documents.

On the way home, she also stopped by Mr. Nhiem's car repair workshop in Dong Soi, asked Khoi's permission to bring the letter the boy had written, and asked Mr. Nhiem to write a few more lines as a father who had witnessed his child change with his own eyes thanks to the science books on the car. Mr. Nhiem, even though he was not used to writing, still painstakingly crafted every word on an old student's paper, telling simply but sincerely about his son's pride in his father's profession, a change that he himself did not expect.

The last evening before going to the district meeting, Nghi sat down to rearrange all the documents one last time - the official data report, letters of confirmation from the school and the Department of Education, My's painting, Khoi's letter, the lines recording the stories of the villagers, and even his father's first notebook, which contained the entire story about the origin of the program. She put everything in an old leather briefcase, the same one her father used when he was teaching, which her mother kept carefully for many years.

Looking at the old but still sturdy leather briefcase, Nghi felt like she was carrying not only documents, but also her father's spirit and faith, accompanying her to the upcoming important meeting. She closed her bag and placed it neatly next to the door, ready for tomorrow. Her heart was much calmer than the previous restless and anxious nights.

Before turning off the lights to go to bed, Nghi's phone vibrated with a text message from Nam: "No matter what the outcome tomorrow is, I'm still proud of what you've done. Good night, and remember, you're not alone." Nghi read and re-read that message several times, a light smile appeared on her lips in the quiet night. She texted a short thank you, then put down the phone, closed her eyes, trying to fall asleep to be alert enough for the important day ahead, carrying in her heart not only the pressure of an upcoming war, but also the trust built from her mother's love, Nam's companionship, and the warm memory of her father who devoted his entire life to the pages of books in the mountains and forests.