Chapter 27 — The Bookmobile Through the Mountains

Just as Yen predicted, just a few days after news about the results of the hearing was published, her editorial office received many more calls interested in the program, including a special call from a representative of a large book and stationery company headquartered in the capital, a unit that had been following Nghi's story since the first days the article spread.

"My company is very impressed with what your program has accomplished," the representative, a middle-aged woman named Hong, said over the phone during the first call with Nghi. "We were looking for meaningful community projects to accompany our corporate social responsibility strategy this year, and her story, especially the story of the night saving a baby in the middle of a storm, really touched us."

After many detailed discussions, the company agreed to sponsor the entire remaining cost to buy a new truck, suitable for mountainous terrain, and committed to supporting the program with additional books every year. In return, they only offered to have their company logo modestly attached to the side of the car, along with occasionally being recognized as a companion in the program's communication activities.

"This is a great opportunity, Nghi," Nam said when he heard the news, his voice filled with excitement. "Not only does it solve the immediate financial problem, but it also opens up the possibility of long-term cooperation, ensuring the program has more sustainable resources in the future."

At the same time, the community fundraising fair proposed by Ms. Dung was also held with unexpected success at the village communal house yard. Not only the townspeople, but also people from the villages along the route also came to attend, bringing local products - brocade woven by Ms. Ban Thi Nai herself, wild honey from Seo Lu, clean vegetables from Dong Soi - to sell to raise funds, contributing a significant part to the common cause.

In particular, the painting "Sunlight Book Car" by Vang Thi My, after being published in Yen's article, attracted the attention of an art collector who happened to read the story. This person contacted and offered to buy back the original painting at a price that surprised both Nghi and My family, with the condition that the entire amount would be donated directly to the program.

"I didn't expect my painting to be so valuable," My said, her voice still a bit shocked when Nghi announced this news, "but I'm happy to be able to contribute to the program, even if it's just a small painting."

"Your painting is not small, My," Nghi said, patting the girl's head, her eyes shining with pride. "It has touched the hearts of so many people, and now, it is helping my own dreams, and those of many other children, have the opportunity to continue to be nurtured."

Combining all the sources — additional budget from the district, sponsorship from the book company, funds raised from the community fair, and the money from My's painting — Nghi realized that the money collected was not only enough to replace the old car, but also had a significant amount left over, enough to start considering expanding the program.

"I can think about buying a second car, opening a new route," Nghi told Nam one evening while recalculating the entire budget, her voice filled with excitement at a prospect she had never dared to dream of before. "There are a few other villages in the district, farther away than Nam Cay, that my father once marked on the map but never had the means to do so."

Nam nodded, his eyes shining with excitement. "This would be a huge step forward, not only saving the program from collapse, but also taking it far beyond what it has ever been before. I think this is exactly what your father would have wanted — not only to maintain it, but to continually expand it, so that more and more children would have access to books."

A few weeks later, the new truck was officially handed over, a much more modern vehicle than the old one, equipped with a suspension system suitable for mountainous terrain, along with a more scientifically designed bookshelf system, optimizing space to hold more books. But before putting it into official use, Nghi made a special decision.

"I want to keep my old car," she told her mother and Nam, her voice filled with emotion. "Not to continue running the line, because it's too old and no longer safe, but I want it to be displayed somewhere, as a testament to the sixteen-year journey that dad started, and a reminder to everyone of where all of this started."

When Mrs. Dung heard her daughter say that, her eyes filled with tears and she immediately nodded in agreement. "I think that's a great idea, son. Your father will certainly be happy to know that his car will be treasured like that, instead of just being abandoned or sold for scrap."

Nghi smiled, looking out at the yard, where both cars - one old, faded but full of memories, the other brand new, shiny and full of promise - were parked next to each other in the afternoon sunlight, like a living symbol of the continuity between the past and the future, between the legacy of her deceased father and the new journey that she, along with all her companions, are continuing to write together.

To recruit more people to be in charge of the new route, Nghi and Nam discussed carefully, and finally decided to publicly post the job through the next article that Yen helped write, looking for a young person who loves community work, is willing to learn to drive a truck and be familiar with mountainous terrain. Not long after, a young man named Thang, who was a pedagogy student but had not found a stable job, applied and quickly impressed Nghi with his enthusiasm and progressive spirit.

"I want to do meaningful work, not just work to make a living," the young man said in the interview, his eyes shining with sincerity. "Reading your story in the newspaper, I found this to be exactly what I was looking for."

Nghi decided to take him to work, spending the first few weeks directly instructing and taking him along on the old routes to get familiar with how they operated and how to communicate with people, before putting him in charge of the new route expanding to more remote villages that her father had marked on the map but had not yet implemented. This is the first time, since taking over the program, that Nghi is no longer the only person shouldering all the work, a change that makes her both relieved and feel an indescribable pride when seeing that her father's program has now grown strong enough to be able to share responsibilities with more people.

Uncle Bon Senh was also officially invited to become the technical manager for both cars, with a fixed monthly remuneration instead of just volunteering as before. At first, he refused, saying that he helped out of gratitude for his family and did not need payment, but Nghi firmly persuaded him. "You have helped the program for many years without pay. Now that the program has better conditions, I cannot let you continue to suffer like that. This is not a favor, but a true recognition of the effort you have put in."

Uncle Bon finally agreed, his eyes could not hide his emotions. "I accepted not because of the money, but because you valued my efforts the same way your father used to do. Mr. Trac was the same in the past, always saying, doing good work does not mean having to suffer losses, anyone who puts in effort deserves to be rewarded accordingly."

Nghi recorded all of these changes in a notebook, a new notebook that she began using in parallel with her father's old notebook, marking a new phase of the program - no longer a small program run by a single family, but gradually becoming a solid community organization, with human resources, financial resources, and an extensive support network behind it.

One evening, while sitting with Nam reviewing the entire plan for the new route, Nghi suddenly realized that the constant feeling of anxiety that had followed her for more than a year - the fear of not being good enough, not worthy enough to continue her father's legacy - had now completely disappeared, replaced by a calm, steadfast confidence. "I'm not scared anymore, Nam," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "I think, I have finally found my own place on this path, not as a shadow of my father, but as my own person."

Nam looked at her, his eyes filled with respect and love. "I've seen that for a long time, Nghi. It's just that now, perhaps you've seen it too, within yourself."