Chapter 10 — The End-of-Day Train

Autumn gradually turns to short, sunny days, and sunset in Qingzhou begins to fall a little earlier each week, causing the departure time of the last train at 18:40 to now coincide exactly with the moment the sun touches the horizon, dyeing the entire station platform in a rare, brilliant orange-red color.

That evening, when Khanh Chi stood to welcome passengers at the train door as usual, the late-day sunlight slanted through thin clouds, creating long orange-yellow streaks of light on the tracks, so beautiful that a few passengers stopped to take photos before boarding the train. Thien An also stopped for a moment, looked up at the changing sky, then stepped into the carriage, her eyes still lingering in surprise at the scene.

"The sunset here is so beautiful," he said when Khanh Chi came to check tickets.

"The most beautiful time is when the train passes through the open fields behind the second station," she replied, smiling. "There are no houses blocking it, you can see the entire horizon."

"So can you show me that place later?"

Khanh Chi nodded, silently making a promise in her heart. Before getting to that part, she still had to complete the ticket check job as usual, walking along the carriage to greet each familiar passenger. Mr. Canh also got on the train today, sitting in the same seat. When he saw her passing by, he jokingly asked: "Why is your face so bright? Is something funny?" Khanh Chi just laughed and did not answer, causing the old man to nod in understanding, not asking further questions, just quietly watching her figure walking towards the end of the car with the eyes of an experienced person, guessing somewhat of what was budding between the two young people.

Boi Linh also noticed a slight change in Khanh Chi's attitude in recent days - lighter steps, more permanent smile on her lips whenever mentioning the passenger named An. The girl didn't say anything, just quietly sketched a small sketch in her notebook, drawing the two people standing next to each other in the connecting compartment, the sunset casting long shadows on the floor of the carriage, planning to give it to Khanh Chi on an appropriate occasion.

When the train left the station, running for about fifteen minutes, just in time to cross the empty field as she said, she took advantage of the rare silence between two ticket checks, walked to stand next to Thien An in the space between the two cars, where there was a large window looking straight to the west.

The sun was then low, almost touching the horizon, red-orange light spreading across the harvested fields, turning the whole field into a shiny golden carpet. A flock of white storks flew in a row across the sky, the birds' wings cast small black silhouettes against the fiery sky. The steady sound of iron wheels tapping on the rails mixed with the sound of the wind blowing through the slightly opened window created a sound that was both familiar and strange, like a small symphony just for this moment.

"So beautiful," Thien An whispered, not taking her eyes off the scene outside.

"I've seen this scene countless times, but every time it feels new," Khanh Chi said, her voice gentle. "Maybe because every day the light is a little different, the clouds are a little different. My dad once said, no two sunsets are the same, even if we go the same route every day."

"He must have been a very sensitive person to beauty, even though he worked in a job that required precision and discipline like driving a train," Thien An commented.

"That's right. I once asked him why he wasn't bored after running the same route over and over again for twenty years. He told me that the road never repeats itself, only the person walking on it makes it boring because they don't look closely. Since then, I've always tried to look at this route with new eyes every day, even though I've passed it thousands of times."

Thien An turned to look at her, his eyes in that moment contained an undisguised sincere admiration. "You are a lot like him, Ms. Chi. The way you talk about work, about this route... I feel real love, not just responsibility."

Khanh Chi felt her cheeks heat up, not necessarily because of the sunset sunlight shining into the train car. "Thank you. By the way, I've told my story too much, it's your turn to tell something about yourself."

Thien An was silent for a moment, his eyes turned back to the window frame, where the sun was now just a fading orange streak behind the distant mountains. "I... I don't have many good memories of a permanent home like you. My parents broke up when I was young, I grew up at my grandmother's house for a while, then moved with my mother to a few places before coming back to live with her permanently. Maybe that's why I always feel a little jealous when I hear you talk about your family, even though your family has also experienced great loss."

"Jealous about what?" Khanh Chi asked softly.

"Because she has a place to belong, a clear story about who she is, where she comes from. As for me, I still feel like I'm looking for that." He paused, then laughed lightly, as if satirizing himself. "That sounds corny."

"No," Khanh Chi replied, her voice sincere. "I think everyone needs a place to belong. Maybe you just haven't found your right place yet."

Thien An looked at her, there was a long silence between the two, only the steady sound of iron wheels and the last sunset fading outside. "Maybe you're right," he said softly, his voice carrying a strangely gentle tone. "Lately I started thinking, maybe I've found it."

The night wind blew through the slightly opened window, bringing with it the first cold air of the season, making Khanh Chi shiver slightly. Thien An, without saying anything, took off the thin coat he was wearing and gently draped it over her shoulders. "You should dress to avoid the cold. It's windy tonight." That simple gesture surprised Khanh Chi. Her heart beat an uneven rhythm. She gently pulled his warm shirt around her shoulders. She didn't say thank you out loud, just nodded slightly, letting that moment of silence say everything that words weren't enough to express.

That sentence, although not said clearly, made Khanh Chi's heart beat faster. She didn't dare to ask more what he wanted to say, just quietly turned back to look out the window, where the sky had now turned dark purple, the first stars began to appear.

From then on, it almost became a habit to meet unscheduled, every night when the train passed through that empty field, Khanh Chi would find an excuse to stand next to Thien An for a while in the space between the two cars, together quietly watching the last moments of the day before night completely fell. It wasn't an official date, no love confessions were said, just two people gradually learning to wait for each other through repeated sunsets every day on the same train, the same route, but never getting bored.

Mr. Thin, from the cockpit, sometimes glanced through the small rearview mirror mounted in the connecting compartment and saw two figures standing next to each other quietly in the sunset, smiling slightly to themselves, saying nothing, just quietly steering the train forward, carrying not only the passengers, but also a seed of affection that was growing day by day, as silently as the steady rhythm of the iron wheels on the tracks.

One night, when that habit had been repeated for nearly two weeks, Thien An brought a small book and gave it to Khanh Chi as soon as the train passed through the familiar field. "I saw this book at a used bookstore in Thanh Chau, thought you would like it," he said, a little embarrassed. It is an old photo book about small railways across the country, printed many years ago, the cover is worn but the photos inside are still clear, capturing images of market trains running through fields and old stations similar to Van Phong station.

Khanh Chi flipped through each page, her eyes lit up with excitement. "Thank you, this gift is very meaningful. Let me leave it in the traditional room for everyone to see."

"I think, perhaps routes like this one deserve to be remembered more," Thien An said, his voice a bit lower. "Not only because of their historical value, but because they are still feeding so many people every day, even though few people pay attention."

Khanh Chi nodded, touched by his sophistication, who always knew how to make her feel that her simple job had a greater meaning than she ever dared to think. She hugged the book to her chest, looking out the window where the last sunset was fading away, giving way to the gentle night falling, and in her heart, a new, eager feeling of anticipation began to form every time she thought that tomorrow she would be standing here again, in this exact place, with this exact person, watching another sunset that would never happen again.