Chapter 17 — The End-of-Day Train

The idea of the "memory train" night arose from Boi Linh herself, during a group meeting when she proposed to organize a special trip, where passengers were invited to bring mementos and old photos associated with the railway, and share their stories throughout the journey.

"I think, instead of just giving dry data, I should show everyone how this ship really lives in the hearts of so many people," Boi Linh presented, her eyes shining with enthusiasm. "Invite both journalists and representatives of the Department of Transport to attend, so they can see for themselves."

The idea was enthusiastically supported by the whole group right from the moment it was raised. Khanh Chi asked her superiors for permission to organize the event on a Saturday night, when the usual number of guests was smaller, making it easier to arrange space for special activities. The whole group spent a whole week preparing - Y Van was in charge of arranging simple decorations on the train carriage with small paper lanterns and fresh flowers, Boi Linh and her group of friends prepared a corner to display photos and documents collected from everywhere, and Thien An devoted all her heart and soul to completing the dossier on the "heritage train route" plan to prepare for presentation on the train that evening.

Saturday night, when Khanh Chi arrived at Thanh Chau station to prepare for this special shift, she couldn't help but be moved by the scene before her eyes. The station platform, which is usually deserted, is now bustling with people, many familiar faces carrying bags containing old memorabilia, some even wearing the railway uniform that has been kept in the closet for many years.

"Miss Chi, I brought this," a boy ran over, holding a yellowed black and white photo of a wedding held right on the Van Phong station platform decades ago. "This is your grandparents' wedding photo. I heard that your grandfather worked at the station. They met each other thanks to this train."

Khanh Chi smiled, received the photo, and carefully placed it in the display corner that Boi Linh had prepared. That story was just one of dozens of similar stories she heard told that night — love affairs that blossomed on the train, unexpected reunions after many years of separation, childhood memories associated with the train whistle every night.

A white-haired old woman, leaning on a cane, trembled as she walked to the corner of the display, carrying a yellow-stained train ticket, the edges of the paper frayed with time. "This is the first train ticket she took when she was a girl, when she was eighteen years old, to visit her lover who was stationed nearby," she said, her voice trembling with nostalgia. "He's gone now, but she's kept this ticket for the past sixty years, considering it a souvenir that can't be thrown away." Her story made many people standing around silent, some discreetly wiped their tears.

Ms. Nhan also contributed her own story, recounting the most difficult time when her husband left, she had to manage and raise her two small children alone, and it was this last train ride of the day, with familiar faces always willing to help and share, that became a great source of comfort to help her overcome the darkest period in her life. "Many people don't have immediate family nearby, but there is family on this train," she said, her voice choked but her eyes filled with determination.

At exactly 18:40, tonight's special last day train departed, much more crowded than usual, bustling laughter throughout the two carriages lightly decorated with small, shimmering paper lanterns. Doan Bich Ha, a young female reporter, along with a cameraman, moved throughout the carriage, recording every moment, quickly interviewing a few passengers about their stories with the route.

"What do you think makes this train so special?" Bich Ha asked Khanh Chi when she had a chance to have a short chat while the train was running.

"It's not just a means of transportation," Khanh Chi replied, looking around the train car filled with laughter and stories being told. "It is a place that preserves the memories of an entire community, where ordinary people find a moment of peace amid the chaos of life. If we lose it, we not only lose a means of transportation, but also a part of our identity."

Bich Ha nodded, taking notes carefully, her eyes clearly showing sincere emotion, not just because of her journalism skills. "To be honest with you, I grew up in the city and have never been on a slow train line like this," Bich Ha said, lowering her voice as if she were confiding more than interviewing. "But sitting here tonight, listening to each story, I understand why people are so determined to keep it. In the city, everything is so rushed, people rarely have the opportunity to sit down and tell each other stories like this."

The cameraman accompanying Bich Ha also took the opportunity to record images of the documentary photo display corner, where Boi Linh and her group of friends were passionately explaining to each curious guest the meaning of each collected old photo. The sixteen-year-old girl, who was originally shy in front of the camera, now speaks fluently and is surprisingly confident when it comes to what she believes in, making Khanh Chi watching from afar unable to help but smile proudly.

Arriving at Cau Doi station, Mr. Canh stood up and was invited to give a short speech to all passengers on this special train. He recounted his years as a station chief, his voice trembling with emotion when mentioning his former colleagues, including Khanh Chi's father, although he did not mention details of the accident, only talking about his love for the profession, about the dedication of those who devoted their lives to this line.

When Mr. Canh finished speaking, the whole train car applauded loudly, many people could not hide their tears. Thien An, standing in the corner of the observation car, took advantage of that moment to present the plan for the "heritage train route" that he had been diligently preparing for many weeks, using a compact presentation board he brought with him to sketch out the future vision of this route - both serving the essential travel needs of people and developing into a slow-travel destination, attracting tourists who love nostalgic experiences.

A representative from the Department of Transportation was also present that night — not Mr. Bang himself, but an assistant sent to observe the situation at the request of his superiors after learning about this media event. The young assistant sat quietly in the corner of the carriage throughout the entire journey, taking notes continuously, his face gradually showing surprise at the warm, sincere atmosphere of the event, completely different from what he had probably previously imagined of a "protest rally".

When the train approached Van Phong station, the night sky was clear, the full moon lit up the fields on both sides of the tracks. Khanh Chi stood at the carriage door, looking back at the whole journey, filled with an indescribable emotion - both proud, emotional, and carrying a ray of hope stronger than ever that maybe, just maybe, they really have a chance to save this precious thing.

The news about the "memory train" night broadcast by Doan Bich Ha on Sunday night attracted much greater attention than initially expected, and was widely shared across social networking platforms, leading to a series of comment articles from other newspapers about the value of old railway lines in community life. The interview with Mr. Canh, with tears rolling down as he talked about his former colleagues, was quoted by many major news sites, along with the comment that "this is the true story of a country that is developing too fast, sometimes forgetting to slow down to look at small but sustainable values."

The following Monday morning, Khanh Chi received a call from Mr. Cung Viet Bang himself. His voice was somewhat different from the calm and distant tone in the previous meeting. "I saw the news last night," he said. "I must admit, it makes me rethink many things. If you have a specific, feasible plan, I am willing to seriously consider it and present it to superiors."

That statement, although still cautious of a state official, made Khanh Chi's heart beat with hope. She quickly called to tell Thien An and the whole group the news, and an excited atmosphere spread throughout Y Van's small cafe that evening.

For Khanh Chi, the night of the "memory train" is a night she will never forget - the night when she realized that the fight to keep the train at the end of the day was no longer just her or her family's fight, but had become the common story of an entire community, told by the people who lived and grew up with it.