Chapter 7 — The Light Keeper at the Sea Gate

The next morning, when Hoai An was preparing to go up the tower to continue measuring work, she received an urgent email from Ho Trong Nghia with the bold subject line: "Need a preliminary report within 48 hours." She read the email content with an increasingly tense expression.

"What's up?" Khoi asked, noticing the change in her expression while reading the phone.

"The Maritime Administration's leadership will meet this weekend to decide on the list of priority stations to deploy automation in the first phase," Hoai An explained, her voice somewhat worried. "They need my preliminary report on Cua Vong before that meeting."

After being silent, his face flashed with an old tension, although it was no longer as intense as the first days. "Do you have enough data to complete the report?"

"Technically, yes," Hoai An replied, looking down at the laptop screen where the data pages had been almost completely compiled. "But I'm still considering how to present it to reflect the values I've observed here, not just the technical numbers."

She spent the entire morning sitting in front of her laptop, trying to draft a report that both met the professional requirements of her superiors and showed the humanistic aspects that she believed were equally important. This was the first time in her career that she found it so difficult to write a regular technical report.

At noon, she called Ho Trong Nghia to discuss directly, hoping to convince him to consider more non-technical factors in the final decision.

"Mr. Nghia, I would like to present some more observations during the survey," she said, trying to keep her voice as calm and professional as possible. "In addition to the technical parameters, I realize that the role of the lightkeeper at this station also carries many other values for the surrounding fishing community, values that are difficult to completely quantify with economic efficiency indicators."

A short silence rang out on the other end of the line before Ho Trong Nghia spoke, his voice somewhat sterner than usual. "Hoai An, I understand you want to work comprehensively, but your task is to evaluate technical feasibility, not to make policy recommendations. The leadership needs specific numbers, not personal feelings."

"I understand," Hoai An replied, trying not to let her voice show disappointment. "But I believe, a comprehensive report should include the potential risk factors of completely eliminating the human element from operations, not simply the cost savings."

"You can put it in the report if you think it's necessary," Ho Trong Nghia replied, his tone somewhat conceding but still remaining cautious. "But I advise you to focus on objective data primarily. Management will not appreciate an emotional report."

The end of the call left Hoai An with a heavy feeling, torn between her professional responsibility and what her heart told her. She sat silently for a long time in front of the laptop screen, not knowing where to start writing again.

Khoi, noticing her heavy mood after the call, brought her a cup of hot tea. "Your superiors don't agree with your approach?" he asked gently.

"Not necessarily disagreeing," Hoai An replied, taking a sip of tea to calm down. "It's just that he wanted me to focus on objective data, avoid injecting personal feelings into official reports."

"Is that wrong?" Khoi asked, sitting down opposite her. "From a technical perspective, maybe he has a point."

Khoi's question surprised Hoai An. She looked up at him with questioning eyes. "Do you think I should ignore what I've observed here?"

"No," Khoi replied immediately, shaking his head decisively. "I'm just saying, maybe you don't have to choose between being an objective expert and someone with a sympathetic heart. Maybe, you could present your observations as a supplementary piece of data, a factual perspective from the scene, rather than simply personal feelings."

Hoai An thought about his advice, feeling like a ray of light flashed amid the confusion in her head. "You're right," she said, her eyes gradually brightening. "I can present in terms of actual operational risks, specific situations that only human presence can respond to promptly, instead of just speaking in general about spiritual values."

"That's right," Khoi nodded, his eyes shining with encouragement. "For example, last storm night. If I hadn't been there to start the backup generator manually immediately, the consequences could have been much more serious. Even if the automatic system has error sensors, it still takes time for the technical team from the mainland to fix it, especially in bad weather conditions."

Hoai An quickly wrote down that idea and felt excited about work again. “That's exactly the kind of data I need,” she said, typing quickly on her laptop. "Real situations, quantifiable in terms of reaction time, risk level, not just emotions."

They spent the entire afternoon working together, Khoi recounting every real situation he had faced during his many years of work, from small incidents to emergency situations, while Hoai An systematically and scientifically recorded, analyzed, and reported. By evening, the preliminary report was completed, not only technically complete, but also much more convincing thanks to the vivid practical evidence that Khoi shared.

"Do you want to read it before I send it?" Hoai An asked, turning the laptop screen towards Khoi.

He attentively read each paragraph, nodding in appreciation at the way she skillfully presented the problem, balancing professional requirements and the practical values she had observed. “This is the fairest report I have ever seen on this matter,” he said, his eyes filled with sincere appreciation. "Thank you, for not simplifying things just to please your superiors."

"I'm just trying to be honest with what I observed," Hoai An replied, smiling with relief after a stressful day at work. "Whatever the end result, at least I know I did my best to make sure every angle was considered."

She pressed the send email button, a feeling of relief mixed with nervousness spreading throughout her body as the report was delivered. Now, everything is out of her control, she can only wait for a response from management.

"No matter what the outcome is," Khoi said, handing her a bowl of hot rice that had just been served, "I also want you to know that what you did here, the way you treated this job, meant a lot to me, regardless of the final decision of the board of directors."

Hoai An looked up at him, touched by those sincere words. "Thank you," she said softly. "For trusting me, even though at first I was just the representative of a project that threatened to take away everything you held dear."

"You are no longer just the representative of that project," Khoi replied, his voice warm. "To me, you have become something else, much more important."

That sentence made the atmosphere between them become calm, a meaningful silence enveloped the small kitchen, only the sound of ocean waves coming from afar and the lighthouse light still steadily scanning through the window, witnessing a moment that both felt, but no one had the courage to name.

Hoai An bent down and continued to eat to hide the confusion rising in her heart, but her heart was still pounding at the words Khoi had just said. She glanced at him and saw that he was also trying to stay calm, even though his ears were clearly red.

"I should probably go rest soon," she said, standing up to clean up the dishes after the meal, her voice somewhat awkward. "I need to wake up early tomorrow to complete some missing data."

"Yes," Khoi replied, also standing up to help her clean up. "Good night."

When Hoai An walked back to her room, she stood silently in front of the mirror for a moment, her hand pressed against her chest where her heart was still beating unusually fast. She wondered if she was letting her personal emotions creep too deeply into a work assignment, or if this was really something worth appreciating and pursuing, regardless of the complications it might bring to both of them in the future, when her survey mission would eventually come to an end, and she would have to return to her daily life in a distant city.