Chapter 4 — The Machine of Dreams

Two weeks later, Lê Quý Đôn School's Robotics team entered the first testing phase for the robot frame that had completed the basic mechanics. That Friday afternoon, most of the members were sent home early by Mr. Vinh to rest before the weekend, leaving only Hoàng Nam and Bảo Châu to stay behind to test install the newly completed outer shell on the chassis, to see if the fit between the two parts was in accordance with the technical drawings.

"Be careful there," Hoàng Nam reminded, holding the frame firmly while Bảo Châu carefully inserted the thin plastic shell into the pre-designed joints. "This material is more brittle than I thought, just a small deviation can cause it to crack."

"I know, you've said that sentence three times already," Bảo Châu replied, her voice a bit annoyed but still carefully followed, her tongue sticking out a little because of intense concentration, a habit from childhood whenever she drew details that required high precision.

After nearly half an hour of meticulous work, the cover finally clicked into place, hugging the chassis underneath like a soft but sturdy layer of armor. The two took a step back, admiring the finished product.

"It's so beautiful," Hoàng Nam blurted out, his voice filled with sincere surprise, without any hesitation like previous compliments. "I never thought a competition robot could look like this."

Bảo Châu felt a warm pride spreading in her heart, a feeling she had never felt when painting alone in her own room, even though that was what she loved the most. Perhaps, she thought, the joy of creating something with someone else, watching it gradually take shape through both of their hands, had a different meaning than completing a painting just for yourself to see.

"Can you try running now?" she asked, eagerly looking at Hoàng Nam connecting the wireless controller to the robot.

"Okay, let me do a simple test run first," he replied, his hands quickly on the controller. The robot vibrated slightly, its four wheels began to roll forward in a pre-programmed straight line, its outer shell glinted under the factory's fluorescent lights, creating a smooth streak of light as it moved.

But only half way, the robot suddenly stopped, emitted a small hissing sound from inside, then tilted completely to one side before collapsing on the factory floor.

"EH!" Bảo Châu rushed forward in panic, but Hoàng Nam was faster and knelt down next to the robot, his face immediately darkening with worry.

“The left wheel is stuck,” he muttered, carefully turning the robot over to check. "Probably because..." he paused, his eyes stopping at the newly installed outer shell, where a small corner of the plastic panel had warped, wedged into the exact position of the wheel axle.

Bảo Châu felt her heart sink. "Is it because of your shell?" she asked, her voice quiet, the familiar fear of her own uselessness in a technical environment resurfacing.

Hoàng Nam did not answer immediately, continuing to look more closely, disassembling each part with intense concentration, making Bảo Châu even more worried. After a few minutes of heavy silence, he spoke up, his tone suddenly softer than she expected.

"It's not my design fault," he said, pointing to a small screw that had come loose. "It's because I didn't tighten the screws enough when assembling the frame, causing the entire structure to shift slightly while moving. There are no problems with my design."

Relief flooded through Bảo Châu so quickly that she had to sit down on the factory floor and let out a deep sigh. "You scared the hell out of me," she muttered, running her hands over her face.

"Sorry," Hoàng Nam said, looking truly apologetic. "I should have checked more carefully before trying to run."

"It's okay," Bảo Châu replied, shaking her head. "It's a machine, anything can happen." She watched him fix the screw, tightening every detail with almost obsessive meticulousness, and suddenly remembered the story Tấn Phát told about his failure last year. "Hey, do you always check this closely because of last year?"

Hoàng Nam paused for a moment, then continued working without raising his head. "Tấn Phát told you?"

"Yes, just a little," Bảo Châu replied, careful with each word because she wasn't sure if this was a sensitive topic or not. "You don't have to tell if you don't want to."

There was a long silence between the two, with only the slight sound of tools colliding as Hoàng Nam continued to repair. Finally, he sighed, sat with his back against the leg of the table, his eyes looking far away at the robot lying unfinished in the middle of the workshop.

"Last year, our team reached the regional semi-finals," he began, his voice deeper than usual. "I was the main programmer at that time, before Tấn Phát took on that role. During the decisive match, our robot suddenly lost signal connection just a few seconds before time ran out, right when we were leading the score. It was only a few seconds, but enough for the opponent to score the decisive point and win."

"It's not your fault alone," Bảo Châu said softly.

"I know, intellectually I know," Hoàng Nam replied, his voice a bit bitter. "But then I discovered that the cause was because a piece of cable I personally checked before the match was slightly loose at the connection end. If I had checked it more carefully for just five more minutes, maybe things would have been different." He turned the screw in his hand, his eyes distant. "Since then, I don't allow myself to miss any small details anymore. Maybe sometimes I overdo it, making people around me feel suffocated. Tấn Phát still teases me that I turned the factory into a graduation exam room."

Bảo Châu was silent for a moment, trying to find the right words to respond without making the story cliché. "I think," she said slowly, "everyone has a certain fear that motivates them to try harder. It's just that your fear happens to turn into a motivation that makes the team better, instead of making you falter. That's not a bad thing, even though sometimes it's a bit... stressful."

Hoàng Nam laughed lightly at the last straightforward comment, a rare laugh that Bảo Châu began to realize she liked to hear. "Thanks for being honest," he said. "People often just say empty words of comfort when I tell this story."

"I'm not good at saying empty words," Bảo Châu replied, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm just good at drawing."

"You're much better than that," Hoàng Nam said, his eyes looking at her so seriously that Bảo Châu felt a bit confused and had to look away from the robot to avoid those eyes.

They continued to repair the robot in comfortable silence for the remaining half hour, occasionally exchanging a few short sentences about techniques, until the school security guard knocked on the door to remind them that it was time to close the gate. On the way out of the factory, Bảo Châu suddenly asked a question that she had been curious about for a long time.

"What major do you plan to study in the future? Probably Mechanical Engineering or something related to robotics, right?"

The smile on Hoàng Nam's lips faded a bit. He was silent for a moment before answering, his tone becoming unusually vague. "That's... not certain yet," he said, avoiding looking her in the eye. "There are many things to consider."

That vague answer made Bảo Châu feel a bit strange, as if she had just encountered a door that Hoàng Nam was not willing to open, but she did not ask further, feeling the subtle change in the atmosphere between the two of them. She just nodded, pretending not to notice, even though in her heart she silently remembered that moment as a missing piece in the picture of the real person behind the serious and talented appearance of the head of the Robotics Club.

The two of them walked side by side on the road leading to the school gate, the yellow streetlights cast long shadows on the cement field that still had some of the warmth of the day. Bảo Châu glanced at Hoàng Nam from the corner of her eye, realizing that he was silently looking down at his worn sneakers, with a hint of concern on his face that she had never seen before - not the familiar tense concentration when working, but something heavier, deeper.

"If you ever need to talk about… anything in the future," she said, trying to choose her words carefully so as not to sound judgmental, "I'm here. Even though I'm not good at giving advice, I know how to listen."

Hoàng Nam looked up at her, a bit of surprise evident on his face, as if that simple suggestion was beyond what he was used to receiving from others. "Thank you," he said, his voice small but sincere. "Maybe... one day I'll tell."

At the turn, the two said goodbye, Hoàng Nam turned left towards his house, and Bảo Châu continued to cycle straight home. For the rest of the way, she kept thinking about his vague answer when asked about his future major, about the slightly sad look in his eyes when mentioning it, and wondered if behind the confident and steady appearance of a talented club president, Hoàng Nam was also carrying burdens in his heart that he had never shared with anyone, including his closest friends on the team.