Chapter 9 — The Medicine Bearer Through the Chaos

The Last Pill

The epidemic began to cool down at the end of July, when the number of new cases each day gradually decreased from five or six people to one or two people, and then there were days when there were no new cases. The whole village of Lach Dua began to breathe a sigh of relief, although the pain of loss was still deep in every house - after all, the epidemic had claimed eleven lives, including Van, two elderly people, and three children under ten years old.

But just when everyone thought the storm was over, a new case appeared — the heaviest, most intense of the entire epidemic. That is the son of Mr. Tu Dien, the village chief who has dedicated himself to going everywhere to urge epidemic prevention for more than a month but forgot to take care of his own family.

"Dear healer, please save my child!" Mr. Tu Dien, who always maintained the composure of a village chief, that night knelt down in front of Mrs. Khue's house, his voice cracking in despair. "It's fever is so high, it's convulsing constantly, I'm afraid..."

Mrs. Khue, although exhausted after more than a month of barely sleeping, immediately picked up her medicine bag and set out. Tinh Yen followed behind, clearly feeling that her steps that night were somewhat slower and more unsteady than usual, but he did not have time to pay close attention, because his mind was focused on the critical case ahead.

Mr. Tu Dien's son, a sixteen-year-old boy, was convulsing violently on the bed, his eyes rolled back, foaming at the mouth, and his body temperature was so high that it burned his skin to touch. Ms. Khue did not hesitate and firmly ordered Tinh Yen to prepare the needles, at the same time holding the patient's head tightly to avoid biting his tongue. Her mouth constantly calculated the acupuncture points that needed to be pricked to urgently cool down the temperature.

"Nhan Trung, Hop Coc, Thap Xuan - light it now, hurry up!" She shouted loudly, her voice still powerful even though her breathing was unusually rapid.

Tinh Yen trembled but still accurately performed each movement that she had practiced countless times over the past seven years - acupuncturing the philtrum point under the nose, the coc between the thumb and index finger, and the ten fingers at the tip of the ten fingers to extract a small drop of blood to cool down the emergency. Each needle was inserted precisely and decisively, without any hesitation even though his hands were still shaking from tension.

The convulsions gradually subsided after about fifteen minutes of extreme tension. Ms. Khue continued to give fever-reducing medicine, wiped the patient's body continuously, and did not take her eyes off the patient for even a moment. Mr. Tu Dien's entire family knelt around, not daring to breathe loudly, only clasping their hands in supplication.

Near morning, Mr. Tu Dien's son's fever finally dropped to a safe level, his breathing returned to normal, and his seizures did not recur. Mrs. Khue breathed a sigh of relief, dropped her body and sat down on the floor, her face pale from exhaustion but still smiling with relief.

"It's over. Your son will be fine, Mr. Tu. Let him rest, I'll come back and check again tomorrow morning."

Mr. Tu Dien couldn't say a word, he just bowed down and prayed, tears streaming down the face of the man who had always been tough in front of the villagers. Tinh Yen stood up, packed her medicine bag, a feeling of relief mixed with pride filled her heart - the most difficult and most critical case of the entire epidemic was finally over.

But when he turned to help her stand up, he saw that Mrs. Khue was still sitting on the floor, one hand clutching her chest, her breathing became terrifyingly rapid and labored, different from the usual tiredness after an all-nighter.

"Grandma? What's wrong with you?" Tinh Yen knelt down, panicked and grabbed her hand. That hand was cold, even though it was a hot summer night.

"She's... just a little tired." Ms. Khue tried to smile, but her voice was noticeably weaker, each word seemed to take all her strength to say. "Let her rest for a moment..."

She didn't finish her sentence. Her body collapsed in Tinh Yen's arms, her eyes closed, her lips pale. Tinh Yen screamed, her screams ripped through the night that had just subsided after someone else's crisis.

"Grandma! Grandma! Please wake up!"

Mr. Tu Dien's whole family immediately gathered, some helped, some ran to get water, some panicked and didn't know what to do. Tinh Yen, in the midst of extreme panic, still tried to hold on to the last piece of reason that her grandmother had taught him over the years - he pressed his ear to her chest, tried to hear the heartbeat, felt the pulse on his wrist with fingers that trembled so much that he could barely feel anything.

The pulse is still there, but weak, slow, and increasingly sparse.

"Grandma, don't leave me." He cried, tears falling down her wrinkled face, desperately trying to shake her. "I still have a lot to teach you, I haven't taught you everything yet, I can't go..."

Mrs. Khue opened her eyes one last time, her gaze blurred but still fixed on the face of her only grandchild. Her trembling hand reached for Tinh Yen's hand, holding it with the last of her remaining strength.

"Tinh Yen..." Her voice was just a hoarse breath. "I... have learned enough... I am... a real healer..."

"No, I haven't learned enough, grandma, don't say that..."

"Remember... medicine doesn't discriminate... rich or poor... but the heart of the smoker... must always be awake..." Mrs. Khue whispered, each word broken like the last drops of water falling from an empty vase. "You are... the light... of our house... don't let it go out..."

Those were the last words of Do Thi Khue, a three-generation physician of Lach Dua village, who had devoted forty years of her life to saving people she did not know, and who had just used the last drops of her strength to save the life of a child who was not related to her by blood, before her heart - which had endured too many sleepless nights, too many pent-up worries during more than a month of a raging epidemic - finally stopped beating.

Tinh Yen hugged her motionless body tightly, no longer crying out loud but only shaking in a silent pain, so deep that no sound could fully describe it. Around it, the cries of Mr. Tu Dien's family, the first morning rooster crowing echoed from somewhere in the village, the sound of the ocean waves still murmured endlessly as if the world did not care that one of its best people had just left.

People brought Ms. Khue's body home that night, placing it on the same bed she had been lying on for more than twenty years. Tinh Yen sat alone next to her until it was completely bright, no one dared to come close to advise her, because everyone understood that there were pains that needed to be left alone and could not be comforted in a hurry. The oil lamp on the small altar - where her parents' portraits were placed - now burned all night without going out, and besides that, Tinh Yen personally lit another one, just for her.

He looked around the familiar house - the mortar that still had traces of green powder from the last pounding, the bundles of medicinal herbs hanging from the rafters, the medical case notebook she had carefully saved in her neat handwriting - all were still there, as if their owner had just stepped out for a moment and then would return. But the silence that filled the house that night was different from any other night in his life - there was no mumbling sound of her calculating the dosage of medicine, no familiar sound of slippers on the ground, only the sound of the sea breeze and the sound of his heart beating slowly, heavily in his empty chest.

The news of Mrs. Khue's death spread throughout Lach Dua village as quickly as a poisonous wind. Throughout that day, the people in the village - those who had been treated by her, received free medicine, and had stayed up all night to take care of her when they were sick - came in droves, filling the entire yard, each bringing a little something to remember: a bunch of bananas, a handful of rice, a story about the time she saved their life or that of a loved one.

Ms. Khue's funeral was the largest funeral that Lach Dua village had ever held in the memories of many people. Mr. Tu Dien, even though his son had just escaped a critical situation, still personally took care of everything, seeing it as a final way to repay the person who saved his son with her own life. Kinh and his family were also present, standing quietly next to Tinh Yen throughout the entire ceremony, not saying much, but that presence was a valuable support amid the overwhelming pain of loss.

Tinh Yen stood in front of her grandmother's grave, next to the grave of less than half a month old Van, clutching her old leather medicine bag - the only thing left besides memories. At the age of fifteen, he lost his parents, and now he lost his only remaining relative, the person who raised and taught him everything he knew about life and medicine.

"Grandma." He whispered, his voice hoarse after days of constant crying. "I promise I won't let the light go out. I promise."

The sea breeze blew, carrying familiar salty air through the casuarina branches on the high mound where two new graves were located next to each other. In the distance, the sun was slowly sinking into the horizon, dyeing both the sky and the sea into a brilliant orange-red color like a giant fire - and Tinh Yen, standing there alone in the middle of that sunset, did not know that this was only the beginning of the losses it would have to face, when just a few days later, another danger, greater than the epidemic, would come from the sea.