Chapter 15 — The Test Has No Name

Old School Gate

The car taking Nguyen and Nhat Khoi back to Vong Khe left the highway and turned onto a small road leading straight into town - the road still had rows of trees on both sides, the only difference was that the road surface was now paved with smooth asphalt instead of the rough red soil of fifteen years ago. Nguyen sat silently the whole way, eyes glued to the scenery passing by outside the glass window, feeling both strangely familiar and strangely strange.

"Are you okay?" Nhat Khoi asked, glancing over at you.

"Fine," Nguyen replied, though his voice wasn't entirely convincing. "It's just that everything looks both similar and different from how I remember it."

The sugarcane fields have now been replaced by a newly built small industrial park, but the row of workers' boarding houses where he used to live is still there, although much older. As the car passed the central market, he briefly recognized the familiar vegetable stall, now sold by another person. Everything seemed both frozen and drifted far away, in different ways that he couldn't rearrange in his mind.

The car stopped in front of the gate of Vong Khe High School. The school gate has been repainted, a new marble school name sign has replaced the old wooden sign, but the overall appearance of the school - two rows of three-storey classrooms, a tiled school yard, and much taller phoenix trees - remains the same enough to make Nguyen's chest tighten when he gets out of the car.

He stood there for a moment, looking up at the school sign, saying nothing. Nhat Khoi stood next to you, silently giving you the necessary time, without urging you.

"Remember when we used to cycle through this gate every morning?" Nguyen said, his voice lowered. "At that time, I never thought that one day I would stand here as a guest."

"You deserve it," Nhat Khoi said, patting his friend's shoulder. "Let's go, they're waiting for us in there."

An office worker greeted the two right from the gate, leading them into the large hall area that was being decorated for the opening ceremony taking place the next morning. The banner "School Integrity Week — Twenty Years of Vong Khe High School" is hung along the main hallway, along with enlarged photos recording the school's historical milestones through each period.

Nguyen walked slowly through the hallway, his eyes skimming through old photos, until he stopped in front of a group photo of class 12A from another year - a photo taken at the graduation ceremony that he had never been present because he had left school many months earlier. He saw the faces of his old friends, saw the much younger Nhat Khoi standing in the back row, but there was no him in that photo - a small empty space that reminded him that, no matter what status he returned here, the youth he lost would never be fully recorded in any souvenir photo of this school.

"Nguyen? Is that Dang Nguyen?"

A familiar voice rang out from the end of the hallway, causing him to stop. Ms. Bich Loan, her hair was more gray than he remembered, walked quickly towards him, her eyes shining with emotion.

"Miss Loan," Nguyen said, his voice suddenly softened compared to the calmness he had tried to maintain since entering the school gate. "Do you still recognize me?"

"Why don't you realize," Ms. Loan replied, holding his hands, her eyes filled with tears. "You still keep your old gait, except now you look much more mature. I've been following you through the press for many years now, so proud."

"Thank you, if you hadn't stood up for me that day, things would have been much worse," Nguyen said, his voice low. "I still remember what you said in the hallway that day, even though nothing changed."

"The truth is, even if it comes late, it's still better than never coming at all," Ms. Loan repeated her old words, her eyes suddenly becoming deeper. "I still believe that statement until now. Perhaps, your return trip will be when that statement is finally proven."

Nguyen didn't fully understand the meaning behind his old teacher's words, but before he could ask more, a young office worker walked over, holding an event program folder in his hand.

"Mr. Nguyen, right?" she asked. "The Vice Principal is waiting for you in the living room to discuss the content of the opening ceremony in advance."

Nguyen nodded, feeling his heart rate begin to increase with each step leading towards the living room. Nhat Khoi walked next to him, whispering a short sentence before they reached the door. "I'll wait for you outside, just call if you need anything."

Nguyen nodded, pushed the door open and walked in.

Khanh Thu stood with her back to the door, rearranging some documents on the table. When she heard the door open, she turned around, and in that moment, they both stood facing each other for the first time in fifteen years.

Time has changed both. Khanh Thu is no longer an eighteen-year-old schoolgirl with her hair tied up, but a mature woman, her eyes still sharp but now carry an additional layer of calmness of age and responsibility. Nguyen is no longer the skinny student he once was, but a confident, calm man whose appearance exudes success that has been forged through many years of hardship.

"Hello, Mr. Nguyen," Khanh Thu said first, trying to keep her voice professional, although her hand shook slightly as she extended the formal handshake. "Thank you for accepting the school's invitation."

Nguyen looked at her extended hand, hesitated for a second before taking it, the handshake was so short, polite, and cold that they both felt the distance it created instead of narrowing it.

"Hello, Ms. Thu," he replied, deliberately using a formal address instead of the informal address of the past, a deliberate choice to keep the necessary distance. "I came because of the school's official invitation, not for any other personal reason. I hope you understand that."

That sentence, even though said in a calm voice, still carried a weight that made Khanh Thu pause for a few seconds. She immediately understood the meaning behind it — Nguyen was clearly setting boundaries from the first moment, that this meeting would have no room for old feelings, much less an easy reconciliation.

"I understand," she replied, her voice stiffening as well. "We'll keep things at a business level."

The two sat down on opposite sides of the conference table and began to discuss the program content, speech duration, and order of performances in the opening ceremony - all of which took place according to professional standards, without a single sentence straying outside the scope of work. But under that professional shell, both clearly felt a simmering tension flowing underneath, like cold water under a thin layer of ice just waiting to crack.

Near the end of the discussion, when all the work contents were agreed upon, a short silence appeared between the two people. Khanh Thu opened her mouth, intending to say something more than the script, but Nguyen stood up first and collected the documents.

"If there's nothing else to discuss, I'd like to go back to the hotel to rest first for tomorrow morning," he said, his voice decisive, leaving no space for any other conversation to creep in.

"Yes, thank you for your time," Khanh Thu replied, standing up as well, trying to stay calm even though there was a feeling of disappointment that was hard to name.

Nguyen walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. He paused for a second in the hallway, took a deep breath, feeling like he had just completed a confrontation more tense than any business meeting he had experienced in the six years he had built his career. Nhat Khoi was waiting, seeing your face he immediately understood without needing to ask further.

"Is it very heavy?" Nhat Khoi asked softly.

"Heavier than I thought," Nguyen replied, his voice tired. "But at least, I was able to stand."

In the living room, Khanh Thu still sat alone after Nguyen left, placing his hands on the table, staring into the space where he had just stood. She remembered every word he said - "I came because of the school's official invitation, not for any other personal reason" - and realized that, despite having prepared herself for many weeks, she was still completely unprepared to face that intentional coldness.

She had imagined many scenarios for this reunion — maybe he would be angry, maybe he would be cold, maybe he would even refuse to look her in the eye. But she was never prepared for the scenario he chose: absolute professionalism, an invisible wall built so firmly that it did not leave any gaps for an apology to penetrate.

She understood, that was his way of protecting himself. And she also understood that if she wanted to tell the truth that she had hidden for fifteen years, she would have to find another way, another time, not within the framework of a short business meeting like this.

She stood up, collected the documents on the table, walked out the window and looked down at the schoolyard, where the afternoon sunlight was gradually fading behind the phoenix trees. Somewhere on campus, she knew Nguyen was still there, just a few hundred meters away from her, but the real distance between them, she realized, could not be measured by physical distance.