Chapter 1 — Two Sides of an Argument

Part I — First Match

Nguyễn Hạ Vy stood in front of the gate of Chu Văn An High School, hands tightening the strap of her bag, trying to swallow the feeling of anxiety rolling in her heart. Changing schools in the middle of her twelfth grade year was not what she wanted, but when her parents received an urgent job transfer decision, she had little choice but to start over from scratch, in a completely unfamiliar place, with only a few months left until her graduation exam.

The first lesson passed in the usual discreet scrutiny for new students, but what caught Hạ Vy's attention the most was the poster posted on the class bulletin board: "Debate Club recruiting members - Opportunity to represent the school at the National School Debate Tournament."

Her heart throbbed slightly with a complicated feeling. Debate used to be her biggest passion at her old school, until last year's city-level final, when a judge publicly commented in front of the entire auditorium that her style was "too emotional, lacking in science, only good at moving people's hearts and not having solid arguments." That comment, even though it was just one person's opinion, was deeply ingrained in her mind, causing her to leave the old debate club soon after, carrying with her a wound that has never truly healed.

"Are you planning to sign up for any club?" Đặng Mỹ Duyên, the tablemate assigned to sit next to her on the first day, asked with a friendly smile. "I'm planning to join the Debate Club. I heard the club is very strong this year."

"I..." Hạ Vy hesitated, her eyes still glued to the poster. "I used to participate in debate at my old school."

"Then you have to register!" Mỹ Duyên exclaimed, pulling her hand towards the club room right after class without giving her time to refuse.

When entering the room, Hạ Vy saw about fifteen students sitting in two rows facing each other. In the middle of the room was a small space used as an "arena" for simulated debate practice sessions. Standing in the middle, a tall young man with sharp eyes is presenting an argument with surprising speed and accuracy, each word has specific data and evidence accompanying it.

"That's Trần Việt Bách," Mỹ Duyên whispered, her voice full of admiration. "The school's number one debater for two years in a row. He has never lost a practice match."

Teacher Sơn, the club advisor, a middle-aged man with gentle but sharp eyes, recognized Hạ Vy standing at the door. "Are you a new student who wants to join the club?" the teacher asked, motioning for her to come inside.

"Yes, that's right," Hạ Vy replied, her voice shaking a bit.

"Then let's try a practice match right away," said Mr. Sơn, his eyes shining with excitement. "Việt Bách, are you ready to challenge the new member?"

Việt Bách turned around, his eyes glanced at Hạ Vy with a quick, unimpressed assessment. "Ready," he replied, his voice so calm it was almost cold.

The debate topic was randomly brought up: "Should social networks be limited in usage time for students?" Hạ Vy was assigned to the supporting side, Việt Bách to the opposing side.

She began her presentation with a story — about an old friend who suffered from chronic insomnia, whose academic performance had seriously declined because she couldn't take her eyes off her phone every night, and about her parents' worries when they saw their child gradually losing himself. Her voice was inspiring, each word touched the listener's emotions, making the whole room listen silently.

But when it was his turn to argue, Việt Bách stood up, his voice calm but sharp as a knife. "The story you just told is very touching, but it is just an isolated case, not representative of the majority. According to research by the National University last year, only 12% of students had serious sleep problems related to social networks, while 68% of students used social networks as an effective learning and connection tool. Arguments based on personal emotions, no matter how touching, cannot be a substitute for reliable statistical data."

That criticism, although not harsh in tone, still made Hạ Vy feel like she was being poured with a bucket of cold water, recalling exactly the painful feeling of last year's final. She tried to argue back, but Việt Bách's numbers and evidence kept overwhelming her, making her emotional argument weak in the eyes of most listeners.

When the test match ended, teacher Sơn declared Việt Bách the winner, although he noted that "Hạ Vy's presentation had a significant impact". Hạ Vy sat down, the familiar feeling of inferiority and doubt rising strongly in her heart, as if she had just entered a loop she had been trying to escape for the past year.

"Arguing based on emotions is not wrong," Việt Bách said, approaching her after the match ended, his tone was not sarcastic but still straightforward to the point of being almost heartless. "But without solid evidence to accompany it, it will always be easy to defeat. You should reconsider your approach."

Hạ Vy looked at him, a mixture of anger and hurt rising in her heart. "Not everyone needs data to believe something is true," she replied, her voice stiffening. "Sometimes, a true story has its own weight."

"Maybe so," Việt Bách replied, undeterred by that reaction. "But in the real debate arena, emotions alone will not be enough to win."

He turned and walked away, leaving Hạ Vy standing there, filled with mixed emotions that she had not yet named, between anger at that cold attitude, and an old doubt that was silently creeping back, whispering that perhaps, last year's judge was right.

"Don't pay attention to Việt Bách," Mỹ Duyên said, pulling her to sit on an empty chair nearby after the event ended. "He doesn't have bad intentions, it's just that his personality is so straightforward that sometimes he's a bit heartless. Until now, no one has been able to beat him in practice matches."

"I don't think I will fit in this club," Hạ Vy said, her voice fading, packing her bag and preparing to leave. "Maybe I should find another more suitable activity."

"Don't give up after just one loss," Mỹ Duyên said, her voice sincere. "I found the way you told the story just now to be really touching, even more so than Việt Bách's dry numbers. Maybe you just need more time to find a way to combine the two."

Hạ Vy did not answer, just nodded slightly, not wanting to argue further but also not ready to believe those words of encouragement. On the way home, she passed by a small park, sat down on a deserted bench, took out her phone to review the video of last year's finals that she still kept, even though she never had the courage to delete it.

In the video, she stood on stage, her voice trembling but filled with enthusiasm, telling the story of her grandfather who passed away from lung disease related to air pollution, to open an argument about urban environmental policy. Immediately after that, the judge, an older man with an authoritative voice, made the comment that had haunted her for the past year.

She turned off the video, put the phone in her pocket, and looked up at the afternoon sky that was gradually turning pale orange. She wondered if she should continue pursuing the debate path, when right at her new school, she once again encountered the exact type of person who made her doubt herself so deeply.

But underneath that layer of doubt, a small part of her still couldn't deny the feeling of excitement when standing in front of the training "arena" this afternoon, the feeling of being relived with the same passion that she had tried to bury for the past year. Maybe, she thought, the answer wasn't as simple as giving up or continuing, but lay somewhere in between those two options, a place she hadn't yet found.

When she got home, she saw her mother preparing dinner in the kitchen, which was still cluttered with cardboard boxes that had not been unpacked since the move. "How was your first lesson?" her mother asked, constantly stirring the pan of vegetables.

"It's okay," Hạ Vy replied, sitting down at the dining table, her voice not very excited. "I stopped by the new school's Debate Club."

Her mother stopped and turned to look at her daughter with gentle, searching eyes. "I thought you decided not to participate in debates anymore after last year?"

"I don't know either," Hạ Vy admitted, her voice low. "My tablemate pulled me in to take a look. But it seems I chose the wrong place to start over, and immediately met a debater whose style was completely opposite to me."

"What kind of opposition?" her mother asked, curious.

"The type that only believes in data and scientific evidence, sees emotions as weaknesses that need to be eliminated," Hạ Vy explained, her voice a bit frustrated. "Exactly like the judge's comment last year."

Her mother was silent for a moment, then sat down opposite her daughter, her voice gentle but full of thought. "You know, maybe this world needs both types of people - those who know how to move the heart, and those who know how to persuade with reason. The question is not which type is more correct, but how the two can complement each other."

"I don't think that person will agree with that point of view, mother," Hạ Vy laughed dryly, recalling Việt Bách's cold, calm attitude.

“Then maybe that's exactly what you need to prove to him,” her mother said, smiling encouragingly, pushing the plate of rice toward her daughter. "Let's eat first, we'll continue tomorrow."

Hạ Vy picked up her chopsticks, but her mind was still lingering on the image of Trần Việt Bách standing in the middle of the debate "arena", that calm and confident voice kept echoing in her head all night, mixed with discomfort and something like a silent challenge that she was not ready to admit to herself.