Chapter 4 — Two Sides of an Argument

The weekend passed faster than Hạ Vy thought, most of her time was spent practicing how to combine stories with evidence according to what teacher Sơn suggested. She sat for hours in her room, re-reading articles about education and school psychology, underlining numbers that could be used as a fulcrum, then trying to integrate them into the stories she had told or planned to tell, to see what was natural and what was still forced.

On Tuesday, when she walked into the club room, she felt a new confidence that she hadn't felt since the day she transferred schools. The topic that day was "Should students' academic rankings be made public to the whole school?" a topic that Mr. Sơn frankly said was "controversial and complex enough to test students' multi-dimensional reasoning ability."

This time, teacher Sơn paired Hạ Vy to face Việt Bách directly, and when she heard her name being announced, Hạ Vy felt a familiar stream of adrenaline running down her spine - no longer pure fear like the first time, but a feeling mixed between nervousness and a strange excitement that she did not expect to have.

Hạ Vy was assigned to the side opposing the publication of the rankings, Việt Bách was assigned to the side supporting it. When it was her turn, she stood up, and this time, instead of opening with a simple story, she combined it with a clear frame of argument from the first sentence.

"In tenth grade, I had a friend named Linh who was always thirty-second in a class of forty students," she began, her voice still retaining the familiar emotion but with a new certainty. "Every time the rankings were posted on the class bulletin board, he stood and looked at them for a long time before leaving, not saying anything, but everyone recognized the hurt in those eyes. This is not an isolated story - according to a survey by the Vietnam Institute of Educational Sciences in 2023, more than seventy percent of students said that publicizing their academic rankings made them feel serious psychological pressure, and nearly a third of them said they had negative thoughts about Self-worth is directly related to that public ranking."

She continued to build her argument, connecting Linh's story with data, then expanded to the aspect of comprehensive education, using the same three-argument structure that Mr. Sơn had instructed. This time, when she sat down, there was a brief silence in the room before scattered applause broke out — something that had never happened after any of her presentations before.

Việt Bách stood up, and Hạ Vy could clearly see a glimpse of something different in his eyes — not the usual absolute confidence, but a deep concentration, as if he was really having to think harder to find the weakness in her argument.

"The figures you gave are valid," he began, his voice still calm but his pace a little slower than usual. "But publicizing rankings, if done properly, is not necessarily harmful. In many countries with highly competitive education systems such as South Korea and Singapore, publicizing academic results, even though it causes pressure, also creates a healthy competitive incentive, motivating students to try harder. The problem is not in whether to publicize it or not, but in how the school handles student psychology that comes with it."

He continued to make two other arguments, each with specific, sharp evidence as usual. But this time, when Hạ Vy stood up to argue back, she no longer felt awkward like the previous two times. She pointed out that the studies Việt Bách cited mainly came from educational systems with cultures and social contexts completely different from Vietnam, where family pressure on academic achievement was already very heavy, and public rankings only multiplied that pressure without an accompanying psychological support mechanism like in the countries she just mentioned.

The debate lasted longer than usual, and for the first time, when Mr. Sơn announced the results, he paused for a moment before speaking, as if he was considering carefully.

"This was the closest match so far this year," he said, looking at both of them with obvious satisfaction. "Việt Bách technically won, thanks to his ability to process criticism a bit faster. But the score gap this time is only three points, compared to twelve points in the first match. Hạ Vy, you have improved greatly."

The whole room applauded, and this time Hạ Vy felt that the recognition was real, not just a polite word of consolation. She sat down, her heart still beating fast, but this time it was from excitement, not from hurt.

During break time, when most people dispersed, Hạ Vy happened to pass by the hallway behind the living room to get water, and heard a familiar voice coming from a hidden corner near the stairs. Việt Bách was standing there, the phone close to his ear, his voice, even though he tried to stay calm, still had a clear tension that Hạ Vy had never heard from him in the practice room.

"I know," he said, his voice low but loud enough for Hạ Vy to hear clearly as he stood hidden behind the corner of the wall. "I won't let my Physics score drop below nine points anymore. I'm just... I'm just trying out a few new approaches in the debate club, it won't affect my studies."

There was a moment of silence, then his voice continued, this time with more obvious patience. "Yes, I understand that you want me to focus on my admission application soon. I will reschedule the time."

Hạ Vy stood still, not daring to move for fear of being discovered eavesdropping, but also unable to leave immediately. She never thought that behind Việt Bách's almost absolute confidence, behind every sharp and unhesitating sentence in every debate, there was someone who had to talk to her father in such a cautious, almost fearful tone.

When Việt Bách hung up the phone and turned around, he met Hạ Vy's eyes standing not far away, and for a brief moment, Hạ Vy clearly saw a rare confusion flash across his face before he could regain his familiar composure.

"How much did you hear?" he asked, his voice not harsh but with a clear wariness.

"I didn't mean it," Hạ Vy replied honestly, not wanting to pretend she didn't hear anything. "I just came out to get water. Sorry."

Việt Bách was silent for a moment, his eyes looked away, as if he was considering whether to explain or not. "My dad is quite... strict," he said finally, his voice careful as if he were choosing each word. "He's a law lecturer and is used to everything having to be absolutely precise. He doesn't really understand why I spend time on the debate club instead of focusing entirely on studying."

"But you are the school's number one debater," Hạ Vy said, not understanding why Việt Bách's father would object to something his son was doing very well.

"For him, debating is only valuable if it helps his university admission application, or trains logical thinking for his future career in law," Việt Bách said, his voice showing a slight tiredness that he quickly tried to hide. "He doesn't believe in... an approach like yours. He thinks emotions are what make people unconscious and prone to mistakes."

Hạ Vy didn't know what to say, but she felt a sudden sympathy welling up in her heart, mixed with a new understanding of the friend — or rival, she wasn't sure what to call him yet — standing in front of her. "So you must have a lot to prove, not just to your opponents in the ring," she said softly.

Việt Bách looked at her for a long moment, as if he didn't expect her to see through it so quickly. "Maybe so," he said, his voice considerably softer than any previous conversation between the two of them. "Your match today was good," he added, almost as an awkward change of subject. "You learned how to use evidence faster than I thought."

"Thank you," Hạ Vy replied, surprised by that rare compliment. "But I still lost."

"This time," Việt Bách said, one corner of his lips slightly raised, almost a smile that Hạ Vy had never seen on him before. "Don't think I'll let you win easily next time."

That sentence, although still carrying a bit of familiar challenge, had a completely different nuance — no longer the cold indifference of the first session, but something close to recognition, even an implicit invitation to continue rubbing. Hạ Vy watched him turn and walk away, her heart filled with new thoughts, much more complicated than the simple anger she had for him just a week before.

On the way home that day, she no longer thought of Việt Bách as a completely opposite, hateful person, but as someone who was fighting his own pressures in a quieter, more discreet way than her. And for the first time, she wondered if they were both, in very different ways, trying to prove their worth to those who once doubted them.