Chapter 14: Chapter 14 A Nighttime Battle — Where the Sun Returns

Darkness covers the area downstream of the dam. The roaring sound of water sounded like a wild animal drunk on its prey, rolling down from the hillside, carrying red mud and broken tree branches.

When Miên and Phong ran to the place, a few villagers also ran out with shovels and picks, shining patchy flashlights in the dark night. Panic was evident on every austere face.

"The water has overflowed the canal banks! There's no time to withdraw!" Uncle Bảy, the village chief, shouted over the roaring sound of the water.

Hoàng Phong did not hesitate for a second. He grabbed the pickaxe and ran straight to the ditch that was in danger of bursting its banks.

"Everyone listen to me! Stop trying to build dikes to stop the water, human strength cannot compete with water's strength!" Phong shouted loudly, over the noise of the muddy waterfall. "We must open a way to discharge the flood! Break the eastern side ditch, leading the water to flow straight into the abandoned swamp below!"

"But if you do that, the water will wash away your tomato nursery!" Uncle Bảy panicked.

Phong clenched his teeth, his eyes were bloodshot. Those tens of thousands of tomato seeds were months of enthusiasm, Miên's savings, and the hope of the entire Mộc Farm. But if the flood is not released there, the water will break the main dike, wiping out dozens of hectares of rice and crops of the whole village that are about to be harvested.

In just a short split second, a series of images flashed through Phong's mind: the nights he stayed up to monitor the humidity of each nursery tray, Miên's radiant face as she held the savings book and gave it to him, and even his father's haggard face in the last days of his life. But right after that, the image of the rice fields laden with flowers of the people and the children in the village who were in need of a full harvest appeared more clearly than ever. There was no time to hesitate any longer.

"Just do it! Your crops are more important!" Phong decisively ordered. He swung the first blow of the hoe, slashing straight into the embankment protecting his own nursery.

Miên stood still, her heart as if someone was choking her. But she understood Phong's decision. At the boundary of life and death in nature, selfishness must give way to the common good. She rolled up her pant legs, waded straight into the muddy water up to her calves, grabbed a shovel and shoveled dirt with Phong.

Seeing that, Uncle Bảy and the villagers no longer hesitated. Everyone cheered and swung their shovels and picks to break the side ditch.

The murky floodwater found a way out, roaring straight through Mộc Farm's cherry tomato nursery. The green nursery trays were swallowed by the muddy stream in the blink of an eye. Water flowed through the land, swept away bamboo poles and plastic tarpaulins, and thundered into the swamp below, relieving pressure on the main dyke protecting the villagers' rice fields.

It started to rain lightly. The ground under my feet was like paste.

On the other side of the ditch, Uncle Bảy kept shouting and commanding the village's young men to reinforce critical sections of the dike with sandbags and bamboo poles. Flashlights from dozens of mobile phones swept horizontally and vertically in the rain, creating strange streaks of light amidst the chaotic scene. Someone slipped and fell in the mud, and someone else immediately pulled him up; The sound of a child crying for his mother echoed from afar, mixed with the endless roar of water.

Miên shoveled the soil and trembled as she watched the water sweep away the nursery trays that she and Phong had been taking care of for so many days. Her tears mixed with the rain on her muddy face, but her hands still kept swinging the shovel, as if she stopped for just a second, she would completely collapse before this scene of destruction.

Suddenly, the embankment where Miên was standing collapsed violently. She slipped, lost her balance and fell into the flowing, muddy water.

"Miên!"

Phong's heart-wrenching scream rang out. He quickly threw the pickax away and threw himself into the fast water without thinking.

The cold flood waters swept away Miên. She struggled, drank a few mouthfuls of thick muddy water, and felt suffocated. In a moment of desperation, a strong arm grabbed her wrist, pulling her back with extraordinary strength.

Phong hugged Miên tightly in his arms, one hand clinging tightly to the roots of an old sycamore tree growing along the canal bank. The water fiercely hit his back, but he refused to let go.

"Cling to me! Don't let go!" Phong screamed.

Uncle Bảy and some young men quickly threw a rope down. Phong wrapped a rope around Miên's body, letting everyone pull her to safety, then he himself grabbed the rope and climbed up.

When they reached the shore, both were soaked, covered in red mud from head to toe. Miên trembled from cold and fear. She coughed loudly, spitting out mouthfuls of muddy water.

Phong sat down on the grass, breathing heavily. Suddenly, he grimaced and put his hand on his left shoulder. A piece of scrap metal floating in the water had passed over his shoulder earlier, cutting a long, bloody line, mixing with the mud.

"Mr. Phong... you're bleeding!" Miên panicked and rushed forward to examine the wound, but Phong raised his hand to stop her.

"I'm okay," Phong breathed out, looking down at the nursery that was now just a muddy patch of mud.

Miên did not listen to him. She tore a piece of cloth from the hem of her soaking linen dress and carefully tied it tightly around the wound on Phong's shoulder to temporarily stop the bleeding, even though he grimaced in protest. "If you say 'I'm fine' one more time, I'll push you back into the water to show your face," she threatened through gritted teeth, her voice trembling and mixed with tears.

That night, the flood passed quickly and then receded, leaving behind a desolate scene. The village's main dyke is maintained, and the people's crops are safe. But the "heart" of Mộc Farm was completely destroyed.

The flashlights of the people checking the scene flashed across the messy land. What was once a green nursery full of hope is now just a puddle of mud, with a few torn pieces of plastic tarpaulin stuck on broken bamboo poles. That scene, under the dim moonlight left after the rain, looked heartbreakingly sad.

Uncle Bảy waded through the mud and patted Phong on the shoulder. His voice became lower, no longer as impatient as when he was commanding to fight the flood. "You... you sacrificed your garden to save your people's fields. This favor, the villagers of Pine Hill will never forget." A few people standing around also silently nodded, their eyes looking at Phong and Miên had changed completely compared to the skeptical village meeting a few days ago. In times of trouble, the most rigid prejudices sometimes crumble faster than any persuasion.

Miên looked at Phong standing motionless in front of the mud, his back under the flickering flashlight looking so lonely and heartbroken. She stepped forward, wrapped her arms from behind and hugged his wet back, ignoring the mud, ignoring everyone around.

"We'll start over again," Miên whispered in his ear, her voice was hoarse from the cold but firm without trembling. "You taught me that good soil needs time to recover. Then we will also give this garden time to revive, with me here with you."

Phong turned around and looked into Miên's steadfast eyes under the pale moonlight after the rain. He didn't say anything, just put his remaining good arm around her shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze as a wordless thank you. In that tragic moment, amidst the mud and ruins, something remained intact and steadier than ever: their faith in each other.

He used his entire fortune in exchange for the safety of the village. And he used his own life to protect her. Tonight, Mộc Farm lost a nursery, but Mộc Miên knows she has found the most stable landing place of her life.

Near morning, when the rain stopped and the pale dawn began to shine behind the mountains, the people in the village flocked home to rest after a white night of struggling with natural disasters. Miên guided Phong back to the small shack, where he still sat gritting his teeth and enduring the pain while she cleaned the wound on his shoulder with warm salt water that her grandmother had prepared. Mrs. Tám's eyes looked at the two children, soaked in mud and mud, without saying a word of reproach, just quietly cooking a pot of hot onion porridge, placing it in front of them both as the simplest way of comforting that she knew.

"Eat, then rest," Mrs. Tám patted Miên's shoulder, her voice trembling because she had just gone through a sleepless night of anxiety. "If the land is still there, there is still hope. Don't worry too much and get sick."

Miên looked at the steaming bowl of porridge, then looked at Phong who was sitting quietly next to him, his shoulders still wrapped tightly in a piece of cloth that had turned red mud. She knew that tonight was just the beginning of a long and difficult journey ahead, but in her heart there was not the slightest wavering, only a smoldering determination that was burning more intensely than ever.