Chapter 3 — Wind Village Robot Team

Mr. Tu's fan repair shop has no sign, only a green tarp stretched across the front porch and a few old fans dangling from a horizontal pole as a sign to anyone passing by that this is an electrical repair place. Khanh Dan went there on the advice of the grocery seller at the market, after asking around the commune to see where they could sell screws, small wires, and sometimes even old circuit boards.

"If you want to buy electronics, go to Mr. Tu." The grocery seller said, still quickly placing instant noodles on the shelf. "That house specializes in old things. They have everything. I'm just afraid you won't know how to choose."

When Khanh Dan arrived, Mr. Tu was not there. The person sitting on a low stool in the middle of the yard, bent over an old table fan with the lid open, was a boy she recognized immediately - Hoang Dac Phong, a student of class 8A, sitting at the second table next to the window, who was always silent during the three lessons she taught, never raised his hand once, did the homework correctly but never asked her a question.

He didn't recognize her standing at the gate. His hand was holding a coil of insulated copper wire, the wire end had been stripped, and measured against the coil inside the fan motor, which had been partially burned black. Next to him, on a piece of cardboard spread out as a work table, the fan's parts were lined up in order of removal — blades, protective cage, capacitor, motor, all neatly spaced out like a printed assembly diagram, even though there were no instructions on it.

"Are you rewinding the motor?" Khanh Dan asked as he entered the yard, trying to keep his voice light so as not to startle him.

Phong looked up, and in a moment she clearly saw his expression change from surprise to reserve — the kind of reserve of a child who's just been caught doing something he's not sure if adults think is "something students should do" or not.

"Yes." He replied, his voice small. "The inner coil is burned in one part. I rewind that part. There is no need to replace the whole coil."

"Where did you learn how to wind a motor yourself?"

"My grandfather just showed me the video." Phong said, still not taking his eyes off the coil he was holding. "But the video only shows big motors, this table fan is small, you have to recalculate the number of revolutions yourself."

"What do you think?"

This time, Phong actually looked up at her, as if that question surprised him more than the IT teacher appearing in his yard. Perhaps no one has ever asked him that question in the sense of wanting to know the answer, not just asking for it.

"I counted the number of turns of the old coil before removing it and recorded it." He spoke, more slowly, as if trying to arrange his words clearly. "The burning part only takes about twenty turns. You can wrap exactly twenty turns of the same size wire. If you wind too much, the motor will be hot, if too little, the fan will rotate weakly."

"So what if we don't know the number of old coil turns? For example, the motor burns out and can't be counted anymore."

Phong really stopped this time, looked down at the motor in his palm, thinking seriously as if he were facing an exam question. "I've never encountered that situation before. I guess I have to find a motor of the same type, with the same capacity listed on the label, count on that one and then follow suit."

That's not the answer he learned by heart somewhere. That was the answer of someone who was reasoning on the spot, based on the logic he built himself through dozens of real disassembly, not through books. Khanh Dan stood still for a moment, feeling exactly like the first time she sat down to interview a hardware engineer candidate for NovaTech and came across an answer that wasn't in any of the sample answered — the kind of answer that made the interviewer sit up straight.

While waiting for Phong to put the coil of copper wire in an old tin box containing cookies - where he sorted the components into small compartments made of cardboard, copper wires in one compartment, capacitors in another compartment, screws divided by thread size - Khanh Dan looked around the yard. On the old lime-stained wall, there is a small photo frame hanging high, a photo of a young man wearing a white shirt. The photo frame is covered with a thin layer of dust but the glass is still clean, as if someone still wipes it regularly. Below the photo frame is a small wooden shelf displaying a few handcrafted aluminum toys — a toy tank, a dragonfly with wings that spin when the wind blows — items that are clearly handmade, not marketed.

"My brother did it." Phong said, realizing her eyes were stopping at the toy shelf, even though she hadn't asked anything yet. "My grandfather made molds from cans and steel wire when I was little. I learned to make metal from those first, then learned to repair machines."

He didn't say more about the photo on the wall, and Khanh Dan didn't ask either. There were questions she felt she shouldn't ask on the first meeting, especially when the person answering was only fourteen years old and standing in the middle of her yard. She just nodded, looked at the aluminum dragonfly gently turning its wings to follow the wind blowing through the yard, then returned to the unfinished story.

"Where is your grandfather?" She asked, both to change the subject and out of genuine curiosity.

"My grandfather went to repair the pump for Uncle Sau's house at the end of the neighborhood. He will probably return in the afternoon." Phong replied, then as if suddenly remembering politeness, he stood up and wiped his hands on his pants. "What did you come to buy? I don't know the price, let me write it down, I'll give you the money when you come home tonight."

"I was going to ask to buy some small electrical wires, with a few small screws if any." Khanh Dan said, then hesitantly added a sentence she hadn't planned to say so soon. "And I'm also looking to see if there are any people in school who like to repair and assemble electronics. I have an idea, I'm not sure it can take shape yet, but I need some people with good skills."

Phong looked at her and didn't answer right away. He bent down and picked up the coil of copper wire, twirling it in his hand as a habit when thinking.

"What idea?"

"Make a robot." Khanh Dan spoke frankly, deciding not to beat around the bush anymore. "It's not a pre-assembled toy bought from a store, it's a robot I designed myself, installed the control circuit myself, and used it to compete with other schools."

She waited for an excited response, or at least a question. But Phong just silently looked down at the fan that was being repaired, then looked around the yard - the clay court, the pile of old electronics stacked in the corner, the blue tarp that had faded from the sun and wind - as if comparing what was in front of her with what she had just mentioned.

"Making a robot must cost a lot of money." He said, his voice was not a refusal, but a fact that he was used to calculating everything in advance. "My family doesn't have money to buy parts."

"I don't plan to buy new parts." Khanh Dan replied. "I'm planning on using exactly what you're making now — old stuff, broken stuff, taking it apart and putting it back together. See that pile of electronics in the corner of the yard? I think there's enough stuff in there to get started."

Phong turned his head to look at the pile of old things that he had seen every day for so many years to the point of no longer paying attention. Looking back now, it was as if he was seeing it for the first time in a different way.

"I've never made a robot before." He said, slowly. "Just repair the fan and water pump."

"The principles are not much different." Khanh Dan said, then smiled when he saw Phong still standing twirling the copper wire in his hand, his eyes no longer cautious like before, but had turned to something close to genuine curiosity - a rare expression she had never seen on his face during the past three lessons.

He didn't nod right away. But when Khanh Dan paid for wires and screws and turned to the gate, she heard Phong calling after her, his voice still small but no longer hesitant.

"Miss." he said. "If you do it for real, can you show me that control circuit first? I want to know how it is different from a fan motor."

Khanh Dan turned back and nodded. "Okay. I brought an old Arduino board with me, so I can borrow your room someday and you can come take a look."

"When?"

"You haven't asked for a room yet." She is honest. "But probably this week."

Phong nodded, didn't ask any more questions, went back to sit down next to the fan that was being repaired, and picked up the copper coil in his hand as if no conversation had just happened. But when Khanh Dan had gone out of the gate and walked a distance on the dirt road leading to the market, she looked back and saw him still bending over the fan, except that his hand paused, his eyes looking far away at Gio Long Pass for a moment before bending down to continue working. She wasn't sure what he was thinking, but she guessed it wasn't thinking about twenty turns of copper wire anymore.

On the way home, the wind blew in the opposite direction so strongly that she had to lean over, the flaps of her coat flapping. She thought of the photo frame on the wall, the aluminum dragonfly spinning its wings in the wind, and the way Phong avoided mentioning the person in the photo even though she hadn't asked a word. She didn't know this student's entire story, but she knew enough to understand that whatever she was about to start here, it would have to be worth the time of children like Phong—children who had learned to calculate, to weigh every penny, every turn of rope, from a time too young to have to do so.