Chapter 15 — The Dignity of a Signature

“Won eleven industry awards.”

“But in the signatures of those works…”

“…never once has the word ‘Lam Ha’ appeared.”

There was a cold sniffing sound below. I continue:

“It's not because I don't care about signing rights.”

“But because I was told that…”

“As a secretly married wife…”

“…I shouldn't appear in public.”

“My existence will affect the company's image.”

“Effects my husband's reputation.”

I stopped for a moment.

“Thirty-seven projects.”

“Eleven trophies.”

“I don't even know what nine of those trophies look like…”

“…because I was never allowed to attend the awards ceremony.”

The whole hall was completely silent.

“Until this year.”

“‘Quy Khu’ won the gold award.”

“I used to think…”

“…finally I can sign my own work for once.”

“But my husband gave that opportunity to an intern.”

“Then told me to wear my staff uniform and go up on stage to give her the trophy.”

I don't raise my voice. Don't cry either.

“Today I sit here…”

“…not to tell the story.”

“I just want to say…”

“Every designer deserves to have their name attached to their work.”

“Regardless of whether you are the boss's wife, an employee, an intern…”

“…or just someone picked up on the street.”

“The work will not lie.”

“The timestamp won't lie either.”

I put down the microphone. The applause in the stands lasted nearly twenty seconds. Le Kha sat next to me and gently touched my arm. I turned to look at her. The corners of her lips curled up, gently nodding at me. During the livestream, the comments section frantically spammed two words: When the conference ended, Tham Hao was waiting outside the door. As soon as I walked out of the convention center I saw him. He leaned against a dark gray commercial vehicle, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his windbreaker, his expression gloomy and scary.

“You really enjoy it, right?”

He looked at me.

“Enjoy what?”

“The performance just now on stage.”

He tilted his head toward the convention center.

“Very touching.”

“The effect is also extremely good.”

“Are you satisfied?”

“It's not a performance.”

He took a step forward. The distance between us was less than a meter.

“You made things turn out like this…”

“…do you really think there will be any benefit to you?”

“What signing rights do you want?”

“I can fix it.”

“From now on, all the company's projects will be signed with my name.”

“You can even add my name to the official personnel list.”

“Let's sit down and talk properly.”

"It's late."

“What do you mean?”

"The divorce agreement was sent to your household address yesterday afternoon by the lawyer."

“You will probably receive it today.”

He paused for a second. Then burst out laughing like "do you know what you're saying?"

“I won't sign.”

“I will sign.”

“Where do you get such confidence?”

“I have no choice.”

The smile on Tham Hao's face disappeared. I took out my phone and opened a screenshot to show him. That is the latest announcement that the Kim Hac tournament organizers just posted after the conference ended this afternoon. The content is very brief:

“After a preliminary investigation, the gold prize-winning work ‘Quy Khu’ of the twelfth Golden Crane Award has a dispute over signing rights.”

“The organizing committee decided to temporarily suspend recognition of awards, At the same time, request the designer to submit all creative traceability documents within fifteen working days."

"If it is verified that the act of signing falsely exists, the award will be revoked and Tham Thi's eligibility to participate in the award in previous years will also be reviewed."

The eight words "reviewing previous years' qualifications"... Tham Hao certainly understood its meaning. He looked back and forth three times. Then he pushed the phone back to me, the voice completely changed:

“You want my company to die?”

“Is your company dead or not…”

“…depends on each of your next decisions.”

I put the phone back in my pocket.

“If you sign a divorce agreement…”

“I just took back ownership of my work.”

“And if you don't sign…”

“The organizing committee will investigate to the end.”

“The projects over the past few years were designed by me but signed by someone else…”

“…will all be dug up.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I'm giving you a chance.”

He stared at me, breathing heavily. Through the car window next to him, he could still faintly see the shadow of his assistant, probably waiting in the car. A long time later, Tham Hao turned around and opened the car door. Before getting in the car, he turned around and said one sentence:

“I have changed.”

“It's not like I've changed.”

I looked at him.

“It's just that I can't stand it anymore.”

The car door closed. The car quickly left. Le Kha came out of the conference center and stood next to me.

“Shen Hao came to find you?”

“What did he say?”

“Says he won't sign.”

Le Kha shrugged.

“He will sign it.”

"Trust me."

“How do you know?”

She smiled slightly.

“Because the conference livestream this afternoon…”

“…his company's investors also saw it.”

“I just received news from my friend.”

“Thham Thi's angel investor has arranged for Tham Hao to meet tomorrow.”

I looked at her.

“Every step in this…”

“…did you have it all planned out?”

“If you don't consider every step…”

“…how can I get you up?”

She took out her car keys and headed towards the parking lot.

“I invited you to dinner.”