Chapter 2 — The Dignity of a Signature

Hua Tu Tu and Tham Hao went around the hall and then returned. When passing my table, Hua Tu Tu suddenly stopped walking. She looked at me, tilted her head and smiled sweetly:

“Assistant Lam, Mr. Tham's glass is empty, could you please help me pour more?”

In her hand was Tham Hao's glass. She brought it in front of me. I looked at that glass and didn't accept it. Tham Hao walked up from behind, frowned slightly, then placed the glass firmly on the table in front of me:

“Lam Ha, Tu Tu is talking to you.”

I stood up, picked up the glass, went to the next drink counter, poured a glass of warm water, then turned around and gave it to Tham Hao. Throughout the whole process, I didn't say a word. Hua Tu Tu smiled softly then turned to the person next to him:

“Assistant Lam has a bad temper, but he is still trustworthy in his work.”

Tham Hao gently pulled her hand:

"Let's go, I have to go say hello to Professor Tran."

The two of them left together. Phuong Khiet looked at their backs and then looked back at me, her lips moved slightly, but in the end she still said nothing. Tieu Tran couldn't help but mumbled in a low voice:

“Just an intern but he seems to be better than the director.”

Phuong Khiet immediately kicked him under the table. I sat down, opened my phone and took a quick look.

“Teacher Phuong” sent another message:

"The data package has been synchronized to the cloud, and can be retrieved at any time. Timestamps, version history, and all edit logs are complete."

I answered in two words: Then lock the screen. The official awards ceremony has not started yet, currently it is just free exchange time. Throughout the hall, there was the sound of clinking glasses and fake social smiles. And I sit alone in the corner, like a redundant background board. The position Tham Hao arranged for me today is close to the last wall of the hall, next to it is the sliding door leading to the back kitchen. Waiters carry trays in and out continuously, each time the door opens, bringing with it a faint smell of grease. Meanwhile, Hua Tu Tu sat in the center of the main table, right next to Tham Hao. That seat... Last year it was mine. At last year's Golden Crane Awards, my work "Phu Quang" won the silver prize. At that time, there was still no Hua Tu Tu next to Tham Hao. The signature part only lists the company's name, but at least it doesn't bear another person's name. This year, "Quy Khu" won the gold award. And my name also completely disappeared. Instead, it was a new intern who had been in the company for less than six months. I suddenly remembered the first time Tham Hao mentioned this to me a month ago. That night he got off work very late. He sat down on the living room sofa, his tone very casual:

“Ha Ha, about the Golden Crane prize... I want to change the signer's name.”

My hand that was warming milk in the kitchen suddenly stopped.

“Change to who?”

He spoke very naturally.

"She needs a work that's strong enough to stand firm in the company. You're my wife, it's all yours, and it doesn't matter if you don't have this award."

I took the glass of milk out and looked at him. He leaned back on the sofa, his expression extremely relaxed, as if he was talking about a small matter that was not worth arguing about.

“Tham Hao, that's my work.”

“I know.”

He accepted the glass of milk and took a sip.

"But think about it, your identity is not convenient to make public. We have agreed to get married secretly. If you accept the award as a designer, outsiders will think that way." any? Are you telling Tham Hao that you have to rely on your wife?

I won't say anything more. He drank all the milk, stood up, and gently patted my head like a child:

“Be good, listen. Next year I'll make it up to you with a bigger prize."

Then he went upstairs to sleep. Leaving me alone standing in the living room, clutching the empty glass. That night I didn't sleep. I sat in my office all night, backing up all the design files of "Quy Khu". Every sketch. Each edit history. Each timestamp. All are backed up to three different cloud platforms. Then I sent Mr. Phuong a message. Phuong Tri Vien. Veteran judge of the International Design Association, and also one of the founders of the Golden Crane Award. Five years ago, I met him while participating in a design exhibition abroad. He has always enjoyed my work.

“Teacher Phuong, I have a few things I want to ask you about.”

He replied almost immediately:

“Lam Ha, say it.”

That was about a month ago. Twenty minutes before the awards ceremony officially began, Hua Tu Tu's "instructor" finally appeared. The company's design director, Tran Due, wearing a wine red suit and ten centimeter heels, walked straight from the hall door towards Hua Tu Tu.

“Tu Tu, today's makeup is very good, the dress fits well.”

Tran Due evaluated Hua Tu Tu from top to bottom and then nodded with satisfaction.

“Don't be nervous when you go on stage later. Just say it exactly as I taught you. It's okay to emphasize creative ideas with Eastern aesthetics, don't talk too much about other things."

Hua Tu Tu obediently nodded:

"General Tran can rest assured."

Tran Due looked around again. His gaze glanced at me, paused for half a second and then quickly moved away. She knows whose work "Quy Khu" is. The whole design department knows. But no one dares to speak out in this situation. Because Tham Hao is the boss. Tran Due's position was given by Tham Hao. And the rice bowl of each person in the design room is in his hand. Tran Due walked up to me, didn't sit down, just stood from above looking down.

“Assistant Lam, it's time for the award ceremony later, you'll be in charge of giving the trophy to Tu Tu.”

She spoke very naturally.

“General Shen specifically told me. You go from the backstage to the stage, carry the trophy over there, then stand to the side."

I raised my head to look at her.

“Let me go up and give her the trophy?”

Tran Due impatiently stroked his hair:

“That's right. It's like the waiter just brought the food, is there a problem?"

Phuong Khiet next to him took a sharp breath of cold air. I laughed.

“Okay, no problem.”

Tran Due glanced at me, perhaps not expecting me to agree so quickly. She turned around and left, walked a few steps, turned around and added:

“Don't wear this on stage, it looks too rustic. There is a black uniform backstage, please change."