Chapter 12 — The Mask Isn't Real

"I know." Uyen Nhi spoke as soon as Nha Uyen opened the door, without greeting, without beating around the bush like before. "I know you were the one who introduced Mr. Tuyen to the first broker."

Nha Uyen stood frozen in the door frame, still holding the duster on the shelf, her face turned pale in an instant. She didn't ask again "who told you", didn't try to deny, just quietly opened the door wider, signaling Uyen Nhi to come in, like someone who had been waiting for this moment for a long time and now only felt relieved when it finally came.

"When are you going to tell me?" Uyen Nhi asked, her voice shaking from suppressed anger. "Or do you intend to keep silent forever, the same way you have been silent for twenty-two years about Cao Xuan Tung's story?"

Nha Uyen sat down on the chair, her hands clasped together, losing her familiar calm appearance. "I was going to say it, Uyen Nhi. I just... haven't found a way to say it without making you completely hate me."

"I introduced Uncle Tuyen to someone, then that person brought him to Ho Bao Ky, and now there are dozens of fake items bearing your teacher's name being sold all over the world!" Uyen Nhi stood up, her voice breaking and she couldn't hold it in anymore. "Do you know how much I trusted you? You were the only person I thought of when I needed advice, after my teacher passed away!"

"I know." Nha Uyen also stood up, tears began to roll down her aged face. "And because I know that, I feel worse and worse every day. But you have to believe me on one thing, Uyen Nhi — when I introduced Tuyen to that broker, four years ago, it was really just a way for him to sell some cheap papier-mâché breeds to tourists. Completely legal, completely innocent. I had no idea, couldn't have imagined, that it would escalate into this."

"So when will you know?" Uyen Nhi asked, her voice cold. "When did you realize things had gone too far without speaking up to stop it?"

Nha Uyen was silent for a long time, her hands tightening her shirt. "About half a year ago, I heard rumors in the collector world about some of your teacher's 'lost items' appearing on the market, with unusually high prices. I called Tuyen to ask, he reassured me that he was just doing business as usual, no big deal. I... I chose to believe him, because I didn't want to face the possibility that I had unintentionally assisted in something wrong."

"You choose not to know." Uyen Nhi repeated, her voice filled with contempt and pain. "Exactly like twenty-two years ago, you chose not to tell the truth for fear of getting involved. It's always easier for you to choose silence, right?"

That sentence was like a knife cutting into Nha Uyen. She slumped into the chair, her shoulders shaking from wordless sobs. "You're right. I'm a coward, Uyen Nhi. All my life I've chosen to stay silent whenever the truth can hurt the people I love. I think I'm protecting them, but in reality I'm just protecting my own comfort."

Uyen Nhi stood looking at the crying woman in front of her, the anger in her heart gradually subsided, giving way to a much deeper fatigue. She didn't want to hate Nha Uyen — she couldn't, after all the years this woman had been by her side, silently helping Moon Painting Studio overcome the most difficult times. But she also couldn't pretend like nothing had happened.

She looked around the small gallery, the lacquer paintings hung neatly on the walls, the ceramic dishes meticulously displayed on wooden shelves - Nha Uyen's entire life was devoted to supporting traditional values, to connecting artists with art lovers. The heartbreaking paradox lies in the fact that very love, that very torment of wanting to atone for her mistakes, accidentally became the door that opened the way for the greatest betrayal of the very values she always cherished.

"Do you know who Ho Bao Ky is? Do you know anything about him?" Uyen Nhi asked, her voice softened somewhat.

"I've met him a few times at collector events, just a casual acquaintance." Nha Uyen wiped her tears and tried to regain her composure. "I didn't know he was the one behind driving up the prices of those fake goods, until you mentioned his name for the first time."

"I need your help with something." Uyen Nhi said, her voice became serious and realistic again. "You need to know everything I know about Ho Bao Ky — his relationships, his business practices, anything that can help you better understand the scope of this ring. Not to punish me further, but because you need to stop this, as soon as possible."

Nha Uyen nodded, looked up at Uyen Nhi with eyes that were both grateful and ashamed. "I will do whatever you need. I owe you, Tuyen, and your teacher an apology that is probably too late to say directly."

They sat together for nearly another hour, Nha Uyen recounting every little detail she could remember — the times she met Ho Bao Ky at exhibitions, how he often mentioned "special goods from Vietnam" with hidden pride, how he had close relationships with a few independent appraisers that collectors still trusted. Every detail was carefully recorded by Uyen Nhi in a notebook, gradually building a comprehensive picture of the network that Ho Bao Ky had built.

"Once," Nha Uyen suddenly remembered, her voice slow as if searching for a forgotten memory, "she heard him brag at a party that he had a 'highly skilled craftsman' who specialized in handling difficult details, items that needed outstanding sophistication to pass even the most demanding appraiser. At that time, she simply thought he was a good restorer, working legally for museums. She had no connection to this until now."

Uyen Nhi looked up, her heart beating fast. "Do you remember him mentioning that person's name?"

Nha Uyen frowned, trying to recall her memory. "There seems to be a mention of a word. It sounds like an abbreviation or a nickname, not a full name. I'm not sure, it's been more than half a year."

"It's okay, you can remember whatever you want." Uyen Nhi scribbled this detail in her notebook, boldly underlining it, feeling like an important piece had just appeared in the already confusing picture.

"I'll try to remember more carefully and ask a few more acquaintances in the world if necessary." Nha Uyen said, her voice somewhat steady again, as if being able to do something useful, no matter how small, helped her feel less helpless before what she had caused. "This is the least you can do right now, Uyen Nhi."

Before leaving, Uyen Nhi stopped at the door and turned to look at Nha Uyen again. "Miss Uyen. I can't forgive completely right now. But I also don't want to completely cut off with you. I need time, just like I'm giving Uncle Tuyen time."

"I understand." Nha Uyen nodded, her voice choked but sincere. "I will wait, no matter how long it takes, as long as you give me a chance to atone for some of my mistakes."

Uyen Nhi walked down the stairs, each wooden step creaked under her feet as if counting back the years of a now broken friendship. She didn't look back this time, afraid that if she saw Nha Uyen's lonely figure standing behind the door frame again, she would soften her heart and quickly forgive before everything was really thoroughly resolved.

On the way home, Uyen Nhi sat silently the whole way, her mind reeling with everything she had just heard. She looked out the car window, the streets of Hanoi passing by in the golden evening light, and she suddenly realized something - this story was no longer simply about finding bad guys to denounce. It had become a network of people, each carrying a part of responsibility, a part of hurt, and she, the only one who still held the key to distinguish between truth and falsehood, must now find a fair solution for all of them, not just for the honor of her teacher.

Her phone vibrated with a text message from Nhat Vu as soon as the car turned onto the road leading to Yen Lieu village: "I found some interesting information about Ho Bao Ky. It's not a small matter. Can we talk tomorrow?" Uyen Nhi looked at the message and felt a new wave of fatigue coming on, but still typed back immediately: "Okay. Tomorrow morning, at the factory." She put her phone in her pocket, leaned her head against the car window, closed her eyes, trying to spend a few rare minutes not thinking about anything, before tomorrow brought a new layer of truth to face.