Chapter 19 — The Mask Isn't Real

"You're not holding the stick like that properly." Tuyen held Uyen Nhi's hand and adjusted the angle of the bamboo stick in her hand. His voice was somewhat strict like a true teacher, different from the timid and shy appearance of the past few weeks. "This angle has to be a little steeper, closer to eighteen degrees instead of fifteen, if you want the engraving to be deep enough without tearing the paper underneath."

Uyen Nhi looked up at him, surprised. "You said eighteen degrees? My teacher taught me exactly fifteen degrees."

"I know you teach fifteen degrees." Tuyen smiled, the first smile she saw on his face that was truly comfortable since the day they first met on the reed grass. "But that's the standard angle for thin Do paper. With the slightly thicker old newspaper that you're using for this batch, eighteen degrees will give better results. I learned this from the years of tinkering alone after leaving the factory, without anyone to teach me, I had to experiment hundreds of times to find it."

This was the first joint meeting between the two since all legal procedures were temporarily closed, three weeks after Ho Bao Ky was officially prosecuted. Tuyen came to the Moon Painting workshop every day, not as a person being investigated, but as a worker returning home after a long, lost journey.

In the early days, he was still timid, often standing at the factory door for a long time before entering, as if he still couldn't believe that he was really welcomed. Uyen Nhi noticed that, but didn't say it, just quietly prepared a corner of the table for him every morning, placed a few basic tools, so that he could gradually get used to the feeling that this was truly his place, not a place where he was being blessed to temporarily stay.

Tuyen's son, a skinny fourteen-year-old boy with slightly pale skin due to illness, also visited the workshop once with his father last weekend, sitting quietly in the corner of the room watching his father work, his eyes shining rarely when he saw stacks of wooden molds of all strange shapes stacked on the shelves. Uyen Nhi gave him a little Uncle Cuoi mask, made by herself, and the boy hugged it tightly all afternoon, not letting go for even a minute.

"You know," Tuyen continued, his hand still guiding her every small movement, "during those twenty-two years, there were nights when I dreamed that I was standing in this very place, holding this very brush, continuing the unfinished strokes. I thought that dream would never come true."

Uyen Nhi put down the bamboo stick and looked at him with sincere eyes. "I'm sorry that my teacher didn't give you a chance to explain that year. I can't fully apologize for you, but I can do this — give you a rightful place here, right now."

"You've done more than that." Tuyen shook her head, her voice choked. "You gave me the chance to be myself again, not to hide, not to pretend to be someone else."

They worked together all afternoon, Tuyen showing her the techniques he had discovered himself in his twenty-two years away from the factory — how to add a little fig tree sap to the sticky rice paste to increase the durability of masks for long-term outdoor use, how to tell the moisture content of paper just by pressing his cheek against the surface instead of using a measuring device. In return, Uyen Nhi showed him the new technique of carving the crescent moon mark, a style that her teachers only passed on to her in the last five years of her life.

"Are you sure you want to show me this?" Tuyen asked, her voice a bit hesitant as she watched Uyen Nhi pick up a bamboo stick, preparing to show off. "This is your private secret."

"It's no longer your private secret." Uyen Nhi replied, her voice firm. "I think it's time for this mark to belong to the workshop, not just to one individual. And I want you to be the next one to pass it on, just like my teacher should have done with you many years ago, if it weren't for that unfortunate misunderstanding."

She engraved the image on a piece of test paper, slowly and carefully explaining each movement of the wrist, each pressure needed to create the delicate double crescent line. Tuyen observed attentively, his eyes shone with absolute concentration, exactly like the way one of Mr. Tuyen's best students learned the trade more than twenty years ago.

"But I won't use this mark exactly like yours." Uyen Nhi added, seeing that he had mastered the basic technique. "I think you should have your own variation, a mark bearing your name, not to impersonate anyone, but to mark the true work of your own hands, under your own name."

Tuyen stopped, looked at her for a long moment, his eyes sparkling with something almost like real hope for the first time in many years. "Are you asking me to work under my own name? An artist Phan Khac Tuyen, not hiding from anyone?"

"That's right." Uyen Nhi nodded. "Moon Painting Workshop will still keep my teacher's name and legacy, but I want to open a private corner where you can work, teach your craft, and sign your name on each work. I believe, if buyers know the true story behind it, they will appreciate your work as much as the work that bears my teacher's name — maybe even more, because it is a story of redemption and resurrection, not just built-in fame."

Tears rolled down Tuyen's haggard face. He raised his hand to cover his face for a moment, his shoulders shaking with uncontrollable emotion. Uyen Nhi sat quietly next to him, giving him time and not rushing to comfort him with empty words.

"My son." Tuyen said when she had calmed down somewhat, her voice still shaking. "He still often asks me what I do for a living, because I never dared to tell him the truth. Now I can tell him that his father is a papier-mâché mask artist, with a decent name, no need to hide anything anymore."

"You should take your child to the workshop to play on the weekend." Uyen Nhi smiled. "I think the boy would like to see his father working in a place like this."

"He asked me the other day, after holding the mask you gave him." Tuyen smiled, a rare smile that lasted long enough to erase the deep wrinkles of worry on his face. "He asked if he could learn this profession when he grows up. I didn't know how to answer, because I wasn't sure about my own future at that time. Now I can answer it."

"I believe my teacher would be very happy to know that there is another generation who wants to continue the profession." Uyen Nhi said, looking far away at Mr. Tuyen's photo on the wall. "He is always worried that this profession will gradually disappear, no one will want to learn a job that requires so much time and patience in a time when everything needs to be fast and cheap."

That afternoon ended with the two completing a little Mr. Dia mask — Tuyen in charge of the paper backing and shaping, Uyen Nhi in charge of color mixing and drawing the eyes, each contributing their own skill to the same work, for the first time in twenty-two years, two hands that once belonged to the same workshop came together to create something real, without concealment.

As the sunset stained the factory door frame yellow, Tuyen stood up and gently placed her hand on Uyen Nhi's shoulder, a simple gesture that contained more than any words of gratitude could express. "Thank you for giving me a chance to do it again, to truly do it again, not just to be forgiven."

Uyen Nhi nodded, looking at the mask Mr. Dia had just finished waiting to dry on the table. Her round face and gentle smiling eyes seemed to be witnessing the entire moment of reconciliation that had just taken place between two people who had been separated by a misunderstanding that lasted for two decades.

Before leaving, Tuyen stopped at the door, turned his head to look back at the workshop again, his eyes glanced over every familiar corner - the colorful wooden table, the colorful paper drying pole, the stack of wooden molds neatly arranged on the shelf. "I thought I would never stand here in this capacity again." He spoke softly, his voice still a bit choked. "Thank you, Uyen Nhi, for not closing this door when you had every reason to do so."

"I didn't close the door, because I believe Mr. Tuyen wouldn't have done that if he had a chance to correct his mistake." Uyen Nhi replied, her voice gentle but firm. "See you tomorrow, we still have a lot to do before this year's Mid-Autumn Festival."

Tuyen nodded, gave a rare full smile, then walked out of the workshop. His gait was no longer stooped and inquisitive like the first days we met, but straighter, more steadfast, like a person who is gradually finding himself after a long lost path.