Chapter 4 — The Mask Isn't Real

Doan The Vinh's shop is located between two shops selling colorful Mid-Autumn Festival plastic lanterns on Hang Nan street, the old wooden sign reads "Vietnamese Souvenirs - Handicrafts" in engraved letters that have faded from the paint.

Uyen Nhi walked in first, pretending to admire a shelf of basswood bracelets, her eyes quickly gliding around the narrow but densely displayed stall: miniature conical hats, plastic tortoise shells, paper fans painted with lotus flowers, and in the innermost corner, a separate glass cabinet, carefully locked, inside displayed about ten paper masks of different sizes.

Nhat Vu followed behind, holding up his camera to take a few pictures as if he were a curious tourist. The lens accidentally — or intentionally — panned through that glass case a few times.

The entire Hang Nan street this season is colorful in preparation for Mid-Autumn Festival, paper lanterns of all shapes hang from the eaves, almost touching the heads of passersby, the smell of glue, the smell of new paper, the faint smell of pine resin mixed together to create the typical smell of the whole street every August of the lunar calendar. But the deeper she went inside Doan The Vinh's store, the more Uyen Nhi realized the clear difference between the outside space selling to passersby, and the locked glass cabinet inside - as if this store had two faces, one to welcome normal customers, the other reserved for those who know how to ask the right questions.

"Dear, what is the price of the masks in this glass case?" Uyen Nhi asked the middle-aged man sitting behind the cashier, his thin face, wary eyes scanning the two strangers before answering.

"The regular ones on the shelf cost fifty to one hundred thousand. They are made in factories and tourists buy a lot of them. But in this cupboard are artisan goods, certified, and the price is much higher." He stood up, unlocked the cabinet himself, took out a small lion head mask, and showed it to Uyen Nhi. "This is three million two. There is a certificate attached, clearly stating that it is made in the style of traditional village artisans."

Uyen Nhi took the mask, turned it over and over, trying to keep the calm expression of a customer considering shopping, even though in her heart she immediately realized that the coating was too shiny, too even - acrylic industrial paint, not the natural color mixed with sticky rice paste that she used every day. She turned over the inside, pretending to admire the technique, actually looking for any signs of an oral cavity, even though she knew this unicorn head had no oral cavity to hide the crescent moon mark.

"Can you show me some more with the names of specific artists? Like... famous artists, to take home as gifts."

The shop owner - Uyen Nhi guessed that this was Doan The Vinh based on the business registration name Nhat Vu found - paused slightly, his eyes examined more closely before going back inside to get two more masks from a separate compartment below the glass cabinet, not displayed publicly like the rest.

"These two are special items, not every customer gets to see them." He placed on the counter a medium-sized Ms. Hang mask, and a Mr. Dia mask. "There is a certificate stating that it was made in the style of a famous artisan in Hanoi, who has been gone for several years. This item costs eight and a half million each, and is very popular with foreign collectors."

Uyen Nhi picked up Ms. Hang's mask and her heart beat faster. The drawings are much more sophisticated than those on the shelves, almost reaching the level of a real skilled craftsman - not the kind of poorly painted market products like the plastic varieties around. She turned into the mouth, the lens of her eyes, used to seeing small details in low light, immediately caught a faint etching, close to the inner edge, right behind the left ear.

A crescent moon. But not the type of mark she carves every day.

This is a single mark, a single curved line, without any small lines nested inside like the new style the teacher passed down to her in the last five years of his life. And the location — behind the left ear lobe, not in the oral cavity — was also the old location, the one the teacher had stopped using long before she entered the workshop.

She kept her expression as calm as possible, although her hands shook slightly as she placed the mask on the counter. "Do you know who made these? I want to learn more about that artist, maybe buy a few more."

"I don't really understand that." Doan The Vinh smiled, the smile was somewhat forced. "I only receive goods from one delivery agency, they deliver late at night, several times a month, I pay cash at the wholesale price, they give the goods with a pre-printed confirmation, and I don't ask who did it, it's none of my business."

"What's the name of that contact? Maybe I can contact you directly and order a larger quantity."

Doan The Vinh's eyes darkened a bit, as if the question had just touched a line he did not want anyone to cross. "It's not convenient for me to talk about that. Business has its own rules, I understand. If you buy, I'll sell. As for the source of goods, why bother asking?"

Nhat Vu, standing nearby pretending to look at a paper fan, skillfully interjected into the conversation, his voice much friendlier than Uyen Nhi's. "Dear, we plan to do a small report on Vietnamese handicrafts on our channel. These items are really beautiful. Maybe if we introduce them, the factory will have more customers."

The words seemed to touch another corner of Doan The Vinh's heart - not wariness, but something close to pride, even though he tried to hide it. "That workshop has been in business for a long time, their skills are not inferior to anyone else, it's just a pity that they don't have a name to promote. If you do reportage, then..." He suddenly stopped, as if realizing that he had said something wrong, he looked at the two strangers with wariness again. "Well, I don't know much. If you buy it, I'll sell it."

Uyen Nhi bought Ms. Hang's mask, paying eight and a half million in full without haggling, even though that amount was equal to nearly a month's income at the Moon Painting workshop. She needed it as evidence, she needed to look closely under the slanted spotlight at home to be sure of the crescent moon, and she needed to maintain a good enough relationship with Doan The Vinh that she could come back and ask more questions later.

During packaging, the shop owner also included a color printed certificate, with a stylized circular logo stating the words "Vietnamese Craft Village — Certificate of Origin", with a blurred red seal in the bottom corner as if it had been hastily stamped with a cheap rubber stamp purchased at a stationery store, not an official legal seal. Uyen Nhi folded the paper, stuffed it carefully into her bag along with the mask, thinking that this was also an equally important piece of evidence - a "certification" organization that sounded majestic but did not exist on any legal documents she had ever known.

Leaving the store, the two of them walked along Hang Nan Street for a while, remaining silent until they were completely out of sight from the store window.

"You saw something in the oral cavity, right?" Nhat Vu asked softly, his eyes still observing the surroundings as if afraid someone was watching. "Your face changed completely when you picked up Ms. Hang."

"There is a real crescent moon." Uyen Nhi spoke slowly, trying to sort out the confused thoughts in her head. "But it's an old mark. My teacher changed the way he engraved this mark about twenty years ago, after almost being counterfeited when he was young. The person who made this mask only knew the old mark - meaning that he had worked very closely with my teacher, but before that twenty-year mark."

Nhat Vu whistled softly, not because of joy, but because of surprise. "So that means it's not some random forger who researched your teacher's style through photos online. This is someone who learned the trade directly in the workshop."

"That's right." Uyen Nhi tightened her grip on the paper bag containing the mask she had just bought, feeling that it was much heavier than its actual weight. "And I think I have a clue to find out who that person is."

She pulled out her phone and opened the photo of the teacher's notebook page again - the text was almost completely erased, only two letters remained: "P.K." Next to that was another name she had never mentioned to Nhat Vu, the name on the old business card, and the teacher's short note: "Tuyen's story".

"When I go back to the factory tonight, I'll look through all the old books and see if anyone with a name starting with 'Tuyen' worked there before the twenty year mark." She looked up at Nhat Vu, her eyes both worried and determined. "I have a feeling this isn't simply about money."

Behind them, the glass door of the souvenir shop moved slightly - Doan The Vinh stood behind the counter, his eyes watching the silhouette of two people disappearing down the street, his hand already holding the phone, his finger hesitantly hovering over the screen before finally dialing a familiar number with a saved initial of just three letters.