Chapter 17 — When I Don't Need Them Anymore

“The person behind the plan is named Phuong Ngan.”

"He is a domestic media expert that Uyen Ninh knows."

“He helped her build her entire image and direct public opinion.”

“There is a relationship of benefit between the two of you.”

“He takes a percentage of her brand.”

He gave me a stack of documents.

“You keep these.”

“Can be used as additional evidence for copyright lawsuits.”

“It can also be used in other places.”

I don't accept.

“Why what?”

He asked back.

“Why help me?”

He was silent for a while.

“Not to help you.”

“It's something you should do.”

“The moment three years ago you pointed at me and said ‘she is the litigant’…”

“I owe you a debt.”

“I cannot repay this debt.”

“But at least…”

“If you can do it, do it.”

I looked at him for a few seconds. Then he raised his hand to receive the stack of documents.

“It doesn't mean I forgive you.”

“I know.”

He nodded then turned to leave. When he reached the door of the hall, he stopped again. Don't turn around.

“Your appearance now… is much more beautiful than before.”

After speaking, he went out. I handed that stack of documents to the lawyer. The lawyer included all additional evidence in the copyright infringement lawsuit file. At the same time, also send the part "Phuong Ngan assisted in falsifying evidence" to the relevant agencies. Phuong Ngan was quickly exposed by industry insiders. Several branding projects he had worked on in the past were all dug up for review. Among them, two brands directly terminated cooperation with him. Three months later, his business license was revoked. As for To Uyen Ninh... After the brand went bankrupt, she disappeared for a while. Someone said she went somewhere else. Some people say she returned to her hometown in a small city. Three months later, the name To Uyen Ninh suddenly appeared in a public service activity. She went to a design education center to teach for free.

“Design ethics and original creative spirit.”

Below were just over twenty students. I know about this through Chu Nghien. Chu Nghien asked me:

“What do you think?”

“Nothing to see.”

“Do you hate her?”

“No regrets.”

“Nor forgive.”

“So what is the feeling?”

I think a bit.

“Those people…”

“I forgot a long time ago.”

The second year after the "An Lac" brand was officially registered successfully. I opened my first independent store in Milan. Third year. I won the gold award of the Asian Jewelry Design Awards. The store expanded to four cities. The team went from one person… To thirty-two people. Annual revenue exceeds 20,000,000 yuan. The day I received the gold award, Lam Vuc made a pot of tea in the studio.

“From now on, you don't need to call me teacher anymore.”

“Because now you don't lose to me anymore.”

I hold a cup of tea.

“So what should I call you?”

“Just call Mr. Lam.”

He took a sip of tea.

“Oh right, there's something I forgot to tell you.”

“I'm planning on quitting.”

“The studio is left to you to manage.”

“You didn't hear wrong.”

“When do you plan to retire?”

“Next month.”

“Are you really taking a break?”

“Going back to the countryside to grow flowers.”

He stood up.

“Now you don't need anyone to prove you anymore.”

“The road ahead…”

“Go on your own.”

He went to the door. Turn your head to look at me.

“You walk more firmly than anyone.”

Spring five years later. The Milan sunshine is still the same as the first day I arrived this place. The tree outside the studio window has grown very tall. On the table is a cup of tea. Next to it is an invitation letter from the International Jewelry Association.

“Dear Miss An Lac.”

“Based on her outstanding contributions and persistent creative spirit in the field of jewelry design, the association respectfully invites her to serve as a finalist judge of the next edition of the International Jewelry Design Awards.”

I looked at those words. Then put the letter down. The sky outside the window is blue. Clouds are white like cotton. The wind blew through the slightly opened window, carrying the smell of early spring from the garden outside. In the corner of the table there is an old photo. In the photo is a girl wearing a faded canvas backpack, standing in front of the gate of an unfamiliar villa, her whole body full of confusion. The shoe soles are still dusty. I turned the photo over. No need to look anymore. Went very far, very far.