"It's not really about lying or not. Listen, if we keep going like this, with our completely unrefined skills, taking photos for people, they're bound to be dissatisfied. By then, what will we have left? Nothing. If Walter Cao finds someone better suited than us, we might not even be able to stick around."
Terry Chen nodded, looking reluctant. He didn't like deceiving Walter Cao this way.
"You don't want to go back to those days, do you? Working from morning till night, and at the end of the month, your income is still less than what rich people pay for a single photo shoot. Heh."
Terry Chen took a heavy swig of liquor, his mind wavering, tangled in hesitation.
"Think about it again. Even if we fully master photography, those outrageously expensive cameras—can we afford them? As things are now, every time we go out to work, Walter Cao deducts half our pay. He says he'll give it to us, but who knows if that's true? How many years would it take for us to save enough for a camera?"
Terry Chen's expression grew even gloomier, as if he was in deep pain.
"Ah, there you two are. Heh heh."
It was Henry Huang. He no longer looked like a beggar, now dressed in ordinary clothes, though he still kept a large beard. At first, the two didn't recognize him, but when they heard his voice, they realized who it was.
After Henry Huang finished speaking, the two realized each other's difficulties and laughed together. The three of them started drinking, while I watched from the side and sighed.
"Terry Chen, just like David Dong said, don't be foolish. Your master isn't what you imagine him to be. Look, tonight he promised to keep teaching you, but he didn't. Instead, he told you to go home."
Terry Chen nodded, and David Dong sighed.
"At the very least, you should find out where he keeps your money. Do you know?"
Henry Huang asked, and David Dong nodded.
"It should be kept at Zhu's Bank."
"Here's an idea for you: in the future, when you go out for work, you should always mention what Walter Cao said—if the client isn't satisfied, he'll come personally. Then, you can mix in a few of the clients who are satisfied but don't mention it to Walter Cao. This way, you can save up some money. Even if Walter Cao kicks you out someday, at least you'll have something to fall back on."
As Henry Huang spoke, Terry Chen still looked helpless. He was deeply conflicted, sighing and drinking in silence.
"It's just the pressure of life, Terry Chen. If your reputation suffers now, even after you master the craft, who will hire you for photos? This isn't something you can fix just by improving your skills. Don't be naive."
In the end, Terry Chen nodded and agreed, draining the bottle of liquor in one gulp. Then the two went home separately, while Henry Huang, humming a tune and swinging the gold watch given to him by the Red Mask Agent, headed off to the brothel to enjoy himself.
Just then, a rickshaw pulled up beside him. It was the Red Mask Agent, sitting inside. Henry Huang immediately called out.
"Oh, sir, you..."
The two entered the brothel and went into a private room. The Red Mask Agent put on his mask, while Henry Huang sat off to the side, trembling with anxiety as he watched him.
With a heavy thud, the Red Mask Agent slammed a bottle onto the table, its presence radiating a chilling sense of foreboding.
"Throw away whatever you’re hiding in your coat. Take this instead."
The Red Mask Agent’s words left Henry Huang visibly stunned. He fumbled inside his coat and reluctantly produced a small bottle, his hands shaking.
Henry Huang forced a sly grin. "Heh, nothing gets past you, sir. You see through everything."
"The poison you brought could kill Walter Cao with a single careless dose. What I’m giving you will kill him slowly—bit by bit, day after day. Just this tiny amount each time is enough."
The Red Mask Agent twisted open the small bottle, produced an ornate little spoon, and poured out a few black, granular pellets into it, demonstrating with chilling precision.
Henry Huang bowed his head submissively. "I’ll remember every word."
He quickly tucked the bottle away, a wicked smile curling on his lips as dark intentions flickered in his eyes.
"Not bad, not bad," Henry Huang muttered, though doubt lingered. "But Terry Chen isn’t nearly bold enough for something like this."
Henry Huang’s voice dripped with confidence. "Don’t worry, sir. If he won’t do it, I have ways to make him do it. Heh."
The Red Mask Agent clapped his hands, and the door swung open. A procession of alluring, beautiful women entered the room. Henry Huang immediately bowed in gratitude. After the Red Mask Agent departed, Henry Huang indulged himself throughout the night, only leaving after the sun was high the next day.
Sure enough, the next day, David Dong and Terry Chen each went out on their own. Walter Cao, meanwhile, was busy tinkering with his new equipment. This time, he had bought three of the latest cameras, planning to give them to his apprentices when they were ready—and eventually hand over the whole studio to them.
Walter Cao didn’t notice at all that his apprentices’ gazes had changed completely. Terry Chen, especially—always the honest one—couldn’t even meet Walter’s eyes when speaking to him.
Today, David Dong and Terry Chen had already agreed: if the client wasn’t satisfied with David’s photos, he’d tell the truth; but Terry, no matter what, wouldn’t mention Walter Cao’s instructions, and could start secretly saving some money.
Terry Chen lugged his equipment to a wealthy client’s home. After listening to a long list of requests, he began taking photos, his mind clearly elsewhere—distracted and uneasy.
"Remember to tell your master, young man," the client said, voice full of expectation. "These photos need to look good—stylish, presentable. My son’s wedding is coming up. Bring them over tomorrow, and if they aren’t up to par, I’ll need your master to come himself."
Terry Chen nodded and promised, but once outside, he couldn’t hide his irritation, curling his lip in frustration.
He muttered to himself, "Hmph, it’s nothing special. If I keep learning for a few more years, I won’t be any worse than him."
When Terry Chen returned, the photos he’d developed were so poor that even I, watching from the side, could see the flaws. But he quickly stuffed them into a bag. Meanwhile, David Dong started discussing his own photos with Walter Cao, deliberately helping Terry Chen cover up his mistakes.