All day long, Cao Wanzhi spent his days teaching his two apprentices various skills. But at night, when the world was silent, he would sit in a daze among piles of old photos—pictures he’d taken for Grace Hu, showing only her clothes—and stare blankly at the one photo where Grace Hu’s smile was captured.
Meanwhile, the Fake Taoist began lurking around the photo studio day after day. His demeanor suggested he was scheming again, likely coveting Cao Wanzhi’s assets. Although Cao Wanzhi wasn’t wealthy, he had managed to accumulate quite a bit over the years.
Each morning, the two apprentices arrived at the studio, busily tidying up before preparing to accompany Cao Wanzhi to photograph a family portrait for a prominent household in town.
Cao Wanzhi’s two apprentices were Terry Chen, the elder, and David Dong, the younger. Both had been selected from hundreds of hopefuls. Terry Chen was diligent but not very bright, while David Dong, though younger, was clever—just a bit lazy.
Cao Wanzhi had chosen them because both genuinely loved photography, not just as a means of survival or a skill to make a living. That was why he accepted them as apprentices.
Today, senior apprentice Terry Chen was left to mind the shop, while junior apprentice David Dong accompanied Cao Wanzhi. After breakfast, David Dong pushed Cao Wanzhi’s wooden wheelchair out of the studio. At that moment, the Fake Taoist, who had been squatting on the street outside, immediately pretended to beg along the roadside and followed them.
“Something’s not right. That kid couldn’t have become a fool and then recovered—he’s survived all these years without dying.”
The Fake Taoist muttered to himself as he followed along. He still felt uneasy about Cao Wanzhi; after all, he had personally killed Sister Xiao Hong and poisoned Cao Wanzhi, which led to the ruin of the Cao family.
After a day’s work, Cao Wanzhi returned to the studio with David Dong, satisfied. Soon after, Terry Chen happily told him that several families had requested portraits for the next day, and it would be best if Cao Wanzhi could go himself.
“David, Terry, how long have you two been with me?”
"Heh, David Dong, wait a minute..." At the mouth of an alley, the Fake Taoist called out to David Dong. David looked at him with disgust and was about to walk away, but seeing he was just a beggar, he hesitated, pulled out some money, and prepared to toss it to him.
"Do you know why your master wants you to start working so early? Your master—I know him inside out. After all, it was me who ruined him like this in the first place."
For a moment, David Dong stopped in his tracks, his sharp mind filled with suspicion. He followed the Fake Taoist into the alley.
"You know my master?"
"Of course. Do you really not see why he wants you out working so soon? With your intelligence, you should have figured it out. He's a cruel man, you know."
At these words, I saw David Dong's face change dramatically, as if something terrible had just occurred to him.
"Bah! You filthy beggar, don’t slander my master. He’s nothing like the despicable man you claim!"
"Heh, I didn’t say anything, did I? David Dong, you know the truth. He’s the most famous photographer in Jiangnan, but what are you two? Just his tools, aren’t you? He can’t walk well, needs someone to look after him..."
Suddenly, David Dong lost his temper, grabbed the Fake Taoist by the collar, and kicked him to the ground.
"Sigh, David Dong, aren’t your thoughts just like mine? Let me finish what I have to say."
David Dong suppressed his anger and listened, while I, watching from afar, clenched my teeth in frustration. The Fake Taoist was truly vile—having harmed Cao Wanzhi once, he still wanted to do it again.
"Your skills aren’t as good as his yet. Do you really think you can take decent photos? Don’t be naive. There’s no way. This time, he’s letting you go out, but he’s risking his reputation. I bet he gave you some conditions, didn’t he?"
I saw David Dong’s face suddenly turn awkward. He mumbled something under his breath.
"Master said, if the clients aren’t satisfied, we won’t take a cent, and he’ll go himself to photograph them."
"See? Now think—these past few months, besides teaching you how to take photos, what else has he told you?" The Fake Taoist’s eyes gleamed slyly. Seeing David Dong fall silent, he continued.
"Nothing, right? Why are his photos always better than yours, even though the cameras are the same? He hasn’t taught you the real tricks. He uses your failures to show off his skills and reinforce his reputation as Jiangnan’s top photographer. So, wise up."
It seemed David Dong believed the Fake Taoist. For a long while, he said nothing, then turned and left. The Fake Taoist, triumphant, burst into laughter.
That afternoon, the two apprentices returned and busied themselves developing photos. Early the next morning, Cao Wanzhi repeated his instructions, but I noticed a heavy weight seemed to press on David Dong’s heart.
That day, Terry Chen came back looking glum. His client was, as expected, dissatisfied. Cao Wanzhi reviewed the photos and patiently explained some basics to him.
"So, David, were your clients satisfied?"
David Dong smiled, held up the photos, and handed them to Cao Wanzhi. After looking them over for a while, Cao Wanzhi didn’t say much.
"Not bad, David. You really have a gift. In time, you’ll surely inherit my brand. But there are still some issues—the lighting, and your choice of scenery. What did the clients say?"
"They were very satisfied, Master. Look."
David Dong took out the payment from this job and respectfully handed it to Cao Wanzhi. Cao Wanzhi nodded and took a portion, leaving most of it for David.
"David, I’ll hold onto this money for you. The same goes for you, Terry. From now on, any money you earn from shoots, I’ll keep for you. When the day comes for you to take over my brand, I’ll give it all back at once, so you can use it to open your own studio."
But I saw it all—David Dong hadn’t told the clients what Cao Wanzhi had instructed. He covered it up and still took their money. The clients were dissatisfied, but after David talked to them, they let it go.
"Sigh, what’s wrong, Terry Chen? Why so down?"
That night, the Fake Taoist targeted Terry Chen. At a noodle stand, as soon as he approached, the owner chased him away with a rolling pin.
When Terry Chen got home, he saw a beggar. Without thinking, he took out some money, but the Fake Taoist immediately stopped him.
"I know your master, Terry Chen. Do you really think he treats you like an apprentice?"
"Get lost."
Terry Chen was a sturdy, broad-shouldered man—hardly the type you'd expect to be a photographer. He’d only seen cameras before, growing up poor and longing to try photography himself. When he heard the best photographer in Jiangnan was taking apprentices, he went, and to his surprise, was accepted. For the past half year, he’d worked diligently and with joy.
"Your master is cunning, Terry Chen. Don’t you want to know the truth? Do you really think you’re smarter than David Dong? Why do you think your photos dissatisfied clients today, but David’s didn’t? Do you know why?"
Honest Terry Chen, drawn in by the Fake Taoist’s words, stopped, clearly frustrated.
"What the hell do you mean?"
Terry Chen cursed, but the Fake Taoist just laughed.
"Think about it. In half a year, what have you really done? He taught you a few basics, but the rest—just chores. Ha!"
With a loud smack, the Fake Taoist slapped Terry Chen so hard he spun in place and landed on the ground.
"Oh, Terry Chen, getting angry won’t help you. What else does your master have you do besides chores?"
This big, burly man—Terry Chen—actually started to cry, sitting on the ground, overwhelmed with frustration.
But I know the truth: everyone is different. Terry Chen was never as gifted as David Dong, so Cao Wanzhi patiently repeated every step, teaching him with care and making sure he learned with his body as well as his mind.
Terry Chen was big and burly, hardly the type you'd expect to be a photographer. He’d only ever seen cameras before—his family was poor, and after seeing photos as a child, he longed to try it himself. When he heard Jiangnan’s top photographer was taking apprentices, he went, and to his surprise, was accepted. For the past half year, he’d worked with dedication and joy.
"Your master is crafty, Terry Chen. Don’t you want to know the truth? Do you really think you’re smarter than David Dong? Why were your photos rejected today, but David’s weren’t? Do you know why?"
Honest Terry Chen was drawn in by the Fake Taoist’s words. He stopped, frustration written all over his face.
"What the hell do you mean?"
Terry Chen cursed, but the Fake Taoist just laughed.
"Think about it. In half a year, what have you really done? He taught you a few basics, but the rest—just chores. Ha!"
With a loud smack, the Fake Taoist slapped Terry Chen so hard he spun in place and landed on the ground.
"Oh, Terry Chen, getting angry won’t help you. What else does your master have you do besides chores?"
This big, burly man—Terry Chen—actually started to cry, sitting on the ground, overwhelmed with frustration.
But I know the truth: everyone is different. Terry Chen was never as gifted as David Dong, so Cao Wanzhi patiently repeated every step, teaching him with care and making sure he learned with his body as well as his mind.