'Boy, one must choose his own path. If you wish to drift freely, you shall not starve in Lungmen. But if you wish to live peacefully, then you must master a craft. Starting today, I will teach you how to make finballs.' 'One makes a finball the same way one makes a man, and do you know what the most important thing is?' 'It's––' 'Slow and steady, one step at a time!' 'But you said the most important thing was to never lie, cheat, or steal...' 'There are many principles required to make a man, and you would do well to remember them all!' 'When I make finballs, I have to do every single step starting from the slaughter. So, in order to learn how to make finballs, you must also learn how to use a knife.' Uncle Tung pauses for a moment, as if sensing that the words he wanted to impart are too difficult to articulate. He squeezes out the sentence, 'I'll demonstrate one more time, watch carefully.' Uncle Tung takes out a rolled leather bag and spreads it across the table. A row of dazzling knives reflect a blinding light. He retrieves a lively finfish from the water tank and slaps it a few times against the chopping board, its movements soon ceasing. He then takes out knives of different shapes and sizes and in turn, removes the scales with a small knife and slices open the belly with a large knife, each step orderly and neat. He shakes the complete finfish around in his hand a few times, and it turns into several different parts, neatly placed upon the table. 'It seems complicated, and that's because it is. I'll tell you the principle behind using a knife - practice makes perfect.' I follow Uncle Tung's example and learn from him. I learn to slaughter the finfish, then how to make filling, then finally how to make soup. Uncle Tung calls me a fast learner, and it doesn't take me very long to join him at the stand. One day, a few people come to eat finballs and order a whole lot of them. They get up and turn to leave without paying. Uncle Tung has always allowed credit, but I know these guys and I know they aren't going to pay. Angered, I decide to teach them a lesson, but Uncle Tung rushes over and steps between me and them. 'It's just a few finballs, just a few coins. All you have to do is remember to make up for it next time. There's always next time.' I had no choice but to give up, but that makes the punks even bolder. One of them shouts: 'You filthy hawkers, clutching books all day. Think you're all high-and-mighty or something?' Uncle Tung turns around to face them. I can't see the expression on his face, but the punks look like they’re staring straight into hell itself. They half-run, half-crawl over each other as they scramble away. That night, Uncle Tung gives me that set of knives. 'Make sure you take care of these. They might look old, but they're not cheap.' 'Let me tell you another principle for how you use knives. The most important thing is to hide how sharp they are.'