The day came to an end at 2:00 AM for Morse, who stood in the center of the workshop, surrounded by every printer and craftsman in a massive circle.
In Morse's hand was a thick, heavy magazine. The air was thick with anticipation as everyone fixed their eyes on it. In a sudden, explosive movement, Morse hoisted the magazine high above his head, like a captain lifting the World Cup trophy.
"YEEEEEEESSSSSSSS!"
Morse and the entire crowd leaped into the air simultaneously. Morse shook the magazine wildly, his shoulders moving in a frenzied dance. From behind, one of the men hoisted him onto his shoulders, and the celebrations erupted in every corner of the workshop.
The men grabbed the old editions—the ones that brought shame to the Xuan family—and hurled them into the center of the floor, tossing a torch onto the pile.
As the flames roared to life, consumed by the scandalous past, the men began to jump and dance around the bonfire like a primitive tribe worshipping the fire .
