Chapter 430: Grand Finale (Part 1): Another Person in Wu Xie's Heart

I was in the bathroom of a small inn, looking at the face in the mirror.

For a very, very long time, I had no thoughts at all; I just stared at the person in the mirror.

That person was very familiar, but he was not me.

This feeling was very strange, a mixture of a sense of "escape" and a sense of "fear."

It seemed that through this face I had "escaped" the fate of being Wu Xie, but had entered a "life" even more impossible to control. This lack of control was true uncontrollability, containing countless possibilities. I could hardly predict what my life would be like from then on.

At the very beginning, even without facing a mirror, I would tremble slightly. Now it's much better. Many things, at first you think you can't accept them, but once you do, it's just that.

Before I gave in, I had never imagined that a so-called "mask" could achieve such a supernatural level of craftsmanship. Even when I pressed my face against the mirror, I could see that the pores of the mask were almost indistinguishable from my original skin, only feeling a bit rougher. In the past, when I saw Poker-face, I thought it was just some profound heterodox art, but now I truly admire it. This skill could never have been developed in a single day.

My hair was dyed a grizzled white. Third Uncle's grizzled hair was the mark of pain accumulated over many years, but mine, achieved in just a few hours, looked no different. Seeing that, it actually made Third Uncle's suffering seem so unworthy.

That girl said this mask could be worn for four weeks without any maintenance, but during that time, even if I wanted to tear it off, I couldn't. Chinese disguise art is actually a highly developed form of makeup, very similar to modern prosthetic makeup, but because the purposes differ, the cost of the mask is much higher than prosthetic makeup, making it impossible to promote widely in reality—only those who have truly mastered the technique, or those with very important goals, would use it.

The hardest task is to create the face of a real person who exists, not to become a stranger, but to become someone familiar. That requires the person wearing the mask to achieve a high degree of similarity in expression and demeanor.

"I'm only giving you a skin. This mask, besides being worn on your face, also needs to be worn on your heart." As she left, she looked at me calmly and said these words.

Wear it on my heart?

I looked at "Third Uncle" in the mirror, touched my own chest, and wondered whether, back then, when Xie Lianhuan put on Third Uncle's mask, he had also been given such advice. But over all these years, he truly had worn it. A mask worn on the face can be torn off, but what about one worn on the heart? I looked at my watch; it was time. I washed my face with water and dried it with a towel. The mask hadn't melted; it seemed the final step was also successful. I sighed.

Back in the bedroom, lying on the narrow single bed, I began to think about what I should do from now on. Everything from now on, including the way I spoke, was a blank slate. I had to figure it all out.

The first thought that arose was to run outside naked, because after all it wasn't my own face. I could do countless things I had been afraid to do for fear of losing face, like barging into the women's restroom or balancing a spittoon on my

My voice can't be disguised; that requires specialized training. There's no way I could just barge into their midst and handle them all with laughter and curses. I'm no movie star—with my aura, I'd be seen through in a few minutes.

This matter could only be won by cunning, not by force, and I'd have to play both sides. The best scenario was that I wouldn't have to confront them directly; I'd just need to let them catch a glimpse of me from a distance, and then use a spokesperson.

I took a deep breath. I knew I had to get Panzi's help—only he was familiar with the temperament of Third Uncle and his men. But I really didn't want to drag Panzi into this mess again.

He should have come out, at least lingered near the exit. He shouldn't have gone back in.

But besides Panzi, who else could help me? I thought and thought, but couldn't think of a single person. It was then I realized that without Third Uncle, I truly had nothing in this circle. I took out my phone and scrolled through the names one by one, only to find that in just a few years, everything had changed.

In the end, I scrolled to Panzi's entry. I closed my eyes, muttered "I'm sorry," and dialed his number.

Panzi probably hadn't returned yet, otherwise he would have called me. It was evening outside; I didn't know what kind of ridicule he had suffered today, nor what expression he would have when he saw me. For some reason, I found it amusing, but at the same time, I felt an irresistible melancholy.

On the phone I didn't tell him the specifics, only that I had thought of a plan. His voice was still calm, but laced with immense exhaustion. We agreed to meet at a place.

I rolled out of bed and took a set of clothes from the wardrobe—those were given to me by that girl, the kind of old-style jacket Third Uncle liked to wear. I took off my T-shirt and changed into that outfit, thinking to myself that Xiao Hua's service was really thorough; it fit perfectly.

Thinking this, I sent him a text: "Thanks." But there was no reply.

The moment I stepped out the door, I deliberately straightened my back, reminding myself that once I was through this door, I would be a different person. But soon I found I didn't need to force it; as I walked, my gait changed on its own. When I passed the lobby, I glanced at the full-length mirror and saw an unusual coldness in my eyes.