The Lost Tomb Vol. 8

Chapter 1: Another Person in Wu Xie's Heart

I looked at the face in the inn's bathroom mirror.

My mind was blank for a long time as I stared at the person in the mirror.

The man was very familiar, but he wasn't me.

It was a wonderful feeling mixed with a sense of escapism and fear.

Through this face, I seemed to have escaped my fate as Wu Xie but entered another more uncontrollable life that was real and contained countless possibilities. I could hardly predict what my life would be like in the future.

At first, I trembled slightly even when I didn't face the mirror, but I was much better now. Many things in life that would be unacceptable to you at first would become the standard once you accepted them.

Before giving in, I never thought that this so-called mask could look so life-like. Even if I stuck close to the mirror, I couldn't see any big differences between the mask and my original skin. If anything, it just felt a little rough. When I saw Poker-Face using this skill to change his face in the undersea tomb, I thought it was a profound and unorthodox method, but now I had really taken a liking to it. This kind of skill could never be developed overnight.

My hair had also been dyed gray. Uncle Three's white spots were a mark of how many years of pain he had endured before settling down, but it only took a few hours for mine to look the same. As a result, I felt like Uncle Three's pain wasn't worth it.

The girl said that this mask could be used for four weeks without any maintenance, but I couldn't just tear it off at any time during this period even if I wanted to. In fact, Chinese cosmetology was a well-developed makeup technique that was very similar to plastic surgery. Due to its different uses, however, the cost was much higher than that of plastic surgery and couldn't be widely popularized. Only those who had really mastered the technology or wanted to achieve very great things could use it.

The hardest part was to recreate the face of someone who existed in reality rather than a stranger. This required the person wearing the mask to look highly similar to the original person.

"I only gave you a piece of skin." The woman said. "This mask needs to be worn on your heart as well as your face." She looked at me steadily and then left.

On my heart?

I looked at the Uncle Three in the mirror and touched my chest, wondering if Xie Lianhuan had been taught this when he put on Uncle Three's mask. But he had worn it for so many years. If the physical face mask could be torn off, what would happen to the mask worn on the heart?

I looked at my watch and saw that it was time. I washed my face with water and wiped it dry with a towel, noting that the mask didn't melt away. It seemed that the last step had also been successful.

I sighed before returning to my bedroom and laying down on the thin and narrow bed. I thought about what to do in the future. Everything— including the way I spoke—was still a blank but I had to think of something.

One of my first thoughts was to take off my clothes and run outside. It wasn't my own face anyways, so I could do countless things that I wouldn't normally do for fear of losing face. I could break into the women's bathroom, for example. Or put a spittoon [1] on my head. The list was endless. But I quickly got rid of these thoughts, telling myself that I wasn't that bored.

I was wearing this mask in order to revive all of Uncle Three's connections and get access to his resources so that I could rescue Poker-Face. This was my only purpose. But my first task was to ensure that I wouldn't be seen through.

My voice couldn't be disguised since it required special training. And it wasn't like I could kill them all by myself while laughing and shouting. I wasn't the best actor, and with my aura, I was sure I'd be seen through in a few minutes.

Instead of a frontal assault, I'd have to outwit them, which was at least something that could be done cheaply. At best, I wouldn't have to confront them head-on. I'd just need to let them see me from a distance and use a spokesman.

I knew that I had to get Pan Zi's help since he was the only one who knew Uncle Three the best. Moreover, he was familiar with the nature of those people under Uncle Three. But I really didn't want to drag him into the water again.

He should get out and not come back.

But other than Pan Zi, who else could help me? I wracked my brain but couldn't think of anyone. It was only then that I realized that without Uncle Three, I really had nothing in this circle. I took out my phone and looked through my contacts one by one. I found that too many things had changed in just a few years and everything was different now.

I finally scrolled to Pan Zi's number, closed my eyes, said a silent "sorry," and then dialed.

Pan Zi shouldn't have returned yet; otherwise, he would have definitely called me. It was evening out and I didn't know what kind of ridicule he had suffered today or what kind of expression he would have when he saw me. I didn't know why, but I thought it was both a little funny and depressing.

I didn't tell him anything specific on the phone, just that I had thought of a way. His voice still sounded calm but extremely tired as we arranged to meet somewhere.

I rolled over and took out a set of clothes from the wardrobe. The girl had given me a kind of antique coat that Uncle Three usually liked to wear. I took off my T-shirt and changed into it, thinking that Xiao Hua's service was really considerate since it fit me so well.

I sent him a short thank you message, but he didn't respond.

I intentionally straightened my back the moment I walked out the door, reminding myself that I was another person. But I soon found that I didn't have to do it deliberately since my pace changed as I walked along the road. When I passed by the lobby, I took a look at my reflection in the giant mirror and found that my eyes were unusually cold.

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Note:

[1] A metal or earthenware pot typically having a funnel-shaped top, used for spitting into.