Chapter 121 Who Made Me Meet You?

Chapter 121: Who Made Me Run Into You

A Chan looked surprised. "Face replacement?"

Master Yu reached behind her ear and slowly removed her face.

The sudden sight of a smooth, unnatural face startled A Chan. Yet she didn’t retreat—instead, she leaned in and examined it closely for a while.

She asked Master Yu, "Can I touch it?"

Master Yu nodded.

A Chan reached out and ran her fingers over the white layer covering Master Yu’s face. It wasn’t human skin—soft to the touch and slightly sticky.

She examined the area behind the ear and found that the skin had fused seamlessly with Master Yu’s own, showing no scars apart from the color difference. The workmanship was flawless.

"The person who took your face and the one who gave you this skin aren’t the same, are they?" A Chan asked.

Master Yu let out a mocking laugh. "You’re perceptive. The one who took my face killed the person afterward—had no further use for them.

That woman didn’t intend for me to live either. She drugged me, stabbed me in the heart, and threw me in a mass grave. But I clung to life and was eventually rescued. They applied this skin to me then."

"If you were saved, why didn’t you report it to the authorities at the time?"

"Because I lost my memories." Master Yu’s face grew somber as she recalled the past. "The man who saved me and the one who harmed me were uncle and nephew. Their family once had someone powerful with unique knowledge.

He found me in the mass grave while searching for his nephew’s body. Seeing my face, he assumed I was another of his nephew’s victims. Though he saved me, he kept mixing drugs into my food, erasing my memories."

"And then?"

"Later, I believed him when he told me I was his daughter, that my face had been injured in an accident. I lived with him for years, and he... treated me well, as if he truly were my father.

He even made me realistic masks so I could live normally. He hired someone to teach me ghost opera, giving me a means to survive. I... I cared for him until he died."

Master Yu stared at the mask in her hands and let out a bitter laugh. "After he died, the drugs stopped. My memories became chaotic. The troupe leader found me a skilled physician who cured me—and completely restored my memory."

When her memories returned, she often felt as if her past self had been a dream.

In that dream, she was still Princess of Xinan, relying on her father’s status as a prince to behave arrogantly in the capital—though she knew who she could and couldn’t provoke.

She and her mother often fought. Her mother wanted her to marry into her maternal grandmother’s family, but she refused. Instead, she publicly kidnapped a scholar she favored and brought him home.

Her reputation was ruined, but she freed herself from her mother’s control. Fortunately, her choice proved wise—the man agreed to the marriage and treated her well.

They had a son soon after, whom they named Xu Che. Then, she accompanied him to his assignment in Jiaozhou...

And then, the nightmare began.

After listening, A Chan said, "Though it’s late, you can still report this to the Bright Mirror Bureau. A case as serious as a royal princess having her face stolen—they wouldn’t dare neglect it."

"True, if I could prove I’m Bai Yuan, the Princess of Xinan."

"What do you mean?"

"I went to the Bright Mirror Bureau. They didn’t believe me, but they took my case and tested my bloodline." Master Yu lowered her head with a bitter smile. "After the test, they told me I had no royal blood—so I couldn’t possibly be the Princess of Xinan."

If she couldn’t even prove who she was, how could anyone believe the rest?

A Chan frowned.

"I caused a disturbance at the Bright Mirror Bureau and was locked up. The skilled physician eventually found me. He brought witnesses to testify that I was ill and had behaved erratically, then paid the fine for me to secure my release."

"After so many years, the Bright Mirror Bureau couldn’t have been bribed." A Chan hesitated. "You... weren’t Prince Ying'an’s biological child?"

Master Yu shook her head. "They tested my bloodline at birth—it couldn’t have been wrong. Later, I asked the skilled physician. He said certain drugs could indeed alter one’s bloodline, though they caused grave harm. They were used to erase identities and avoid imperial detection."

A Chan understood. Tracking by bloodline was common—such drugs made sense.

"After trying to kill you, they still drugged you. Who was this person, concealing their crimes so thoroughly?" She paused. "And your husband—where is he?"

Master Yu laughed, keeping her head down to avoid startling A Chan. "Her name is Han Xiaotong. Her father was a petty official—she was the fiancée of the man who stole my face. She was an ordinary woman from a modest family, not especially clever."

Master Yu’s voice faltered. After a long silence, she met A Chan’s gaze. "But the one who covered everything up wasn’t her—it was my husband, Xu Zecheng."

Of course.

A Chan felt no surprise. Abducting a royal princess, swapping her face, and escaping detection—someone must have helped conceal it.

Though Master Yu hadn’t mentioned Xu Zecheng earlier, how could a husband not notice his wife had been replaced? The most logical explanation was that he had known from the start.

"You came to the capital to seek revenge on them?" A Chan asked.

"Yes, but I didn’t plan to do it this way at first."

She knew murder demanded retribution—and that she couldn’t kill two people alone. She had considered other ways to bring them to justice.

As her fame in Jiaozhou grew, she cultivated relationships with nobility from the capital, slowly drawing Prince Ying'an’s attention. After much planning, she finally obtained an invitation to Prince Ying'an’s estate.

Master Yu continued, "I thought—even if the blood test failed, wouldn’t my parents recognize me? Had they noticed anything amiss about the imposter? Han Xiaotong wasn’t clever—she must have made mistakes over the years."

A Chan didn’t ask further—she had witnessed the result herself.

Prince Ying'an’s family treated the "Princess of Xinan" exceptionally well. Even the Ying'an Princess, known for her temper, became gentle with her. Their familial harmony was envied and praised.

"You know, I develop rashes if I eat shrimp. My parents, elder brother, and Xu Zecheng all knew that."

A Chan sighed softly.

What hurt Master Yu most wasn’t the outward hardships. Despite losing her face and identity, she had persevered until now.

But returning home only to watch her family accept the culprit as one of their own—that was unbearable.

Had they truly noticed nothing? Or had they simply chosen not to?

After all, the real Princess of Xinan wasn’t gentle, kind, or obedient.

Perhaps she hadn’t been a good daughter or a likable sister. So when she vanished, a kind, thoughtful replacement took her place—and her family accepted it, overlooking every discrepancy.

Master Yu sank into her chair as if exhausted.

"They made me feel like my years of struggle were a joke." She blinked dry eyes and touched her face.

This skin, she had heard, came from a lingyu fish. For some reason, she couldn’t weep with it on.

Maybe that was for the best—at least no one could see her pain.

She had tried every way to obtain justice. Yet in the end, her own family had pushed her to despair.

"Now, I have no proof that I’m Bai Yuan. Killing her is the only way I can think of."

"But you have more than one enemy," A Chan said.

"Yes, but what else can I do? I can't just sit idle."

Even if not for her own revenge, what about Che Er?

She had left the child in the capital for Xu Zecheng's sake, but in the end, the child couldn't escape either.

"I told you, I can help you think of a way."

Master Yu turned to look at A Chan, who sat beside her, studying her intently.

Without a face, A Chan couldn’t discern Master Yu’s expression, only hearing her say, "Aren’t you afraid I’m lying to you? My words must sound like the delusions of a madwoman."

Even her own parents wouldn’t believe such a tale.

A Chan rested her chin in her hand, settling into a more comfortable position. "No need to worry about that. I can tell whether someone is speaking the truth or not. Let’s talk about Han Xiaotong’s face instead. Do you know what they used during the face-swapping procedure?"

A Chan’s words redirected Master Yu’s thoughts, and she struggled to recall everything that had happened that day.

"I heard the man who took my face tell Han Xiaotong that the celestial skin used to fuse the graft was a family heirloom—a divine face, one of only two left in the world. His father had used one not long ago, leaving just this one, worth a kingdom."

"Han Xiaotong wept to him, saying she only wanted a beautiful face—was that so much to ask? Eventually, the man gave in."

"And then they cut off your face?"

"No. The man said if Han Xiaotong truly liked my face, he could make a perfect duplicate, then bond it with that skin, ensuring it would be identical to the original, never to fall off."

"Han Xiaotong refused?"

"Yes. She pressed him, asking if a real face would be better. He said yes. Then she demanded my real face, ordering him to cut it off and graft it onto hers..." Master Yu’s voice broke.

A Chan interrupted, "Do you know what that skin was?"

"My father..." Master Yu paused before continuing, "Once said his eldest brother owned two Wei Snake pelts, passed down through generations. If such skin were used, even a false face would gradually become real."

Back then, she had no memory of how she lost her face. But she thought, if possible, she’d want a Wei Snake’s skin too—so she wouldn’t have to face her own terrible appearance.

"Wei Snake..."

A Chan did recall the Wei Snake in her memories. Born with human faces and serpent bodies, they were among the first gods recognized by humankind.

But in witch clan lore, the Wei Snake were actually an ancient witch lineage—human faces with snake tails, though the Wei Snake were unique for having two heads.

Later, human texts claimed that eating their flesh granted dominion, leading to their near annihilation. At least, A Chan had never seen one herself.

How had people discovered the Wei Snake’s skin had such properties?

Still, the texts said ancient witches possessed incredible vitality—even dismembered, their remains wouldn’t decay. So perhaps it wasn’t surprising that their peeled skin kept its vitality?

Seeing A Chan lost in thought, Master Yu hesitated before asking, "Do you... really have a way?"

A Chan returned to the present. "It’s not difficult. If that skin were still on a Wei Snake’s face, I might be powerless. But on hers? However they attached it, I can make it come off. Why not decide their fate?"

Her heart hammered wildly. Master Yu had pondered this question countless times—she didn’t even need to think before answering.

"What if I want everyone to know Han Xiaotong is a counterfeit noblewoman?"

She wanted the truth exposed, for everyone to know what they’d done!

"Let everyone know..." A Chan mused, then suddenly her eyes lit up.

She asked Master Yu, "Isn’t the Emperor’s birthday coming up soon?"

Master Yu nodded. "In a month."

"Don't the imperial relatives assemble in the palace to celebrate?"

"Yes. His Majesty holds a banquet, inviting officials and nobles from across the land to celebrate together."

A Chan’s mouth quirked in a sly smile. "It’s been years since you celebrated His Majesty’s birthday, hasn’t it? Time to present him with a memorable gift."

Master Yu seemed to grasp her meaning. "At... the Emperor’s birthday celebration?"

"Isn’t it perfect? An auspicious day, sure to be propitious." A Chan stretched and stood, saying she was a little tired.

She rolled her shoulders slightly before turning back. "I’ll need time to prepare—to deal with that face of hers. Come find me in four or five days, all right?"

"Yes!"

Master Yu’s voice carried an unexpected conviction.

She reapplied the mask to her features and suddenly asked, "Why are you helping me?"

Even now, it all felt too easy—dreamlike, untethered from reality.

A Chan pondered before answering, "Perhaps... because your ghost operas are exquisite. If I never heard it again, I'd mourn."

"It’s just ghost opera. There are many masters in Jiaozhou no worse than me."

"But I’ve never heard theirs. Only yours," A Chan said matter-of-factly. "I like your singing, so I’ll help you."

Master Yu went still. Was it really that simple?

A Chan smiled. "Call it destiny. After all, our paths crossed."