Mu Xiaonan had had enough of it.
Enough of people's eyes drifting toward Mu Qingyue. Enough of the murmurs, the curiosity, the inexplicable attention. In Mu Xiaonan's mind, Mu Qingyue was nothing more than a useless good-for-nothing—uneducated, unruly, and, worst of all, ugly. A piece of discarded trash that should have stayed in the shadows.
And yet even Qin Ziqiao—who used to be indifferent to everything—had begun to look at Mu Qingyue with an unfamiliar kind of focus.
It made Mu Xiaonan's blood simmer.
So today, she would tear off that mask.
She would force Mu Qingyue to reveal the monster beneath—restore the ruined face, the long scar, the grotesque reality—and make everyone finally understand what Mu Qingyue truly was.
Then the comparison would be undeniable.
Heaven and earth.
"What's the big deal?" a girl standing beside Mu Xiaonan chimed in, eager to please. "It's just one potato chip."
"Yeah," another girl said with exaggerated suspicion, her tone dripping with mockery. "You wear a mask all day and never take it off. People who don't know you might think you've got some contagious disease."
As she spoke, she even leaned back a little, shrinking away as if afraid Mu Qingyue might infect her with something simply by breathing.
The commotion spread quickly.
The students on the court began to notice. Volleyballs stopped mid-game. Laughter thinned and faded. One by one, heads turned until nearly everyone—two whole classes—was looking toward the bench.
Mu Qingyue stared at Mu Xiaonan's face.
She didn't move.
She didn't reach for the chips.
She simply let Mu Xiaonan stand there holding the bag—holding it until her arm began to ache, until the muscles trembled, until the smile on her lips threatened to stiffen into a grimace.
Only when Mu Xiaonan's expression finally started to crack did Mu Qingyue speak—slowly, lazily, as though offering an afterthought.
"My nose has been sensitive lately," she said. "I'm allergic to dust and powder."
Mu Xiaonan forced a smile that looked almost painful. "Since when did you develop allergies?" she asked, voice sweet with strain. "I don't remember you having that problem before."
Mu Qingyue's eyes curved slightly.
"And I remember you liked playing with cow dung when you were little," she said, her voice light as a feather. "Do you still?"
Mu Xiaonan froze.
It was as though someone had poured ice water down her back.
Around them, students burst into laughter—sharp, delighted laughter that sliced through her carefully maintained image.
So the school's beloved goddess had that kind of childhood, too?
"How interesting," a voice drawled from not far away.
A handsome boy stood there, casually spinning a volleyball on his finger. His features were refined, his expression playful, and there was a natural charm in his brow—an effortless flirtation that came from being born with money and confidence.
His name was Lin Xiao.
The grandson of a board member. A rich young master. The kind who did whatever he pleased because the world tended to indulge him.
From the moment Mu Qingyue had stepped onto campus, he'd been paying attention.
Someone beside him shrugged. "Her personality's too wild. She's not as gentle as Mu Xiaonan."
"Is that so?" Lin Xiao's smile widened. "I quite like the wild ones. I'm just curious what she actually looks like."
He strolled over.
With casual familiarity, he plucked a chip from Mu Xiaonan's bag, propped one foot up on the bench like he owned the place, and—without warning—reached out and pulled the mask off Mu Qingyue's face.
"Come on, pretty sister," he teased brightly. "I'll feed you~"
The sudden movement startled the girls nearby. Mu Xiaonan, however, let out a quiet breath of relief, and the corner of her mouth lifted with a hint of satisfaction she didn't bother to fully hide.
There.
Now everyone would see Mu Qingyue's true face—
Necks craned.
Eyes widened.
And then—
The entire crowd went still.
Mu Qingyue's features were exquisite, as if painted by a master's hand—delicate brows, fine lashes, a graceful nose, and skin like pure, luminous jade. Her beauty was almost unreal, the kind that made people forget to breathe. The tip of her nose was faintly red, adding an unexpected vulnerability that made her look soft and pitiful for half a second—
Except her eyes.
Those dark, clear pupils remained sharp, elegant, and faintly dangerous, reminding everyone that this girl was not a harmless ornament. She was not someone you could provoke without consequence.
There was no ugly scar.
No disfiguring mark.
No thick, clownish makeup.
Nothing.
Mu Xiaonan's face turned stiff with shock. Her voice broke as she stammered, "Y-your face… when did it… when did it heal…?"
"Achoo!"
Mu Qingyue sneezed violently.
The gust sent the chips flying. Chili powder scattered in a bright, humiliating spray—landing all over Mu Xiaonan's dress and hair, staining her pristine image with red specks.
But no one looked at Mu Xiaonan.
No one cared.
Every gaze was nailed to Mu Qingyue's face, dazzled and stunned, their minds echoing with one ridiculous, unanimous thought:
Even an immortal would sneeze beautifully.
Mu Qingyue lifted a hand, rubbed her nose, and spoke with blunt indifference.
"I told you I was allergic," she said. "A bunch of idiots."
It wasn't entirely a lie. A few days ago, she had accidentally irritated her nose while refining pills in the space. Ever since, the slightest pungent smell made her sneeze. It would likely take time to recover.
Otherwise, she wouldn't have bothered wearing a mask every day.