Chapter 124

Eva frowned and turned to close the window when, suddenly, an object on the bed caught her eye.

"Huh? What is this?"

Abandoning her task, Eva’s gaze remained fixed on the object. She walked over to the bed and picked it up. It was the strangest thing. It looked somewhat like a mask—it was the size of a human face, complete with eye holes and nostrils, and it even had a string attached to the back. Yet, the pattern was bizarre; she had never seen anything like it. It seemed to be a human face, given the facial features, but it was painted in strange, exaggerated colors.

What on earth was this? Even though she didn't recognize it, she felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity. It was such a strange sensation.

After pondering the odd "mask" for a moment, Eva suddenly flashed a mischievous, cunning smile and headed out of the room.

***

On the other side of England, at the White Villa.

Arthur hurried forward and grabbed the man who was pretending to leave in a fit of sorrow.

"Good heavens! What the hell is this!" Arthur was so startled he collapsed back onto the sofa. He hadn't expected the man to be dressed like this, even though he knew that this individual was always... well, abnormal.

But was it really necessary to make himself look like this?

Arthur sprawled out on the sofa and groaned "weakly."

"I know you're patriotic, I really do," Arthur said through gritted teeth, "but is it necessary to carry yourself like this whenever you step out?"

Hill stood beside Arthur, watching the man he had just grabbed and turned around. His mouth twitched, and his shoulders shook slightly. Good heavens, holding back his laughter was so difficult!

The man had turned around with a flourish, revealing a face painted in a riot of colors! He looked like a palette—and not a clean one, but one that hadn't been washed in ages!

Oh no, that wasn't quite right. In truth, the man had simply applied paint to his face—more accurately, it was an intricate Peking Opera mask. It was just that his own face served as the canvas.

Yes, this eccentric man loved to paint his face in various styles of Peking Opera masks, leaving Arthur to begrudgingly admire the depth and breadth of Chinese culture. Still, he hoped the man would forgive him for the urge he felt to punch him every time he saw him like this. He was single-handedly ruining a Chinese national treasure!

The man, however, didn't care what others thought. He sat comfortably on the sofa and said, "I know you are all captivated by the charm of my country's unique national treasure—the facial mask—but there is no need to be so dramatic!" He then gestured to Hill like a master addressing a servant. "Hill, go pour this young master a cup of tea. I want Lushan Cloud Mist tea."

"Um..." Head Butler Hill, who had been about to leave to prepare tea for the young master, froze. He turned back with a stiff expression, bowed ninety degrees, and said apologetically, "I am sorry, Young Master Feng, but we do not have the Lushan Cloud Mist tea you requested. We only have Darjeeling black tea."

"Fine, then, just bring me a cup of Darjeeling." The man muttered under his breath, "How can you not even have Lushan Cloud Mist? Does one have to bring their own tea every time they visit?"

Arthur hung his head lower without a word. In reality, his facial muscles were contorted into a grimace by the "pervert's" words.

Hill, meanwhile, hurried toward the kitchen as if fleeing a disaster, grumbling to himself. *Young Master Feng, how can you be so oblivious? It’s not that we don't have Lushan Cloud Mist; it’s that His Highness doesn't want to serve it to you, okay?! Sigh, Young Master Feng is always so... 'annoying.'*

*Hill, could you be any less subtle?*

Indeed, the man who had just arrived at Arthur’s villa was none other than Feng Qingquan, the man Arthur "hated" most yet was begrudgingly forced to call his friend.

"By the way, what did you just say?" Arthur suddenly remembered the man mentioning a gift. "What gift were you talking about?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Just sent a gift to an old acquaintance," Feng Qingquan said, waving his hand dismissively.

"An old acquaintance? Who?" Arthur felt a jolt in his chest, a strange sensation rising within him. "What kind of gift did you send?" Arthur stared unblinkingly at the painted face.

"Nothing much, just sent over my favorite facial mask."

"Young Master Feng, your tea." Hill arrived at that moment, placing the cup on the table beside Feng Qingquan.

"Oh, thank you." Feng Qingquan picked up the cup, closed his eyes to savor the aroma, blew on it, and took a sip. "Well, I still prefer Lushan Cloud Mist," he said with deep regret after tasting the black tea, then set the cup down.

"Wait, you actually sent a facial mask as a gift?" Arthur asked, unable to believe it.

"Yes, that's right. Just a mask," Feng Qingquan said, ignoring Arthur’s contorted face, and added proudly, "It’s my absolute favorite! I'm sure she’ll love it."

"Who... who exactly did you give that mask to?" Arthur hesitated.

"The recipient?" Feng Qingquan glanced at Arthur, leaned in, and asked with a smug, punchable expression, "Who do you think it might be?"

Arthur’s muscles tightened as he forced himself to remain calm. "Who is it?"

Feng Qingquan looked bored and slumped back onto the sofa. "Ugh, you are so dull."

Seeing Feng Qingquan’s demeanor, Arthur’s expression suddenly normalized. He leaned back on the sofa, a wicked, charming smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and commanded, "Hill."

"Yes, Your Highness." Hill stepped forward immediately, ready to receive instructions.

Arthur didn't speak; he simply looked at Hill, then cast a fleeting glance at the man lounging on the sofa.

"Do you understand?" Arthur asked Hill with a look of contentment.

"Yes, Your Highness. I understand. I shall go at once." Hill bowed and retreated from the living room.

Feng Qingquan, curious, asked, "What did you send Hill to do?"

Arthur flashed a wicked smile and said nonchalantly, "Nothing."

Feng Qingquan raised an eyebrow. "Arthur, are you being mysterious?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow in return, feigning innocence as he spread his hands. "I'm not following your lead, am I?"

Feng Qingquan’s mouth twitched, and he slumped back onto the sofa, deeply frustrated. *Hmph, fine, don't tell me. I'll find out sooner or later!*

Arthur watched Feng Qingquan’s expression and smiled with amusement, knowing exactly what he was thinking. *Oh, you’ll find out what Hill is doing soon enough.*

Just as Feng Qingquan was pretending to be indifferent while dying of curiosity, Hill reappeared. He walked over to Feng Qingquan holding a basin. He looked at Arthur, who nodded. Before Feng Qingquan could react, the basin tilted, and the liquid inside poured out over him!

"Oh, god! What is this!" Feng Qingquan cried out.

From his hair down, thick, white, bubbly foam poured over him. His Peking Opera mask had now become a true, chaotic palette, as the colorful paints began to run down his face, leaving streaks on his snow-white T-shirt.

Hill responsibly handed him a stack of wet wipes, while Arthur sipped his Darjeeling tea from the side, letting out a sigh of pure enjoyment.

"Arthur—"

***

The Wettin family castle.

Eva, wearing her robe and donning the strange mask, crept cautiously toward Yuwen Xi’s room.

After seeing Ying Yue back to her room, Yuwen Xi had returned to his own, stripped off his clothes, and stepped into the shower. The showerhead released countless jets of water, soaking his body. He tilted his head back, letting the water wash over him.

A faint blue light flickered at his neck.

*Eva, I will take you away. I will definitely take you away! Soon, very soon.*

He turned off the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and walked out while drying his hair. As he passed the mirror, the blue light flashed again. Yuwen Xi stopped and looked into the mirror, staring at the glow, his sea-blue eyes deepening.

He touched the spot. A voice seemed to be screaming in his heart, but he ignored it.

*I won't let her go to you. Since you always hurt her, abandon her, and fail to protect her, then from now on, she is mine. Let me be the one to protect her! From this day forward, she no longer belongs to you alone! You will pay for what you have done!*

Yuwen Xi looked coldly at the necklace reflected in the mirror, ripped it from his neck, and squeezed it tightly in his palm, ignoring the pain. He then exited the bathroom.

"Ugh—" Yuwen Xi gasped as he stepped out, his hand loosening. "Good heavens, what is this?"

"Guess who?" a low female voice whispered in his ear.

Yuwen Xi looked at the Peking Opera mask before him, feeling a sense of surprise.

"Eva? Where did you get this mask?"

"What? That’s no fun. You guessed it was me right away. Boring," Eva said, feeling quite disappointed. She took off the mask and fiddled with it. "I don't know. I just found it on the bed after I came out of the shower. I thought it was interesting and wanted to show you—"

Yuwen Xi’s brow furrowed tightly. His expression darkened, and a growing sense of unease settled in his heart.

How could a mask appear in Eva’s room? Who had entered her room? What were their intentions? Were they an enemy or a friend? Or... had that person arrived?

Panicked, Yuwen Xi looked up and stared intensely at Eva. He grabbed her shoulders firmly, his grip uncomfortably tight, and asked anxiously, "Eva, do you know who gave you this mask?"

Eva felt quite strange, and seeing Yuwen Xi’s reaction, she felt the pain in her shoulders. "Let go! You're hurting me! Wait, what is that?"