Devil Mask Master

07. Insult

Shen Ji still kept her head lowered, her whole body trembling under the weight of incomparable shame. She no longer knew what color had flushed her face, red from humiliation, pale from fear, or blotched from the stubborn illness that tormented her skin. What was certain was that her large frame quivered helplessly, as though she were a leaf about to be blown away by the coldest wind.

She regretted everything. Regretted coming to this banquet that felt more like hell than celebration. Every whisper that curled in the corners of the hall, every laugh hidden behind fluttering sleeves, seemed to stab deeper into her heart. If only she could vanish, dive into the deepest trench of the ocean, she would have done so without hesitation—anything to wash away the shame suffocating her.

Her eyes lifted timidly, catching sight of Shi Qian seated gracefully among the other young ladies. Shi Qian’s hands rested lightly on her lap, fingers intertwined with perfect composure. She wore a pale, light-green chiffon hanfu, delicate as spring mist, and part of her ebony hair was tied into a bun, adorned with a single cai in the form of a tiny white flower. That subtle ornament made her glow all the more, fresh, refined, unattainable.

Shen Ji’s heart sank. Compared to such elegance, her own appearance was grotesque, clownish even. Her painted face, layered thick with powder to hide her lesions, only made her ugliness more pronounced. The longer she sat, the more insecure she became. She regretted attending. This hall, dazzling with music and lights, was the most painful place on earth for her.

“Shen Xu, I never expected you to have such a twin sister,” Xiao Si Tian’s mocking voice rang out, slicing through the din of the banquet. He smirked while twirling an orange peel between his fingers. “Did you steal all her beauty for yourself, leaving her with only ugliness?”

Before anyone could stop him, he flicked the peel across the hall. It struck Shen Ji’s cheek with a sharp sting. The citrus acid seeped through her cracked makeup, burning her already sensitive skin.

“Aaah!” Shen Ji groaned, clutching her face with both broad hands. The pain was not only physical but emotional, for laughter erupted around her like firecrackers.

“Look at her, Shen Xu!” Xiao Si Tian jeered, his eyes glinting cruelly. “She screams as if she’s dying from a mere orange peel. Pathetic! Truly weak!”

Shen Xu’s face darkened with fury—not at her friend’s insult, but at her sister’s failure to endure it with silence. Rising from her seat, she strode toward Shen Ji, her red shoes clacking against the polished floor.

“Ji’er,” she hissed, her voice sharp as glass, “didn’t I tell you from the beginning? You should never have come! I warned you—you would only embarrass me.”

Shen Ji’s lips trembled. “But, Sister… I didn’t want to disappoint Mother and Father.” Her voice was hushed, desperate, almost pleading.

“And what now? Do you see it yourself?” Shen Xu placed her hands firmly on her hips, her face flushed crimson. “You have made me the laughingstock of the hall!”

“Yes, Sis… I… I understand,” Shen Ji whispered, her palms damp with cold sweat.

“Then leave at once! Go!” Shen Xu’s voice rose, shrill with rage. Without warning, she lifted her dainty foot and kicked Shen Ji squarely in the back.

The larger girl stumbled forward, crashing into the banquet table. Glasses clattered, dishes spilled, and a cascade of vegetable soup poured across her face and hair. The scalding liquid mixed with rouge and powder, creating a grotesque mask that dripped in streaks.

“Elder Sister!” Shen Ji cried out, pain shooting through her eyes.

But Shen Xu only smiled with cruel satisfaction. Hands still perched arrogantly on her hips, she gave her sister another shove. Shen Ji’s heavy body rolled against the polished floor, her sobs echoing like a wounded animal’s cry.

Tears blurred her sight. Humiliation burned deeper than her skin rash ever could. Between sobs, she cried out bitterly, “Sister, why are you so heartless to me? What did I ever do wrong?”

Shen Xu crouched down, her delicate face twisted with venom. “Your fault?” she spat. “Your only crime is that you were born after me, yet it is you, not I, who was betrothed to him!”

“I never asked for such a thing!” Shen Ji protested, her voice shaking. “If you like him, then take him! I would gladly step aside. But must you disgrace me here? Couldn’t you have told me at home, away from these eyes?”

“Home?” Shen Xu sneered. “If I spoke at home, do you think Father and Mother would ever agree to my request?”

“Then tell me, Sister,” Shen Ji wept, her makeup dissolving into streaks of misery. “Will humiliating me in front of everyone win their approval?”

“Shut up, Ji’er!” Shen Xu shrieked. In her rage, she snatched a ceramic plate from the table and struck her sister across the face.

The impact cracked through the hall like a whip. “Aaaah!” Shen Ji screamed. The blow left her cheek swollen and crimson, and from her nose gushed a stream of bright red blood, staining her already soiled hanfu.

Laughter erupted once more. The young nobles clapped their hands as if they were watching a theatrical play. To them, the spectacle of two twin sisters—one flawless as jade, the other ungainly as mountain stone, brawling in disgrace was entertainment more precious than music or wine.

From a distance, however, not every gaze was filled with scorn. One young man observed with solemn eyes, his fists clenched beneath the long sleeves of his robe. Another, more handsome yet aloof, remained utterly unmoved, refusing even to glance at the chaos surrounding the girl who was fated to become his wife.

“Zhen’er, look!” Yu Ling whispered fiercely, jabbing his younger brother Yu Zhen with an elbow. “Your future wife is being mocked, ridiculed, humiliated before all! Do you intend to sit still and watch?”

Yu Zhen’s response was a single, flat murmur. “Mmhh.”