Volume One, Chapter 8: Can You Accept This Face?

Her body stiffened as she slowly turned around. That figure was walking against the crowd, clad in a robe of blue, with handsome features and eyebrows like a painting—still as graceful and elegant as she remembered.

Fang Xiuran hurried over to her, his eyes filled with a mix of shock and complexity. “Is it really you? You’ve come back?”

Seeing him again felt like an entirely different lifetime to Lin Chuyao. She had once believed that becoming betrothed to him was the greatest fortune of her life.

Yet, after her beauty was utterly ruined, the Fang family had hastily called off the engagement, plunging her once more into the depths of despair.

Did she resent him? Perhaps a little.

If it hadn’t been for him, how could Princess Pingyang have punished her so cruelly?

If only the Fang family had delayed their decision, maybe her heart would have healed a bit more over the years.

But five years had passed, and now she no longer cared about the engagement or the man before her.

Lowering her gaze slightly, Lin Chuyao’s voice was distant. “Young Master Fang, long time no see.”

Fang Xiuran furrowed his brow tightly, his gaze growing even more complicated. After a moment of silence, he spoke softly, “Ayao, may I have a word with you?”

Lin Chuyao hesitated briefly before nodding. “Alright.”

Yunshui Pavilion was a renowned teahouse in Shangyang City, its private rooms serene and elegant.

After the attendant led them into a private chamber, Qingxing and Xiaotan stood guard outside, leaving them alone.

Fang Xiuran sat silently at the table, emotions swirling in his eyes. He looked across at Lin Chuyao, who wore a veil, his heart a tangled mix of surprise, guilt, and unspeakable struggle.

“How have you been all these years?” he finally asked, his voice low and heavy.

Lin Chuyao lifted her teacup, took a sip, and replied calmly, “I’m alright. At least I didn’t die in the Profound Medicine Valley.”

Her words drifted lightly but struck Fang Xiuran with the force of thunder. His fingertips trembled slightly as he clenched his fists.

“Ayao…” he murmured, seeming to want to explain but unsure where to begin. “Are you blaming me for breaking off the engagement?”

Lin Chuyao set down the teacup, lifting her eyes to meet his with a cold smile. “Breaking the engagement? That was long ago. When I became like that, it was only natural you ended it. How could I blame you?”

Her tone was so calm, utterly devoid of emotion, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

Fang Xiuran’s heart ached sharply, his gaze fixed on her. In his memories, Lin Chuyao’s smile had been radiant and captivating.

She had loved to be coquettish and headstrong, always tilting her head to say, “Brother Xiuran, you’re mine!”

But before him now stood a woman as cold and distant as an iceberg.

“She’s changed…” Fang Xiuran felt a bitter ache he could barely name.

Summoning his courage, he spoke urgently, “Ending the engagement wasn’t my choice... In my heart... there’s only ever been you, never anyone else!”

He rose, stepping closer to Lin Chuyao, his eyes filled with earnest pain. “Ayao, I—”

Lin Chuyao immediately took a step back, her voice icy. “Young Master Fang, be careful with your words. I’ve heard you’re already betrothed to Princess Pingyang. If this gets out, I’ll suffer again.”

She met his gaze calmly. “Today’s meeting is only to sever the past. I once resented and suffered, but now I have nothing to do with you. There’s no need for you to wear that guilty look and cause misunderstandings.”

Her words were distant, each one a blade severing the ties between them completely.

Fang Xiuran froze, his expression turning even more painful. “Ayao, I had no choice... you know that, I—”

Before he could finish, Lin Chuyao interrupted coldly.

She slowly lifted her veil, revealing a face marred by scars before Fang Xiuran’s eyes.

“Look closely, Fang Xiuran. Can you accept this face?”

His pupils contracted sharply, as if struck by lightning. In his memories, her face had been radiant, like a flower blooming in the sun.

But now, it resembled a ruined painting, covered in scars—shocking to behold.

He instinctively stepped back, lips trembling, struggling to utter a single complete word.

“I…” Fang Xiuran’s voice was hoarse, filled with inner torment. He wanted to comfort her but found he didn’t even have the courage to look her in the eye.

Lin Chuyao watched his retreating steps, a trace of mocking smile flickering in her eyes.

At that moment, footsteps sounded outside the room. A sharp female voice rang out nearby: “Fang Xiuran is here? Meeting another woman alone?”

With the voice came a woman dressed in a luxurious brocade robe. Her bearing was noble, her features exquisite, but her eyes were sharp and displeased. Several attendants and maids followed behind her.

“Princess, the woman is veiled; her face is not visible,” a maid whispered.

Princess Pingyang sneered. “No need to see to know what kind of scoundrel she is. Come, let’s go in.”

Before she finished speaking, the door was pushed open, and Princess Pingyang strode inside.

Qingxing and Xiaotan, seeing they could not block her, also entered, standing behind Lin Chuyao.

“Lin Chuyao,” Princess Pingyang glanced around the room, a cold smile curling her lips, “you’re truly amusing. With such a frightful face, you still dare to hope to rekindle things with Xiuran? Do you know that with just one word from me, the Hou residence might not even allow you to stay?”

“Princess Pingyang!” Fang Xiuran frowned, displeasure clear in his voice. “It’s not what you think. I was only catching up with Chuyao. There’s no need to be so hostile.”

“Chuyao?” Princess Pingyang sneered, her gaze as sharp as a blade. “Such a familiar way of speaking!”

Fang Xiuran’s brow furrowed. “Princess Pingyang, Lin Chuyao and I grew up together. Now that she’s back, what’s wrong with meeting her? If anyone is to blame, it’s me. I’ve already wronged her once, and I won’t let her suffer again!”

Hearing this, Lin Chuyao felt speechless. Saying such things in front of Princess Pingyang—did he want her dead even faster?

Sure enough, Princess Pingyang’s expression darkened further. “Is that so? Even if I wanted to make things difficult for her, Fang Xiuran, what can you do to me?”

Suddenly, she raised her hand and slapped Lin Chuyao across the face. Lin Chuyao staggered, losing her footing and falling to the ground.

Fang Xiuran immediately stepped forward, helping her up while growling fiercely, “Princess Pingyang, what are you doing?”

But Lin Chuyao pushed him away. Standing up, the faint traces of blood at the corner of her mouth made her face look even more fierce.

She spoke with unwavering dignity, “Princess Pingyang, this face is your doing. What threat could I possibly pose to you now?”

“Five years ago, you knew the truth but still punished me harshly—all to get Fang Xiuran for yourself.”

“Now, you’re betrothed to him, and I, disfigured and broken, only wish to live out the rest of my days in peace. I beg you, Princess Pingyang, grant me a chance to survive.”

Princess Pingyang looked down on her with a voice as cold as ice. “And if I don’t want to?”