After a brief period of treatment, the stinging pain on Su Mu’s face—like she’d been stung by something—finally subsided.
The whole ordeal felt comparable to plastic surgery, which left her a little worried.
What if it turned semi-permanent?
Wouldn’t that mean she’d have to go through another round of adjustments just to get her original appearance back?
The moment the lines detached from her cheeks, Su Mu patted her face and felt no unusual contours whatsoever—as if nothing had changed at all.
But when she caught her current reflection in the dim glow of the computer screen, she froze.
‘This… this is…’
It was an extraordinarily bewitching face.
Through the blurry reflection of the screen, Su Mu felt as though she were looking at a woman who had stepped straight out of an ink-wash painting.
Every feature, every line of muscle and bone, had been exquisitely sculpted.
The placement was exactly the same as before, yet a closer look made it unmistakably clear: this was an entirely different person.
Her originally clear and charming almond eyes had become slightly elongated and narrow.
The small cherry-like mouth curved in a half-smile; even the tiniest parting of the lips lifted the fish-tail corners upward in an arc that could unsettle and captivate the mind.
Su Mu recognized this face.
Although she had only met its owner once, that single encounter had etched it deeply into her memory.
‘Irina!’
But going on camera like this couldn’t possibly achieve the effect she wanted, right?
If anything, she looked even more alluring than before.
Su Mu was genuinely afraid she might actually become the dream girl of every viewer in her chat.
Yet right now, there was no one to answer her questions, leaving her deeply frustrated.
Just go live like this?
At that moment, the thin threads still connected to the back of her hand suddenly came alive again.
With uncanny intelligence, they reached over to the bedside table, pulled out a small hand mirror, and opened it in front of Su Mu so she could clearly see her present appearance.
Yes, it was undeniably beautiful—but this was not the result she had been aiming for.
Then, in the very next instant, the image in the mirror flickered.
All at once the world seemed to drain of color.
Snow-white skin turned to blank paper; clear eyes became bottomless black abysses.
Even though every feature remained in its proper place, Su Mu felt as if her heart had been brutally squeezed.
A chill raced up her spine; her unfocused eyes stared blankly, unable to snap back to reality.
Trembling, terror, nausea, an overwhelming urge to flee from that face—yet she was helplessly locked onto it, completely unable to look away.
She could only feel herself being slowly devoured by fear.
Fortunately, the threads’ only purpose was to show her.
If they had decided to play a cruel, human-like prank, Su Mu probably would have screamed in fright at her own reflection.
At the same time, a large congratulatory pop-up appeared on the screen.
[Congratulations! Thanks to your tireless efforts, your follower count has surpassed one hundred thousand!]
[You have one pending PK request that will expire in ten seconds. Ten, nine, eight…]
Without hesitation, Su Mu instantly accepted the PK.
“Connecting… Genius Girl Irina vs Tangxin Tang Yuan”
The screen split in two.
The right side was quickly taken over by the other party.
After a short loading screen, an equally flawless influencer face popped into view.
To be fair, Tang Yuan was exceptionally pretty—standardized to perfection.
Every single hair, every edge and angle of her features sat precisely at the points human aesthetics deem most ideal.
Plenty of streamers who had once been outshone by her had quietly despaired, wondering why their parents hadn’t sent them to Tang Yuan’s family before birth so her mom and dad could sculpt their faces too.
But beauty like that is decided by genetics.
Plastic surgery almost always leaves traces and side effects.
Makeup can only cover flaws at best; it can’t elevate features that are inherently inferior to the point of surpassing the original.
And Tang Yuan herself was a beauty vlogger—there was simply no contest.
The admin had said before that she had the capital to act arrogant, and they weren’t wrong.
But to Su Mu’s eyes right now, she was nothing more than gaudy, vulgar makeup—second-rate at best.
She no longer carried the stunning impact she had earlier.
Setting herself aside for a moment—after all, people unconsciously beautify their own image when looking in the mirror; it’s a protective trick of the brain, though the deception has its limits—Su Mu could say with certainty that right now she was devastatingly beautiful, a celestial beauty.
Yet she felt no pride or satisfaction, only deep shame.
She inwardly complained that with a face like this, she’d probably have to wear a mask every time she went out from now on.
Compared with the other magical girls Su Mu usually saw, Tang Yuan didn’t have any advantage at all.
In fact, she lacked any distinctive charm.
Lando’s boldness, Ye Wanqing’s playfulness, Tang Nai’s elegance (and hidden cunning)—none of those qualities could be copied by Tang Yuan.
Her face was indeed very beautiful, but among everything Su Mu had ever seen, divine beauty was never in short supply.
Unfortunately, in the one area where Tang Yuan specialized, she was far, far inferior to Su Mu.
The moment the connection went live, Tang Yuan’s flawless face instantly cracked into an extremely mean expression.
She immediately began sizing Su Mu up and down.
“Tch, tank top for a stream? Sloppy. How long has it been since you cleaned those walls? That yellow-brown color makes me sick. And can you stop slapping that jpeg filter on your face? Don’t think I can’t imagine what’s underneath just because I can’t see it clearly. You look like sh—”
In response, Su Mu gave a scornful smile.
Then the smile grew bigger, louder, more intense—as though she were mentally replaying every joke she had ever heard in her life.
She laughed so hard she couldn’t close her mouth; her clear, bell-like laughter echoed through the microphone, causing Tang Yuan’s expression to tighten.
There was no helping it—Su Mu genuinely found it hilarious.
This elementary-school-level insult paired with that deadpan, horse-face expression hit her funny bone perfectly.
She couldn’t comprehend how someone like this managed to attract so many followers.
“Sorry, I lost composure for a second. I just remembered something funny and couldn’t hold it in.”
Tang Yuan’s face twitched; the corners of her mouth immediately drooped.
“What, you remembered your second uncle or something?”
“Close. I remembered the dog at my second uncle’s house. Every time it sees me it barks like crazy. It looks so friendly—you just want to reach out and pet it. But when you get close, you realize its mouth is stuffed full of yellow mud.”
Su Mu delivered the line without the slightest hesitation.
The entire live broadcast room fell dead silent for a moment—then exploded with crying-laughing emojis.
[DYING 😂 She’s literally saying Tang Yuan looks like a dog and has a mouth full of sh— Not surprised, the streamer I follow always hits the sore spots!]
Su Mu rubbed her nose and put on an expression of feigned apology, as though she truly felt bad for the insulted Tang Yuan.
“Ah, I spoke too bluntly just now and said the wrong thing. Actually, my second uncle doesn’t keep dogs. His family is filthy rich—dogs aren’t even qualified to be his pets. But I always see all kinds of women walking in upright, then crawling out on all fours, barking nonstop, collars around their necks, the other end of the leash gripped tightly in my second uncle’s hand.”
Being cursed out so blatantly and openly, Tang Yuan actually couldn’t even get angry.
For the first time in her life, someone had torn into her like this.
Her brain short-circuited; she simply sat frozen in front of the screen.
‘Are you even human?’