On the contrary, his face was covered with pitted furrows and crooked scars of varying sizes and lengths, like disgusting earthworms crawling on his face.
Aside from his eyes, nose, and lips, there was hardly a dent in his face. Just one glance at it was enough to give anyone nightmares; it was nauseating. The mere thought of her recent sexual encounter with this hideous man made the woman's stomach churn, and she felt an urge to vomit everything up.
The woman was so frightened by that face that she tumbled away, falling off the bed. Not caring that she was completely naked, she grabbed whatever she could find to cover herself and ran out in a panic.
The man was startled awake by her scream, his eyes snapping open with a chilling intensity. He didn't put on his mask or clothes, and simply got out of bed.
The woman, panicked and disoriented, reached for the door with trembling hands. After several attempts, she couldn't open it. Turning around, she found the man already standing in front of her.
"Where are you going?" The man's icy voice sent a chill down her spine. The woman screamed again, her legs giving way, and she collapsed to the ground.
When he opened his eyes, his ugly face became even more terrifying, like a demon crawling out of hell.
"I'm asking you a question, where are you going?" Mr. Zuo seemed to be losing patience, his brow furrowing. As he frowned, the scars on his face moved, like earthworms wriggling on his skin.
Unable to suppress her nausea, the woman vomited a gush of bile.
Mr. Zuo frowned even more, pinched her chin, and asked coldly, "Am I disgusting to you?"
"No...no, Mr. Zuo...you're not disgusting at all." The woman wasn't stupid enough to tell the truth. However, the expression on her face and her desperate attempt to lean back betrayed her.
"If you don't find me disgusting, then why are you running away?" The man lowered his voice, as if he were chatting with her casually. But the sinister glint in his eyes made it impossible for her to believe he was just joking. The woman had a feeling that this man would really kill her, and that killing her would be as easy as stepping on an ant. She regretted it now, regretted not listening to the man, regretted being so curious about him, and regretted uncovering his mask. But now it was too late for regrets.
The woman knelt down in front of the man with a thud, kowtowing repeatedly in terror as she begged for mercy, "Mr. Zuo... I was wrong, I was really wrong, I'm sorry I shouldn't have removed your mask... Don't worry, I... I'll forget what you look like as soon as I leave this room, I... I won't tell anyone, I'll keep this to myself, really... Please, have mercy on me."
"Tell me what I look like... What did you see?"
“I saw…” The woman jolted, hurriedly correcting herself, “Mr. Zuo, I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I misspoke, I… I didn’t see anything… I swear, I really didn’t see anything…”
The woman's voice was choked with sobs, and her forehead was covered in blood from banging her head against the ground.
"Is that so?" The man casually shook his wrist, his expression unreadable, neither angry nor calm. "But what can I do? I only believe that the dead can't see anything, and only the dead can keep secrets."
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