Though she cursed every update for barely adding anything substantial, Bella had become hopelessly devoted to A-Mask. When they released a new product, she'd blow her savings to buy several, as if not keeping up meant falling behind the times.
This baffling, contradictory feeling seemed to afflict everyone around her to some degree.
2
At home in the evening, with no one to face, Bella turned off the mask's expression system, and it reverted to plain white. Her apartment had an air filtration system, but she still wanted to keep the mask on.
The mask had merged with modern life itself, she thought, dropping onto the bed. After a whole day's work, all she wanted was to sleep.
But half an hour later, she was awake. Sitting on the edge of the bed in her empty apartment, she stared into space for a while, then felt the familiar hollowness creeping back.
At twenty-eight, Bella hadn't had a boyfriend in over a year. Her ex was a hairdresser. They'd dated for six months before he left her for someone else.
There were too many beautiful women in his life—women whose bare faces could outshine any model. Even with a mask on, Bella couldn't compete. After all, a mask couldn't give her long legs, bewitching eyes, a killer figure, or that delicate, pouting way of speaking.
Among those drop-dead gorgeous women, one had caught her hairdresser boyfriend's eye. She'd barely had to crook her finger—he came running. In truth, this pattern had played out several times in Bella's twenty-odd years of life.
Bella still remembered charging at her hairdresser boyfriend, trying to win him back, only for him to stare at her coldly, as if she were a freak. "Get lost!"
"How am I worse than her?" she'd screamed.
The woman strolled over in her high heels, looked down at Bella's disheveled state with contempt: "You're worse in every way. Look at your own face, ugly." She'd said it with an alluring pout, but drove the last two characters home like daggers.
Bella despised that woman for weaponizing beauty, and she despised men for being slaves to it. She spiraled through heartache and sank into self-loathing, unable to bring herself to start dating again.
But a year had passed.
From growing accustomed to loneliness, Bella had begun to chafe against it.
She wanted a boyfriend—someone who wouldn't judge her by appearances. Someone who wouldn't mind her height, wouldn't flinch at her unmasked face, someone who would love her soul. She firmly believed that her well-read mind housed a soul more beautiful than any other woman's.
Bella walked to the mirror and turned the expression system back on. The dainty cherry mouth appeared, lips curved in just the right smile.
Thanks to the A-Mask Series 7, it was as if she'd undergone cosmetic surgery, transformed into a cute young woman. She still couldn't rival the sirens her ex had pursued, but the new expressions gave her a different kind of confidence.
Hide your real face and go on dates, she told herself.
She opened a dating app and prayed earnestly: May I find someone who gets to know me through this face first, then falls in love with my soul—even when I take off the mask, he'll still love me.
"Ding-dong!" Her phone chimed. "You have a new friend request. Accept or decline?"
Bella tapped the profile picture. The man looked decent enough. But she couldn't tell if he'd taken the photo while wearing a mask—another "photo deception."
After a moment's hesitation, she chose "Accept."
Later, Bella began calling this man A, because they never once exchanged names.
A enjoyed reading, particularly foreign classics; his favorite was Dumas's "The Count of Monte Cristo." This surprised Bella—she'd assumed modern men had no patience for books anymore.
So she found him somewhat intriguing.
Thankfully, Bella had read a fair number of books in school, so chatting with this literary young man wasn't difficult. He even gifted her a set of e-book vouchers. When she opened the reader, she was startled—over a hundred purchased titles sat on the shelf.
When would she ever finish all these? Bella muttered to herself.
Her reading time had dwindled; work pressure had slowly eroded her desire to read. So rather than browse that hundred-book library, Bella would rather ask: "Is that photo on your profile really you?"
"That's me wearing a mask. The mouth is the ZOO expression."
ZOO was one of the trendy young idols. Bella searched her memory and replied, "It really is."
"Do you want to see what I really look like?" he asked.
"Can I?" That would mean revealing my real photo too, Bella thought.
"If you'd like to see, let's meet in person. See for yourself." A issued the invitation.
Bella stared at her phone screen for a long time, then sent a "Sure" sticker. It was from ZOO's official sticker pack—a handsome idol cupping his own face and tilting his head as a giant "Sure!" appeared on screen. Adorable, if slightly cloying.
3
Before long, Bella and A had arranged to meet at one of the city's few surviving physical bookstores.
Two people in masks wandered past towering shelves. Bella scanned the rows of physical books, marveling at how many years it had been since she'd touched real paper.
A stopped before a shelf, pulled down a new release, and started reading the blurb.
Bella watched him browsing the bookstore with genuine interest, feeling a touch embarrassed. Weren't they here for a date?
Then again, she thought, book-loving guys couldn't be all bad. At least his soul had more substance than someone who only watched variety shows.
They strolled the entire bookstore without buying anything—physical books were heavy and expensive, and e-books were far more convenient.
Walking out of the bookstore, they drifted along the city streets without a destination, chatting on and off.
A didn't seem eager to reveal his true face. Bella, however, found herself increasingly drawn to this bookish man.
He was tall and lean, dressed with impeccable taste, sporting a stylish center-part haircut. His eyes were striking and attractive. Even without the ZOO expression, he'd probably still be rather handsome.
She wanted to see what he looked like. So when they reached the riverbank, bathed in the amber glow of a streetlamp, she stopped.
"Hey, you said you'd show me your real face when we met," she said, her cherry lips pouting slightly.
"You really want to see?" he said modestly. "I'm afraid I'll scare you."
"Come on, how could you?" Bella widened her big eyes.
A looked at her, smiled, and slowly removed his mask.
The face underneath was naturally not as refined as a pop idol's, but it had a distinctive handsomeness that made Bella's breath catch. He was far better-looking than she'd expected.
"Can I see yours now?" A asked immediately.
"I'm the one who's truly ugly."
"How could you be?" he echoed her phrasing.
"Didn't we agree earlier? I don't take off my mask." She spoke with visible insecurity.
A sighed. "Fine. Since I promised you, you don't have to if you don't want to." He put his mask back on—the smog by the river was thick enough to turn the streetlamp hazy.
After that, they chatted a bit more aimlessly, then parted at the subway station.
Back home, Bella removed her mask and stared at herself in the mirror. Would he like this version of me?
Probably not, a voice told her.
Despite her lack of confidence, Bella kept in touch with A.
They'd occasionally visit an art exhibition, attend a lecture, or watch a movie. But anything that required removing the mask—eating, coffee—Bella always declined.
Naturally, A grew confused and suspicious.
"It can't be that ugly." He finally said it after Bella's nth refusal to take off her mask.
"Do you like being with me?" Bella deflected.
"I do."
"Then isn't that enough? Why do you have to see my real face?"
"..." A didn't know what to say.
"If I were ugly, would you still want to be with me—reading, going to exhibitions, watching movies together?"
"..." He remained silent.
"I hope you're not a superficial person. And I believe that with all your reading and cultivation, you wouldn't judge someone purely on looks."
"..." A looked up at Bella. "If you already believe I'm not superficial, that I wouldn't judge by appearances, then why won't you show me your real face? In the end, it just means you don't have faith in me."
This time, Bella was the one who fell silent.