Chameleon

The boat rocked gently, caught in the embrace of the river's slow but unrelenting current. The only sound that accompanied its motion was the soft sloshing of water against the wooden hull. A silence so heavy hung in the air, thick almost tangible, stretching between the two figures locked in a gaze. Mingyao's breath hitched, her heart thrumming in her chest as she stared at the face before her.

Rouyan's face. And yet—

A shiver ran down her spine, but she couldn't look away. She was trapped, ensnared by some spell like many others before her.

A smirk cut through the silence like a blade. "I have won," Fei Xian declared, turning away from Mingyao's rapt expression to face Ye Huan.

For a brief moment, the world flickered—a distortion, like a ripple in reality. But Mingyao did not notice, still enraptured by the presence of Fei Xian, her eyes never straying as she moved through the boat as if drawn by some unseen force.

Fei Xian chuckled, the sound warm yet razor-sharp. "It seems your 'husband' truly can't look away."

Then, like ink spilling into water, a wave of darkness rippled outward. The lanterns on the boat wavered, their light dimming to a ghostly glow. Ye Huan's eyes flickered—from a soft rosy pink to a searing amber, burning like smoldering embers. Unlike before, however, Fei Xian did not flinch. She stood unbothered, untouched, as if the encroaching darkness was beneath her notice.

Ye Huan exhaled, calming the fire in her veins, her eyes cooling into a deep blue before igniting once more into a deep, haunting violet as she attempted again. The darkness she unleashed this time was deeper, more malicious. It slithered around the boat, swallowing its edges in an abyss of shadow. Yet neither Mingyao nor Fei Xian so much as flinched. If anything, they seemed more inconvenienced than disturbed, their focus elsewhere as they sought a stable source of light.

For a moment, the darkness was all-consuming. Then, the moon emerged from behind the clouds, silver light spilling over them, illuminating the scene.

Under the moonlight, Ye Huan appeared more ominous, the glow sharpening her edges, casting her in shadows. But Fei Xian—

Fei Xian's beauty transcended the sinister air.

The moonlight caressed her form, accentuating an almost divine beauty. It was unfair how effortlessly she stood above them, untouched by the darkness, untamed by its weight.

The contrast between two was stark.

Mingyao finally found her voice, breaking the spell. "Rouyan… What are you doing here?"

Fei Xian did not answer immediately. Instead, she took a slow, deliberate step forward. Then another. And another. Until she stood inches away from Mingyao, the space between them vanishing into something unbearably intimate, close enough that the latter could feel the ghost of her breath against her skin..

"Is that whose face you see with your eyes?" Fei Xian murmured, smirking. "Interesting."

Without warning, shadows coiled toward her—slithering, writhing, their serpentine tendrils seeking to bind her. But just as they neared, a golden radiance erupted from her skin. The darkness recoiled instantly, rendered impotent by the sheer brilliance of her presence.

Fei Xian sighed, almost disappointed. "Is this truly the extent of your traits, Mr. Mo's wife?"

Ye Huan stiffened.

She knows.

Her mind raced. Traits. She had spoken of them casually. As if they were familiar.

Was Fei Xian a Reverier too?

No. Impossible. She had not encountered another in three years—not since her execution. Could Fei Xian be chosen another way? Or worse—could she also be a Regressor?

No. Test her first.

Ye Huan activated her trait—Incitation. The air grew sweet, thick with the intoxicating pull of her voice. A weapon honed for manipulation, to stir desires, to unearth weaknesses hidden in the recesses of the mind.

She stepped forward, her tone sultry, alluring. "Your beauty is as they say, Miss Fei Xian. Refined. Otherworldly. Like a fairy descended from the heavens… Tell me, are you truly so—"

Fei Xian's laughter cut through the air, light and lilting, yet carrying an undeniable edge. "How cute," she mused, eyes gleaming. "This isn't like you, Miss Ye. The famed Demon of the Prime Minister's House reduced to flattery?"

She smiled, but her expression soon shifted. She raised a slender hand to her eyes. Their hue shifted. Her irises flickering from vibrant green to a piercing blue.

"But since you both have so many questions… allow me to dress more appropriately for the occasion."

In an instant, her emerald hanfu melted into a cascading wave of sapphire silk.

Mingyao jolted, her fingers trembling as she wiped her eyes, as though trying to dispel an illusion.

Fei Xian hummed, tilting her head. "I quite like your silver strands," she mused.

Mingyao's breath hitched. Her hand shot up to the straw hat perched atop her head—concealing the very strands Fei Xian spoke of.

"I'll borrow that."

Before their very eyes, her raven locks lightened, the strands turning to shimmering silver. And then—her smirk vanished, her features hardening into an expression of unreadable neutrality.

Her entire presence shifted, something colder, distant yet familiar.

A neutral stoicism.

"What do you think, Pavilion Master?" she asked, her voice now void of mirth. She met Mingyao's gaze, unblinking. "Do you know who I am supposed to be?"

Mingyao's stomach twisted. "Yue Ying," she whispered in horror.

Fei Xian nodded, though she barely had time to let the identity settle before she twirled once more. Her silver hair darkened. Her blue eyes dulled into an abyss.

Another face. Another shift.

"Mo Yan?" Mingyao gasped. "Is this… the Thousand Faces Demon Art?"

Fei Xian tilted her head, a glimmer of amusement in her gaze. "You catch on quickly, Grandmaster. But not quite."

Again, her form shimmered. Her eyes deepened to a stormy gray. Her hanfu softened into a delicate pink. When she spoke, her voice was no longer her own.

"Do you remember me, Your Majesty?" she murmured, the tone unmistakable. "Because it seems… you've forgotten."

Mingyao's breath hitched. "Xiulan?"

The transformation was dizzying, a seamless dance of faces, identities that twisted and reformed before she could grasp them.

"Wait, wait, wait." Mingyao held up a hand, frustration overtaking her shock.

"Enough of this shifting. Just answer me—who are you? Are you a member of Yin Lian Pavilion?"

Fei Xian—now wearing Xiulan's face—smiled serenely. "Unfortunately not, Your Majesty."

"Then how can you use the Thousand Faces Demon Art?"

The illusion flickered. And then, Rouyan's face returned.

Fei Xian chuckled. "Don't mistake my traits for such an incomplete skill."

She stepped forward, standing before Ye Huan.

"Well, Miss Ye?" Her voice was velvet. "Have I answered your question?"

Ye Huan's fingers curled into a fist. "Then—"

"Wait... If you're not a member of Yin Lian Pavilion, then how can you use that skill?"

A tense silence hung in the air, broken only by the distant lapping of waves against the boat. Moonlight casting an eerie glow over Fei Xian's form, her smirk unfaltering as she tilted her head slightly, a predator sizing up its prey.

"What do you think, Mr. Mo?" Her voice was lilting, teasing, a shadowed whisper that slithered into the depths of uncertainty. "Maybe your right hand has the answer."

Mingyao frowned. "What do you mean?"

Fei Xian exhaled, the sound barely audible over the rhythmic lapping of the river against the boat.

"You're smart. Figure it out yourself. Besides, don't you have a mission today?" Fei Xian's smirk deepened as she gestured to her face. "Remember what the owner of this face told you?"

Mingyao's breath hitched. How did she know—?

"Who are you?" she demanded. "Why do you know so much?"

Fei Xian leaned in, her breath brushing against Mingya's ear as she whispered, "I am you."

Then, before their eyes, her form shifted. Features melted, bones realigned, and within moments, Mingyao's own reflection stared back at him, the exact copy of her standing in her place.

She turned, now Mingyao, towards Ye Huan, her expression dark. "You've been challenging me with your mediocre skills since the moment you arrived," she said. "It's time I show you what a real Reverier can do."

Reality twisted.

The gentle sway of the boat, the lapping waves, the silver glow of the moon—vanished.

In its place stood towering columns of ice, stretching endlessly into the horizon. The air was frigid, crystalline carvings of impossible detail lining the frozen architecture. At the center, seated upon an ice-carved throne like an untouchable monarch, was Fei Xian.

She crossed one leg over the other. "What do you think of my bleed, Miss Ye?" Her voice echoed off the frozen pillars, filled with amusement. "It's simple, but most importantly—it's complete."

Ye Huan stiffened. "A... bleed?"

"You don't even know what a bleed is?" Fei Xian clicked her tongue. "Why did she even choose you? Watch and learn."

A ripple in the frozen air. The throne room began to distort, the ice warping like melted glass.

Fei Xian stood, the sound of her boots echoing through the frozen halls as she descended. With every step, her form shifted again, Mingyao's face dissolving until, at last, Ye Huan's own face stared back at her.

Darkness bled into the scene, creeping in from the edges like ink spilling over parchment. The temperature dropped further, and the silence that followed was suffocating. Then, light—shards of memory piercing through the void.

"Lian Ku! How is he? How is my baby?"

Ye Huan's voice trembled as she forced herself upright, ignoring the stabbing pain lancing through her body. The imperial bedchamber was heavy with the scent of burnt incense and medicinal herbs, thick and cloying, masking something fouler beneath. The silk sheets beneath her were damp—some with sweat, some with something else.

No one answered her immediately.

The attendants were too still. A cluster of midwives hovered near the gilded crib, their heads bowed, hands clasped together as if in silent prayer. One of them flinched when Ye Huan's voice cut through the stillness, her fingers tightening around the embroidered swaddle in her arms.

A breath of wind stirred the crimson curtains, the fabric rustling like a whisper of ghosts. The candles flickered, throwing uneasy shadows across the chamber.

"Lian Ku," Ye Huan's voice sharpened. "Tell me."

Her most trusted attendant stood beside the imperial physician, her back straight, hands folded before her. She opened her mouth once, twice, before pressing her lips into a thin line.

"Calm yourself, Your Majesty," Lian Ku finally said, voice calm. "The royal physician said that His Highness is—"

The world wrenched apart.

Reality shattered like a porcelain vase dropped onto marble, shards of the moment spiraling into the void. The heavy air, the flickering candlelight, the oppressive silence—all of it fractured, swept away into nothingness.

Ye Huan barely had time to gasp before it was all gone.

"Tch. How annoying. It seems the Author doesn't want others to know about that yet." She turned to Ye Huan, still wearing her face, lips curling into a mocking smirk. "No matter. Do you understand your Bleed now? It was weak since my understanding of your character settings is lacking—but you get the point."

Ye Huan trembled. "No... No...!"

Fei Xian blinked. "Oh, right. I almost forgot about His Highness." With a flick of her fingers, the oppressive energy dissipated. "How did you enjoy your trip, Your Highness?"

Mingyao was still catching her breath when Fei Xian's face rippled again, shifting seamlessly back into Rouyan's features.

Mingyao's voice was hoarse. "What kind of ability was that? There was no qi fluctuation."

Fei Xian's smirk returned. "You should ask your wife, Mr. Mo."

Her eyes snapped to Ye Huan, but before she could speak, Fei Xian sighed, stretching her arms lazily. "Oh, look at the time. It seems this chapter is about to end."

Mingyao stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"It's time for all of us to leave the stage," she mused, a hint of melancholy in her voice. "But before I go, let me call back this face."

She stepped closer, eyes gleaming. "Do you remember the mission this face gave you?"

Mingyao hesitated. "What are you talking about?"

Fei Xian sighed. "You're supposed to be a smart character, Mr. Mo."

Then, without warning, she pulled open the folds of her hanfu just enough to reveal a lotus mark—black with a crimson crescent nestled at its center.

Mingyao's breath hitched. "Black Lotus?"

Fei Xian chuckled. "Exactly."

Fei Xian tilted her head. "Wasn't I the one you were waiting for?"

A pause. Then—

"Are you sure you're not Rouyan?"

She scoffed. "I am the Reverend of the Domain of the Actor—Masquerader. 11th Reverier, Chameleon." She tilted her head, considering Mingyao. "One of my traits is Beholder—an ability that allows the chosen beholder to view the beauty of their dreams." A sly smile. "And apparently, Rouyan is yours.

That's why I wear this face."

Her grin widened, sharp as a blade. "It was fun, Mr. Main Character. Or should I say... Miss Main Character now? I look forward to our duel in the Tournament of Masters. But on our next date, don't bring your wife, Mr. Mo."

She turned, her form already starting to dissipate. "I'll leave you a parting gift."

Then, like smoke, she was gone.

"Fei Xian!" Ye Huan's voice was sharp, cutting through the night. "Did you really—"

But before she could finish, Mingyao found herself elsewhere.

The air was warm.

The sun blazed overhead, its light refracting off towering glass buildings. The streets buzzed with life—people moving in hurried streams, cars honking, conversations blurring into an indecipherable hum.

The cacophony of an unfamiliar city assaulted Mingyao's senses.

She stood in the middle of a road, disoriented. A traffic light flashed red, a warning she had yet to register well she couldn't even if she did notice it.

A blaring horn cut through the noise.

A truck barreled toward her.

Then—

The world shattered.

Mingyao blinked and found herself standing before Yin Lian Pavilion, her breath ragged, her heart hammering.

What... just happened?