Lin Yue had always known that beauty could be a burden. Back in Shanghai, whispers followed her like shadows—people drawn to her ethereal features, her long black hair that fell like silk, and the kind of flawless face that seemed almost unreal. It was why she chose the mask: a simple black covering that concealed the “face of a goddess” everyone obsessed over. Beneath it, she remained anonymous, in control. Fluent in both Chinese and English, calm and composed, Lin Yue carried herself with quiet confidence—but emotionally distant, especially when it came to men. To her, they were distractions she had no interest in entertaining.