True Self Interpretation

My city. Under the gray sky, everyone wears a mask. When the mask is broken, people go crazy. When Bai Lan came in, there was only a white porcelain mask in his pocket with "Black Dust" engraved on the back. The old man used old porcelain fragments to make a new one for him - the left face was carved by himself, and the right face was carved by someone else's hand. There is a dark red spar hidden on the right side of the face. He dug it out, lava surged from the bones, and dark red filled his body. A word surfaced from the bottom of my memory from before I was six years old. The voice in the back of his head was not so calm for the first time. Bai Lan wiped the blood on the corner of his mouth: "Six years old. I kept it the day you came to me." Two years ago, Bai Lan, who was lying on a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, uttered the last four words: "True me, interpretation!"