“The foundation must be real,” Dr. Zhang muttered, frantically pacing in his dimly lit laboratory. “It has to be.”
I watched him from my corner desk, wondering if three months of non-stop research had finally broken him. As his research assistant, I’d witnessed his gradual descent into obsession over what he called “the fundamental truth.”
“You know what’s funny?” He suddenly turned to me, his bloodshot eyes gleaming. “Everyone thinks makeup foundation is about covering flaws. But what if—” he paused dramatically, “—what if it’s actually revealing them?”
I forced a polite laugh. “That’s quite philosophical, Professor.”
“No, no, you don’t understand!” He slammed his hands on my desk, making me jump. “I’ve discovered something. The chemical composition of foundation makeup isn’t just pigments and emollients. There’s something else. Something… alive.”
Great. Another brilliant mind lost to sleep deprivation and too much coffee.
“Maybe you should take a break—” I started.
“Look!” He grabbed my arm and dragged me to his microscope. “See for yourself!”
Under the lens was a sample of some luxury brand foundation. As I adjusted the focus, something strange happened. The seemingly innocent beige liquid began moving, forming patterns that looked disturbingly like faces.
“They’re memories,” Dr. Zhang whispered excitedly. “Every time someone applies foundation, it absorbs a fragment of their true self. Their fears, their lies, their hidden truths.”
“That’s impossible,” I said, but my voice trembled.
“Impossible? Ha!” He grabbed a bottle of foundation from his desk. “Let me demonstrate.”
Before I could stop him, he smeared the makeup across his face. For a moment, nothing happened. Then his expression changed, becoming a grotesque mask of everyone he’d ever pretended to be.
“See?” His voice came out in multiple tones. “The foundation reveals the real you!”
I backed away, reaching for my phone to call security. But then I noticed something odd about his behavior. His lips were twitching, fighting a smile.
“Professor… are you messing with me?”
He held his serious expression for another second before bursting into laughter. “Got you! The look on your face!”
I stared at him in disbelief as he wiped the regular foundation off his face with a tissue.
“But… the microscope… the moving patterns…”
“Digital display under the slide,” he grinned. “I’ve been planning this for weeks. Needed some entertainment after all this mundane research on cosmetic chemistry.”
“You’re insane,” I said, but found myself laughing too. “I actually thought you’d lost it.”
“The real foundation of truth?” He winked. “Sometimes we all need a reminder not to take ourselves too seriously. Now, shall we get back to our actual research on new preservative systems for cosmetics?”
I nodded, still chuckling. As we returned to our work, I couldn’t help but think that maybe he’d made his point about truth and facades in his own bizarre way. Though I made a mental note to get back at him with my own prank someday.
After all, as they say, the foundation of a good relationship is built on mutual respect… and apparently, the occasional psychological thriller prank.