Little Pink Starfish

His hand rested on that eerie skin, unmoving, and the other party seemed equally still. Could it be a dead person?

In this situation, he’d rather it be a dead person.

Zhang Qiu exhaled slightly, but just then, the skin under his hand moved. The icy, rigid texture, distinct with bones—it was a hand.

A chill ran down his spine as his hairs stood on end. He didn’t dare to move, but the other party also made no further actions, leading to a brief standoff. Time seemed to stretch infinitely; Zhang Qiu felt as if minutes had passed, though in reality, it had only been two or three seconds. His mind raced, and as his eyes adjusted slightly to the pitch-black surroundings, he spotted the metallic glint of a flashlight not far away.

Based on the position of the hand under his own, Zhang Qiu held his breath and acted almost instantaneously—

He pulled back his hand, reached for the dagger at his waist, rolled over to grab the flashlight, and immediately flicked it on, illuminating the other party.

A pair of hollow, pitch-black eyes stared at him motionlessly. The facial muscles had long since dried and withered. Without a second thought, Zhang Qiu raised his dagger and lunged forward, imitating Li Shu’s technique, aiming straight for the thing’s forehead.

Hiss—

His imagined heroic strike fell short—the dagger veered off course and stabbed into the Jiangshi’s left eye socket instead. Enraged, the Jiangshi let out a sharp, hissing roar. Zhang Qiu hurriedly yanked out the dagger and stumbled backward, but the Jiangshi had already lunged at him.

For a fleeting moment, Zhang Qiu truly understood what it meant to be on the brink of life and death. The Jiangshi moved at terrifying speed, rushing toward him like a gust of wind. A withered claw, its nails razor-sharp, slashed directly at his face.

I’m done for.

Back against the wall, Zhang Qiu resigned himself to death. The sharp nails were mere centimeters from his eyeballs when, all of a sudden, they stopped—just a hair’s breadth away.

Zhang Qiu dared not even blink. Then, inexplicably, the Jiangshi twitched as if startled, timidly retracted its claws, and—turned around and fled.

Its retreating figure nearly seemed to whimper, as though Zhang Qiu had bullied it.

The absurdity of the scene was so bizarre that Zhang Qiu marveled at his own ability to even have such thoughts in this moment.

Cold sweat dripped from his forehead. He wiped at it absentmindedly with one hand while pressing against the ground for support. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his stomach, forcing him back down. The pain intensified, and in no time, beads of sweat gathered on his forehead again. His body curled up instinctively as he clutched his stomach, his thoughts in turmoil.

Probably just got scared too badly.

Zhang Qiu bit his lip, forcing his mind away from the pain. Leaning against the wall, he lifted his flashlight and scanned his surroundings.

In front of him stood rows of vividly colored ceramic figurines, dressed in Han-style garments. Their faces were painted pale with red rouge on their cheeks, and each held a different musical instrument, all staring straight at him.

They were burial figurines of musicians. Though smaller than real people, about one meter tall, their lifelike features and sheer numbers made them eerie and unsettling in the darkness of the tomb.

But with the pain in his stomach, Zhang Qiu could barely stand. He remained slumped in place, inadvertently locking eyes with the figurines. The longer he stared, the more they seemed to come alive. He could even hear the enchanting melodies of musical performances.

Something’s wrong with these things.

Zhang Qiu quickly diverted his flashlight away and looked elsewhere. The music in his ears faded, replaced by the sound of hurried footsteps.

Footsteps?!

The more he listened, the more real they became—someone was running toward him. The thought of the crazed Lao Si sent a fresh wave of panic through him. Ignoring his stomach pain, he scrambled to a corner, shut off his flashlight, and was instantly swallowed by darkness.

The door creaked open.

Holding his breath, Zhang Qiu dared not make a sound. The person who entered had unsteady footsteps.

“I dropped my flashlight. Do you still have yours?”

“There’s a spare in my bag. Let me find it.”

That voice sounds so familiar…

Click. A beam of light swept across the room. When Zhang Qiu saw who it was, his heart leaped with joy.

“Brother Da Mao!”

The two at the doorway froze. Zhang Yu Shui reacted first, sweeping his flashlight toward the source of the voice and spotting Zhang Qiu curled up in the corner. The two of them quickly rushed over.

“Xiao Qiu, what are you doing here? Are you hurt?” Zhang Da Mao—also known as Zhang Zuo Jiu—helped Zhang Qiu up.

At that moment, seeing his two brothers again, Zhang Qiu had never felt so grateful.

“I’m fine, just a stomachache.” Zhang Qiu quickly warned, “Those figurines are strange. Staring at them too long causes hallucinations.”

Zhang Yu Shui nodded. “They must be coated with some hallucinogenic substance.” His eyes flicked to Zhang Qiu’s stomach, and his expression grew noticeably serious. “We should leave first.”

Zhang Qiu didn’t notice the look Zhang Yu Shui gave his stomach. He was simply relieved beyond words—finally, he didn’t have to struggle alone in fear.

Outside the burial chamber, Zhang Yu Shui supported Zhang Qiu while Zhang Zuo Jiu led the way, wielding a copper coin sword. Zhang Qiu had only seen such swords on TV before and had even looked them up—made from coins of the Shunzhi, Kangxi, Yongzheng, Qianlong, and Jiaqing eras, they were known as Five Emperor Coins and were highly effective against Jiangshi.

The three exchanged information. Zhang Qiu learned that Lao San’s group had attacked his uncle, who was still unconscious in the hospital. His anger boiled over, teeth clenched in fury.

“…Don’t worry too much. My dad is there. Uncle will be fine,” Zhang Zuo Jiu reassured him without turning around.

They had entered the tomb through a passage dug by a group who had purchased a map from Jin Laoda. Zhang Zuo Jiu’s talismanic swordsmanship was formidable, and Zhang Yu Shui’s geomantic expertise was top-notch. With those skills, they had made it here relatively unscathed.

After walking for half an hour, they passed by two more chambers—one storing grains and another filled with eunuch figurines.

At the end of the corridor stood an intricately carved stone door, flanked by two monstrous statues. These beasts, as tall as the door itself, had human faces, tiger bodies, and eagle claws, glaring at them with fierce expressions. Zhang Qiu, recalling Lao San’s injuries, quickly warned, “Big Brother, check if the door is booby-trapped with flammable substances first.”

Zhang Zuo Jiu hesitated before glancing at Zhang Yu Shui, who pulled a copper coin from his pocket and flicked it at the door. With a crisp clang, the coin stuck to the stone surface. Zhang Qiu was dumbfounded—he hadn’t expected the refined Zhang Yu Shui to have such incredible strength.

“No problem,” Zhang Yu Shui confirmed.

Zhang Zuo Jiu pushed the door open. Zhang Yu Shui scanned the chamber and shook his head, disappointed. “Not the main burial chamber.”

If it wasn’t the main chamber, there wouldn’t be valuable burial artifacts.

Zhang Qiu noted the grandeur of the room—a golden jade coffin sat at its center, with piles of treasure surrounding it. If this wasn’t the main chamber, then he couldn’t imagine what the actual one looked like.

“This tomb has two levels, designed like a labyrinth, with a false burial chamber. If the coffin is opened, no one will leave here alive.” Zhang Zuo Jiu closed the door.

Suddenly, from above, the ceiling shifted. A shadowy figure dropped down.

“Wait, Da Mao, he’s one of us!” Zhang Qiu exclaimed in surprise. “Li Shu!”

Li Shu’s eyes swept over Zhang Qiu, his icy aura dissipating.

“I know where the main burial chamber is.”

Zhang Zuo Jiu’s face lit up with excitement upon hearing this, while Zhang Yu Shui simply cast a glance at Li Shu without saying anything, only nodding in acknowledgment.

They climbed up through the movable ceiling panel, emerging into a crossroad-like intersection.

Li Shu took hold of Zhang Qiu’s hand and said, “Don’t get separated.”

Zhang Qiu’s face inexplicably flushed red. He quickly lowered his head and mumbled, “Mm.”

Zhang Yu Shui observed the path Li Shu was taking and remarked, “A labyrinth.”

Li Shu didn’t respond, guiding Zhang Qiu with calculated steps. Zhang Yu Shui realized he was deliberately avoiding traps. When he and Zhang Zuo Jiu had first entered the tomb, they had reached a maze-like area filled with intersecting corridors, making navigation extremely difficult. Now, while Li Shu’s route was somewhat familiar, there were noticeable differences.

After about an hour of walking, Zhang Qiu grew disoriented. He gave up trying to memorize the directions, choosing instead to simply hold onto Li Shu’s hand tightly and follow along.

“We’re here,” Li Shu announced.

Only then did Zhang Qiu realize they were standing around a circular stone slab. It seemed to be the central point of the entire tomb. Yet, looking around, all he could see were corridors leading off in multiple directions—there was no burial chamber in sight.

“It’s below us?” Zhang Yu Shui speculated.

Li Shu nodded, his voice cold. “Beneath it is a pit of sharp spikes.”

“Couldn’t we have just taken a direct path down?” Zhang Qiu asked, though from Li Shu’s expression, he immediately knew the answer—definitely not. “So what’s the plan?”

“Rope,” Li Shu said, turning to Zhang Zuo Jiu.

Zhang Zuo Jiu pulled a rope from his bag and handed it to Li Shu. Without hesitation, Li Shu secured the rope and swiftly jumped onto the circular stone slab. The slab rotated, flipping over, and in an instant, Li Shu vanished from sight.

Zhang Qiu’s heart lurched. “Li Shu? Li Shu, are you still there?”

His voice echoed endlessly through the corridors, yet no reply came from below.

Afraid that Zhang Qiu might act recklessly and jump in after him, Zhang Zuo Jiu quickly held him back. Zhang Qiu pressed a hand against the slab, peering into the crack. All he could see was pitch-black darkness—nothing at all. His heart turned cold. Could Li Shu really be gone? That’s impossible!

Suddenly, from the depths below, a pair of crimson eyes locked onto him.

Those eyes—