Little Pink Starfish

Everything changed in an instant. The heavily injured bodyguard took everyone by surprise, firing a shot that hit Hua Ting first. Li Shu, who was closest to Zhang Qiu, turned back to help Hua Ting, and in the next moment, Zhang Qiu was caught by Jin Laoda, who was wearing Hong Jie’s skin.

Inside, Xiapi Huiwang had just gone to check on the person lying on the coffin.

It was nothing more than a tattered human skin—Jin Laoda’s original skin had been stitched up too many times to be usable, so he had replaced it with Hong Jie’s.

When they first entered the tomb, Jin Laoda clearly knew the way. He led Hong Jie straight to the main burial chamber but was likely severely wounded by something. Hong Jie seized the opportunity to escape, and in order to save himself, Jin Laoda shed a layer of his skin, caught up to Hong Jie, and took over her body.

After that, Lu Feng and Hua Ting encountered Hong Jie, and later, they all met up.

Xiapi Huiwang pieced everything together, and naturally, so did Li Shu. But now, with a hostage in his grasp, Jin Laoda had no fear of Li Shu. He let out a strange laugh, a mixture of his sharp male voice and Hong Jie’s soft tone, as if two souls were trapped in one body. The eerie laughter echoed through the tomb.

“Take another step, and I’ll turn him into a dried corpse immediately.” Jin Laoda grinned sinisterly, baring his teeth near Zhang Qiu’s neck. He chuckled, “So pale… I just love this kind of skin.” His voice shifted into Hong Jie’s.

Li Shu’s gaze darkened, but Jin Laoda showed no fear at all.

“The master said you’re powerful, but so what? Every person has a weakness. Even if you’re not human, Li Shu, you still have a weakness.” Jin Laoda sneered.

Zhang Qiu was momentarily stunned. The hell is this guy saying? What do you mean, “not human”? Your whole damn family isn’t human!

Yet deep down, unease twisted inside him, as if something was trying to break free. A truth he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

A sharp pain shot through his stomach, making Zhang Qiu suck in a breath.

“Stay still!” Jin Laoda snapped.

Li Shu took two steps forward, and Jin Laoda tightened his grip on Zhang Qiu’s throat. Hong Jie’s long, sharp nails pierced Zhang Qiu’s skin, drawing beads of blood.

“One more step, and he dies,” Jin Laoda warned.

“What do you want?” Li Shu stopped, his expression calm, appearing as though he was surrendering.

Jin Laoda burst into laughter. “Go inside, open the coffin, and take out the box inside.”

“Oh?”

Zhang Qiu’s stomach ached so badly it felt like it was tying itself into knots. When he heard Li Shu’s indifferent response—just a single syllable, spoken in his usual unbothered tone—he felt like his face was covered in blood. Damn, I really picked the right man.

Before Jin Laoda could finish his sentence, Li Shu had already moved. Zhang Qiu barely blinked before Li Shu was beside him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders while the other snapped Jin Laoda’s wrists. The tomb echoed with Jin Laoda’s pig-like screams.

Li Shu threw him at Xiapi Huiwang’s feet, his voice cold and laced with killing intent. “Drag him to the coffin. There should be something inside that he fears.”

Zhang Qiu was slipping into a daze from the pain. When he lifted his head, the first thing he saw was a flash of crimson. Just moments ago, he had been fangirling like a lovestruck fool, but now, it felt like he had fallen into an abyss of ice.

His entire body went cold. The pain in his stomach became distant, his mouth dry. A nightmare-like pair of eyes loomed over him, rendering him speechless.

A hand pressed against his stomach. Li Shu furrowed his brows, saying something, but Zhang Qiu’s mind was clouded. His head felt heavy, his thoughts blurry, and long-forgotten details surfaced one by one—Li Shu’s body was always cold; every time Zhang Qiu had a stomachache, Li Shu’s touch would make it stop; and those nights when he had… those kinds of dreams…

Maybe those weren’t dreams at all.

Maybe Li Shu was behind it.

Every time before he lost consciousness, he always caught a glimpse of a crimson glow…

“Why?”

His voice came out dry and hoarse. Why does it have to be Li Shu? Why did I only realize the truth after falling for him? The Jiangshi that haunted my nightmares—why does it have to be him?!

Li Shu’s hand on Zhang Qiu’s stomach stilled for a moment. He didn’t answer. Instead, he lifted Zhang Qiu into his arms. Zhang Qiu’s body tensed at the touch, making Li Shu’s expression darken.

“He’s about to give birth,” Li Shu’s voice was cold, as if he wasn’t the least bit pleased about it.

Zhang Qiu’s mind exploded. The thing inside his stomach was coming out. How?

Had Li Shu stayed with him, accepted his feelings, only because of this thing?

“Give… birth?” Hua Ting, who had been bleeding all over the floor just moments ago, suddenly stood up as if nothing had happened. Apart from his pale complexion, he didn’t look like someone who had just been shot in the chest.

Lu Feng supported him, and Hua Ting patted Lu Feng’s arm. “Lu Feng is a doctor. Surgery can’t be done here—we should get to a hospital as soon as possible. But Xiao Shidi doesn’t look like he’s in labor at all.”

“There’s no time,” Li Shu said, helping Zhang Qiu lie down. He took off his coat and spread it on the ground. Lu Feng quickly pulled out a blanket from his bag and handed it over.

Zhang Qiu knew what they were doing, but he wanted no part of it. He didn’t want this thing inside him to come out.

He didn’t want to accept that everything had been a scheme.

That the man he loved had deceived him from the start.

That Li Shu had only approached him for this child.

The more he thought about it, the more wronged he felt. He didn’t want to speak.

Lying flat on the ground, he flinched when Li Shu’s hand touched his stomach.

His muscles tensed.

A wild thought struck him, sparking a desperate survival instinct. He grabbed Li Shu’s wrist tightly, his palm ice-cold and sweating.

“Are you going to kill me?” he demanded.

And then, unwilling to give up, he turned his gaze to a familiar figure.

“Second Sister-in-law! Save me! I don’t want to be cut open!”

His voice was full of fear and desperation, but deep in his eyes, there was a trace of hope.

Xiapi Huiwang was stunned for a moment. His expression cracked. Any semblance of gentleness was gone. If Li Shu hadn’t been in the way, he would’ve slapped Zhang Qiu right then and there.

But Zhang Qiu was too caught up in his own tragic mental drama to notice.

How could he be so pitiful?!

Tears welled in his eyes.

QAQ.

Li Shu sighed helplessly. His hand caressed Zhang Qiu’s stomach with unexpected gentleness.

“You coward,” he murmured. “Sleep. It’ll be over soon.”

Zhang Qiu was terrified of Li Shu, but the familiar nickname and soft voice calmed him. Slowly, he drifted into unconsciousness.

Then—

“Blub blub blub—pop!”

Something wet splashed onto his face. Zhang Qiu wiped it off groggily.

And then he heard it.

A child’s laughter.

A baby’s laughter.

He snapped his eyes open.

A tiny face hovered over him, blowing a spit bubble.

Zhang Qiu froze.

The bubble popped, splattering saliva all over his face.

“Blub blub! Pop!”

Another spit bubble.

Zhang Qiu’s body stiffened in horror.

“Whose… whose child is this?”

A small, soft body—ice-cold like a block of ice—sat on Zhang Qiu’s chest. Two chubby, pale arms wrapped around his neck, cuddling up to him affectionately. Zhang Qiu didn’t dare move. He finally took a good look at the child’s face.

The baby’s skin was unnaturally pale, and its large, round, watery eyes were incredibly beautiful. However, dark circles lingered beneath them, making the baby look like it hadn’t slept well—almost like a little panda. A sharp chin, tiny rice-like teeth, and two small, pointy tiger fangs peeked out when it spoke. Its jet-black baby hair was soft and slightly curled against its forehead.

At first glance, the child looked normal—adorable even—but something felt off.

“Ba-ba.” The baby cooed sweetly and blew another spit bubble.

Zhang Qiu didn’t dare move, desperately suppressing the thoughts racing through his mind. He was too afraid to think too much.

“Xiao Qiu, you’re awake. This is your newborn son. He’s actually pretty cute.” Xiapi Huiwang’s voice came from nearby.

Zhang Qiu looked around and realized they were still in the main burial chamber. The coffin in the center had already been opened, and Li Shu was inside, seemingly occupied with something. The moment Zhang Qiu thought of Li Shu—the very Jiangshi from the Qinling tomb—his blood turned ice-cold.

He quickly shifted his gaze away as Xiapi Huiwang approached, smiling as he playfully poked the baby’s cheek. “He’s yours and Li Shu’s child. Isn’t he adorable?”

The way he said it sounded like he was still holding a grudge over being called “Second Sister-in-law.”

Hearing that this child was exactly what he feared, Zhang Qiu shot up in a panic, nearly knocking the baby off. Without thinking, he instinctively reached out to catch the child. The moment his hands touched the baby’s skin, the sensation sent a shiver down his spine—it was completely devoid of warmth, like a cold-blooded snake. Zhang Qiu flinched and let go, but the little thing seemed to find it all very entertaining. The baby was light and agile, effortlessly climbing up Zhang Qiu’s leg like a monkey before perching on his shoulder.

From start to finish, Zhang Qiu was too scared to move.

He tried his best to ignore the child. The tomb is dangerous. Once I get out, I’ll go my own way, and Li Shu can go his. We’ll be done with each other.

“Does your stomach still hurt?” Xiapi Huiwang asked, pointing at Zhang Qiu’s abdomen. “Li Shu made an incision—”

Before he could finish speaking, Zhang Qiu lifted his shirt and looked down. His lower abdomen bore only a faint red mark, no longer than a pinky finger. It didn’t look like a surgical scar, and it had healed far too quickly. Plus, he felt no pain at all.

Swallowing hard, Zhang Qiu was clearly overwhelmed by everything. His face went blank, unable to make sense of it all.

Xiapi Huiwang wanted to tease him a little more, but a sharp, chilling gaze swept over him, making him snort and hold back.

Meanwhile, Zhang Qiu’s hair was being tugged, and the sound of bubbling spit echoed above his head. Saliva splattered onto him again and again.

Zhang Qiu was beyond frustrated. He grabbed the baby and held it up. The child’s big, round eyes stared at him, sparkling like black gemstones. Its long, thick eyelashes fluttered like tiny fans.

Zhang Qiu’s heart melted.

“…Fine. Do whatever you want.” He sighed, placing the baby back on his shoulder.

But the little thing refused to sit there. Its small, chubby arms wrapped around Zhang Qiu’s neck, and it leaned in to plant a wet kiss on his cheek.

Zhang Qiu’s heart trembled, but the moment he thought of Li Shu, he forced himself to harden his resolve. He couldn’t let himself be swayed.

I wanted to be in a relationship with Li Shu, but he only saw me as a tool to give birth to his child!

Li Shu is beautiful but heartless. I won’t tolerate it!

Zhang Qiu shook off his thoughts and asked, “What are they doing?”

“You just gave birth.” Xiapi Huiwang noticed Zhang Qiu flinch slightly and continued, “This main burial chamber is set up with something called the Nine Palaces Immortal Lock Formation. The person in the coffin is your senior brother’s soul from an unknown number of past lives—a general from the ancient Gu Mu Kingdom.”

Zhang Qiu had researched the Gu Mu Kingdom after the Qinling tomb incident. The kingdom existed before the Shang Dynasty and was later renamed Juzi State during the Zhou Dynasty. Gu Mu Kingdom had many myths and legends, the most famous being that its leader was Qiong Chan, the son of Zhuanxu, one of the Five Emperors.

“When they opened the coffin, all they found were glowing green bones, which had already turned to dust from time. Your senior brother isn’t part of an immortal bloodline—he was trapped by the formation, forced to reincarnate again and again. With each life, his lifespan grew shorter. That’s why his lover said he had a strange, life-threatening illness.”

“So they just need to break the formation?” Zhang Qiu asked anxiously. The person who set up such a cruel trap was utterly heartless—dooming someone to suffer endlessly across lifetimes.

Xiapi Huiwang chuckled. He found it amusing that Zhang Qiu, despite being so timid, was always so eager to help those he cared about.

“It’s been over four thousand years. Even if they break the formation now, your senior brother’s lifespan will only be extended by a few years at most. He’ll still die young. And even in his next life, he’ll likely have a short lifespan. He’ll have to recover slowly over time.”

Not everything can be fixed overnight.

Zhang Qiu suddenly thought of the Qinling tomb. That extravagant burial chamber, constructed with a five-layer Huangchang Dticou technique, was filled with eerie green bones. But beneath it, there was another simple tomb—no burial goods, only a basic sealing formation trapping a stone coffin bed. Above it lay the remains of 1,800 corpses, their collective resentment pressing down.

He had told his father about it when he got back, and his father had sighed, saying, Whoever designed that tomb must have truly hated the person buried below.

Burying a tomb beneath another tomb was a massive taboo—especially with 1,800 angry spirits pressing down on it. The Qinling site had good feng shui, but instead of benefiting the buried individual, it only nourished the resentment of those 1,800 corpses. Over time, the resentment grew stronger, suppressing the person below, ensuring they would never escape. Combined with the Nine Palaces Immortal Lock Formation, reincarnation was impossible. The person inside would be refined into nothingness, suffering for eternity.

Realization struck Zhang Qiu. He turned to Xiapi Huiwang, his voice urgent. “Then wouldn’t Li Shu suffer some kind of side effects from being trapped for so many years?”

“Ohhh—” Xiapi Huiwang deliberately dragged out the sound.

Zhang Qiu immediately regretted asking. Damn it! Why do I still care about Li Shu? He muttered, “I’m not worried about him.”

“Oh? Then you probably wouldn’t want to know who set the trap, right?”

Xiapi Huiwang smiled gently, but there was a hidden sharpness in his expression.

This man may look pretty, but he holds grudges!

“…Fine, Second Sister-in-law, just tell me.”

Xiapi Huiwang: ……….

“I’d rather share the details of your childbirth,” he said with a perfectly warm smile.

“…That hurts, Second Sister-in-law.” Zhang Qiu replied expressionlessly.

The two continued bickering, exchanging jabs, as a brief silence fell between them.

A cold, detached voice cut through the air.

“It was Ju Wang.”

Zhang Qiu turned sharply. It was Li Shu. He seemed to know exactly what Zhang Qiu had wanted to ask.

At that moment, he was radiating a dangerous aura, his voice venomous.

“The 1,800 corpses in the main chamber—those were my most trusted generals.”