The voice drifted closer and closer, ethereal, as if a gust of wind could scatter it. Zhang Qiu felt ice-cold from head to toe as he heard it again.
“Master, please… save your servant.”
“Baba.”
Xiao Jiang’s voice rang out.
The eerie whispers surrounding Zhang Qiu vanished completely the moment Xiao Jiang spoke. Everything from just moments ago felt like an illusion.
Zhang Qiu’s heart sank. The voice had carried too much emotion—it had made him feel inexplicably sorrowful.
Suddenly, he felt a weight on his hand. Looking down, he saw Xiao Jiang staring up at him, his two tiny fangs glistening faintly with blood. The moment Xiao Jiang noticed Zhang Qiu looking, he quickly retracted his fangs, as if afraid.
Zhang Qiu was stunned for a moment before he suddenly remembered—he had once told Xiao Jiang not to drink blood, or else he wouldn’t want him anymore.
“I’m not mad at you.” Zhang Qiu gently patted his son’s curly hair and praised, “Thank you for saving me, Xiao Jiang.”
The little jiangshi immediately perked up, proudly baring his tiny, sharp fangs again. Standing up straight, he declared happily, “I will always protect Baba! And I’ll protect my little brother in the future too!”
Zhang Qiu was deeply moved by the first part—but wait, what little brother?!
He patted his son’s chubby face. If your big jiangshi dad gives birth, that’s fine, the more the merrier. But as for other options, let’s not even consider them!
“Xiao Qiu, why are you just standing there? I called you several times and you didn’t answer. What’s wrong?”
A familiar voice came from behind. Zhang Qiu exhaled in relief and turned around to see Xu Huiwang walking toward him.
To Zhang Qiu’s surprise, the scenery around him had already returned to normal. He was standing on a small path leading to the red-roofed restaurant, only about a hundred meters away. He had been stuck in place, lost in some strange illusion.
Xu Huiwang approached with a warm smile but furrowed his brows as he got closer.
“There’s a strong presence of yin energy here,” he said.
Zhang Qiu recounted everything he had just experienced. “Do you remember that sickly sweet scent from Changsha? I smelled it just now, right behind me. When the scent got stronger, I could feel something about to attack me. Luckily, Xiao Jiang stopped it. Then, another voice spoke—it said, ‘Master, please save your servant.’ The voice was eerie at first, so I thought it was a female ghost. But when it spoke again, it was clearer—it was definitely a man.”
He could sense hostility from whatever had carried the sweet scent. But the ghostly voice hadn’t felt malicious—instead, it had sounded pitiful.
“But what kind of man calls himself a ‘servant’?” Zhang Qiu muttered. “Could it be some ghost into role-playing…?”
Saying it out loud made even him cringe. That would be absurd. What kind of ghost has so much free time to play around like that?
Xu Huiwang thought for a moment. “Maybe he wasn’t really a man.”
“Huh?”
“Well, in ancient times, some eunuchs referred to themselves as ‘servants.’”
“I thought eunuchs called themselves ‘slaves’?”
Xu Huiwang smirked. “That term came into use during the Qing Dynasty.”
Though modern China embraced unity among its fifty-six ethnic groups, Xu Huiwang still had an old-fashioned view of the Manchus, considering them outsiders. It wasn’t surprising that he dismissed Qing-era customs. Zhang Qiu decided not to push the topic further.
“By the way, Second Brother, when I left earlier, I ran into Pei Qing and asked if he had seen Li Shu. He said no and told me to check the restaurant. But when I passed by him, I caught a faint trace of that sweet scent on him. The same scent as the thing that tried to attack me.”
“You suspect Pei Qing?”
Zhang Qiu hesitated. Pei Qing has been suspicious in some ways, but now that I’ve said it out loud… it doesn’t quite feel right.
After discussing for a while, they still hadn’t reached a conclusion. Xu Huiwang was the first to let it go.
“No point overthinking. Ask Li Shu later. You came out here to eat, right? Let’s go. I’ll accompany you. Your constitution really attracts yin energy.”
Tell me about it!
“Second Brother, you’re the best! So kind and handsome! If I didn’t have Li Shu, I’d definitely try to steal you from Second Brother!” Zhang Qiu shamelessly flattered him.
Xu Huiwang smiled approvingly, nodding.
Encouraged, Zhang Qiu boasted further, “Look, you’re beautiful, I’m handsome—if we walked together, we’d turn heads for sure!”
“Oh?”
A cold voice suddenly spoke from behind him.
Zhang Qiu froze.
He turned his head stiffly—only to see Li Shu standing there, his expression icy.
His earlier smugness vanished instantly. With an awkward grin, he seamlessly switched to fawning, “I was just about to tell Second Brother that he’s too weak for me! I only like our strong and handsome Li Shu!”
Li Shu remained unmoved, gazing down at him.
Zhang Qiu gritted his teeth. Forget saving face in front of Second Brother—better to surrender now than suffer later!
“Daddy, please spare me! Mwah mwah!” Zhang Qiu gave Li Shu a pitiful, teary-eyed look, ready to cling to his leg if needed.
Li Shu pulled him into an embrace.
Xu Huiwang, still smiling sweetly, added, “Just now, Xiao Qiu told me he’s really good in bed. He wanted to invite me to test his skills.”
“WHAT?!” Zhang Qiu wailed. Second Brother, you traitor! You’re framing me!
“Oh?” Li Shu’s lips curled into a smirk. “Then I’ll have to test that myself.”
Zhang Qiu shivered. He was more terrified now than he had been during the ghost attack. Stammering, he blurted, “I—I’m still hungry! Need to eat first!”
“So hungry?” Li Shu’s tone was deliberately drawn out.
Zhang Qiu had a very bad feeling.
“Don’t worry,” Li Shu continued, voice smooth and teasing. “By the time tonight is over, you’ll be completely full.”
Zhang Qiu’s brain went into overdrive. An entire night? He was doomed.
Xu Huiwang, ever the instigator, added, “Xiao Qiu looks excited.”
Zhang Qiu: utter despair.
That night, Li Shu made Zhang Qiu try every position possible.
At first, Zhang Qiu whimpered for mercy. Then, after being pushed too far, he cursed Li Shu out.
In response, Li Shu thrust deeper. “Seems like you’re still not full.”
Finally, Zhang Qiu gave up, turning into a sobbing mess, his voice hoarse from exhaustion. He praised Li Shu endlessly, discovering a newfound fluency in sweet-talking.
“…So big, so good, feels amazing, you’re the best, love you, mwah!”
Even in his dreams, Zhang Qiu kept mumbling praises. His face was red and puffy from crying too much. Li Shu chuckled and kissed the tip of his nose.
“Mm… feels good… more…”
Li Shu’s eyes darkened. His hand slid down Zhang Qiu’s waist.
The moment he touched him, Zhang Qiu jolted awake, eyes still red, and croaked, “Hurts. No more.”
He looked so pitiful and delicious that Li Shu’s heart stirred. But after a moment, he relented. Instead of teasing further, he massaged Zhang Qiu’s waist until he dozed off again.
I’ll let you off this time.
The next morning, while Li Shu prepared breakfast, Xiao Jiang hopped after him, asking for food.
Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Zhang Qiu lay sprawled on the bed, fast asleep. Around his neck, a small silk pouch emitted a faint glow.
“Master… Master…”
Who?
“This servant, Lingdang, begs for your help… The moon is rising… Master, beware… Someone wants to harm you…”
The tiny, fragile voice echoed in Zhang Qiu’s dreams.
Who was it?
The soft voice whispered weakly, breaking off intermittently.
Zhang Qiu’s sleep was restless. Ever since Li Shu had left the room, that voice had been murmuring in his ear. He could only catch bits and pieces of what it was saying.
When he finally woke up, rubbing his eyes in a daze, he frowned in confusion. Did I just dream of someone talking?
Something about… Lingdang? And the moon?
Just then, Li Shu entered the room carrying breakfast. He glanced at Zhang Qiu, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed, looking lost in thought.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think… someone called Lingdang was talking about the moon in my dream.” Zhang Qiu tried to recall, but the more he thought about it, the fuzzier it became. The voice in his dream had been so soft and unclear.
Li Shu raised an eyebrow. “You had time to dream about someone else?”
Zhang Qiu immediately detected the underlying “why are you thinking about other people instead of getting back under me” tone in Li Shu’s voice. Alarmed, he quickly backtracked.
“You misheard! Lingdang is just Dingdang Cat—Doraemon! A cartoon! Hahaha! Xiao Jiang is old enough now; he should start watching cartoons! If you don’t like Doraemon, we can go for domestic productions. Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf is pretty good too.”
Across the table, Xiao Jiang, who had been sipping porridge from a bowl bigger than his head, perked up upon hearing his name. He blinked his big, watery eyes at Zhang Qiu.
Zhang Qiu put on a serious face. “Nothing, you eat your food. Your dad and I are discussing your education.”
His tone was so serious it almost sounded convincing.
The morning distraction made Zhang Qiu completely forget about the “Lingdang” and “moon” talk from his dream.
After breakfast, Xiao Jiang jumped onto his lap and asked, “What’s Pleasant Goat?”
Zhang Qiu’s head throbbed. He sighed and put on a random cartoon for his son, accompanying him as he watched for the rest of the morning.
They stayed at the resort for three days, waiting for Pingquan and Xiao Liu to arrive.
According to Zhang Qiu, the past three days had been a cycle of shame, kidney pain, and sinful pleasure. He barely saw Su Wanting, and Pei Qing no longer carried that sickly-sweet scent. The ghostly ghost wall incident from that night never happened again, and the name “Lingdang” never resurfaced in his dreams.
It all felt like an illusion—almost as if they really were just here on vacation.
On the third day, Zhang Qiu had just finished eating dinner when voices sounded from the courtyard entrance.
Across the table, Xu Huiwang set down his teacup and said, “Pingquan is here.”
Zhang Qiu instinctively checked his phone—it was already past 7 p.m.
He had thought that, since Pingquan had just arrived, they wouldn’t be setting out immediately. After all, they hadn’t prepared anything yet. But barely half an hour later, Su Wanting barged in with a group of people.
“The time has come. Let’s go.”
Her tone was eager, her gaze fixed on Li Shu, her excitement barely contained.
Even Zhang Qiu could tell that Su Wanting was practically bursting with anticipation. More importantly, she had said, the time has come—not everyone is here.
It felt… like she had been waiting for something.
A plan.
Zhang Qiu suddenly had a bad feeling.
However, Li Shu remained calm and indifferent, giving a slight nod as if he didn’t care. That relaxed Zhang Qiu a little.
As before, they split into two cars. Su Wanting’s car led the way while Pei Qing drove behind her.
Zhang Qiu only knew that their destination was somewhere in Luoyang, but he hadn’t been given any specific details. Now, as they followed the road, he realized they were heading up a mountain.
It suddenly made sense why Su Wanting had chosen to book a resort in the mountains.
They drove for less than half an hour before they reached the base of the mountain. A fence blocked the road, preventing the cars from going any further. From here, they had to continue on foot.
Zhang Qiu noticed that Pingquan, Guangtou, and the others weren’t carrying much gear. Meanwhile, the Liu brothers surrounded Su Wanting protectively as they walked. Su Wanting, clearly annoyed by them getting in her way, quickly sped ahead to lead the way.
The trail was unpaved and overgrown with wild grass that reached up to their waists. The flashlights barely illuminated the path ahead. The uneven ground made every step treacherous, yet Su Wanting moved through the dense grass effortlessly, her small frame darting ahead like a ghost.
The mountain was pitch black, and Zhang Qiu focused on following Li Shu’s footsteps. He didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings—there wasn’t much to see anyway in this darkness.
“We’re here.”
Su Wanting’s voice drifted back to them from the front. The wind distorted her tone, making it sound eerie.
Zhang Qiu’s foot slipped on the incline, but Li Shu caught him and pulled him up. As soon as he crested the hill, the view opened up.
They weren’t at the peak, but this was a rare flat clearing on the mountainside.
Towering willow trees filled the space, their trunks so thick they needed several people to encircle them. Some were lush and thriving, while others had long since withered.
In the southeast, the lights from their resort twinkled at the foot of the mountain. Zhang Qiu had heard that there were natural hot springs here. The resort’s owner had specifically built the place to channel the underground water. Employees had also mentioned that a feng shui master from Hong Kong had been consulted during construction.
The feng shui was excellent—nestled against a mountain, with flowing water ensuring continuous prosperity.
However, Zhang Qiu had some knowledge of feng shui, and he found something odd. A thriving area like this, yet filled with so many willows?
Willows attracted yin energy. They naturally gathered ghosts and spirits.
A good feng shui site for the living shouldn’t have so many willows.
Instead of benefiting the living, this place seemed better suited for the dead.
Was it just his imagination, or did the wind suddenly pick up?
The willow branches rustled loudly, swaying as the wind howled through them.
A chill crawled up Zhang Qiu’s spine. Li Shu reached for his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. The eerie sensation faded slightly.
The moon was bright tonight, but because the trees were so dense, no moonlight could penetrate the forest.
Guangtou grew impatient. “Where’s the entrance?”
“Wait,” Su Wanting replied curtly.
Zhang Qiu glanced at his watch—it was almost 10 p.m.
Su Wanting had hurried ahead as if she was racing against time. Now that they were here, she wasn’t in a rush to dig. She simply stood there, shifting restlessly and glancing upward as if searching for something.
“The moon at the tip of the willow.”
The phrase suddenly surfaced in Zhang Qiu’s mind.
He couldn’t recall the full context, but the words lingered. His gaze drifted upward to the tops of the willow trees.
Then, he saw it.
At first, the moonlight had been unable to pierce through the trees. But as time passed, a single bright beam of moonlight gradually focused on a specific spot.
Su Wanting, who had been waiting for this moment, clapped her hands and grinned.
“Found it.”
She pointed to the spot. It was perfectly aligned with the resort below—the place where the moonlight shone the brightest.
She didn’t need to say anything else.
Guangtou and Pingquan had already pulled out their tools and gotten to work.
The area was large, but with the help of the Luoyang shovels, they quickly narrowed down the possible locations.
Only one spot remained.
Su Wanting’s face was alight with excitement.
“Dig.”
Little Pink Starfish 
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