Little Pink Starfish

The sandstorm moved even faster than Zhang Qiu had imagined, growing larger by the second. In front of the crumbling ruins, the second group of vehicles had barely arrived before the storm engulfed them. Five or six people had just stepped out of their cars when the wind became so fierce that they couldn’t move forward. The powerful gusts distorted their bodies, forcing them to cling desperately to the car handles. But the storm only intensified, shaking the vehicles violently.

Sand filled the air, pelting them like needles. If they hadn’t buried themselves in the sand, they might have been blown away entirely. Zhang Qiu pressed his head down, praying that no one was injured and that they could all survive this ordeal.

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed. Eventually, the deafening howling of the wind died down. A moment later, the weight of the sand covering them shifted as Li Shu pulled Zhang Qiu up by the arm. Zhang Qiu’s head was still spinning. He held the little Jiangshi tightly in his arms and peered through a gap in the ruins.

In the distance, the two vehicles had been thrown far away by the storm, now half-buried in the sand, overturned like discarded toys.

Zhang Qiu quickly scanned their group. Everyone seemed to be unharmed. He let out a sigh of relief.

The director and his crew, who had arrived last, were still lying on the ground, trembling. They hadn’t had time to dig themselves proper trenches, so they had curled up as small as possible. Now, they were shaking uncontrollably.

Kamba called out to them several times with no response. Worried, he strode over and pulled them up one by one, as effortlessly as plucking radishes from the ground.

The two young women were ghostly pale, likely in shock and dehydrated. The director, his chubby body quivering, stared blankly at Kamba, completely unresponsive. Bai Guang’an, meanwhile, had fainted.

Kamba ordered his brother Aishan to help the two women hydrate and rest while he checked the surroundings. Zhang Qiu and the others followed him.

The scene outside was chaotic. The cars had been tossed far from where they originally stood, half-buried in the sand.

But the most disturbing part—six people were missing.

Zhang Qiu saw the grim look on Kamba’s face and knew the situation was bad. But just moments ago, those people had been right there. They had spoken to them!

“Maybe they were blown away but managed to hold onto something?” Zhang Qiu suggested hopefully.

Kamba shook his head and sighed. “If that were the case, we would see their tracks in the sand. This is much worse.”

Still, he decided they had to try searching for them.

The camels had been frightened but were still tied up, huddling in the corner of the ruins. Kamba gently stroked one, speaking soothingly as he removed their blindfolds. But his expression remained troubled.

“What’s wrong?” Zhang Qiu asked.

Kamba glanced around warily. “Too many people, not enough camels. We also don’t have enough food.”

The director, who had been shaking in fear over the missing crew members, latched onto this immediately. “We still have food in the car! We can take some people back first, call for help, and then come back for the rest!”

King Hui of Xiapi sneered. “And who do you suggest gets taken back first?”

The director hesitated, his plump face twitching as he looked around. Clearly, he wanted himself and the film crew to leave first.

Kamba surveyed the landscape, then shook his head. “The storm disoriented us—I don’t know where we are anymore. We need to find the right path first. We’re not getting out today.”

Zhang Qiu realized that despite the endless dunes looking identical, they had definitely been moved from their original location. At first, he had thought they were back at the same ruins where the film crew had been shooting earlier, but now he saw that this place was different. Even after being eroded by wind and sand for centuries, the remains of this ancient city still held a grand and imposing presence.

Kamba made the decision. “First, we find the missing people and retrieve the food from the cars. After that, I’ll scout for a route. Tomorrow, we’ll figure out how to get out of here.”

There was no better plan. Kamba and his brother took two camels and prepared to search. The director, worried that Kamba might abandon them, quickly volunteered to help.

Zhang Qiu took one look at the director’s soft, pudgy frame and knew he’d only get in the way. “We’ll go instead. Aishan should stay here and watch over things in case anything happens.”

The director, eager to appear cooperative, immediately agreed. “Yes! Great idea! Excellent idea!”

Li Shu, Zhang Qiu, and Kamba set off. King Hui of Xiapi, Lu Feng, and Hua Ting stayed behind to look for clues about the missing people.

Before leaving, Zhang Qiu handed the little Jiangshi to Qi Xi. But they hadn’t taken more than a few steps when Qi Xi, still holding the child, casually followed them. “I’ll help out.”

Zhang Qiu looked at Qi Xi’s slender, delicate figure—he didn’t seem like the type for manual labor. But he didn’t argue.

Kamba decided to conserve the camels’ energy, so they walked to the abandoned vehicles. It only took half an hour, but the sand had swallowed the cars deep.

Along the way, Zhang Qiu kept stopping to dig through odd mounds of sand, hoping to find the missing people. But every time, it was just sand—no bodies.

When they reached the cars, they spread out to search. No one dared to stray too far, but there was no sign of the six crew members. It was as if they had vanished into thin air.

Zhang Qiu’s stomach felt heavy.

“We should get the supplies first,” Kamba finally said.

His tone carried an unspoken certainty—those six people weren’t coming back.

Kamba braced himself to lift the car, but before he could act, Qi Xi stepped forward, still holding the little Jiangshi in one arm. He placed his free hand on the car’s half-buried frame and, with a slight push, flipped the entire vehicle upright as if it weighed nothing.

Zhang Qiu gaped.

Even Kamba was stunned. He stared blankly at the beautiful man who had just demonstrated superhuman strength.

Qi Xi dusted off his hands and said, “Take whatever you need.”

It took a moment for Kamba to recover. He attempted to open the door, but it was stuck. Before he could try anything else, Qi Xi grabbed the handle and twisted his wrist slightly. There was a sharp cracking sound—the entire door came off in one piece.

Skilled.

Zhang Qiu immediately thought of that night’s car accident—Qi Xi had done the exact same thing.

With Qi Xi’s help, retrieving the supplies was easy. Li Shu barely had to do anything. The director’s car had plenty of food, including fresh fruit kept in a storage box. Even Zhang Qiu had to admit, celebrity treatment was on another level. Some containers had been crushed, but they salvaged as much as they could and loaded the camels.

By the time they returned, the sun was already starting to set.

The missing people were still nowhere to be found.

Bai Guang’an remained unconscious, while one of the young women had also fainted. Kamba administered herbal medicine to revive her. When she woke, she looked dazed and unfocused.

“Looks like we’ll have to move at night,” Kamba decided.

The director, terrified at the thought of losing another person, nodded frantically.

As dusk fell, the air cooled. The group huddled behind the ruins to shield themselves from the sand-laden wind, sharing rations of dried beef and flatbread.

The little Jiangshi had recovered significantly. No longer sluggish, he sat upright, happily munching on his food.

Just as everyone was settling in for the night, a piercing scream tore through the air.

Zhang Qiu jolted awake.

In the dim moonlight, something bloody and grotesque lunged toward him.

It had no eyes—just two gaping holes, oozing dark liquid.

A corpse.

A Jiangshi.

But where had it come from?

A strong hand yanked Zhang Qiu backward just as the blood-soaked Jiangshi lunged at him.

Behind him, Li Shu kicked forward, sending the creature flying through the air.

Zhang Qiu’s heart pounded as he finally got a clear look—there were two of them.

Humanoid, but clearly no longer human. Their flesh was stripped raw, revealing bloody, mangled muscle. Their empty eye sockets dripped with blackened blood, and their mouths stretched unnaturally wide as if they had been forcibly peeled open.

Where the hell did these Jiangshi come from?!

A woman’s terrified screams echoed from outside—it must have been one of the crew members. The director and the others had tried to flee, but they had run straight into another one of the creatures.

Li Shu swiftly drew his dagger. As the first Jiangshi recovered and charged again, Li Shu struck without hesitation, stabbing it straight through the skull. The body twitched once before collapsing lifelessly to the ground.

The air was thick with the foul stench of rot.

Zhang Qiu’s breath hitched as he noticed something—the blood seeping from the corpse was eating into Li Shu’s skin, corroding it black.

“That blood is toxic! Wrap your wound!” Zhang Qiu shouted.

Li Shu didn’t even glance at his hand. With his uninjured one, he blocked Zhang Qiu from coming closer. “Don’t touch me.” His gaze was cold and sharp. “We need to check outside.”

A horrifying realization hit Zhang Qiu—

Where was the little Jiangshi?!

His heart nearly stopped. He turned just in time to see his son jumping onto another Jiangshi’s head, claws glowing as he tore into its skull.

“XIAO JIANG! COME BACK!”

Hearing his father’s call, the little Jiangshi leaped off the creature and dove straight into Zhang Qiu’s arms.

Zhang Qiu instinctively caught him, immediately scanning his small body for injuries. Only after confirming that he was unharmed did he let out a breath of relief.

Meanwhile, the director was shrieking for help. In a moment of sheer cowardice, he had grabbed someone—anyone—to use as a shield against the Jiangshi.

Zhang Qiu heard Lu Feng’s voice shout in alarm—“Hua Ting!”

The director had shoved Hua Ting toward the creature to save himself.

Li Shu was already moving. His dagger flashed through the air, but Lu Feng reacted faster—he stepped in front of Hua Ting, blocking the attack. The Jiangshi’s claws raked across his arm, tearing deep gashes.

Dark, foul-smelling blood oozed from the wounds.

Zhang Qiu spun at the sound of movement behind him. Another Jiangshi was lunging his way. Before he could react, the little Jiangshi squirmed out of his arms, launching himself at the creature.

Two Jiangshi against a tiny child—

Zhang Qiu’s grip tightened around the dagger in his hand. With a fierce resolve, he surged forward, stabbing one of the creatures in the back of its head.

The blade sank in deep. The Jiangshi spasmed before crumpling.

He had done it. He had killed a Jiangshi on his own.

But there was no time to celebrate. He yanked the blade free and turned just in time to see the little Jiangshi finish off the second one.

Li Shu returned, carrying a weakened Hua Ting and a pale-faced Lu Feng. The latter’s wounds were already healing—but his complexion had turned ashen. Zhang Qiu suspected Li Shu had used his blood to accelerate the healing process.

The ground was littered with corpses, the air reeking of rot and death.

The director, trembling violently, dared to approach Li Shu. “P-Please… please help me…”

Hua Ting looked like he was this close to stabbing the man himself.

The young makeup artist from earlier, sobbing uncontrollably, collapsed onto the ground. “Everyone is dead… They’re all dead… I don’t want to be here anymore… I want to go home…”

Zhang Qiu’s heart clenched. He scanned the group, frowning.

Someone was missing.

“Qi Xi and Er Sao aren’t here!”

The director, eager to prove his worth, pointed toward the ruined structure behind them. “When those things showed up, they ran off with Bai Guang’an! I saw them go that way!”

Li Shu’s gaze flickered toward the corpses. He counted quickly.

“Six Jiangshi total,” he murmured.

Zhang Qiu’s stomach dropped.

“The six people who disappeared in the storm…?”

Li Shu nodded. “We need to find Qi Xi and Er Sao.”

---

The ruins stretched out before them, an eerie maze of crumbling walls and archways. They passed by more corpses, some fresh, others ancient.

At the highest point of the ruins stood a massive stone statue of a woman, though her face had long since been worn away by the elements. The shattered ceiling above allowed moonlight to stream in, casting long, haunting shadows.

Aishan, Kamba’s younger brother, suddenly dropped to his knees before the statue, bowing his head and whispering prayers in his native tongue.

Li Shu remained watchful. Zhang Qiu, still holding the little Jiangshi, carefully inspected the area.

At the base of the statue, hidden behind the broken structure, he spotted something.

“A cave!” Zhang Qiu called out.

A dark, yawning hole stretched deep beneath the ruins. The entrance was shrouded in pitch black, like the mouth of an abyss.