Little Pink Starfish

Li Shu shone his flashlight into the passageway. It stretched deep into the earth, a seemingly endless void. A faint, eerie draft flowed from within, proving that the tunnel wasn’t a sealed-off space.

Zhang Qiu wasn’t sure if Qi Xi and Er Sao were really down there, but the temple ruins were wide open—there was nowhere to hide. Since the director had insisted they ran in this direction, there was a high chance they had entered the tunnel.

“Should we go down?” Zhang Qiu asked.

Li Shu turned to the group. “Are you coming or staying?”

The director hesitated, craning his neck to peer into the pitch-black hole. The chill emanating from within made him shrink back. He had barely survived earlier—there was no way he wanted to enter this place. Who knew if more monsters were lurking in the dark? But staying behind wasn’t much better, with the mangled corpses still lying nearby.

“Um… maybe the people you’re looking for aren’t actually down there?” the director suggested weakly. “We could check the surrounding area again?”

Clearly, he was stalling—he didn’t want to go down, nor did he want to stay behind. More importantly, he didn’t want to be left without Li Shu, their strongest fighter.

“I’m staying,” Aishan said firmly.

The young woman from the crew immediately echoed him, her voice weary and drained. She had reached her limit and wanted nothing more than to go home.

Seeing this, the director quickly jumped on the opportunity. “I’ll stay too! No point in slowing you down.”

Lu Feng and Hua Ting were determined to go. Zhang Qiu split their food, leaving some for those staying behind and dividing the rest among himself, Hua Ting, and Li Shu. Each of them stuffed their pockets with dried beef and bottled water before starting their descent.

The tunnel entrance was narrow, with Li Shu leading the way. Zhang Qiu followed, carefully navigating the steep slope. They descended nearly ten meters before the ground leveled out.

The floor beneath them was paved with smooth stone slabs, seamlessly fitted together without a single gap. The passageway was both wide and tall, stretching endlessly forward into the darkness.

They walked for what felt like forever. Zhang Qiu’s legs ached, and even Hua Ting’s breathing had turned heavy.

“Let’s rest for a bit,” Li Shu suggested.

Zhang Qiu plopped onto the ground, rubbing his sore legs. “It feels like we’ve been walking for hours.”

Hua Ting glanced at his sports watch. “We’ve only been walking for two hours and forty minutes.”

Only?! Zhang Qiu was certain they had walked much longer than that. His stamina had improved a lot, so a two-hour walk shouldn’t have felt this exhausting.

“This place must be messing with our perception of time,” Zhang Qiu muttered. “What if it’s like the magnetic field in Er Sao’s tomb? Could be interfering with our sense of direction.”

Li Shu shook his head and sat down beside him, placing a firm hand on Zhang Qiu’s thigh and massaging it gently. “It’s just psychological. When there’s no scenery or conversation to distract you, the journey feels longer than it really is.”

Lu Feng and Hua Ting also sat down to rest. Zhang Qiu handed out food, and they replenished their energy before setting off again.

This time, Zhang Qiu and Hua Ting chatted along the way to break the monotony. Time seemed to pass faster, and soon enough, a faint light appeared ahead.

Excited, Zhang Qiu quickened his pace. “We finally made it!”

But the moment they reached the light, his excitement froze.

It was a dead end.

Lu Feng’s voice was laced with disappointment. “It’s a wall.”

At the end of the corridor, a stone mural covered the entire surface. Despite the dim lighting, the vibrant colors of the painting glowed faintly. The image depicted a woman, dressed in flowing garments of exotic western regions, her curvy figure swaying in a graceful dance. Her expression seemed filled with pleasure.

But something felt off.

“There’s something strange about her eyes,” Li Shu pointed out.

Zhang Qiu instinctively met the gaze of the painted woman—

A wave of dizziness crashed over him.

[Did you really think Li Shu loves you?]

[You’re just a tool, idiot.]

[Kill him. Kill him now.]

A whispering voice echoed in his mind.

Then—

[Run! Take him and run!]

[Li Shu… don’t—]

A pair of deep red eyes flashed before him, filled with cold malice, staring at him like prey to be devoured.

A sharp pain stabbed into his skull. Zhang Qiu clutched his head, overwhelmed by the clash of visions and reality.

“Coward, what’s wrong?”

Zhang Qiu jolted. Li Shu was right in front of him, his sharp eyes filled with concern.

“You looked like you were in pain. Did you get hurt?” Li Shu’s voice was gentle.

Zhang Qiu stared at him, momentarily lost in thought.

The red eyes in his vision had been ruthless and cruel. But the man before him… his gaze held only warmth.

Shaking his head, Zhang Qiu explained, “I looked into her eyes, and suddenly my mind went blank. I heard voices.”

“Then don’t look at them,” Li Shu said flatly.

Hua Ting’s expression was pale. “I also noticed something wrong with that mural. The woman’s face looks like she’s enjoying herself, but her eyes—they’re full of pain and resistance.”

“What did you see?” Lu Feng asked, frowning.

Hua Ting trembled. “I saw… I saw you die.”

Lu Feng immediately grasped his hand. “I’m fine. I’m standing right here.”

Li Shu glanced at Zhang Qiu. He must have seen something too.

“This is like the terracotta warriors back in Xiapi’s tomb,” Li Shu said. “The pigments used in this painting probably have the same effect—hallucinogenic properties. Don’t look at them.”

Zhang Qiu took a deep breath. His mind was still rattled by the illusion—especially the voice that insisted Li Shu was just using him.

But that was ridiculous. He was just a normal person. What use would Li Shu have for him?

It was just a hallucination.

Shaking off his doubts, Zhang Qiu focused on the real issue. “The director said Qi Xi and Er Sao ran in this direction, but there’s no path forward. What do we do? Should we go back?”

His legs throbbed at the mere thought of retracing their five-hour journey.

Li Shu shook his head. “No need.”

He examined the wall closely, his gaze locking onto the painted woman’s eyes.

Zhang Qiu panicked. “Don’t look directly at them!”

“It won’t affect me,” Li Shu reassured him. He pressed his hand against the wall, tapping twice. A hollow thunk echoed back. “It’s empty behind this.”

Zhang Qiu’s eyes widened. “There’s a space behind the wall?”

“How do we get in? We can’t just smash through it, right?” Zhang Qiu looked around but found no hidden switches. The painting was entirely flat.

“We’re in the desert,” Li Shu reminded them. “This corridor was built with stone slabs. If we forcefully break the wall, the ceiling could collapse, burying us in sand.”

Carefully, he stepped onto the smooth mural, balancing himself in a triangular position. Then, without hesitation, he reached up and pressed his fingers into the painted woman’s eyes.

A deep click sounded.

The stone wall slowly began to slide open, revealing another dark passageway.

Zhang Qiu shone his flashlight inside—the walls were covered in more murals, eerily vivid under the dim light.

And at the end of the passage, they saw it.

A golden coffin, positioned directly beneath a towering black pillar.

Bound to that pillar—bleeding, unmoving—was Pei Qing.

To his left, in his true form, was Qi Xi.

Fresh blood dripped from their bodies, pooling into intricate carvings in the floor, flowing toward the golden coffin.

A voice echoed from the shadows.

“Well, well… we meet again, Li Shu.”