Little Pink Starfish

These days, tons of magazines and websites love doing these popularity contests—it’s like everyone’s hopping on the same bandwagon just to stay trendy.

Yuan Yuanyuan had voted for her fair share of 2D crushes back in the day, though the last time she’d done it was years ago. She was still pretty familiar with the whole process.

It wasn’t until she logged into Mengman that she finally noticed the homepage banner she’d been ignoring for days—it was actually the announcement for the character popularity poll.

Yeah… a “contest,” basically. Not much else you could call it.

Yuan Yuanyuan scrolled down and saw the entries displayed like merchandise—row after row of characters laid bare in full view.

The results would be announced on the site, and readers could check them anytime.

Nervously, she typed in the name of Yaoguai Chronicle, and when she saw the list of “contestants”… lo and behold, she was actually on it.

Even better? Her character name was just three dry, awkward little words:

“Black-Clothed Man.”

The accompanying image was a screenshot from two issues ago—black clothes, red eye markings—probably the coolest shot she’d had.

But the name… compared to the others who had actual names, nicknames, even fan club tags, hers was way too sad and barebones.

Feeling a bit salty, Yuan Yuanyuan shut off her phone, got ready, and decided to go check on the bar.

Really, this whole thing was just another rich-people flex. According to the site, each vote cost a postcard—one per vote—which basically meant thirty yuan per vote. People like her or broke students weren’t about to spend that kind of money to climb the ranks.

Which explained why Xiao Ying had been going around asking everyone for postcards… Ever since that whole rib soup thing, her mom hadn’t given her pocket money in a long time.

Yuan Yuanyuan walked up to the bar and noticed there were more security guards than usual. She didn’t know where they’d come from, but they could definitely sniff out whether someone was human or demon.

She didn’t go in through the front, though—instead, she circled around to the back door and slipped in.

As she pushed the door open, she saw a guy inside wearing a white shirt. He looked about twenty-something, standing with his back to her and quietly washing glasses—right where Yuan Yuanyuan normally worked.

“Uh… hi, is Li Zi Jie around?” she asked, walking up.

The guy froze mid-wash.

…

The vibe shifted immediately—like the air had turned to jelly. Yuan Yuanyuan froze too, instinctively glancing around.

“She’s… up front,” the guy finally mumbled, so softly she could barely hear. He didn’t even move his lips much. Yuan Yuanyuan thought she saw him shiver.

Honestly, he was the one who startled her.

He seemed super introverted, never turning around, just standing there in a white shirt and faded jeans. Coincidentally, she was dressed exactly the same.

From experience, she guessed those jeans were at least ten years old. The shirt? Maybe five or six. A very sad little observation.

Even from a quick glance, she got a pretty good look at the guy. From a distance, she’d thought he had some vaguely soft-boy anime haircut, mid-length and wispy. But up close…

…She blinked.

His hair was a mess. Not like “artfully tousled” but more like someone had hacked at it randomly with scissors. Uneven tufts everywhere—it looked like some school bully had grabbed a pair of scissors and gone to town.

And honestly, it probably had been someone else. The cut had that “forced humiliation” vibe.

Yuan Yuanyuan quickly forced her gaze away.

She didn’t know why, but she suddenly felt weirdly guilty for staring. It was like she’d touched a sore spot.

Also… if it hadn’t been so quiet, she might not have even heard him speak.

“Um… you wash these glasses really well. Have you been helping me out these past few days?” she asked, looking at the neat rows of freshly cleaned glasses. The white ones were crystal clear, the black ones looked thick and heavy.

“Y-yes.” His voice was barely audible. He stopped washing altogether and just gripped the dish towel.

“When can I come back to work? Did Li Zi Jie say anything?” she asked again.

“S-she’s not here… she said I should cover for a few days. Not many people around right now… you can come back when the bar reopens…” His voice got smaller and smaller, and Yuan Yuanyuan’s face scrunched up as she struggled to hear.

Honestly, even the sound of water dripping from the glasses was louder than this guy’s voice.

“Oh, okay… I won’t bother you then.” She nodded quickly. As she turned to leave, she caught a glimpse of his ear—under the dim candlelight, it looked almost translucent and… red.

Like a blushing girl.

WTF.

Yuan Yuanyuan tiptoed out, gently closing the door and trying not to breathe too loudly.

Holy crap.

She stepped into the sunlight outside, exhaling a long breath.

She felt like she couldn’t even breathe in that room without disturbing the air.

Who was that guy? Li Zi Jie’s little brother? They didn’t seem alike at all. That guy was timid as a kitten, despite being so tall.

She looked back at the door and shook her head. The world really was full of surprises.

At least she hadn’t been fired. She could come back eventually. As for whether her pay would get docked… well, with someone like him inside, she didn’t even dare ask.

She wandered around, bought some green onions, a few tomatoes, and a pound of discounted eggs nearing expiration. Then she went home.

She hadn’t even finished cooking her tomato-egg stir-fry when someone knocked on the door again. She set down her chopsticks, opened the door—and a blur zipped past her arm and into the room.

“Smells so good! I wanna try some!”

Yuan Yuanyuan recognized Xiao Ying’s voice immediately. The girl was lightning-fast. Before she could even react, Xiao Ying had already snatched up an egg with her chopsticks and shoved it into her mouth.

“Wait! The eggs—!”

She stopped mid-sentence.

…Never mind. The girl had eaten her cooking plenty of times and hadn’t died yet.

Yuan Yuanyuan watched helplessly as Xiao Ying picked out every single egg from her dish, leaving only sad tomatoes behind.

Then, wiping her mouth, Xiao Ying swung her massive backpack onto the table, unzipped it—and dumped out a huge stack of postcards.

“…Holy crap.” Yuan Yuanyuan stared in disbelief as the pile landed on her little dining table. Xiao Ying wasn’t even done—she pulled out another stack.

Two thick bricks of postcards now sat on the table. Yuan Yuanyuan stared blankly.

“Xiao Ying… did you rob a bookstore or something?”

“Nope!” Xiao Ying said cheerfully, pulling out two black gel pens and handing one to Yuan Yuanyuan.

“I basically collected all the cards from everyone in our grade. A lot of people buy the magazine but don’t vote, so I asked if I could have their cards. I ended up with 127! Too many—I can’t finish them all myself. Can you help me write some?”

Yuan Yuanyuan took the pen, still stunned. She stared at the card Xiao Ying slid in front of her.

“Just write right here. The ID number is 20931, and the name is ‘Black-Clothed Man.’ For the reason, just put ‘he’s handsome’ or whatever.”

The card had a few different styles, all beautifully illustrated. The top showed the character you were voting for, the bottom was a space for the reason, marked optional.

“…Seriously? Just ‘he’s handsome’? That’s worse than leaving it blank,” Yuan Yuanyuan muttered. Not because she was shy about calling herself handsome, but because it just felt kinda mocking and half-assed.

“Hmm… okay, you decide then,” Xiao Ying said. “Thanks, Yuan Yuan-jie. I’ve still got a ton of homework to finish.”

Yuan Yuanyuan stared at the card for a moment, then quietly started writing. When she got to the “reason” field, her pen paused—then skipped it.

“Yuan Yuan-jie, your handwriting’s actually really nice.”

“Oh.”

“I thought it’d be like a dog learning to write.”

“…Excuse you? Your jie went to college, you little brat.”