Little Pink Starfish

At the end of the Song Dynasty, in Liangzhou City, there was a poor scholar named Bai Shengsheng. He was fair-skinned and delicate in appearance, with a gentle temperament and a kind heart. He greeted everyone with a smile and was very approachable.

Bai Shengsheng’s parents died early, and he was raised on meals donated by villagers. The village was poor, but because he had been clever since childhood, families from the east and west of the village pooled what little they had to support him through school, hoping he would one day become a government official and bring honor to the village. Bai Shengsheng did not let them down. At eleven, he passed the county-level imperial exam as a xiucai, causing a stir in all of Baishui Town. Everyone praised that Baiwanzi had produced a literary star who was bound for greatness.

At fourteen, Bai Shengsheng passed another exam and was ranked first in the entire county. Even the local magistrate visited Baiwanzi to personally commend him, saying he had an extraordinary presence for one so young and would certainly achieve great things. He gave him funds to support his journey to the capital three years later for the national palace exam.

Bai Shengsheng became a famous child prodigy. Still, in the village, people praised him with a thumbs-up. Anyone needing help writing a letter could rely on him. He always greeted others warmly, without the arrogance of a titled scholar.

At seventeen, Bai Shengsheng set out for the capital to take the palace exam. On the way, he passed through Bianzhou, but was caught in a cold spring rain. Wearing a faded navy robe, his hair tied back, his face like jade and eyes pure, he shivered with cold, clutching his book satchel as he hurried forward.

Not far ahead was a ruined temple. Wiping rain from his brow, he rushed toward it. Suddenly, he heard a low, miserable whimper. Pausing, squinting through the rain, he followed the sound beneath a willow tree.

It was a little black puppy, soaked and filthy, its fur matted and stuck together. Wounded to the bone, its eyes were closed, too weak to move. As Bai Shengsheng reached for it, the puppy lashed out, deeply scratching his arm. Blood flowed down in red streaks.

“You’ve got some claws, little black dog. I don’t know who hurt you like this.” Despite his bleeding wrist, Bai Shengsheng scooped the puppy into his arms. “If we don’t go now, we’ll both catch a deadly chill.”

That one swipe had exhausted all the puppy’s strength. Curled in Bai Shengsheng’s arms, it could no longer open its eyes, only letting out faint whimpers.

In the ruined temple, Bai Shengsheng gathered wood and built a fire. He dried his coat and warmed food. A poor scholar was no stranger to such tasks. He broke the dried food into small pieces and laid them in his palm, smiling, “Little Black, don’t sleep yet. Eat something first. Once we reach the county, I’ll get medicine for you. You’ll be fine.”

The puppy weakly nuzzled his knee, slowly lifting its head. Wet, dark eyes stared up at Bai Shengsheng.

He laughed and stroked its head, “You’ve got such pretty eyes. Come on, eat something.”

At the time, Bai Shengsheng didn’t recognize the wariness and murderous intent in those eyes. If he had tried to hurt it, the puppy would’ve torn him apart with its last breath. But instead, what it saw was a warm smile—like a crescent moon in the sky.

They weathered the storm in that broken temple. By afternoon, Bai Shengsheng carried Little Black into town. He bought medicine for cold and fever—one dose for himself, one for the dog. The dog refused, turning its head stubbornly. Bai Shengsheng chuckled and forcibly opened its mouth to pour it in.

Little Black whimpered miserably from the bitterness.

Bai Shengsheng set the bowl down and laughed, “Serves you right for scratching me—I put bitter herbs in this one!”

During the palace exam season that year, in a shabby inn, a scholar in a faded navy robe read aloud daily to a black puppy. The inn’s staff joked that the scholar had lost his mind from too much studying.

But no one knew it was Bai Shengsheng’s happiest time. No stress, no heavy burden of the village’s expectations. Just reading with Little Black barking nearby, watching the dog heal day by day. Even eating plain buns felt joyful.

No one in Bianzhou suspected that the future top scholar, barely seventeen years old, was holed up in this run-down inn, surviving on three buns and a dish of pickles a day. If there was meat, half went to the dog.

During the seven-day exam, Bai Shengsheng, worried about Little Black, entrusted him to the inn staff and gave them half his silver.

“He’s picky. Give him meat every few days or he’ll throw a tantrum.”

“Don’t let him eat salty stuff—he’ll lose fur.”

“He doesn’t like being held or leashed. Just bring the food and leave.”

…

The staff grew impatient. “Yeah, yeah, got it.” One even kicked at the dog, only to miss and hit a table leg, cursing, “Stupid mutt. Only an idiot would treasure you so much.”

Seven days later.

Bai Shengsheng rushed back from the exam to the inn’s back courtyard, calling, “Little Black, I’m back!”

Silence.

He grabbed the innkeeper. “Where’s the dog I left in your care?”

“That thing? A few days ago, I fed it and it just ran off. Listen, Scholar Bai, some beasts are ungrateful. Look, it bit me too—see this arm? You better pay for my medicine…”

“No way. Little Black wouldn’t run.”

The innkeeper shook off his arm and dodged his gaze. “Believe it or not, up to you. I’m done.”

Bai Shengsheng searched all day but found nothing. Then he overheard a conversation in the kitchen.

“That scholar’s gone nuts over a damn dog.”

“You’re worse—how could you sell it to Boss Huang? You know he abuses dogs.”

“Mutt like that was born to die. Better to make a few coins off it.”

Bai Shengsheng’s mind exploded. Without thinking, he lunged and beat the men. Usually calm, his sudden strength startled them.

“Which Huang?!”

“Why are you hitting me—?!” But seeing Bai Shengsheng’s fury, they flinched. “The boss of Fugui Embroidery Shop.”

That night, he charged to the shop, banging on the door. “Where’s my dog?!”

“What dog?” the servant sneered. “We’ve got no such mutt here.”

“Get lost or I’ll call the authorities!”

“My Little Black,” Bai Shengsheng’s face was calm, but his eyes locked on Huang the shop owner.

Huang chuckled. “You mean that vicious pup? Hahaha, you want it? Fine. 100 silver and it’s yours.”

“He’s mine to begin with.”

“Poor man, poor dog. It barely had any meat. Hahaha, but I’m kind—go fetch the mutt for him.”

The servant returned shortly, flinging a bundle at his feet. Bai Shengsheng opened the cloth.

A mangled mess—Little Black.

Its strong, graceful legs had been severed. Its beautiful black eyes gouged out, its fur scorched and matted with blood. Yet it still whimpered defiantly.

Hands trembling, Bai Shengsheng didn’t dare touch—everything must hurt.

“Little Black… Little Black…”

The dog recognized his voice and, blindly, nuzzled his hand.

Drip, drip.

Tears fell onto Little Black’s head. Bai Shengsheng, eyes red, held the broken dog close. Blood soaked through his sleeves. That night, Little Black passed away.

He stared at the broken body all night. The next morning, it rained again. He left town and buried the dog under the same willow tree by the ruined temple.

If I hadn’t saved you back then… would you have died like this?

You were strong. You would’ve lived.

From then on, the warm, smiling Bai Shengsheng rarely smiled. He moved out of the inn. When exam results came out, he was ranked first. The innkeeper who’d mistreated him trembled in fear of revenge, but days passed and nothing happened.

It was just a dog. Who would really avenge a dog?

The day of the court exam, the emperor admired his talent but found him too young—he still awarded him the rank of tanhua (third place). Bai Shengsheng was the talk of the town.

But lacking connections, he wasn’t assigned a high post in Bianzhou and was instead made magistrate of a city in Liangzhou.

Before he left, Fugui Embroidery mysteriously burned down. The fire raged out of control, and Boss Huang barely escaped. His wealth gone, he lived in misery, hiding from debt.

Later, they discovered the arsonist was the inn servant, who drunkenly dropped a lantern near broken bottles, starting the blaze. He was crushed by a falling wall and lost a leg.

None of this concerned Bai Shengsheng. On the road out of Bianzhou, he stopped again at the willow tree, standing long in the wind in his faded navy robe.

Back in Liangzhou, he governed diligently, loved by the people. But the villagers found he no longer smiled—his face always serious.

That’s normal, they said. He’s an official now. He has to have dignity.

Five years later.

At 22, Bai Shengsheng was promoted back to Bianzhou. Again it was a chilly spring.

“Stop the carriage,” he said, lifting the curtain. He looked at the withered willow and ruined temple.

The lean young man stood there for a long time. A servant nearby whispered, “What’s he looking at? Just an old tree…”

“You don’t understand the lord’s thoughts.”

“But it’s gonna rain—”

Suddenly, the skies poured. The driver cursed. The servant rushed with an umbrella—only to see their lord smiling at the tree. He had never smiled like that before.

“My lord, please come inside—the rain is heavy.”

Bai Shengsheng turned, face returning to calm, and nodded. But then came a flurry of hooves. “Bandits! Run, my lord!”

The road was blocked. Only the tree and temple offered shelter.

“Stupid scholar. Blame your poverty for crossing the wrong rich man.”

The blade pierced his chest. As the bandit spoke, Bai Shengsheng’s eyes filled with bitter irony.

I couldn’t protect Little Black. Now, I can’t even protect myself.

He died just after his 23rd birthday.

In the underworld, a pale little ghost with rosy cheeks awaited him.

Bai Shengsheng knew—it was a guide spirit. The ghost didn’t speak, leading him silently across the Bridge of No Return.

Ahead stood a majestic palace.

Atop a throne sat a beautiful young boy, lounging with a bunch of grapes.

“Bai Shengsheng, want some? They’re sweet.”

Bai Shengsheng wondered how he knew his name.

Then the boy muttered, “Not bad-looking… but so serious. Just like my nephew’s old face…”

He bounced down and stuffed grapes into Bai Shengsheng’s hand. “Don’t be scared. Try it—they’re really sweet.”

I’m not scared, Bai Shengsheng thought.

“Don’t worry. Until he comes back, I’ll look after you. I am his uncle, after all.” The boy patted his chest proudly.

Bai Shengsheng was confused. “I died.”

“Yup!”

“So now…”

The boy clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m the boss here. The King of the Underworld, as you humans call me. This is my turf. From now on, you work for me. I’ll give you great benefits—way better than serving that washed-up emperor.”

Bai Shengsheng thought—he was alone, no ties, who knew what the next life held. Staying here might be better.

“I have one condition.”

The boy raised an eyebrow. Nephew sure knows how to pick the complicated ones.

“Alright, say it.”

Bai Shengsheng looked serious. “I want fairness and transparency in employment.”

“What did I just agree to…? Fine!” the King of the Underworld replied, feeling a bit guilty—after all, his position had been a backdoor deal. But whatever. Get Bai Shengsheng onboard first.

“I admire your abilities. Starting now, you’ll be in charge of admin, logistics, and HR.”

The sorrow in Bai Shengsheng’s heart eased a bit. Someone valued his talents.

Very well. I’ll work hard.