Li Zi Jie had brought back a pile of snacks. When Yuan Yuanyuan leaned over to take a look, she was completely stumped—she had no idea what any of it was.
Most of them were flower-shaped pastries. Each looked so exquisite and delicious, like the kinds you’d read about in ancient novels. Yuan Yuanyuan had read the food-related parts of Dream of the Red Chamber ten times over, so she could appreciate the aesthetic.
Oh, that one—with translucent skin, shaped like a lotus petal—looked especially mouth-watering.
Just as she was admiring the snacks, Li Zi Jie stuffed one into her mouth. Yuan Yuanyuan nearly teared up from the taste. In that moment, she deeply realized how cruel the world could be to a broke person—like how they just… can’t afford good food.
“Where’d you get this?” Yuan Yuanyuan asked, already calculating if she could save up enough to splurge once a month.
“I didn’t buy it. It’s from home. I went back recently,” Li Zi Jie said. “Si Qun’s birthday is coming up. He loved this stuff as a kid, so I brought some back.”
Yuan Yuanyuan’s chewing slowed a little. Over in the wine vat, the smell lured Si Qun out. As soon as the box was opened, the whole place filled with a floral scent. Si Qun tottered out, carefully took the box, and retreated to a corner to start eating.
“Your birthday’s coming up?” Yuan Yuanyuan plopped next to him and grabbed another piece. “I didn’t know when it was.”
“Next… next week,” Si Qun mumbled.
She looked at his fuzzy little head and asked, “How do you usually celebrate? Wait, you do celebrate?”
“I eat… noodles,” he replied quietly.
“Longevity noodles?”
“And… and eggs.”
The two of them ended up finishing the entire box by nightfall.
As morning approached, Yuan Yuanyuan turned to Si Qun and said, “These days, humans have a different way of celebrating birthdays. When yours comes, I’ll bring you something new.”
Si Qun looked at her, and for some reason his eyes sparkled like stars. They practically shone.
“You like sweets?” she asked, a little creeped out by his expression. She thought of the new cake shop downstairs. This month they were having a sale, and she’d just gotten paid… maybe she could afford a cheap fruit cake.
Si Qun nodded like a pecking chicken.
Yuan Yuanyuan instinctively reached out to steady his bobbing head and bolted out of the room.
…She couldn’t shake the feeling that ever since she mentioned a “gift,” he’d become way too excited.
The next day, Yuan Yuanyuan joined Xiao Ying and the others for a photoshoot. Li Xin hadn’t spoken to Yuan since the “identity reveal” incident. Yuan had assumed she’d scared her off, but Li Xin seemed surprisingly chill about it when they met again.
The group headed to a nearby park, a common spot for the elderly to exercise or walk their dogs. It had a lake with a small pavilion and a long corridor—great for taking photos.
While Yuan was helping Li Xin into a costume she’d borrowed from her tavern, Xiao Ying marveled at it, touching the fabric repeatedly. “Was this really worn by a demon?”
“Yup. I washed it, don’t worry,” Yuan said, slipping it over Li Xin’s shoulders.
But when they got to the pavilion, they were stunned.
It was already occupied—by a group of elderly folks performing Peking opera. The grandpas wore fake beards, and the grandmas had their eyebrows drawn and hair pinned up. Strangely enough… they actually looked pretty good.
The trio stood outside, awkwardly shivering in the cold wind.
“They beat the ones who blast Qin opera from their speakers,” Yuan muttered. “Didn’t think Peking opera could win over Qin opera…”
“Let’s just wait,” Li Xin said. “Should be done in an hour.”
So the three of them sat outside, watching.
Yuan found herself drawn in. She couldn’t understand the lyrics—many words weren’t used in daily life—but something about it was captivating. She began piecing together her own story from the performance: perhaps a girl betrayed by a heartless man, crying bitterly as he rose to power and abandoned her.
While she was lost in thought, Li Xin leaned over and whispered, “Yuanyuan-jie, you should be careful these days.”
“Huh?” Yuan asked, startled.
“I said, be careful,” Li Xin repeated. “I think something big’s about to happen…”
Yuan noticed Li Xin glaring at Xiao Ying, who clearly had been the one to pull her back from saying too much.
“Ahem,” Yuan cleared her throat. “Why do you say that?”
“You know Demon Chronicle is based on real stuff, right?” Li Xin said. “That makes it different from other made-up stories. I’ve been reading Volume 2, and I feel like the author’s planning something huge. If I were you, I’d start thinking about whose side to be on.”
“What makes you say that?” Yuan asked, intrigued.
“This Ji Qiu guy… doesn’t seem like he’s drawing just for fun. I get the sense he’s settling old scores. Especially with Volume 2—there’s something personal in it. Like he’s embedding hidden messages.”
Yuan thought, I’ve been thinking the exact same thing…
If she didn’t already know that there really was a demon named Ji Qiu during the war, she’d assume the guy was some veteran airing old grievances. He clearly knew too much.
As a nobody ant in the eye of the storm, Yuan knew thinking too much was useless. Not because she was giving up, but because it wouldn’t help. She hadn’t even seen Ji Qiu’s face. But he knew everything about her—her daily life, her thoughts. There was no way she could outplay someone like that.
Still, she was curious what others thought—especially those with no skin in the game but big imaginations.
“So who should I side with?” she asked, leaning back.
“Obviously Fan Ning,” Li Xin said. “But don’t rush it. You’ve already appeared once in the comic. Some readers still remember you. If you show up again, act fast.”
“You mean—if I show up again, I should run straight into Fan Ning’s arms?” Yuan nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense.”
Li Xin’s logic was exactly like hers—hardcore comic fan pragmatism.
“Then… what about Yuan?” Xiao Ying suddenly asked.
Yuan saw Li Xin pinch her under the table, but she awkwardly cleared her throat anyway.
Li Xin hesitated, then finally said, “Yuan… I used to think he was okay, but after recent chapters, I’m not sure anymore.”
Yuan waited for her to continue.
Li Xin thought for a moment, then pointed to the opera actors across the way. “He gives off this vibe—like he’s detached from everything.”
“If he likes a demon, he’ll save them. If he doesn’t, he won’t. But sometimes he doesn’t help the ones he likes either. Or he does help the ones he dislikes. It’s all… kinda unhinged.”
“A bit crazy,” Yuan whispered.
“Exactly. He’s a pretty unstable demon. But I’ve met him once or twice… I can’t say he’s bad. Remember when he used to disguise himself as an opera singer to spy? Opera folk—they live two lives. On stage, off stage—totally different. Especially someone who was a spy. If he got too emotionally involved in real life, it wouldn’t work.”
Back in the pavilion, the performance ended. The “tragic heroine” and “scumbag lover” took off their costumes and walked out hand in hand—just an elderly couple putting on a show together.
“A top-level spy and a theater guy? He must have terrifying mental fortitude,” Li Xin said. “Though honestly, I do think he’s good to the ladies. Might be a bit of a sis-con. Yuanyuan-jie, with your mix of cold elegance and clueless charm, you might actually be his type.”
Yuan stared at the couple walking off, suddenly lost in thought.
“You make it sound like there’s no sincere actor left in the world,” she said. “Give the species a little credit.”
“Actors are fake by definition,” Li Xin said. “I don’t believe someone can be sincere and survive as an actor. It’s like saying Xiao Ying and I can party all day and still be top students—it just doesn’t compute. Look at Dieyi from Farewell My Concubine. If he were as clever as Yuan, he wouldn’t have suffered so much.”
Yuan stared at the pavilion.
*But he *did* suffer,* she thought.
She followed Li Xin and Xiao Ying toward the stage, a suffocating feeling rising in her chest.
Really, weren’t all the characters in the comic—human or demon—just acting? Carrying unspoken words in silence?
Yuan Yuanyuan admitted it: she was a hypocrite.
For example, “Yuan = her”—that was something she could never say aloud.
She could reveal any secret but that one. That truth had to rot in her bones, taken with her to the grave.
The next Friday, a rainy morning.
Yuan Yuanyuan woke up remembering that it was Si Qun’s birthday. She ordered a fruit cake downstairs and planned to bring it to work.
The sky over C City was dark and stormy. Thunder rumbled until the horizon turned red.
She tried to sleep through it, pillow over her ears, dead tired after another all-nighter of studying demon incantations.
“What’s with all the noise?” Li Zi Jie poked her head out, annoyed. Just as she said that, there was a flurry of footsteps—tap tap tap—and she turned around to find Si Qun staring at her with shining eyes.
“What are you doing?” she yelped.
“I… I want to go see what’s happening outside,” Si Qun said brightly.
“…Go ahead,” she stammered.
Watching him bounce out of the room, Li Zi Jie thought: What’s gotten into him? He’s so hyped today.
Si Qun had heard Yuan say there would be a birthday surprise, and he’d waited all week. This morning, he’d gotten up early, put on new clothes, and waited in the kitchen with a little stool.
In the main hall, he saw dozens of gorgeous ladies dressed to the nines. It looked like a grand event.
They stood perfectly still in silence. Soon, more and more demon women arrived—every bartender, incense girl, and waitress in the tavern was here.
Si Qun stared, silent.
Then his eyes lit up.
A birthday gathering?
This must be my surprise!
Suddenly, someone shouted, “Get down! Don’t move!”
Screams rang out. Everyone dropped to their knees.
The room turned eerie in an instant.
Upstairs, Yuan Yuanyuan groggily checked her communicator—and froze.
Over a hundred messages.
“Lord Yuan! A rogue demon has broken into C City! Their leader is a white snake demon! They’re rampaging through the city—we need your help!”
At the front of the horde… was a massive white snake.
He surveyed the kneeling crowd and yelled, “Anyone else? Call them out!”
In the shadows, Si Qun watched silently. His face was shaded by his bangs, unreadable.
Then, suddenly… his eyes sparkled.
A very, very long… noodle?!
Is THIS the birthday present?!
“…Who’s that creepy-looking demon?” the white snake’s lackey asked.
“Bring him over,” the snake barked.
Si Qun was dragged forward, face glowing.
Front row seats!
This must be the birthday gift!
And then… the white snake swallowed him in one gulp.
Si Qun, mid-air, sparkles still in his eyes:
This must be the birthday gift!
“WHAT the hell is going on?!” Yuan Yuanyuan clung to the rooftop, clutching her discount fruit cake, staring in horror.
Then she saw the white snake swallow Si Qun.
And she turned to stone—frozen solid on the rooftop, cake and all.
Little Pink Starfish 
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