Little Pink Starfish

When it came to the whole “Why the hell am I on a wanted poster” situation, Yuan Yuanyuan took about three minutes to fully understand what had happened.

She figured it out purely by recognizing the blurry photo on the wanted poster.

That photo… it was clearly a still from a video.

Yuan Yuanyuan found it kind of unbelievable—how did a video uploaded to a student website end up in the hands of the demon world? That was the real mystery.

Wasn’t that site supposed to be fairly reliable? Guess not!

Shaking her head, Yuan Yuanyuan silently turned back into the house. As she passed the tree in the courtyard, she called out to her new assistant and Qiu Ling, “You two, get back inside! Don’t just sit out here.”

Even though she had already explained that the tree in the courtyard was just an illusion—and that staying out too long could result in frostbite—Liu An still liked to loiter out there for ages, then return shivering to warm up by the fire. She had no idea what he was thinking.

Liu An looked at his boss. The boss was handsome. Surprisingly so. Even though she always wore that ridiculous thick black down jacket outside, Liu An had seen her indoors once with the hood down.

She looked young, strikingly pretty—the kind of person who would shine in a crowd. Honestly, the first time he saw her, Liu An even thought she might be a charm-type demon, since demons skilled in seduction usually looked amazing.

But considering how messy and unkempt she always was, Liu An eventually dismissed the idea. Especially now, when she was practically living in that huge down coat and face mask—you couldn’t even see her properly most of the time.

Still, if this boss really was the “terrifying, bloodthirsty” demon everyone said she was, Liu An had to wonder—why did she give off that vibe? That said, when he saw her take off the mask for the first time… yeah, he was kind of shocked.

Because… she looked a lot like someone he used to know.

He had no idea where that person was now, but seeing the boss gave him this strange sense of familiarity. Not just because of her face—but because of the slacker energy she radiated.

Like right now…

She was sprawled across the table, groaning, “I’m screwed, I’m screwed, I’m soooo screwed…”

Liu An walked over with a dry shirt, laid it out flat on the table, and continued silently with his work. Yuan Yuanyuan turned her head slightly to look at him—still slouched and miserable.

Liu An, with his signature blank face, just kept smoothing out the fabric.

Yuan Yuanyuan had been observing him over the past few days. She didn’t know what kind of past he’d had, but he always wore that same stoic expression. His clean, soft features made him look like a delicate baby-faced boy—not flashy, but very clean-cut.

Honestly, compared to the usual pretty-boy types, this kind of understated good looks were pretty rare. But he just kept acting so stiff and serious… the contrast between his face and his attitude made him feel like a child pretending to be an adult.

But then… when he told her his age, Yuan Yuanyuan found out he was actually two years older than her.

That made her question reality.

This face is seriously misleading.

And honestly, if he weren’t constantly wrapped in that military coat—an old one she’d dug up from her dad’s stuff—he might’ve even looked a little… charming.

Yuan Yuanyuan leaned her arm on the table, silently watching her baby-faced assistant.

In the back of her mind, she was still turning over the conversation she’d had with the white-robed woman.

Other than telling her about the wanted poster, that woman had also thanked her sincerely—for her contribution to City C in recent events.

Yuan Yuanyuan figured this probably referred to her run-in with the big white snake. But she still didn’t really know who that snake was. The man in black hadn’t shown up recently, so she hadn’t gotten any updates.

She hesitated, then tried asking the white-robed woman directly: Who was that white snake, anyway?

She vaguely remembered a note in her notebook mentioning an ancient snake-type demon.

But she was pretty sure the snake she fought wasn’t that ancient demon… it had been too weak. So weak, in fact, it didn’t even seem plausible. Definitely not the power level of an ancient beast.

The white-robed woman cleared things up—the snake that day wasn’t the ancient one, but it was connected to it.

Yuan Yuanyuan processed this and summed it up mentally: That snake… was just a lackey. A goon.

Welp. Story over.

She didn’t ask more. Judging by the timeline, both her incident and the snake’s appearance happened after “One-Seven’s” death, so it all made sense.

That night, back home, she flipped through her notebook and decided to study a new demon technique.

After mastering Leaf Veil Illusion, she realized most illusion spells weren’t that hard—it was just a matter of time and effort. Once she finished every spell and movement technique in the book, she could start looking into more advanced stuff.

She spent the whole night reading… and stumbled upon a particularly strange demon incantation.

It was crammed deep in the book, like it was trying to hide.

Yuan Yuanyuan stared at it for ages, eventually thinking: Seriously, what the hell—do you want people to read this or not? This layout is a disaster.

Still, despite mentally roasting the author, she carefully copied the incantation down and prepared to study it.

And so began another endless study session…

…

That Saturday, a new chapter of Demon Chronicles (Yao Ji) was released—and it caught Yuan Yuanyuan completely off guard.

After reading it, she seriously began to wonder if her eyes were playing tricks on her.

And she wasn’t the only one. Everyone who read that chapter was left slack-jawed. It was, without question, explosive.

Half the DreamComics community was in chaos. People were losing their minds over it.

Why?

Because this chapter of Demon Chronicles finally revealed why Faning was expelled from the Sanqing Sect.

“What the hell—this is insane,” Yuan Yuanyuan muttered, staring at her phone in shock.

She was alone in the room with Liu An, who was half-dozing by the fireplace. She stared at the comic, dumbfounded.

This chapter went like this—

Inside a small room, someone sat across from Faning. Between them was a table filled with good food and drink.

“How many monsters have you killed recently?” the man asked, lifting his cup.

“…Ten.” Faning replied.

“I didn’t… I didn’t teach you that,” the man said softly.

Faning said nothing.

“When you first came here, no one respected you. You wore a ragged coat, said your family was poor. Nobody wanted to teach you. But I did,” the man continued.

“I know.” Faning answered quietly.

“Back then, no one saw your potential. I told you not to give up. You had no presence—no one even noticed you. But then… you slowly showed your talent. People started recognizing you. You became someone.”

“If I’d known you’d end up like this… I never would’ve taken you on,” the man said finally.

Faning kept his head down, still silent.

“Are you really going to stick to this path? If you turn back now, I’ll take you back. But if not… once this meal is over, I’ll never see you again.”

Faning looked at him. The man had already picked up his chopsticks and started eating.

Faning took a deep breath after every bite, but the man never once looked up. Finally, when he set down his chopsticks, Faning burst into tears.

He’d never cried before. But this time, he felt true despair.

“You’ve never had alcohol, have you?” the man asked. His tone was cold, like he didn’t even notice Faning crying.

Faning, still with his head down, shook his head.

“You know how I am. Let’s drink this and part ways. Never come looking for me again.”

Yuan Yuanyuan put her phone down, not sure what to feel.

The one scolding Faning was his first mentor—a major figure in his life.

Early on, Faning was a pretty pitiful kid. None of the elders in the sect liked him. That mentor was the only one who saw his worth and encouraged him.

But clearly, the mentor had limits. The comic described him as a cripple—spiritually weak and physically lame—basically someone with no presence in the sect. So he couldn’t give Faning much help.

Faning’s later success in the sect was all his own doing. His talent for fortune-telling and swordsmanship were so outstanding, it was hard to find anyone in his generation who could rival him.

Yuan Yuanyuan had thought Faning would remain a low-key badass and eventually rise to the top—classic underdog story. But now?

This was no shounen power fantasy anymore—this was a full-blown tragedy. Ever since volume two, the artist had gone completely off the rails. At this rate, was Faning about to become some horrifying, body-horror villain like that one “angel” character?

Yuan Yuanyuan “tsk-tsked” at the comic, glanced over at the sleeping Liu An, and reached out to pat him. “Don’t sleep here—go upstairs.”

But the second she touched him, she heard a loud sniff.

In the dark, quiet room, it echoed way too clearly.

Startled, she looked at Liu An’s face. After a moment, she asked softly, “Wait… are you crying? I didn’t even say anything mean.”

Liu An wiped his face, shook his head, and bolted upstairs without a word.

It was too dark to see his expression clearly.

Yuan Yuanyuan stared after him, thinking… Poor guy. Probably just couldn’t hold it in anymore. Honestly, she’d done her fair share of crying in bed in the past too.

There was a saying in her hometown: “Cry before bed and you’ll wake up stupid.”

Her mom used to tell her that when she was little.

She never knew if it was true or just her mom scaring her. But every morning after a late-night cry, she’d ask herself: “What’s one plus one?”

And every time she seriously answered “Two”, she’d feel relieved—Phew, still smart.

She’d kept that habit from age seven to seventeen—and figured it’d probably stick around until she was twenty-seven.

By now, she knew it was nonsense. But as a kid, she’d believed it with all her heart.

Her mom had told her so many lies, but for some reason, that one stuck the longest. She believed it the most sincerely.

Looking back, maybe her mom just wanted to keep her from crying herself to sleep. And she’d come up with this clever little trick… though the execution was a little off.

Eventually, asking herself “1+1=?” became a kind of ritual. But she always made sure to calm down for an hour before sleeping.

As for Liu An… who knew what had happened to him?

As the old saying goes—big monsters are all the same kind of messy, but little monsters each suffer in their own way.

Yuan Yuanyuan looked upstairs and called out, “Hey! Don’t fall asleep yet! You’ll turn stupid if you cry before bed!”

After a pause, she added impulsively, “Remember to ask yourself what one plus one is tomorrow morning!”

As soon as she said it, she cringed. Why the hell did I just say that out loud…

She crouched down, clutching her head in embarrassment.

In private, asking herself that question had always felt normal. But saying it out loud, in front of someone else… made her feel so dumb.

God… why did I just… say that out loud…

Upstairs, Liu An heard her muttering something weird. He looked out the window at the glowing green tree in the courtyard.

Tonight was the first time he couldn’t bring himself to read Demon Chronicles. He tried pretending to sleep—but the more he pretended, the more he wanted to cry.

He wondered what the comic would show next… Would it show those words? The ones she said to him?

Because Liu An… knew a secret. A huge one.

A secret that only he knew.

The person who was “disappointed in Faning”… wasn’t his master.

It was his sister.

A low-level disciple at the Sanqing Temple. Spiritually weak. Couldn’t even read.

Liu An looked at the tree, sniffled quietly.

In the green light, his baby face somehow looked sharp and cold. Maybe because he was always frowning—even that soft face had started to look hard.

He stared outside, zoning out. After five minutes, he forced himself to think of something else. To escape the mood.

Liu An didn’t like crying.

He vaguely remembered what the slacker boss said downstairs…

Don’t sleep after crying?

Liu An lay in bed and silently began reciting a Daoist chant he’d read that morning.

Seventeen lines. He remembered them all, even after a full day of work.

Downstairs, Yuan Yuanyuan finally stood up, face burning. God, that was embarrassing.

Guess I’m not sleeping tonight either. Time to read.

She pulled out her notebook and went back to studying the mysterious demon spell she’d found earlier.

Outside, the green tree glowed softly in the night—like something out of a dream.