Little Pink Starfish

Spring Festival.

On the way from home to the tavern, Yuan Yuanyuan didn’t see a single soul. She had thought maybe, just maybe, she’d run into someone else wandering around the streets on New Year’s—but not even a dog crossed her path.

Then again, she thought, that made sense. She’d never actually strolled through the streets during New Year’s herself before, so she didn’t realize they’d be this deserted.

When Yuan Yuanyuan got near her little courtyard, she used the Chessboard Technique to check for lurking monsters. She didn’t hear any heartbeats nearby, but there was a lot of noise coming from the next street over.

She turned her gaze in that direction and saw a sudden burst of light. But the light wasn’t red—it was a shimmering mix of gold and purple, giving off a sense of opulence and grandeur.

The buildings in front of her blocked most of the light, but it still shone through faintly, casting hazy outlines against the street.

Yuan Yuanyuan squinted in that direction. That was where the plaza was. She’d seen pictures of it on her phone, but now that she was here in person… the scale of it was unbelievable.

Red, gold, and purple lights swirled together in a blaze of brilliance, illuminating the entire sky above. For some reason, it reminded her of the old Journey to the West series—whenever Buddha showed up, there was always that blinding golden glow…

She shook her head. Monsters didn’t follow Buddhism. She lowered her gaze, pulled out her key, and pushed open the door.

And froze.

There was someone in her yard—sitting drowsily under the illusionary tree.

Her eyes went wide. When did Liu An sneak under the tree? But then she realized—of course. Why hadn’t she sensed anyone inside earlier?

She thought it over and stepped closer. That’s when the faint heartbeat echoed in her ears.

She sniffed the air, catching something off. Something… familiar.

Someone had used illusion magic. And not just any magic—her own. It was the technique she had taught.

She figured it out in seconds. She walked over and patted Liu An on the shoulder. “Don’t sleep out here. You’ll catch a cold.”

Liu An sniffled and blinked groggily awake. Yuan Yuanyuan quickly deduced what he had done—he’d used illusion magic to hide his heartbeat and breathing. Pretty clever. If she hadn’t known the technique’s logic, she wouldn’t have picked up on it either.

Liu An blinked up at her, startled. “Boss!”

“What are you doing here?” Yuan Yuanyuan asked.

“Well… the friend I live with went out today, and I got kind of bored, so I packed my bag and came back.” Liu An rubbed his nose.

Right… his roommate was a monster, and probably off partying tonight. Of course he couldn’t bring Liu An along.

“Why didn’t you go with him?” she asked, unlocking the small building’s door.

“I don’t really like going out for the holidays,” Liu An replied.

“Pfft, what a weird habit. You’re basically acting like a human.” Yuan Yuanyuan couldn’t help but laugh. After seeing so many monsters going wild during New Year’s, meeting one who didn’t want to go out was kind of endearing.

Liu An scratched his head, a little embarrassed, and followed her inside.

Ever since that break-in, the house hadn’t really been cleaned. It looked barren. The damaged furniture had been thrown out. Newspaper was taped over the broken windows. Everything felt bleak.

Yuan Yuanyuan entered and pulled over the only surviving chair, sat down, and asked, “Have you eaten?”

“Yeah, I have,” Liu An said.

She was rummaging through a box for something to sit on when she found a big blanket. It was originally material for making clothes—the details of its origin didn’t bear mentioning. Hearing his reply, though, she couldn’t help but be suspicious.

Let’s be real—he’d been huddled under a tree in the cold, arms wrapped around himself, looking utterly miserable. Didn’t look like someone who’d just eaten.

“You sure? Want me to whip something up?” she offered.

“Well, I didn’t really eat much. Could you maybe make an extra serving?” he said.

Liu An got up and went to the kitchen. Yuan Yuanyuan watched his back as he disappeared. She’d told him not to come back after the break-in—too dangerous. Yet here he was. God knows how many times he’d snuck back without telling her.

She sat quietly, watching the soft orange glow flicker from the kitchen.

Then suddenly she remembered something and bolted upstairs.

The room was silent. Not a sound came from the main hall.

About an hour later, Liu An was walking out with a bowl when he heard a loud clatter from upstairs.

He looked up—Yuan Yuanyuan was dragging down a giant box.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Bringing this down to deal with it,” she replied, heaving it step by step.

“Boss, let me help.” He started to set his bowl down, but she waved him off.

The box was the same one she’d received as a gift. She’d spent the last hour sorting through its contents, taking careful notes and photographing everything.

She was planning to stash it somewhere safe. It had been up there all this time. She hadn’t moved it since the last time, but the thought that it might get destroyed in the next incident made her nervous. She was going to bury it in the courtyard.

It contained quite a lot. And though she was tempted—very tempted—she didn’t dare use anything inside. Especially not with everything involving Yi Qi still a mess.

Still, she was jealous. She’d even dreamed about the box recently.

She didn’t usually dream about wealth, but lately… well, she’d wake up sitting bolt upright, face in hands, wondering if she was really that starved for money.

She stepped outside, and by the time she returned, Liu An was already seated at the table. He’d set out dishes, soy sauce, and vinegar.

“This is…” she looked over. “Dumplings?”

“Yeah. Boss, do you want vinegar?” Liu An asked.

“…Sure. You’re pretty fast. That’s a whole tray in just an hour? What’s in them?”

“Potato and green onion.”

Yuan Yuanyuan jolted.

“Uh, there wasn’t anything else. Just four sprouted potatoes, a bundle of scallions, and some flour,” Liu An said sheepishly.

“You couldn’t just make noodles?!” she groaned. “Where are you even getting this nonsense from? It’s New Year’s—you eat dumplings, chive and egg dumplings. What kind of monster eats potato-scallion dumplings?! Stop reading all that junk. If you’re curious, ask me. The monsters outside don’t even know half the stuff I do!”

They sat down and ate. Honestly, she didn’t mind. She’d eat any dumpling filling.

While they ate, Liu An asked about human New Year traditions. Yuan Yuanyuan rattled off a few, though many of them were outdated. Where she came from, people mostly just scrolled on their phones with the Spring Festival Gala as background noise.

But she didn’t want a monster thinking humans were all slackers, so she stuck to the more “poetic” stuff—fireworks at midnight, kids collecting red envelopes, adults playing mahjong together…

Liu An listened quietly. When she finished, he said, “Didn’t expect you to know so much about the human world, Boss.”

Yuan Yuanyuan felt a little guilty. She realized she might’ve said too much. She didn’t expect a monster to be so curious.

She brushed it off with a line about having lived among humans for a while.

Liu An asked, “So… do older monsters live really colorful lives? Since they live longer than humans, they must’ve seen so much. Visiting the human world on the sly, experiencing everything…”

Yuan Yuanyuan was sipping her dumpling soup. She paused and replied, “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?”

“To be precise… most monsters don’t know humans that well. At best, they’re familiar with a few Taoists,” she said. “Most monsters… honestly couldn’t care less about humans.”

“Then what about you, Boss?”

“Don’t use me as an example. I’m not normal.” She waved her hand, a bit embarrassed.

Just then—BOOM!

A massive firework exploded outside. Both of them turned toward the window.

A colossal flower-shaped monster lit up the sky. It was so big, Yuan Yuanyuan had to walk to the window to see it properly. She’d never seen fireworks this massive. Who had the nerve to light this in the middle of the city?

Normally she’d have scolded them for being reckless, but she was too stunned by the sheer scale. The blue-purple burst was mesmerizing.

“What is that?” she asked.

“It’s from the Zhuo family,” Liu An said.

“…Wait, what?”

“The Zhuo family’s firework. It means their Hundred Ghost Parade is starting. Want to go take a look?”

“…” Yuan Yuanyuan was about to ask who the hell the Zhuo family even was—and how he, someone who’d only been here a few months, knew more than she did after almost a year—but before she could say a word, something floated into the sky.

A giant, floating flower carriage.

The moon was behind it, a faint silver ring of light peeking out. The carriage was pulled by four centaur-like monsters—white horse bodies, human upper halves, dressed in lavender robes, jeweled ornaments glittering in the moonlight.

The carriage itself was wooden, with carved windows, silk curtains, and jade tassels hanging from its corners.

It drifted from one end of the sky to the other, scattering a rain of purple petals as it went. They fluttered down, covering the ground—and even fell into the courtyard, dewdrops glistening on their surfaces.

Yuan Yuanyuan stared in awe as the dreamy vehicle passed overhead. It looked like something from a myth—like a celestial chariot. Against the neon lights of the city below, it created a surreal, magical contrast.

As the carriage passed, she caught a glimpse of someone inside.

A poised young man, upright and elegant, hair tied with a ceremonial crown. He passed in an instant, leaving only a silhouette in her memory.

Then came waves of red and black light, rising like smoke from all directions, swirling after the carriage—and vanishing into the horizon.

Just like that, the night turned mythical.