Little Pink Starfish

The girl in front of her had her head lowered—
Yuan Yuanyuan thought she might be crying.

It was the first time Yuan had met someone who cried faster than she did, and for some reason… that made her feel a little sheepish.
Compared to that, her own inexplicable tears earlier didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore. Even that weird dream she’d had lost its sense of weight.

Standing in the hallway, she looked at the girl across from her and suddenly felt that the whole situation was… surreal.

Not just the part about waking up early and seeing a crying pretty girl standing at her door, but how everything had stacked together, one strange thing after another, with zero pause between them—yet all fitting together so perfectly.

It felt like a tightly written script.

Fake. Unreal. A collision of truths and lies, so interwoven it was hard to tell what was what.

Like a play—half real, half illusion.

Yuan glanced at the shifting light around her. The sound of the girl’s crying seemed to grow more distant, and the hallway’s soft light condensed into long, ink-like black strokes… like brush marks on paper.

The corridor was still dim, but morning light had begun to creep in through the windows, casting its glow onto Yuan’s face.

She squinted, looked at the girl again, hesitated, and thought about walking over. But just as she took a few steps, a commotion came from the hallway. Someone was coming this way.

The girl’s expression still looked miserable. Yuan thought she resembled a student who’d flunked her exam… or that sad little wrinkly dog at the vegetable stand downstairs.

And wrinkly dogs—well, no matter the angle, they always looked like pitiful little creatures.

Yuan heard the footsteps approaching, wiped her own face, and pointed behind the girl. “Someone’s coming. Stop crying.”

…

Truthfully, the girl didn’t know why she was crying either.

She’d run all the way here through the corridor, her mind hazy and unclear, yet her body kept moving.

Last night, she had been the most eager of her group. Her two roommates had only come along because she dragged them, though they weren’t completely disinterested. As they searched, they’d asked things like:

“What if we really find it… then what?”

“We can’t know unless we try,” the timid one had said between yawns. “If we do find it… maybe we can just watch quietly from a corner.”

“Why only watch?” she’d replied, turning to the timid girl. “Maybe we can help him… so he won’t have to cry.”

“How?” the girl had asked. “That’s… really hard. How would you even talk to him?”

“I’ve spoken to him once,” she’d said quickly. “Maybe… maybe he remembers me.”

And now, sprinting through the corridors, a strange, unspoken emotion bloomed inside her—a feeling she’d never told anyone about.

What if… she really had found the painting?

What if… this was her moment to change the story?

That possibility was minuscule. Smaller than a grain of sand, smaller than a drop of seawater, smaller than a pebble on a mountain.

But in that moment, it blazed in her heart like a fire.

She ran madly through the halls, her heart pounding, her ears ringing with silence.

Faster! Faster!

And when she reached the end of the corridor—

There he was. Standing quietly before the painting. A face so calm it resembled still water.

She froze.

What had been a quiet, hidden hope suddenly became real—and she didn’t know how to react.

A shudder ran through her whole body. A reaction she didn’t expect.

Her brain screamed:

Look carefully! Remember this! You’re the only person in the world who’s seen this!

A flock of birds passed the window. For a moment, their shadows dimmed the corridor light.

And then—light again.

She saw him.
Like a figure from a dream.
Standing before the painting, staring quietly.

He was even more beautiful than in the manga.
The way his lashes trembled. The delicate movement of his fingers. The distant deadness in his eyes.
And then—a tear, slipping down his cheek.

Her mind flooded with emotion she couldn’t explain. It trembled through her body, overwhelming her.

That kind of emotion—so dizzying—left her numb. She hadn’t even noticed what he was doing.

Everyone had only read that scene in a book.
She had seen it.

For real.

And it made her cry.

“I-I came to tell you not to go out,” she choked between sobs. “I just wanted to tell you… don’t go out!”

To be honest, Yuan was stunned.

She wanted to reach out, to pat the girl’s shoulder and tell her to stop crying…
But she didn’t dare.

Something about the whole scene made her feel powerless.

Yuan had heard of people being annoyed just by looking at someone, but this was the first time she saw someone cry just by seeing her. She truly didn’t know how to process this.

The girl kept crying quietly.

But Yuan could hear footsteps in the hallway.
The girl might not be able to leave now.

The voices were coming from the side hallway.
If they didn’t act fast, they’d be blocked in.

Something was happening—something strange and unusual, especially this early in the morning.

That thread in Yuan’s mind—the one that made her Yuan—snapped taut again.

By now, she’d been trained: anything unusual triggered her alert instinct.

Even if it wasn’t meant for her, she always assumed it was.

She glanced around.

Then she walked over to the girl and hesitated before saying, “It might get violent soon… want to hide somewhere?”

The girl looked at Yuan, mind foggy, still in shock. Her tears had drained her strength.

Her vision was blurry, her thoughts even more so. Her whole body felt limp.

Yuan’s words reached her, but she didn’t quite respond.

It was as if someone had scooped out all her emotions—she had nothing left to give.

“Can… can I really go in?” she asked.

“Go.” Yuan listened to the approaching footsteps. She simply grabbed the girl, shoved her into her room, and locked the door behind her.

The hallway was now empty.

Yuan really didn’t know what was going on. She stood frozen, staring at the door.

Then she slowly reached into her sleeve—
And pulled out a dagger.

The girl was now safely inside.

What about her?

If something happened… there was no one else who could handle it but her.

Who could tell her what the hell was going on?

The footsteps got louder.

And then—figures emerged into view.

Yuan’s expression shifted.

The newcomers were… strange.
They looked like Taoist priests.

What the hell were they doing here?
Coming together to find a monster?
Something must’ve happened.

Even if she wanted to talk things out calmly, her identity as “Yuan” made that impossible.
If she said even a few words, that white-bearded elder might burst in with a sword.

So she stood still and watched the group quietly.

She hadn’t been here long, but she recognized some of their robes—
Some were from established sects, including Wu Xi Dao. Big names. Powerful ones. Formal robes and all.

As they entered the hallway, they all froze.

They clearly didn’t expect to run right into her.

They glanced at each other, caught off guard.

Yuan looked at their expressions.
Clearly—
They were not here for a friendly chat.

She sighed inwardly.
What now?
This was going to be a mess…

As the men slowly approached, Yuan calmly slid her dagger deeper into her sleeve.

“Lord Yuan,” one of the Taoists said slowly,

“Might we… have a word with you?”