Little Pink Starfish

Yuan Yuanyuan returned to her room expressionlessly, released her shapeshifting form, and then laid flat on her back on the bed.

She’d been mulling over a question in her head—Am I really just too sensitive? Or did I somehow get more sensitive since coming here?

While sipping Coke under the moonlight, there was a sudden knock at the door. She paused in silence for a moment, then went over and looked through the peephole.

It was that white-bearded old man.

Yuan Yuanyuan was momentarily surprised. Ever since the last time the old man left, she hadn’t expected him to actually come visit her so soon. So she certainly didn’t think someone would be knocking on her door this late at night.

The old man held a wine jug in his hand—a very rough, ordinary-looking clay jar, the kind you usually see holding cheap liquor in TV dramas.

Yuan Yuanyuan looked at his gesture, then slowly opened the door. The old man glanced at her and asked, “Lord Yuan, tonight’s moon is beautiful—perfect for moon-gazing. Would you honor this old man with a drink?”

There was another person standing behind him—a stunningly beautiful woman. Though the wine looked plain, this female demon definitely wasn’t. She had an incredibly bewitching aura. Just standing there, she was radiant.

She had a sharp widow’s peak, a perfectly heart-shaped face, a classically elegant beauty. The blush on her cheeks looked like soft clouds at sunset.

She wore a bright red robe and held a large tray with two wine bowls. Her appearance, her attire… it suddenly reminded Yuan Yuanyuan of herself when she was in Qiu Ying.

Yuan Yuanyuan felt this whole scene was a little surreal. It was like something straight out of Qiu Ying, as if the red-robed woman should have been her. And yet—she stood here now as a guest.

As soon as the red-clothed woman arrived, Yuan Yuanyuan knew what was happening. The old man was inviting her for a drink. Now this was the kind of drink invitation she was familiar with among demons—always with a charming little demon to pour the wine. That previous attempt by the Lan family? Utter clownery in comparison.

She opened the door and let them in. The old man looked at Yuan Yuanyuan and gestured politely.

The moment he made the gesture, Yuan Yuanyuan was stunned.

It was one of those traditional, very refined gestures she’d definitely seen in some period drama—though she couldn’t recall which one. She tried to mimic the old man’s gesture in return but gave up halfway, realizing she’d probably embarrass herself trying.

The red-robed woman entered slowly. Every one of her movements was graceful and deliberate, with tiny pauses that gave each motion the feel of a painting. But the pauses were brief—each transition was fluid and seamless.

These two…

Yuan Yuanyuan eyed them warily. One thought floated to the top of her mind: These people don’t seem like they’re here for anything good.

What the hell are you doing showing off like this in someone else’s bedroom this late at night? she thought, deeply on guard.

…

If the old man had known what she was thinking, he probably would have drowned her in the nearest toilet.

Half an hour later, Yuan Yuanyuan was sitting by a giant floor-to-ceiling window, still in a daze.

This was the first time she realized the tiny little European-style window in the room could transform into a massive floor-to-ceiling glass pane. The red-robed woman had taken less than five minutes to turn the area into a raised platform. She pressed a hidden button near the window, and a mist began to rise around them. Two small meditation cushions were laid out, and the atmosphere completely shifted.

There was a gentle, fragrant vapor in the mist. The woman slowly pulled the curtains down, blocking out all the modern furnishings behind them. What remained was a cozy moon-viewing corner that looked like something from a poet’s dream in ancient times.

Yuan Yuanyuan sat on a cushion, still dazed as the red-robed woman poured her wine.

Same job, different outcome, she thought. How is this “hostess” so damn good at her job?

She glanced at the woman, who seemed to sense her gaze. The woman smiled gently, her cheeks glowing like sunset clouds. She raised a wide sleeve to cover half her face in an elegant, bashful gesture.

Yuan Yuanyuan quickly turned away.

Okay. I can’t keep being a mess like this… she thought. This is who I should aspire to be!

The old man and the woman had no idea what was going on in her head. If they had, there’d probably be two people trying to drown her in a toilet right now.

Yuan Yuanyuan, still in her sporty outfit, suddenly felt painfully underdressed.

The old man raised his cup and said, “My lord.”

Yuan Yuanyuan lowered her head, slowly drank the wine, then placed the bowl down. The liquor was strong. Very strong.

The bowl was coarse clay, but it fit perfectly here—it brought a rustic charm to the elegant setting the red-robed woman had crafted. The atmosphere was serene… and faintly ominous.

She set the bowl down and sat quietly for a while. The old man said nothing. The red-robed woman stood silently nearby, head lowered.

After a long silence, Yuan Yuanyuan suddenly apologized—and pulled her phone out from her chest.

…She couldn’t help it. She’d just checked the time—it was already 11:30. The new Demon Memoir chapter had dropped. She had to read it.

She didn’t care what the old man thought. This was a ritual. He didn’t seem to mind anyway. Maybe, in his eyes, reading the Demon Memoir promptly was a sign of devotion or something.

So under the beautiful moonlight, a scene unfolded: an old man in traditional robes, a graceful woman in red, and a third person in a tracksuit, tapping rapidly on a glowing smartphone. The screen’s light reflected eerily off “his” face.

…

As soon as she opened the chapter, Yuan Yuanyuan thought the cover was stunning. Even in this refined setting, it didn’t feel out of place.

The page was filled with blooming flowers—though none showed a clear face. There was only a faint silhouette sitting among the petals, his face obscured by a bamboo curtain.

His posture was upright, slender, like a stalk of bamboo.

Yuan Yuanyuan stared for a while before realizing—those “flowers” in the background were made of bone. The petals drifting through the air obscured the truth. At first glance it looked beautiful, but when she looked closer…

It was chilling.

But oddly enough, she wasn’t afraid. Her first reaction wasn’t fear—it was admiration. The concept was incredible. The bone-flowers were visually stunning. The piece was so artistic that even someone like Yuan Yuanyuan, who was usually scared of creepy things, found herself captivated.

The person behind the bamboo curtain looked gentle, dressed in flowing robes like something out of the Wei-Jin period. A tall hairpiece sat atop his head. Though his face wasn’t visible, she could tell he was a man.

Yuan Yuanyuan felt that today’s chapter had some real substance. She was already excited.

The red-robed woman glanced at her screen and suddenly gasped softly, hand over her mouth. The old man looked at her, but she quickly lowered her head again. Yuan Yuanyuan didn’t pay it much attention and tapped into the chapter.

Then she realized… the scene in the comic looked really familiar.

The first scene—it was literally her outing earlier today in disguise.

Her expression twisted.

Seriously? Even that got drawn? Big Boss, I was wrong! I won’t bully kids again, I swear!

The comic showed the interaction from the perspective of the three newbies: a stunning stranger sat beside them, chatted with them for a while, and then left.

Then the scene shifted—zoomed in on that “handsome stranger.” As he walked away, his expression turned colder and colder, until it became the blank face readers knew all too well.

You even changed the POV! You did this on purpose, didn’t you?! Yuan Yuanyuan’s face turned beet red. She hurriedly flipped past the beginning, too embarrassed to look.

Thankfully it was only about two pages. Like a poetic cold open. She exhaled in relief.

The next scene showed “Yuan” walking upstairs. The scene gradually faded into a foggy, dreamlike atmosphere. Is this a flashback? Or a future sequence? she wondered. Then someone called Yuan to go drink, and she thought it was another one of Ji Qiu’s predictive visions.

But the moment “Yuan” appeared on the page… she realized—This wasn’t the future. This was the past.

The hand appeared first.

It was pale and slender, holding a simple, old-style folding fan.

He strolled down a corridor. Yuan Yuanyuan couldn’t see his face—only his straight back. A jade pendant swayed lightly at his waist.

Every step was like a frame of a painting.

Ji Qiu had drawn every detail—the angle shifted from his hand to his black hair, the curve of his ear, and then, occasionally, the long tail of his eye. Each detail made Yuan Yuanyuan’s heart itch.

These weren’t just comic panels. They were like motion frames in real life. She felt like she was watching a graceful young lord walk through an ancient hallway, leaving behind a snowy silhouette.

Even though she knew “that person” was supposed to be her…

In that moment, she felt herself genuinely enchanted.

Because she knew—that person wasn’t her. He just wore her face. And that face…

That face, appearing fully on screen—

Stunned her into silence.

For the first time, she truly felt it.

The person in the comic…

And her…

Were not the same person at all.