Little Pink Starfish

Yuan Yuanyuan had been stuck in this place for so long that she felt like she was starting to go dumb. No computer, no TV, and it was cold—probably because there was no sunlight at all. The wind outside was harsh and biting.

The room had a blanket and a pillow. Whenever the cold got too much, she’d dive under the covers, which was one reason she’d been sleeping so much lately… But she knew she couldn’t just keep this up. If it went on like this, she really would lose her mind.

Worse still—she was completely off the grid. What if her friends or neighbors couldn’t find her and called the police?

During mealtimes, when someone came to bring food, she quietly observed how many people there were and started weighing her options: should she force her way out, or try to reason with them?

But Yuan Yuanyuan had a terrible habit: procrastination. She’d always put things off… until finally, just as she was once again debating whether she should escape, he appeared again—the man with the face like a block of ice.

He stood before her, dressed in black just like the last time. This time, he came alone. It was just the two of them in the room.

“So many days have passed, and you still haven’t done anything?” he said.

Yuan Yuanyuan had already started undressing to sleep when he arrived, so now she sat on the bed in just thermal underwear, staring at him…

She’d learned from past mistakes. After that incident where her floral thermals almost got drawn into the comic, she made sure her new ones were plain gray. So even if she was drawn now, at least it wouldn’t be too humiliating… probably.

“You know what I hate most?” the man said, sitting in the chair and tapping the table. “You demons—so stubborn and uncooperative.”

Yuan Yuanyuan really didn’t like the look in his eyes. How to describe it? It just screamed “trying too hard”… Damn it, cool aloof types only look good in 2D—in real life, they’re just annoying. Since they’d met, he’d barely spoken a few sentences before calling her a “stubborn old man.” That left an unforgettable emotional scar. Was he playing games? Who’s afraid of who here?

The imaginary version of her was standing with her arms crossed, defiant.
But in reality, her face remained blank, as always—“Don’t know. Don’t care. Not cooperating.”

You go ahead and act—I’ll just sit here and watch.

“In your era, you were quite the bold trailblazer,” he said. “But after dying, you’ve become stubborn. That’s typical of the old. Their mentality changes. They begin to fear change, fear death, and constantly dwell on the past.”

“I don’t think I’m that old,” Yuan Yuanyuan replied from the bed, her hand slowly reaching for the dagger at her side.

“Relax,” he said. “You can’t beat me. Your time is running out. Rather than waste energy, why not put it toward something useful?”

Yuan Yuanyuan’s hand paused… and dropped away.

“I think what you need now is a proper check-up—even if you don’t want it,” he said. “Someone will return tomorrow. She’s a very skilled doctor.”

After he left, Yuan Yuanyuan began wildly pacing the room, panicking and spiraling.

One more day! I have one day left!

She had to do something—either escape or injure herself enough to stall.

She glanced around and spotted the dagger on the bed. Her face twisted into something feral.

…

In recent chapters of Demon Chronicle, a few characters had shown up who were helpful to Fa Ning—one of them was a powerful Taoist who’d recently been reported dead.

Fa Ning, being in a kind of dropout status, couldn’t move around freely and had nowhere else to go. But a very skilled Taoist had recently come to the scattered cultivator settlement where he stayed, teaching them useful techniques. Fa Ning had been extremely grateful.

This Taoist had fox-like eyes that always made him look like he was plotting something shady, but in reality, he was gentle. After all, a harsh Taoist wouldn’t have come to a place like that.

When Fa Ning heard the news, he sat in his room for a while, then went out to buy incense and joss paper. After the offerings were burned, there was a knock at the door.

“Hello, can I help you?” Fa Ning opened the door.
“Here…” The person handed him a small, heavy box.
“These are his belongings. The rest were taken by his sect, but they said this should go to you.”
Fa Ning opened it and paused.
“These…” he said, stunned.
“Take it. His friend said it was for you.”
Back inside, Fa Ning shakily closed the box. Inside were three Taoist talismans, faintly stained with blood.
Just then, someone knocked again.
“I saw someone at the door. What happened?” Changsheng came in, holding food.
“Nothing… It’s fine,” Fa Ning muttered as he picked up his phone to call the red-cloaked figure.
“Do we know how the Taoist died?” Changsheng asked.
“Not yet,” Fa Ning said. “They said it was a powerful demon… he didn’t even survive a single move.”
“Eh?” Changsheng blinked. “That Taoist was really strong… I always listened to his lectures. I thought he was even better than my old masters.”
Fa Ning had thought so too.
A few days later, they heard about the death of a high-ranking Taoist—ranked ninth in the Lingxi Sect. He had wandered into the mountains on a whim, and his cause of death remained unknown.
Fa Ning stared at the talismans the Taoist had left behind, feeling more and more like it had all been a dream.

…

Yuan Yuanyuan stared at the woman in front of her, who said gently, “Please relax, no need to be nervous… I’ll take good care of you.”

No, no, no… the more you say that, the more nervous I get, okay!?

She had stayed up all night worrying about what to do. She had tried a jailbreak-style escape—but failed. So in desperation, she’d gritted her teeth and stabbed herself in the waist.

It hurt.

She didn’t even trust the dagger she used. It had cut too many weird things. What if she caught hepatitis or HIV from it? Totally not worth it. But it was the only blade she had.

Now, as the woman felt her pulse, Yuan Yuanyuan was sweating. She’d seen a traditional doctor for stomach issues once. The moment the doctor touched her pulse, he asked, “Been eating a lot of instant noodles and BBQ lately?” It scared her stiff.

Afterward, when she told her friend about it, they laughed. “That’s it? You’re scared of that? A good doctor can even tell if you’ve given birth just from your pulse.”

Yuan Yuanyuan didn’t know if that was true, but in her mind, all traditional doctors were Sherlock Holmes. She was terrified this woman would find out the wound was self-inflicted yesterday—and that she wasn’t really that injured at all. And she’d eaten instant noodles and BBQ for several days straight… Yeah, not ideal.

The room was silent. The man sat still, and the gentle woman checked her pulse. After a while, the woman looked up at Yuan Yuanyuan.

“Please extend your other hand as well.”

Yuan Yuanyuan, startled by that look, started to panic internally. What did that look mean? Am I sick or not?!

Keeping her face neutral, she extended her other hand. The woman finished the checkup, frowned, and pulled out a piece of xuan paper, beginning to write.

Yuan Yuanyuan stared at her. She thought the woman would say one of two things:

1. “You’re recovering well.”
2. “You dared fake this injury?”—and then call in Mr. Ice Block to blow her to bits.

But instead, the woman handed her the finished paper—and Yuan Yuanyuan was stunned.

What the hell is this?!

The paper was covered top to bottom. At the top was a list of Chinese herbs she couldn’t even pronounce.

The woman said it would be boiled into medicine soon, so not to worry. Okay, skip that.

Then came a long list of instructions:
Avoid spicy food.
Time limits for using demon techniques.
Restrictions on certain spells.

Yuan Yuanyuan spotted several she’d learned before—like basically every water-based demon spell.

Then the woman stood and left.

Yuan Yuanyuan, still frozen by the ridiculously long scroll of paper, heard her say as she walked out:

“You should rest here for the next few days. It’s safe, and you shouldn’t be using spells right now. Wait a bit.”

…Yuan Yuanyuan actually wanted to ask what exactly this woman had diagnosed. The last time she saw a TCM doctor, she was told she had excessive liver and lung fire, and a hormonal imbalance. She ended up taking herbal supplements for two weeks.

Did this lady just diagnose that too? Are modern treatments for hormonal imbalance this high-level now? Can we just… cure infertility while we’re at it?

What am I even talking about…

After the woman left, Yuan Yuanyuan lay on the bed, thinking for a long, long time. Eventually, she reached a conclusion:

This had to be Ji Qiu’s doing.

Of course that wasn’t medicine for hormonal imbalance. But whatever this “illness” was, she still had no clue.

She’d made it to twenty-five years old without many IV drips in her life—basically invincible. So this had to be Ji Qiu stepping in again.

She let out a long breath and flopped back onto the bed.

Thanks, Ji Qiu.

…

By the way, though these people looked different, they all wore the same outfit—a really nice-looking trench coat. It had an ancient style, but the sleek lines gave it a modern touch.

The coat was pure black with faint black embroidery. Each of them wore a different mask—some smiling, some crying.

So… if not a horror cult, this was definitely some secret society. Something like the Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood.
Did they… have to cut off a finger to join?

Thinking about all that, Yuan Yuanyuan rolled over and pulled up the blanket again.

No matter what these people are up to, whether they want to recruit me or whatever… I’ll stall for a few more days. No rush. Just let me cling to life a little longer.