Little Pink Starfish

Yuan Yuanyuan kept reading, and she felt like the story was subtly implying something. But it wasn’t spelled out directly, which made her feel itchy with frustration.

She kept flipping pages. Ji Qiu focused heavily on the bloodline theory among demons. The basic idea? Kill off all non-demon races to preserve pure demon bloodlines.

Yuan Yuanyuan found this concept deeply deluded. The original intention might have been to preserve demon heritage, but considering how most demons originated from flora and fauna—plants, birds, insects—any such bloodline theory ended up basically targeting humans.

The bloodline theory’s most extreme era was during the war between humans and demons. Nearly all mass slaughters involving humans were carried out by bloodline purists. Yuan Yuanyuan didn’t know much about this part of history.

Now she was discovering all sorts of things she’d never known before—so much history:

For example, ages ago, nearly all demons idolized the bloodline theory. They truly lost their minds over it, believing it was their duty to massacre humans.

And another: the greatest champion of the bloodline theory was the King of All Demons. That powerful demon started an enormous movement, gained countless followers, and many believed his ideas were right.

In her ears, Yuan Yuanyuan almost seemed to hear Lord Li’s voice again—that line from the comic where he said to Seventeen: “For loyalty.”

Li Sijie was definitely a firm supporter of this ideology.

Yuan Yuanyuan had no right to judge the “customs” of demons—she wasn’t even born into their world. Just like in the human world, sometimes the best you can do is keep your opinions to yourself, respect the culture, and avoid getting your face punched. What doesn’t sit right in your heart, you just quietly endure.

And then she flipped to something that left her absolutely stunned.

That strange feeling she’d had earlier? Confirmed.

Ji Qiu really was hinting at her—no, exposing her.

And that’s when she learned: the Blood Jade Demon Arts were originally connected to the bloodline theory.

When she’d first received the Blood Jade Demon Arts, she’d found it creepy. It only stopped feeling dangerous because she used her own blood to practice it. If someone else had gotten it, they’d need to kill humans for blood.

The Blood Jade Demon Arts used human harm as a cultivation method. If you wanted power, you had to pay a price—your conscience, for instance. Though, arguably, most demons weren’t exactly brimming with conscience to begin with.

It had been created during the First War. Its catalyst? The bloodline theory that was all the rage among demons at the time.

It was a zero-sum thing: humans were drained of blood and weakened, while demons grew stronger. Yuan Yuanyuan had wondered about the arts’ origins before but had never thought it was this.

The army that used it was called the Blood Jade Demon Army—a force composed of elite demons with powerful bloodlines. Only those with noble lineage were selected. They were the bloodline theory’s elite shock troops. Humans feared them not just for their power but because their arrival meant a field full of drained corpses.

Yuan Yuanyuan broke into a cold sweat. She clutched the jade hanging at her chest. One thought pounded in her head: If I ever die, I have to destroy this thing.

This thing couldn’t see the light of day. She’d been naïve, thinking it only endangered her own life. But it endangered many lives.

The Blood Jade Demon Arts, because of its nature, had vanished after the war. Between interference from humans and other historical circumstances, it was completely lost… Yuan figured it probably also had to do with how none of the Blood Jade Army survived. No one left alive to pass it down.

Sure, some tried to reconstruct it, but they failed.

So right now, in the entire demon world… there was only one person who could still use it—

Her.

Yuan Yuanyuan’s eyes went dead-fish blank. She kept flipping pages and felt her brain starting to boil.

What the hell is this?

Why does it feel like I’m the last relic of some dark, old regime?

Am I imagining this?

She flipped again. No, she wasn’t. Ji Qiu was clearly saying this.

Wait, wasn’t Seventeen a staunch opponent of the bloodline theory? Why did he suddenly feel like a supporter now?

She turned the thought over in her head—ah. Right. All the other Blood Jade Army members were dead. Only “Yuan” remained.

If anyone else were in her position, they might not think this way.

But Seventeen… he had always been the type to see the deeper consequences. Maybe that was why he died.

Yuan Yuanyuan held Fat Cat close and whispered like a mosquito, “Seventeen died because… he opposed…”

She was confused even as she spoke.

“Yes,” said Fat Cat, still reading the comic. His usual playful tone was gone. His voice had that deep seriousness he only used in human form. “The one who wanted him dead most was the Demon King. Seventeen ran the spy division. Maybe he got overconfident. Maybe his death was shady. But after he died, the division crumbled. Most of its veterans were pushed into suicide missions. Eventually, they were wiped out.”

That’s how they died?

Yuan Yuanyuan sat on the bed, her head pounding. She recalled something she’d heard long ago—someone said, “All the spies died because of him.”

So… that’s what it meant?

Was all of this… Seventeen’s fault? If he hadn’t died, the spy division wouldn’t have collapsed. The veterans wouldn’t have been pushed to die off.

“Turns out it was easy to kill them off,” Fat Cat said. “I looked at the records. At first I thought it’d be difficult. But it only took two years… the same problem as Seventeen. They were his students. Seventeen was harsh—he punished anyone disobedient. So his spies were obedient, old-school types. That made them easy to exploit. Follow orders to the death.”

“But if Seventeen had…” Yuan Yuanyuan stopped. “If he had just spoken up…”

“You want to know why he never said anything?” Fat Cat said. “Because he can’t. You think he survived this long for nothing? If he opens his mouth now, no one will forgive him. Right now, he’s staying just below the high council’s red line. They think he knows his place. If he says a word, the whole demon world would hunt him down.”

Yuan thought about Li Sijie. And C City’s high-level leaders… That’s true. Since “Yuan” came back, he’d kept quiet. Never spoke about the past.

Because silence kept him alive. Speaking would make him a target for everyone.

That made sense.

So why did it make her so furious?

“This might actually be a good thing,” Fat Cat said. “Maybe Ji Qiu isn’t writing it outright yet because he’s worried about causing upheaval. For all his nonsense, Ji Qiu hasn’t overstepped. Look at how he’s handled Yuan so far.”

“…How so?” Yuan Yuanyuan wasn’t used to hearing people praise Ji Qiu.

“Yuan has so much buried inside. But you think he’ll never say it? Not necessarily. People thought he wouldn’t talk about the war either. But he did. Bit by bit. He’s testing the waters. He’s waiting for the right moment. When that moment comes—everything will come out. Not just Yuan’s secrets… but all the truth buried with that war.”

“What kind of moment?” Yuan Yuanyuan asked, a little dazed. Fat Cat’s logic was… oddly convincing.

“How would I know?” Fat Cat flopped down. “Maybe the world ends? Demons and humans go to war again?”

Yuan Yuanyuan groaned, *I came here for answers, and you give me *this?**

She flopped down next to him, looking defeated. She glanced back at the comic. The words “With a clear conscience” now felt unbearable to look at.

“Still upset?” Fat Cat asked. “The higher-ups… they probably thought they could keep this hidden. Back when the comic first came out, they should’ve been honest. But they gambled on Ji Qiu keeping quiet… dragged it out… now even Seventeen, the guy they tried so hard to bury, has been unearthed.”

“Exactly,” Yuan muttered, face buried in Fat Cat’s fur. “Now Seventeen’s gonna get all the hate. Readers are gonna think he’s the poster boy for bloodline purists. A guy who slaughters humans and feels no guilt. Ugh—when in fact he—ugh, forget it, I’m gonna scream.”

Fat Cat was about to reply, then paused. Something felt odd on his fur.

“Wait… are you crying?” he asked. “Hey, Yuan-jie, are you really crying?”

“Don’t call me that,” Yuan pressed down his head. “Don’t talk to me. Take your damn catnip and go.”

She tossed a stick of fresh catnip.

“You’re even slurring your speech now,” Fat Cat said. “Wow. I didn’t know you were a Yuan fangirl. I was just trying to educate. I figured someone out there should know the truth. But seeing you like this… maybe I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Though, to be fair, Yuan is hot. If I were a girl, I’d marry him,” Fat Cat added. “Also, don’t treat me like a dog.”

Yuan sniffled into his fur, then turned to grab tissues, trying to hide her tears. Fat Cat padded over.

“Don’t cry,” he said. “Crying won’t help. Yuan won’t see. He won’t know he has a fan crying for him…”

He trailed off and gently picked up the tissue she tossed on him, setting it on the table.

After a pause, he said, “You crying… actually proves something. It means he was lucky. You and I—we’re not ‘normal.’ Our views step on people’s interests. But that doesn’t make us wrong.”

“I used to doubt myself. Wondered if I was the problem. But now… seeing you cry, I think I might actually be okay. Maybe I’m a decent cat. I’m willing to die for what I believe in.”

“I’m crying…” Yuan muttered. “But it’s not the same. Crying for myself is different than crying for someone else…”

“And your death would be pointless,” she added. “You’re not even afraid of dying.”

“I am afraid of pain,” Fat Cat coughed. “Give Yuan a little credit. He’s not some loser. He’ll find a way. He used to run the entire spy division. He’s not scared of anything. As long as he’s here, we don’t have to worry.”

“Besides,” he flopped onto the sobbing Yuan, “Here, rub my magical tail. Brings good luck. Go on—grab it. It’ll calm you down. Seventeen… he can bear more than either of us.”

Then he added, with that silly rogue tone, “Because Seventeen… is my idol.”

“He’s brave. My favorite since I was a kid. In my eyes, he’s unstoppable. I used to clip out every story about him and paste them into a scrapbook. He was my role model. I wanted to be like him. Still do. And now, he’s back from hell—to shine light on the truth.”

“He’s not afraid of gossip. Even if the world curses him, he keeps going. He acts all aloof, but deep down? He’s a classic gentleman. My childhood idol is the coolest guy in the demon world! That’s Cat Big Brother’s motto! Trust me—I’m never wrong!”

Fat Cat swished his tail. “Old man… that nickname someone gave him. Honestly, I like it. He is an old-school, reliable kind of guy. That’s why I like it.”

“Hic… I-I don’t like it,” Yuan muttered.

“Does my tail feel nice?” Fat Cat asked.

“No.”

“Well then I’m taking it back,” he said. “But think about it—there are still people like you crying for him. If more people did… maybe he wouldn’t feel so alone.”

“Hic… W-what good… does that even do…”

“None at all,” Fat Cat said. “It’s like a star in the night—can’t light the way, can’t keep you warm. Just hangs in the sky, too far to touch.”

Yuan Yuanyuan looked up—and through tear-blurred eyes, saw a single silver star glowing outside her window.

It looked beautiful.

…

Gao Ling stared at the comic, fingers buried deep in her hair.

She was… in pain.

It was hard to explain. But right now, she couldn’t go into the chat. Couldn’t talk to anyone.

She’d been holed up for three days.

“Stop moping! Come out already!” her mom banged on the door. “Are you secretly dating someone and got dumped?”

Gao Ling suddenly threw on clothes and ran out, murmuring a quick goodbye.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

She didn’t answer.

She needed answers. Anything.

As much as possible.