Little Pink Starfish

Gao Ling followed Yuan all the way forward. Yuan was moving fast, but inside this dream, Gao Ling could keep up with his pace.

In fact, she felt like she could go anywhere she wanted now—it was as if anything were possible here.

After all, this was a dream. In dreams, many things bent to your will. Even though there was something strange about this dream, Gao Ling could still do a lot within it.

She watched Yuan move between tall buildings, pausing briefly now and then. The dagger was still lodged in his abdomen, leaving a long trail of blood behind him.

He was still carrying that corpse. Gao Ling didn’t know where he was going, so she just kept following until they reached the far end of the city.

She had rarely been to this place before, so everything around her felt unfamiliar. She saw Yuan walking toward a pedestrian street, where the people had blurry faces. It was like none of them saw Yuan—and he didn’t seem to see them either.

Eventually, Yuan walked straight up to the entrance of a shop. Gao Ling looked up at the name—Qiu Ying?

It looked like… a bar.

Yuan didn’t go in. Instead, he walked to the back of the bar. Beneath a tree, he quietly dug a small hole and buried the body there.

His expression was eerily calm. Gao Ling watched in a kind of stunned fear. It was like nothing had just happened, like all of it had been normal. That frightened her even more.

“You’re back again?” A woman in a vintage robe embroidered with butterflies walked over. Her face was unclear, and she wore a fabric butterfly ornament on her head.

Her high heels were designed like traditional embroidered shoes, with a red-stitched butterfly on each.

The sun rose from the other side, casting light on her face. She looked down, bathed in sunlight.

“That one…” She pointed at the small mound in the ground with her chin, tone casual. “Another one? Died pretty pitifully.”

Yuan, who had been looking down the whole time, turned to face her.

Gao Ling looked at his eyes—they were still dark and deep, but bloodshot, giving off an unspeakably terrifying aura.

He seemed to have turned into a man-eating beast.

“Whoa, why are you looking at me like that?” the barwoman took a step back, startled, though she didn’t seem truly afraid. More like she was teasing. She stared at Yuan, and Yuan stared back. After a moment, the woman said,
“Alright, alright, I was just kidding. Don’t look at me like I forced you to kill him.”

Cold. So, so cold.

Gao Ling crouched silently to the side, watching as Yuan held that same gaze on the woman for a few more seconds… then turned his head away. He sat down without a word—then suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood.

“Ah, there you go again.” The woman said, “Still hanging on…”

Before she finished, Yuan collapsed flat on the ground. The woman looked at him, then seemed to shake her head and snapped her fingers. Two tiny demons, each no taller than Gao Ling’s knees, scurried out. Both wore little floral skirts. One grabbed Yuan by the head, the other by the feet.

The two little demons carried him off like they were hauling a pig.

“Hey, hey, where are you taking him?” Gao Ling panicked. She shouted, but no one reacted, so she ran after them—only to be shoved down by an invisible force at the bar’s entrance.

She landed hard on her butt, staring in shock as Yuan disappeared inside. She wanted to try again, but suddenly a thick fog surged up around her, blocking her vision completely.

She shot up in bed, drenched in sweat, gasping for air.

…What… what just happened?

Panting, Gao Ling tumbled out of bed, grabbed a pen, and wrote down the last thing she saw in the dream:

Qiu Ying.

A bar named Qiu Ying in the Ping’an District.

After writing it down, she stared blankly at the screen until someone suddenly knocked on the door. Her mom’s voice came from the living room, “Who is it? Wait a second, knock slower…”

Gao Ling heard the door open. The high school boy next door asked in a frightened voice,
“Did anyone here have a dream while sleeping just now?”

“Dream? Why are you suddenly asking that… I didn’t sleep. My daughter did. Girl! Come out here, Xiao Zhang wants to ask you something.”

Gao Ling walked out, tense, and looked at the kid next door. He immediately asked,
“Did you have a dream just now? Did you dream about Yuan? The one from Demon Memoirs.”

“I… did.” Gao Ling said. The boy’s eyes went wide. She asked,
“Do you know anyone else who dreamt it too?”

“Our whole family was napping. I was the only one who had that dream. I just called Mr. Liu downstairs—someone at their place dreamed it too…”

“In the dream,” he went on, answering her unspoken question,
“We saw Yuan kill someone.”

That person—

Holy crap.

…

After the latest Demon Memoirs update, everyone was talking about Yuan in that issue.

Overnight, Yuan’s cold-blooded image became deeply rooted in readers’ minds.

[He achieved enlightenment by killing his friend—undisputed #1 in all of anime/manga.]

[Damn, I didn’t expect a Chinese comic to start writing characters this controversial.]

[Honestly, I think this character is so layered. He’s such a bastard, but he’s so satisfying to watch.]

[What’s going on in Demon Memoirs now?]

[Yuan killed his friend to achieve his goal. Two besties—one’s about to kill the other. The one who’s about to die asks, “Have you ever seen me as a friend?” The other hesitates… then stabs him.]

[Holy sh—]

Most people were shocked after reading the latest chapter—especially at Yuan’s betrayal. The other guy wanted to kill him, Yuan asked if they’d ever been friends, the guy froze in memory, and Yuan took that chance to strike.

A lot of people loved the plot because it had so much emotional tension. That moment Yuan stabbed his friend flipped his image for many—he was now more of a tragic anti-hero or dark strategist.

The moment he knelt, it looked like Yuan was about to die. Nearly all the readers expected the next panel to be his death scene.

Even if he didn’t die, it was obvious he was in bad shape. Many readers were unexpectedly moved—his dialogue with the other character hinted they were once very close. Possibly even lovers.

In just a few pages, the artist painted a deeply emotional scene. For fans of these “tragic anime bromances,” it felt real.

Everyone was immersed in this emotional moment—then BAM, Yuan reversed it with one stab and shocked nearly every reader.

Pretty much all readers had one thought after:

Whoa… plot twists can go like THAT?

And so, the artist drew it that way. Readers rushed online to post their reactions—part shock, part reluctant admiration.

[After today, I’m finally convinced—Yuan really is a spy.]

[Is he seriously this ruthless? The man’s a cold-blooded machine. No wait, a cold-blooded old man.]

[Why is this cold-hearted old man so damn attractive?! Is this the start of a lonely king arc or what?]

[Yeah, he’s scummy but stylish. Why does being this scummy make him so stylish?!]

[Simple. Some villains are so strong, you just fall at their feet. Think of Aizen from Bleach. Total fashion god, but killer.]

[He didn’t even blink while stabbing his bro. Usually there’s a dramatic monologue, right? Here—nothing. No fluff, no buildup?]

After the title of “Old Man,” Yuan earned a new one:
“Cold-Blooded, Stone-Hearted Old Man.”

Congrats.

Gao Ling stared at the comic. In the scene where Yuan stabbed his friend, he didn’t even blink—his face didn’t show a flicker of emotion.

But Gao Ling knew: Yuan had carried that friend’s corpse, while gravely wounded, across the entire city, coughing up blood as he went, just to bury him.

The comic made it look effortless, like Yuan had killed his friend without lifting a finger—reinforcing just how powerful he was. And now, no one denied that anymore.

He was indeed strong. He never said anything unnecessary. But Gao Ling knew the truth: after the burial, he collapsed, and had to be carried away by two little demons.

She also knew Yuan didn’t have much time left. On a dark night, she had heard it with her own ears.

But in front of everyone else, he never showed a trace of it.

He was always so cold and powerful, effortlessly defeating anyone in his way. In the comic, he was practically a god—an obstacle no one could overcome.

…But Gao Ling couldn’t forget the look in his eyes when he faced that woman in the long robe.

Like a wild beast ready to tear everything apart—but Gao Ling wasn’t afraid at all.

—He had just killed his friend with his own hands.

Someone had insulted his friend.

He’d looked at that person with a gaze that said he’d die fighting, all while still holding the body of his friend.

[Is Yuan really that cold and heartless? I think no one on Earth can stop him now.]

But in reality, he wasn’t cold or heartless at all.

He bled. He hurt.

But he couldn’t say it.

He was strong… so strong that even after killing his friend with his own hands, he could walk away, face expressionless, like nothing had happened.

He wouldn’t say it. He didn’t want to say it.

Gao Ling even wondered… maybe he didn’t feel anything anymore. Maybe he had seen too many things like this, and his emotional response had been turned down so low that nothing reached him anymore.

But still, she suddenly wished… maybe someone could turn his sensitivity back up, just a little.

Then maybe he could live a little more freely.

Gao Ling felt like she had nothing more to say… so she just kept drawing.

That night, half the people in her building had the same dream. But none of them dreamed as much as she did.

What they saw was almost the same as the comic—because they’d been too far away, they hadn’t heard much. Gao Ling suspected her dream had more detail because her spiritual energy was stronger.

Lately, she’d been wondering:

How can I get closer to the world of demons?

…

Yuan Yuanyuan sat on the sofa, hands clutching a milk tea, trembling as she took a sip. Beside her, the fat cat cautiously asked,
“Where’ve you been these past few days? Haven’t seen you at all.”

“Well… two powerful demons were fighting at the bar, and I got caught up in it. Nearly didn’t make it back,” Yuan Yuanyuan replied.

In a world where danger lurked around every corner, that explanation didn’t seem strange. The fat cat nodded, then asked,
“Why are you shaking?”

“I—I think… I might’ve discovered a terrible secret,” Yuan Yuanyuan said, still shaking.

“Wh-what?” The fat cat got tense just from her tone.

Its tiny paws started kneading nervously on Yuan Yuanyuan’s belly—milk-treading from stress.

“I found out…” Yuan Yuanyuan sipped her milk tea again, voice trembling,
“The owner of Qiu Ying might be… Seventeen’s old flame.”

…

“Huh? What?” the fat cat blinked dumbly.

“You heard me—his ex,” Yuan Yuanyuan turned and said seriously.

She still didn’t know how she, a straight girl, had survived the past few days.