Little Pink Starfish

Yuan Yuanyuan read the comic while chewing on an ice cream bar. The weather was getting hotter and hotter. Before she realized it, the college entrance exam was already over. She had originally thought about checking in on how Tang Shi, Qiu Ling, and Xiao Ying did, but somehow it all ended before she got the chance. If she hadn’t bumped into Xiao Ying out playing, she might not have noticed at all.

What kind of chaos freshly graduated seniors can get into after their exams—it was hard to even imagine. Yuan Yuanyuan tried to recall what she had done after her own exams. All she remembered was catching up on sleep, taking long showers, and watching TV. She’d been completely slouched and unmotivated. Even when people invited her out to bars or clubs, she couldn’t be bothered. In the end, she never went out even once.

Now looking at Xiao Ying, freshly freed from the exam hell and itching to stir up trouble, Yuan Yuanyuan felt utterly defeated.
“What do you even want to do?” she asked.

“I want to see what monsters look like! Yuan Yuan-jie, don’t you work at a monster tavern?” Xiao Ying replied. “I couldn’t go play during the exams, but now I can. Come on, take me there.”

“No, no, no—you better go find somewhere else to hang out.” Yuan Yuanyuan waved her hands frantically. Are you kidding me? Back when she didn’t know anything, maybe she could have taken Xiao Ying along. But now that she did know how dangerous that place was, there was no way she’d ever bring her.

Afterward, Yuan Yuanyuan gave Tang Shi and Qiu Ling a call. Qiu Ling was thrilled to hear from her and kept asking where she’d been and why she hadn’t sent any word at all. Yuan Yuanyuan told her she’d been caught up in something and couldn’t return for the time being. Qiu Ling said that Liu An had come back once, but after finding that Yuan Yuanyuan had been gone for a long time, he left again.

Then Yuan Yuanyuan called Tang Shi to ask if she’d gotten into the monster academy. Tang Shi said she definitely had and told Yuan Yuanyuan not to worry. Listening to Tang Shi’s carefree voice, Yuan Yuanyuan couldn’t help thinking how easy she has it—so enviable.

Then Tang Shi asked Yuan Yuanyuan if she was aware of the current situation. Yuan Yuanyuan asked, “What situation?”
Tang Shi immediately launched into a teasing rant, “How can someone like you be so clueless? You really live like you have no heart at all.”

Recently, turmoil was brewing among the monsters. Some supported the war, while others were against it. The conflict wasn’t just happening at the top levels—it was trickling down to the lowest ranks of little demons as well.

Tang Shi said that after graduation, her classmates all talked about what they wanted to do. Some said they wanted to join the anti-war faction, while others wanted to join the Masked Organization. Everyone had a different stance, and many of them had even approached her in private—after all, Tang Shi’s family still held some sway.

“Boss, aren’t they super annoying?” Tang Shi said over the phone. “I think these people are all fools. They should be more like you… Boss, I’ve always thought you were really smart—being a total couch potato, never getting involved in any of this mess. That’s how you live a long life.”

Yuan Yuanyuan was sweating profusely on the other end of the line.

Tang Shi kept going, “Neutrality is the safest route. I’ve decided I’m going to stay neutral from now on. But personally, I think the Masked Organization is doomed—so doomed. I still believe in the comic’s destiny. You see people like Yuan who want to defy fate? That never works. People like me, who’ve read the comic, already know how this story ends.”

Yuan Yuanyuan endured. And endured. And kept enduring…

Before she couldn’t take it anymore, Tang Shi’s dad came and yanked her away, abruptly ending the call—leaving Yuan Yuanyuan alone, still sweating bullets and staring at the dead line.

But to be fair, Yuan Yuanyuan had never intended to let Tang Shi get mixed up in this mess. Tang Shi’s so-called neutral stance was actually the smart choice.

If Yuan Yuanyuan were still a nobody right now, she would absolutely keep herself far away from all this. She’d find a corner to curl up in and wait for the storm to pass before peeking out again.

Recently in the comic, Yuan’s increasingly sadistic behavior had become more obvious—especially during the last scene where the Masked Organization dealt with a traitor. Yuan had shown up all alone, exuding dark energy as he interrogated his captive. The readers were all left traumatized by the psychological horror of it.

That terrifying gaze. That deadly aura. It elevated the whole “cold and ruthless man” aesthetic to a new level. Monster circles were buzzing—many said if they ever ended up in Yuan’s hands, they’d better just confess everything quickly and save themselves the suffering.

Just as Yuan Yuanyuan expected, Yuan had become the focal point of fear. Compared to the saintly treatment of the Red Cloak, Yuan’s situation felt like a time-warp—it made Yuan Yuanyuan feel disoriented at times. She had to remind herself constantly to stay grounded, or else risk losing herself in this twisted identity.

Sometimes she thought maybe she was getting a little deranged. But honestly… she didn’t even know what exactly she’d done. It felt like she’d always been a good kid, and somehow she’d become this.

On the other hand, Fa Ning had improved quite a bit. He hadn’t been particularly powerful before, but after learning a certain Daoist technique, he’d advanced rapidly. He’d become a reliable force. The spell was a little sinister in nature, so it accelerated his growth. Once he started improving, it was nonstop.

Looking at Fa Ning in the comic now, it was hard to associate him with the old Fa Ning. He now wore a proper Daoist robe again and had people under his command. He was becoming more and more steady.

Recently, he’d reconnected with his sect and started uncovering what had actually happened in the past. But when he returned to the sect one time, he received news that the elder who had raised him had passed away—due to illness.

Fa Ning was deeply affected and grew despondent for a while. He even wondered if it had something to do with his return.

He stayed on the mountain for a few days to help handle the funeral arrangements. During his stay, Fa Ning stumbled upon something unexpected.

It was a stack of letters. Once he checked the dates, he realized how old they were.

Three-digit-age letters—Fa Ning didn’t even dare to turn the pages too forcefully, afraid they’d fall apart. But the letters had been well preserved. Aside from the yellowing paper, the handwriting was still very clear.

Fa Ning found that they were correspondences between someone using the pen name “Liu” and someone named “Ran.” Both were likely from the Sanqing Sect, since the sect’s crest was printed on the letterhead. It felt surreal to be looking at paper that old.

But why had his elder kept letters between these two people? Fa Ning couldn’t figure it out. Still, something about the letters made him feel like there was a story hidden in them. Since they were essentially part of his elder’s legacy, he felt compelled to find out what they meant.

…

Liu An looked at the letters. In his first twenty years of life, his sister had never shown him a single one. After she passed away, he stumbled upon them—and they stirred up a flood of thoughts.

He had never imagined that his sister was hiding anything from him. He’d always assumed they were just two marginalized figures on the fringes of their sect. But after finding these letters, he began to suspect otherwise.

If these letters came from his sister, then this “Liu” was likely a relative of his—possibly one of their elders.

Otherwise, how could someone from the margins of the sect possess letters like these? In those days, literate people were rare, and someone who could write with such eloquence definitely wasn’t a nobody.

Most of the letters were written from “Liu” to “Ran.” The calligraphy was clean and precise—clearly the work of a meticulous man. As for “Ran”… after reading for a while, Liu An suddenly realized that this was a woman.

Even after a hundred years, and whether the letters had once been scented or not was long gone, the letterhead still bore a delicate plum blossom.

Liu An stared at the character “Ran” for a long time. The more he looked at it, the more familiar it felt. He couldn’t place it, so he went to ask around.

“Did we ever… have a woman named ‘Ran’ here?” Liu An asked.

Almost everyone he questioned looked uncomfortable. Many people avoided him entirely, which only made Liu An more uneasy.

They clearly knew who she was—but no one wanted to talk about her. Why?

Liu An kept asking. Finally, he got a clue from an elderly man whose voice was so raspy it was barely audible. The old man had once been a cleaner for the sect. After glancing at the letter, he said, “Isn’t that Aunt Ran?”

“Aunt Ran? You knew her?” Liu An was instantly excited. He knew the man was very old—but this old? From the looks of it, he might’ve passed a hundred. It was rare for Taoist cultivators to live that long. Not even the monks on the mountain seemed as spry as this janitor.

“Aunt Ran… She was also known as Madam Ran,” the old man said. “She used to carry me around when I was little. Heard she ran away later.”

“Madam Ran?” Liu An froze. “Madam Ran?”

He wandered back to his room in a daze, those two words echoing over and over in his head—Madam Ran? Why does that name sound so familiar?

Where had he heard it before?

Liu An stayed in that state of confusion for a whole week… until the next time he read Demon Chronicles.

Still zoned out as he scrolled through the pages—he accidentally got spoiled by the readers in the comments section…