Little Pink Starfish

After the first preliminary round, the vote count shocked almost everyone.

Every time Yuan Yuanyuan hit F5 now, her heart was pounding. She turned and asked Fat Cat, “This data… doesn’t look right. I mean, this is just the preliminary round…”

“This is normal. What’s not right?” Fat Cat replied. “I actually think the number’s a bit low.”

Yuan Yuanyuan decided not to talk to this clueless cat anymore. She turned back to look at the current votes. Actually, even Fat Cat—who was technically a monster—hadn’t properly calculated it, but Yuan Yuanyuan had.

Right now, Yuan’s vote count… was approaching five percent of the total votes.

What did that even mean?

There were over a hundred contestants participating… Yuan Yuanyuan had been paranoid lately, constantly feeling like something was wrong with the backend data.

But it wasn’t actually wrong. Simply put, Yuan’s fans had suddenly gotten super fired up for this round of the competition. Someone, nobody knows who, had started the slogan: “Don’t let Yuan die!” And then Yuan’s fans went absolutely crazy… To be honest, it was a very effective promotional strategy.

“Before this ends… do you think it’ll break 100,000?” Yuan Yuanyuan suddenly asked.

“That’s a bit difficult,” Fat Cat replied. “The publisher didn’t even print that many copies.”

Yuan Yuanyuan silently muttered to herself: Such a tiny publisher… She moved a pile of comics beside her, all missing the last page, and shuffled over to sit in front of Fat Cat.

After the first round, Yuan successfully broke a record—the highest number of votes in a preliminary round confirmed by the organizers. When the record came out, it trended online for a bit. Mainly because Monster Record was getting some recognition now, unlike other underground comics that stayed in obscure niche circles.

But Ji Qiu’s whole “the one with the most votes won’t die” strategy also attracted some controversy. Some people criticized it as a blatant cash grab. But since the fans didn’t complain, the backlash quickly died down.

In the latest issue, Ji Qiu seemed to be teasing readers, adding an unusual amount of scenes involving Yuan.

Even though it was all flashbacks, it wasn’t hard to recall what Ji Qiu had said before—and as expected, she followed through on her word.

The entire latest issue was basically drawn around Yuan. Ever since Yuan Yingli showed up, readers had been guessing whether Yuan had left behind any kind of contingency plan. He had supposedly arranged everything before disappearing.

“Contingency plan” sounded a bit ominous. But considering Yuan’s physical condition at the time, it wasn’t that surprising that he’d make such arrangements. Readers were genuinely curious about what else Yuan had planned.

The Woman in Red had once said Yuan had everything prepared. Readers were now eager to see exactly what he had arranged. And in this new issue, the introduction of a certain faction once again took everyone by surprise.

This group showed up on their own. Among them were both men and women—over a hundred people in total. Their one shared skill? Espionage.

…Yuan Yuanyuan and Fat Cat had discussed this group’s origin before. They really seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, without a single sound. Yuan Yuanyuan thought they were probably sent by the Tavern Mistress, but Fat Cat offered a whole new theory: These were people from City C.

People from City C…

Yuan Yuanyuan suddenly had an epiphany after hearing Fat Cat’s theory. Compared to the tavern folks, these people were more likely to be from City C. She’d already met most of the tavern residents. She used to wonder why the Tavern Mistress, who was so close to her, kept hiding a whole group of people from her. Thinking it over, the City C theory made more sense—especially after Fat Cat told her some of the people in City C were descendants of a spy training camp.

So one batch of the spy camp’s descendants went to City C, and another to the tavern? Yuan Yuanyuan mused. Although the tavern was technically in City C, she had gotten used to treating them as separate.

This group of spy descendants stunned even Yan Ning upon arrival. Their professional skills were way too advanced. For someone like Yan Ning, who had never been exposed to this kind of world, it was jaw-dropping.

Yuan Yingli was much like Yan Ning in this regard, but he was better at hiding it. Both of them had speculated on the group’s identity. In truth, the word “spy” alone was enough to draw everyone’s attention.

Online, another wave of praise for Yuan surged. Yuan Yuanyuan watched all this with a bit of confusion. This leads to a commonly shared cultural phenomenon: dead people are more charismatic. Yuan Yuanyuan remembered that when Yuan first appeared, he wasn’t seen as a god. But now… he was getting deified more and more…

Had readers now collectively decided that Yuan was completely dead? Yuan Yuanyuan wondered.

She found it irrational. Did none of them ever think—what if “he” came back one day?

The members of the spy camp were all quite good-looking—probably genetic. There were even a few attractive background characters. But most of them kept a low profile. Only a select few ever showed their faces.

Yuan Yuanyuan thought these people were quite smart. When interacting with Yan Ning afterward, they made sure not to get too close—afraid of being drawn into the comic. So they sent out a few representatives, while the real experts stayed hidden.

Xiao Xi asked, “Kind of like Yuan Yingli, right?”

“Very likely,” her online friend replied.

“See! I told you! I told you!” Xiao Xi instantly got excited.

“You did.”

Xiao Xi had also been frantically refreshing the page, voting non-stop. She was clearly a die-hard fan now. Though she wouldn’t admit it to her friends, she had already started discussing Yuan-related topics in private.

Yuan had gotten so popular recently that it didn’t feel weird to talk about him anymore. But Xiao Xi still couldn’t act too familiar, so when she did talk, she’d silently complain to herself: “That’s not how it is…” or “That’s wrong too…”

But even online, many people still couldn’t understand—where did this new group suddenly come from? Was Yuan really that foresighted?

This question was finally answered in the latest issue.

“These people… are the descendants of Yuan’s former subordinates?” Xiao Xi was stunned when she heard it, confirming over and over on the phone, “Really? Really?”

“Really,” said the voice on the other end.

“Ugh… this is killing me. Can I not work overtime today?” Xiao Xi stared at her computer in frustration, scratching her head. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, typing like mad. The clatter made the people around her turn to look.

The moment she typed the last character, she grabbed her bag and bolted out of the office, lightning fast. No one even had time to react.

On the way home, Xiao Xi kept refreshing the page, eager to see any new updates. As soon as it loaded, she flipped through the content quickly, and sure enough—there it was. Her friend had told her: “These people are the descendants of Yuan’s former subordinates.”

Oh my god… Xiao Xi stared in disbelief. She didn’t get it. Weren’t they supposed to be traitors? Didn’t Yuan kill the entire spy camp?

When current events contradict known history, people start questioning what’s really going on.

Especially when that history wasn’t entirely certain to begin with.

Xiao Xi scrolled down. The comments section had already exploded. People had recently confirmed that Yuan was likely a spy, but the details about what happened back then were still unclear. Now, with this revelation, the fog of the past began to lift.

Someone had once claimed that Yuan was responsible for wiping out the spy camp. At the time, readers fully believed it. So the question was: How exactly did Yuan do it?

From the mouth of one spy camp descendant came a completely different story. At the time, Yan Ning had been casually chatting with one of them.

The spies shown in the comic had been carefully selected, chosen specifically to appear in the manga. Reportedly, Ji Qiu figured it’d be weird to draw nothing at all, so she introduced a few “decoys.”

The character in the comic who acted as a decoy was called Little Twenty-Nine, which sounded odd. But considering there had once been a character named Seventeen, maybe one of his grandparents had actually been called Twenty-Nine.

“I vaguely remember my dad mentioning it once,” said Little Twenty-Nine, sounding a bit melancholic. “Back then, Yuan disappeared very mysteriously. The spy camp wasn’t willing to accept it, but what could they do?”

“Before they could even do anything,” he continued, “someone started targeting Yuan’s old subordinates… probably out of paranoia.” Little Twenty-Nine added, “So many things happened in the middle—it’s all a mess. I could go on for days. Anyway, not one person from the spy camp survived. Only small fry like us managed to make it out alive.”

Yan Ning listened, then suddenly asked, “Do you know how Yuan disappeared back then?”

Little Twenty-Nine glanced at him.

There was something strange in his expression. But in the end, he said nothing. He just stood up and replied, “Even if I told you… what good would it do? It’s been a hundred years. What could you possibly do now?”

With that, Little Twenty-Nine walked away.

Leaving Xiao Xi shouting at her screen, “What the hell?! Just tell me already!”