Little Pink Starfish

What was playing on TV was one of the most iconic scenes from the manga — Yuan’s first appearance. At least, in Yuan Yuanyuan’s eyes, it was iconic, because that was the moment when she had first recognized herself.

Yuan was holding a little girl in his arms and delivering a stylish spinning back kick. The monster below screamed up at him. The shot was filled with intensity, and the director had smartly chosen to shoot it from a manga-style perspective. That made certain screenshots look almost exactly like the original panels — highly immersive.

The child Yuan was holding was actually a doll. Coincidentally, the pose had it nestled into his chest with only the back of the head visible, so the crew used a hollow dummy. Yuan Yuanyuan had seen the doll — it was passable from the back, but the front was hilariously creepy. Fortunately, on screen it looked fine; they never showed the front of that face.

The actor playing Yuan had once been a fresh-faced idol, but in recent years he’d worked hard to change that image. His reputation was already better than most other idols, and he’d carved out a niche of his own. When they filmed that scene, Yuan Yuanyuan had casually taught him how to act cool — something she was surprisingly good at.

“Just keep your face blank,” she had demonstrated. “See? Like this — total poker face.”

The actor stared at her for a while, nodded in understanding, and then went on stage and moved like a rabid dog… Apparently, her advice didn’t help at all, and Yuan Yuanyuan didn’t want to remember that part anymore.

“How’s the acting?” Yuan Yuanyuan asked Fat Cat innocently. “I feel like that kick wasn’t quite right. Look at his left foot — the move was off…”

She was referring to a specific action that had taken countless retakes. The move required flipping in midair and stomping the ground with one foot — a tough move for an ordinary person. When they filmed it, Yuan Yuanyuan had secretly snuck in to help pull his leg a bit, giving him the momentum to land it.

He probably still didn’t know who had helped him that day.

Yuan Yuanyuan kept talking, but Fat Cat didn’t respond. All she saw was his small feline head and his long tail swaying side to side — left, right, left…

“Well? Is it good or not?” she asked.

Fat Cat flicked his tail again, sat back down, and didn’t say yes or no. He just stared seriously at the screen, leaving Yuan Yuanyuan uncertain about what was going on in his head.

Gao Ling’s reaction was equally captivated. She crept back toward the couch and had barely sat down before her mom smacked her on the back.

“Ahh!” Gao Ling jumped. “What are you hitting me for? You scared me, Mom!”

“Didn’t you say it was bad and leave? Why are you back?” her mom asked.

“I just… I just wanted to check out the actor. Then I’ll go…” Gao Ling said as she sat down and stared at the screen.

It wasn’t her imagination — that actor on the screen really had something that reminded her of Yuan. She couldn’t put her finger on it — maybe a movement, or a fleeting look in his eyes. But it was familiar.

Gao Ling was completely absorbed in the drama, sipping her drink and watching quietly until the first episode ended.

“That fast?” She looked at the clock and realized, yep — it was over.

“Episode one’s over,” Yuan Yuanyuan said, sipping her water. “Actually, Fat Cat, I didn’t tell you… I saw that actor recently. I even got his autograph…”

“Let me see!” Fat Cat suddenly leapt up, nearly scratching her face.

“Okay, okay, hold on…” Yuan Yuanyuan went into the kitchen to find the bag she’d brought home days ago. As she rummaged, she couldn’t help grinning to herself. She had originally gotten the autographs to give to Xiao Ying, Tang Shi, and Qiu Ling as gifts for getting into college. But the actor had gotten carried away and signed a whole bunch. Now she had enough to hand out and toss extras.

Of course, she wouldn’t actually throw them around like that. So she handed the autograph book to Fat Cat. He flipped it open immediately, eyes wide.

It was indeed the actor who played Yuan — a few stylized characters in a fancy font. If you didn’t know his real name, it was almost impossible to read.

Fat Cat frowned at it for a long time, then muttered to himself, “Can’t tell anything from this…”

“Huh? What are you trying to tell from it?” Yuan Yuanyuan asked, crunching on a cucumber. She was puzzled by his words.

Fat Cat suddenly jumped down from the couch, walked over to her, and asked, “Don’t you think this actor’s signature isn’t all that flashy?”

The fact that someone could describe a person’s autograph as “not flashy” made Yuan Yuanyuan laugh a little. “Why don’t you check online? Maybe someone’s selling a signed copy on Xianyu or something…”

Fat Cat pulled out his phone to search, and Yuan Yuanyuan helped him. He wasn’t exactly great with phones. He wasn’t a pet — they never trimmed his claws — so his nails were too long to type easily.

After about ten minutes of searching, they found a few photos that matched. It looked like an autograph the actor had signed years ago, with handwriting that looked more like homework than a signature. Yuan Yuanyuan nudged Fat Cat. “Hey, look — how about this one?”

Fat Cat leaned in and suddenly widened his eyes. Yuan Yuanyuan had never seen them that wide before. It was like they were about to pop out. He looked like one of those monsters in Inuyasha from her childhood nightmares.

Startled, Yuan Yuanyuan was just about to joke when Fat Cat said:

“It’s not.”

“Huh? What do you mean, ‘it’s not’?” Yuan Yuanyuan felt like he was saying something she didn’t quite understand.

“Nothing… it’s nothing.” Fat Cat flopped back onto the couch, face lazy again, eyes squinting like dead fish. “Just now, I… kind of had a weird moment of enlightenment.”

“…Huh?” Yuan Yuanyuan blinked, confused.

“I’ve actually been really on edge lately… Don’t let my calm face fool you. Inside, I’ve been feeling really unsettled,” Fat Cat said.

Yuan Yuanyuan didn’t really follow his logic, but her instinct told her something was off. She tried to cheer him up with a new topic. “Hey, did you see that kid Yuan was holding in episode one? That was Xiao Ying — you know, the one who’s always yanking your tail next door.”

“Seriously?” Fat Cat’s ears perked up.

“Yeah,” Yuan Yuanyuan nodded. “She told me before. Want to go ask her how she feels seeing herself on TV?”

“Meow, that sounds kind of fun.” Fat Cat wagged his tail, jumped off the couch, and started scratching at the door.

Gao Ling was still on the couch, replaying the first episode in her head.

She couldn’t quite explain it… It was surprisingly good. She could tell the production budget was tight — lots of super cheap effects — but somehow those cheap effects worked in its favor.

It was like those old Taiwanese dramas. Super corny, but sweet in a nostalgic, romantic way.

She had barely enjoyed the aftertaste for two minutes when her phone buzzed. She opened it and found a ton of private messages.

They were from people in the big online group she used to hang out with — the ones who knew monsters existed in the world, and who also knew the characters in the manga were real. But beyond that, they didn’t know much.

She hadn’t dared to add them to her smaller, more private chat because she couldn’t confirm who they really were.

She scrolled through the DMs. At first, they were vague:

“Boss, did you watch today’s episode?”
“Boss, don’t you think that actor in the drama feels a little too real?”

Then one message stood out and left Gao Ling completely dumbfounded:

“Boss, do you think that actor… might actually be the real one?”

She sat on the couch, stunned for about ten seconds, trying to figure out where on earth they got that idea.

Then she logged onto the forum and saw all kinds of ridiculous posts. She immediately started deleting and banning accounts. They didn’t know better — but she sure did. The real person was currently playing “big shot” somewhere… and definitely not acting in a drama. Plus, where would he even find the time?

This misunderstanding came from people who only had surface-level knowledge. In their heads, the monster world was like a child’s game, and the Sects were some magical, all-powerful groups that might as well carry around cameras to shoot documentaries with real monsters.

But Gao Ling had deeper experience. She understood how complex things really were.

After half an hour of deleting posts, she finally relaxed and slumped onto the couch.

The drama… yeah, it was actually pretty good.
But the real deal? He made the actor look like trash in comparison.
After all, one was the actual person, and the other was just a faint imitation of his vibe.

Gao Ling lay back on the couch, spacing out, and thought:
If those people ever really saw the monster world, even for just one second…
They’d never mix things up like this again.