Little Pink Starfish

[He got cheated on?]
[Seems like it.]
[Who got cheated on?]

…

That was a very good question.

As for exactly who got cheated on—there was no need to think too hard about it for now. Either way, Gao Ling found the plot quite painful to watch.

From beginning to end, from the very first words Yuan spoke, she had a hunch that “he” was just trying to put on a brave face.

But what’s the point of that bravado… Gao Ling thought with mixed feelings. But in the monster world, that kind of thing did make a twisted sort of sense. Come to think of it, she even felt a bit relieved—at least she managed to fool the head of the Li family, right?

Last time she saw that guy, his hands were already covered in scratches. Who knew what state he’d be in this time?

If possible, Gao Ling would like to see him again soon—but she knew the chances of that were slim.

Actually, the previous comic issue had been pretty devastating for Gao Ling too. Because through it and some earlier clues, she finally figured something out.

First of all: that comic-con incident years ago that nearly got her killed—the mastermind was probably the head of the Li family.

Even more crushing: Gao Ling soon realized the “boss” she ran into at the con—the one lying there pretending to be dead—was actually Yuan…

Based on how Yuan’s abilities were described in the comic, Gao Ling guessed he must’ve used shapeshifting… or maybe illusion magic? She still wasn’t sure exactly how it worked, but the blurry memory of that convention had been gradually clearing in her mind—until it now felt as vivid as if it had just happened yesterday.

And the aftermath of that realization? That weird doll that appeared by her bedside…

Er… According to some, people with strong spiritual energy are also pretty good at doing strange, cursed things. So to console herself, Gao Ling bought a scarecrow from a third-rate store, stitched on a makeshift loincloth, then secretly stole three needles from her mom and started stabbing—once in the head, once in the chest, and once in… yeah.

Now, she was scrolling through comments online, casually reading a few.

[Is it just me, or is the vibe between these two super weird? I can’t quite explain it—is this really the atmosphere of two romantic rivals meeting?]
[Romantic rivals? More like lovers! Shocked.]
[…Are we even reading the same comic?]

Gao Ling checked the group chat. At this point, they weren’t even sharing much info anymore. She’d once been the author of a fancomic about the red-dressed woman secretly being a man, but even that had been shelved. Everyone was now collectively pretending to be dead.

Things were tense, and Gao Ling knew she couldn’t risk doing anything reckless. Most of the forum veterans had gone silent like her. They all knew something, but no one was talking—and the silence was heavy.

But you know how it is with this sort of thing… Not talking really means not talking. But staying quiet? Itches like a weed growing in your gut. It made people want to say just a thing or two, just to relieve the pressure.

Lately, people in the group had been mocking her for always talking like she had something to say but stopping herself. Even Gao Ling felt bad for them. Sometimes the pressure built up so much that someone would let out a short rant in the chat—and then things would go quiet again.

But after today’s chapter dropped, the bottled-up group finally burst.

As online comments started piling up, the chat grew more and more active. With time, people were getting heated.

By evening, things had escalated to the point where Gao Ling had to step in and calm everyone down.

[Everyone, quiet down! Please! Don’t get too worked up!] Gao Ling wrote. [First and foremost: do not speak out carelessly. Our top priority is protecting ourselves.]

[BUT I CAN’T HOLD IT IN ANYMORE!] someone replied. [Come on, how do you expect me to stay quiet after that?! I swear, Yuan’s totally gonna die at this rate!]

[Damn it, are we really heading toward a death scene? Don’t do this! I thought he might just live out his days safely as the red-dressed woman, but now I feel like the minute Monster Chronicles ends, Yuan’s definitely gonna die… What is this feeling?!]

Ugh… Gao Ling had to admit, she kind of had the same feeling. She was beginning to regret telling this group that she had met Yuan. Even more so, she regretted mentioning the scars on the back of his hands.

But since she was the group owner, she had to step up and calm everyone down. The situation had been stable until the previous chapter—but after that, more than half the group had a full-on emotional breakdown.

A mountains-crumbling, rivers-reversing level of breakdown. If Yuan Yuanyuan knew, she’d be totally dumbfounded. Meanwhile, she was still at the tavern, munching on melon seeds, sipping Coke, scrolling her phone, and enjoying a massage from the kind innkeeper.

In short, a whole bunch of Yuan’s fangirls and fanboys were having a collective mental collapse, discussing everything with detailed analysis.

Their speculations had grown hardcore—practically grounded in real-world reasoning.

[This is the first time I’ve ever had to mentally fill in a comic like this. Is that even normal? What the hell is the plan here?!]

Gao Ling had plenty of thoughts on that. And honestly, she was already mentally prepared.

No matter how she looked at it, Yuan’s future didn’t seem all that bright…

Sure, he was strong. Sure, he had incredible luck. Sure, he escaped death flags before. But this time? Could he really get away again?

More and more, Gao Ling was shifting to a realistic way of thinking about the comic, not just a typical shounen manga mindset. After all, even Harry Potter started off as pure children’s fantasy—only to end with a bloodbath and a pile of bodies.

By the final volume… who knew if she might be one of the casualties of this “fairy tale.”

It was with this realization that Gao Ling had been systematically erasing her own online presence. Her survival instincts were screaming. She didn’t want to appear in the “final volume” at all. That was the safest path. Even just appearing in a single comic panel could get her caught in the crossfire.

Honestly, Gao Ling and her crew were in danger. Because hardly anyone paid attention to them—the most at-risk group were actually the comic’s iconic supporting characters. Since main characters usually don’t die in shounen manga, people like Yuan were actually more vulnerable. At the very least, the comic’s author—a big demon whose true identity no one had ever uncovered—would probably go to great lengths to protect the protagonist.

But Yuan…

Gao Ling couldn’t treat him like a regular manga character anymore. As time passed, she could feel his body weakening—as if an hourglass was slowly running out of sand. And the worst part? Only a few people could see that hourglass.

That made it even more terrifying for them—an overwhelming sense of helplessness and dread spread quietly among them.

Even from a storytelling perspective, what’s more exciting for readers than a climactic scene where a beloved side character dies?

He’d become a legend—at least in the 2D world. But knowing Ji Qiu’s crazy, cruel style, Gao Ling figured this might be all part of the plan.

[Hey, do you know that white thread-looking stuff? What is that exactly?] someone asked.

[Specifically… I think it’s smoke,] Gao Ling replied, recalling what she saw at the comic-con. [The kind that comes from burning those white threads. Normally, anyone who inhales it passes out. But when Yuan inhaled it, he got super weak. I’m starting to suspect they lit that stuff at the venue that day—he kept coughing up blood afterward.]

[Smoking kills.] someone joked bleakly in the chat.

Only two people had seen Yuan in person that day. But just hearing the descriptions, everyone could vividly imagine the scene. Especially the moment Gao Ling described:
“After I gossiped for ages, he still handed me a tissue box.”
That line hit everyone hard—it was just so visual.

[How long was he in that room in the comic?] someone asked.

[I read all the lines at a normal pace—it was just over three minutes,] a fact-checker quietly reported.

[Three minutes… Couldn’t you pick a luckier number? Are you trying to set off another death flag?]

Three minutes… in a sealed room. Thinking about it now made Gao Ling feel chills.

She kept remembering how many blood-stained tissues she’d found in the trash can that night—and that was outdoors, in open air.

[The worst part is that room… It was completely sealed. And it seemed like he was breathing it all in, directly,] someone added. [Can we estimate by timeline? I really think the Li family head meant what he said—that he wanted Yuan to die by his hand a second time… and this time, he might succeed.]

[Enough!] Gao Ling suddenly cut in, startling everyone.

[No matter what happens, no one act rashly. The top priority is protecting yourselves.] she repeated firmly.

The group chat stayed noisy for a bit longer, but under Gao Ling’s watchful eye, things gradually settled down.