Little Pink Starfish

“…Are we really gonna be okay doing this?” a girl beside Gao Ling asked nervously.

“To be honest, it’s kind of a death wish…” Gao Ling stared at the banner in front of her, dark circles under her eyes. “But I can’t sleep if we don’t. Look at these bags under my eyes.”

“Alright, alright. I’m not even gonna look at that thing anymore,” the girl waved her hand. “Let’s just get it over with or we’ll be late getting back.”

Gao Ling let out a sigh of relief. The last banner they made was from when they went to spectate Yuan’s battle. Now they had a new one: [Welcome Back, Yuan!]

When they were making it, the print shop owner looked at them with an odd expression, like he wanted to say something but swallowed it back… though it looked like it physically pained him.

Gao Ling didn’t care what he was thinking. She just needed to get this thing ready—for the day it could be used.

“Alright, pack it up. That’s good enough,” Gao Ling clapped her hands. “We’ll talk more when the time comes. Until then, stay quiet. If we don’t retaliate, they’ll really think we’re weak…”

“Boss!” someone suddenly called out nearby. Gao Ling turned. “What is it?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to ask… is Yuan pretty in drag?” The girl asking leaned in sneakily.

Ah… Gao Ling was stumped. Honestly, she’d never seen his real face. Her memory had been wiped back then.

“Well, if Yuan’s not pretty…” the girl hesitated, “our whole plan might fall apart. It’d ruin the effect.”

“…Definitely pretty!” Gao Ling slapped the girl’s shoulder. “Super pretty. Trust me!”

Having no clue whether Yuan was actually good-looking in drag, Gao Ling confidently sold him out—without hesitation. Her logic was simple: whether he was pretty or not could be dealt with later. For now, bluff it.

As for how Yuan would actually look when the time came… Gao Ling decided not to think too hard about it. Deep down, she did believe in Yuan’s looks. He couldn’t possibly disgrace his old “Ran Niang” reputation.

…Hopefully not.

…Probably not.

While Yuan Yuanyuan had yet to blow her cover, a group of people outside were already itching to act.

Previously, almost no one on the forums mentioned a gender-bend version of the Red-Dressed Woman. Even though many characters had been gender-bent before, this one in particular seemed to be avoided—no one brought it up, and naturally, no one wrote fanworks about it.

That was thanks to Gao Ling’s secret sabotage. As the forum admin, she’d abused her power to delete all those posts. Over time, even though people cursed the mod, everyone caught on and gradually stopped posting that kind of content.

Now, Gao Ling was back on her main account, preparing to make her move. Her account still held significant clout; even though she hadn’t drawn in ages, she was once a well-known “big-name artist” in the fandom.

As soon as Gao Ling updated with a new comic, fans came out of the woodwork, flooding the comments.

【Boss, why’d you show up all of a sudden?!】
【Boss, the series is nearly over and now you appear—I almost forgot about you!】
【Take back your crown, boss!】

Gao Ling smirked coldly.

Glory? Doesn’t exist. I’m just here to cause chaos.

She uploaded a comic—a long strip format, easy to share and filled with bite-sized cute moments. Gao Ling had always loved drawing these. And now that she was back in the game, this was her format of choice.

The comic was a simple genderbend trope featuring the Red-Dressed Woman x Fa Ning. Lately, their ship had been really popular, rivaling the Red-Dressed Woman x Yuan ship. Both had passionate fans.

Gao Ling chose the Fa Ning ship—she just couldn’t bring herself to support Yuan’s pairing.

She whipped up a sweet little strip, with a subtle age-gap dynamic between Fa Ning and the Red-Dressed Woman. It hit all the right emotional notes.

She even hinted at something more… not quite NSFW, but certainly suggestive. A baby-step “steamy” scene, tastefully executed.

As the strip escalated, the backgrounds grew more beautiful, but the key visuals—like the chest area—were always carefully obscured.

From start to finish, nothing was revealed. That was partially to avoid censorship, of course. But considering how intense the scene got, the fact that nothing slipped through was almost miraculous.

The whole thing built up to a final scene so sweet and moe that readers were clutching their cheeks in delight, squealing over how cute it was.

By the end, most readers had let their guard down. They trusted Gao Ling’s skills and fully expected a satisfying conclusion.

—Until the very last panel, where the Red-Dressed Woman and Fa Ning shared a smile.

That’s when someone noticed… something was off.

In that final image, the Red-Dressed Woman’s true face was revealed.

Just a few strokes—but it completely changed the vibe.

At first glance, people thought maybe the art was off. But on closer inspection, it didn’t seem like a mistake—because Gao Ling’s technique was too clean.

【Boss… did you mess up the last panel?】
【That last face looks kinda weird, doesn’t it? Was it a slip-up?】
【Nah, when has Boss ever messed up? It was probably intentional. Also, still looks great.】

Gao Ling didn’t respond to the comments. She let them speculate.

Her thinking was this: if Yuan really was going to survive, then she wanted to build some hype.

But if Yuan really didn’t make it out alive… then she didn’t want the world to witness his death in full, through the comic.

Too humiliating. Too painful. She’d watched Yuan Yingli’s storyline recently—he probably thought he was truly dying in that moment. Even though he survived, reading that scene later would be torture.

She didn’t want Yuan’s current state—wounded, alone, hiding—to become mere fodder for fantasies about “what if I became Yuan,” followed by power trips and harems.

So Gao Ling tried to spread the word. Even though it had become increasingly dangerous to leak too much—and any big info drop got clamped down immediately—she was still trying.

That didn’t mean it was impossible. Gao Ling stared at her screen. If she couldn’t say it…

…what if she just made other people think it themselves?

Narrowing her eyes, Gao Ling watched the comments. Soon, a familiar user ID popped up, posting something innocuous:

【Hey… doesn’t this version of Yuan kinda look like a guy?】

Nice.

Gao Ling silently pumped her fist. This one’ll work. It won’t get flagged!

Almost giddy, she refreshed the comments again—and spotted another familiar ID:

【Yeah, it does look kinda manly. Did the artist use a male model as reference?】

【Stop it, fangirls. Go seek validation somewhere else.】 someone else replied, annoyed.

No, no, don’t start a fight now! Gao Ling cursed internally. I need these “random commenters” to keep stirring the pot!

Narrowing her eyes, she quietly hit the “report” button and deleted the troll reply through her mod powers.

The wicked forum admin strikes again! Gao Ling cackled maniacally as she watched the deleted comment vanish, her whole body trembling with joy.

After the laughter faded, Gao Ling watched the comments section. Her “planted” commenters—her online buddies—were now active, slowly steering the conversation.

【Doesn’t the Red-Dressed Woman kinda look like a guy here?】
【Right? Also, Boss didn’t draw any cleavage! At all! Right?! RIGHT?!】

Gradually, others began to notice the same thing.

Yeah… come to think of it, why wasn’t there any cleavage the whole time?

Some started tagging Gao Ling in comments, asking her to explain. But Gao Ling was completely ghosting now—not a word.

Little by little, the comments section was overtaken by Gao Ling’s water army. Her group chat friends had coordinated ahead of time, aligning their strategy and comment content. They were all using real accounts, so it wasn’t obvious. Slowly but surely, the tide of discussion shifted.

Eventually, two unfamiliar IDs appeared and posted the following:

【The Red-Dressed Woman… actually does kinda look like a guy.】

【Honestly, the art’s really good. I kinda like it. Since the artist isn’t explaining, can I just treat this as BL? I’ll imagine whatever I want—I won’t say a word.】