Little Pink Starfish

Nighttime Patient

Recently… there was something that had been troubling Hua Rongyue.

—And it all started with something Yan Sheng asked Doctor Qi to pass along a few days ago.

That day, Doctor Qi had returned from the yamen and casually relayed a message from Yan Sheng.

He had said, “If possible, help keep an eye on the nearby area’s security.”

…And ever since then, Hua Rongyue had been caught in this spiral of uncertainty—all because of that one, casually delivered request.

Anyone else would probably find her reaction absurd.

She kept wondering, What exactly did “nearby” mean? How large was the area she was supposed to patrol? Was she being entrusted with the entire region’s safety, or was this just a polite suggestion? Vague words like that were the hardest to interpret.

But Hua Rongyue was the kind of person who internalized her worries. She never voiced them aloud, so no one at Baicao Hall had any idea what she’d been wrestling with for the past few days.

That evening, after finishing up her tasks at the clinic and noticing there was still sunlight outside, she began the inner debate again—Should I go patrol or not?

“Rongyue, time to eat,” Doctor Qi called from across the room.

“Um… I’m not hungry yet. I’m going to take a walk,” Hua Rongyue said, suddenly springing up from her seat with a look of uncertainty on her face.

“Again?” Doctor Qi mumbled behind her, “She’s been going out around this time every day lately… where on earth does she go?”

…And so, for who-knows-how-many times now, Hua Rongyue stood alone on the street, conflicted.

She scolded herself for wasting time on indecision. I’m going to patrol anyway—might as well have come out sooner.

The areas closest to Baicao Hall included the street just ahead and a small pond at the end of it. Those were non-negotiable stops. After completing her rounds there, Hua Rongyue fell back into her dilemma: Should I continue further or call it a night?

There was a voice in her head whispering, Come on, Yan Sheng probably just said that in passing. It’s not like he really expects you to take it seriously.

Yeah, that’s right. He’s not even paying you. Go back and eat.

—And yet… two incense sticks’ time later, Hua Rongyue had thoroughly patrolled the next street over as well.

…

Ahem. Not like she wanted to patrol the whole neighborhood or anything!

She’d just turned back halfway through, thinking, What if Yan Sheng really did mean for me to handle this area, and just didn’t send anyone else because he assumed I would?

Even though he didn’t seem like the type to shirk responsibility, still… what if?

Though she came off as easygoing, Hua Rongyue was actually extremely conscientious. If Yan Sheng had said nothing, she might have let it go. But since he had spoken, she couldn’t stop worrying that if something happened, it might be her fault.

Her patrolling method was professional and precise. Some techniques she used weren’t even available to the local constables. After all, she’d been trained as an assassin—her methods were subtle and efficient. After just one circuit, she already knew which households had argued, who lost a sack of rice or flour, and even whose cat had been bitten by a dog.

Information gathering was ingrained in her bones. She couldn’t not know—it happened instinctively.

Hua Rongyue had once been a bit of a shut-in. But now, thanks to these patrols, she’d pretty much memorized everyone in the neighborhood.

At this point, you could probably name any house and she’d know exactly who lived there.

After an hour-long patrol, Hua Rongyue returned to Baicao Hall under the moonlight, sighing like her soul had left her. Doctor Qi was baffled.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said.

It’s just… sometimes even I get exhausted by how seriously I take things.

She sat down, feeling a bit melancholic. It wasn’t often she felt this way, but sometimes—just sometimes—it crept in.

The chaos in the martial world kept the townsfolk well-fed with rumors. Most had never met a jianghu figure, but that didn’t stop them from gossiping. Meanwhile, Hua Rongyue was content to quietly work as an apprentice.

Sometimes, as she quietly copied down prescriptions, she’d suddenly hear someone mention the name “Yi Linglong.” She’d reflexively look around, only to realize the voice was coming from the tea house next door, or from someone chatting across the street… the name popped up a lot.

But even so, no one in the jianghu had managed to find Yi Linglong.

Everyone wondered—where had he disappeared to?

With her current reputation and supposed strength, most believed Yi Linglong was the top assassin in the martial world. If it were anyone else, they’d be using the momentum to solidify their status, maybe even seize leadership of a major sect.

But not Yi Linglong.

She had simply… vanished. Not a trace. Never appeared in public again.

Hua Rongyue had once considered playing the tyrant, using this opportunity to climb to power, maybe even become the new Tower Master. But in the end, she let go of the idea.

It all came down to her temperament.

Deep down, she never saw herself as someone calm or composed. Those words didn’t really suit her. Her current lifestyle was the most cautious, most boring one she could have chosen—but that was exactly why it worked.

To Doctor Qi and the others, she seemed so calm and reliable. She liked peace and quiet. And she knew that in a small town, standing out would only attract attention. So she stayed in the back, helped behind the scenes. And when she had to appear, she made sure she was dressed neatly and behaved impeccably.

And so, despite her breathtaking beauty, Hua Rongyue had lived in Anping Town for two months without anyone—even the regulars—really knowing her name. That incident with Xiao Han might have been her first and only time stepping into the spotlight.

Sometimes, even she admitted that her personality had become a little too serious. Doctor Qi occasionally told her, “Rongyue, you don’t have to be so serious all the time.”

Whenever he said that, she’d feel a lump in her throat—but couldn’t explain why.

Was she too serious?

“Serious” was supposed to be a good word, but even she wasn’t sure if it truly was for her.

She was serious, yes. But… wasn’t it kind of foolish too? Like how she’d just spent an hour meticulously patrolling a quiet street.

As she drifted into thought, noise suddenly broke out outside.

“A patient’s here—serious condition. Rongyue, go grab the medicine!” Wan Fulian shouted as she ran to fetch Doctor Qi.

Now? Hua Rongyue glanced at the pitch-black sky in shock.

Wasn’t the clinic closed by now? Just because the door wasn’t locked didn’t mean they were still open!

She looked up just as someone was brought in—and the sight stunned her.

If she had to use poetic language, it would be “a bloody gourd.”

It was barely recognizable as human—just a lump of flesh soaked in blood, like a blood-soaked sandbag, rushed in on a stretcher.

Hua Rongyue sat frozen.

Why would someone think a small-town clinic could handle this kind of injury?

Then another person entered—and upon seeing him, Hua Rongyue immediately calmed down. Dressed in black, it was none other than Yan Sheng.

—Ah. Government officials.

Well, that explained everything.

Hua Rongyue turned and headed to the back to wash her hands and prepare the medicine for sword wounds.

The person—this “bloody gourd”—barely seemed alive. The moment Hua Rongyue saw him, she suspected he wouldn’t last long.

But that wasn’t the point.

Usually, when the yamen brought someone in like this, it wasn’t for treatment—it was for life support.

This person probably had important information. He might be unconscious now, but Yan Sheng needed that intel. Which meant the man needed to stay alive—at least until he could talk.

Baicao Hall was basically the county yamen’s unofficial second hospital. Hua Rongyue thought they might as well build a proper connection system between the two.

Doctor Qi had studied general medicine, but by now he’d practically been forced into specializing in orthopedics and trauma. Hua Rongyue even caught him reading a book on bone injuries the other day.

Yan Sheng stood beside the patient, frowning as Doctor Qi explained the condition—also with a furrowed brow.

Several other officials had come as well. Hua Rongyue didn’t know any of them by name, but they clearly weren’t just low-level officers—they were likely Six Doors agents.

Hua Rongyue handled support work. She sterilized a small knife over a flame—something she wouldn’t have let Wan Fulian do, even though the girl had tried sneaking up to help and had been quickly shooed away by Doctor Qi.

She stood quietly, listening as they tried to figure out how this man had ended up in such a state.

…What Hua Rongyue hadn’t told anyone was that although she wasn’t skilled at pulse-taking, she was exceptionally good at trauma cases—bone injuries, blade wounds, internal damage…

And the reason wasn’t because she had read medical books before transmigrating.

It was far more brutal.

As she examined the “bloody gourd,” her fingers silently probed a few spots, then withdrew without a trace of blood.

The truth was—

She and Yi Linglong had experienced all these injuries firsthand.

—Back in Tianyi Tower, even though Hua Rongyue had never gone on missions, injury was a part of daily life. Sword fights and ambushes were common. Pain and survival were a way of life.

She looked down as the patient let out a weak moan. The worst wound had stopped bleeding, and she quietly stepped aside to prepare the wound salve.

A needle was being inserted into the man’s body when Yan Sheng suddenly said behind her:

“This man was injured by someone who’s gone berserk. A woman in red—very beautiful.”

“A woman?” Doctor Qi looked up from the wound, stunned. “She did this? A woman with that much strength?”

“But we couldn’t catch her,” Yan Sheng added. “She escaped. She was bold—definitely not acting like most.”

“Then why not just wait until he wakes up and ask him what happened?” someone in the back chimed in.

Hua Rongyue froze.

Red clothing? A woman?

Her blood ran cold.