Little Pink Starfish

Who Is Yi Linglong

Hua Rongyue had always been called a “great listener” by her friends.

She didn’t talk much, never said hurtful things, and never interrupted others.

Someone once joked that no matter what you said to Hua Rongyue, she’d respond with a serious, earnest expression. You even had to double-check before cracking a joke, worried she wouldn’t get it.

But in truth, Hua Rongyue did get all the jokes—whether it was “xx” or that kind. She just couldn’t bring herself to respond out loud, overcome by inexplicable shyness. The result? She came across as someone completely straight-laced.

—Yes, that was Hua Rongyue: a proper, prim, and proper girl.

Paired with her taste in clothing, she looked even more like a no-nonsense type.

Right now, she was sitting among the group like a confused extra who wandered in from another film set.

—After all, Yan Sheng had once said that “Mu” only recruited people who could seamlessly blend in with maniacs. Whether they were actually crazy or not, at least they acted like it.

Hua Rongyue, on the other hand, was quiet and reserved—completely lacking in “maniac energy.” If she hadn’t introduced herself earlier, people might’ve mistaken her for the staff.

“Didn’t Lord Yan say someone’s supposed to be pretending to be Yi Linglong? Where is that person?”

Hua Rongyue sat there silently. She was the kind who wouldn’t interrupt if she couldn’t find an opening. And now, as the group got deep into conversation, she sat out.

But then she started noticing something strange—they were talking about her.

Wait… so everyone knew someone was going to impersonate Yi Linglong?

This group from Six Gates was diverse—young masters, noble ladies, courtesans, swordsmen, thieves, scholars, merchants…

—But one thing was clear: every single one of them was a big shot.

They talked about everything—from martial world politics to the future of Six Gates, even to the threat of foreign powers. Hua Rongyue couldn’t get a word in.

Sorry, Yi Linglong was just a jock.

Hua Rongyue looked around at these heavyweights and, for the first time, felt a real urge to run away.

As they began discussing who the impersonator might be, she shrank deeper into herself, saying nothing.

She kept pretending she was clueless, quietly clutching her pecans while everyone speculated.

“Is it you?”

Naturally, the first person they suspected was Gu Xia—easily the most skilled fighter in the room.

But this wasn’t just about finding the fake Yi Linglong. These people were also using this opportunity to size each other up—to posture and test their pecking order.

Gu Xia laughed. “It couldn’t be me. Too many people know who I am. If I pretended to be Yi Linglong, I’d be exposed in no time.”

“But your martial arts are the best among us,” said a sultry, graceful woman. “With baggy clothes and a covered face, it’s doable. If it’s not you, then who?”

Gu Xia smiled and pointed across the room. “Maybe ask that gentleman over there.”

Everyone turned to look. It was an older man who’d been silent the whole time.

Not many recognized him—but Hua Rongyue did. His name was Zhang Tong.

He was the only one here who could rival Gu Xia in skill.

Though not yet famous, in a few years his name would shake the martial world. He was known as a true martial arts fanatic—especially around the time Yi Linglong died.

Even without a word, Gu Xia could tell how dangerous he was. Truly the mark of a master.

Everyone turned hopeful eyes to Zhang Tong.

But he just shook his head and said, “It’s not me.”

“Then who could it be?” Shen Qinglan wondered aloud. “Maybe that senior didn’t show up today?”

That was a reasonable guess. Yi Linglong was rumored to be the number-one assassin in the martial world. Though missing now, he was known to have killed the previous top assassin.

Naturally, everyone expected the Six Gates to pick someone extremely capable to impersonate him. Many imagined the imposter as a mysterious reclusive expert, and it wouldn’t be surprising if he was kept hidden for secrecy.

“Yi Linglong…” the graceful woman sighed, “We’ll never see the real one. Can’t we at least meet the fake?”

“Um…” A weak voice came from the corner.

“You’re looking for the person pretending to be Yi Linglong? I think… that’s me.” Hua Rongyue raised her hand timidly.

All eyes turned to her. She met their gazes—and even she started feeling like the situation was surreal.

Dressed in somber blue, she had chosen that color to make a good impression today. Her already calm demeanor now made her look practically dull.

Seeing how wild their guesses were getting, she figured someone might end up asking Yan Sheng directly—so she spoke up first to avoid the awkwardness.

But now, under the scrutiny of all those stares, she lowered her head again in doubt.

*Wait… the person I transmigrated into really *was* Yi Linglong, right?*

She did spend half a year at Tianyi Tower. It wasn’t a dream… right?

Her existential spiral was cut short by Jiang Lianhuan’s voice.

He squinted at her, then suddenly said in surprise, “Ah… so it was you.”

Hua Rongyue tensed. Crap—did the psycho recognize her??

“Sorry I didn’t realize you were ‘Yi Linglong’ earlier,” Shen Qinglan said with a smile. “Honestly, I couldn’t tell at all…”

Hua Rongyue remembered Shen Qinglan well—she had smiled at her earlier, beautifully so.

Now Shen was helping her out again. Known in Yi Linglong’s memories as a cold beauty, she was unexpectedly warm, and Hua Rongyue felt flattered.

“What are you holding?” Shen asked, pointing at Hua Rongyue’s bundle.

Everyone’s eyes immediately locked on it.

They’d all noticed the bundle earlier but said nothing since she hadn’t spoken. Now they were curious.

Feeling the pressure, Hua Rongyue opened it to reveal the pecans. She glanced around, a bit shy. “Would you like some? I brought them to share.”

Just a second ago, the big shots were still posturing. Now, suddenly offered snacks, they all looked stunned.

With a friendly face, Hua Rongyue gave Shen Qinglan two, then stood up and began handing them out—no favoritism, everyone got some. Even Jiang Lianhuan received two.

In that moment, she felt a little freer. The vibe was already weird—might as well roll with it. She treated it like her first day at a new job, handing out cookies.

Afterward, she returned to her seat, exuding a calm, dependable aura.

Suddenly, her quiet, down-to-earth presence stood out like a rock amid waves of chaotic energy. The room fell completely silent.

She’d somehow, with her “normal person” vibes and humble outlook, subdued a whole room full of elite martial artists.

This one’s legit, everyone silently agreed.

But deep down, everyone was thinking the same thing:

This person… what possible connection could they have to Yi Linglong?

---

Meanwhile, back at Baicao Hall, the remaining three carried on with their usual tasks—treating patients, organizing supplies. Things moved a bit slower without Hua Rongyue, but they managed.

Doctor Qi was giving acupuncture when he sighed mid-session. “I wonder if Rongyue’s shared the pecans with anyone yet.”

“You actually gave them to him?” Wan Fulián asked. “I thought you were joking.”

“Think those Six Gates folks would eat pecans?” Xiao Han snorted. “You should’ve left them for me and Little Lian.”

“In your dreams.”

As the three chatted, a commotion broke out on the street, growing louder—headed straight for Baicao Hall.

Frowning, Doctor Qi told the only one among them trained in martial arts, “Xiao Han, go see what’s going on.”

“Who’s making a racket this early?” Xiao Han muttered, heading for the door. He opened it—then froze.

“Is there a doctor here?” a deep voice boomed. “My brother needs urgent help!”

“Sorry, we’re closed,” Xiao Han said coldly. Wan Fulián and Doctor Qi peeked out, confused—Xiao Han had just opened for the day.

“Well now, little brother,” the man outside chuckled coldly, “Telling lies in broad daylight isn’t good. It’s barely morning—how can you be closed?”

“I open and close whenever I want!” Xiao Han snapped. “This clinic’s a family business. We’re closed today. Beat it!”

Just as he finished speaking, a loud thud shook the room. Xiao Han flew backward two or three meters like he’d been punched by a ghost.

Wan Fulián and Doctor Qi rushed over to help. Xiao Han tried to speak, but coughed up a mouthful of blood instead.

Wan Fulián’s eyes reddened.

Shockingly, Xiao Han didn’t say a word more.

With him down, everyone saw the men at the door—one burly, scar-faced man carrying an injured, blood-soaked companion.

More startling was the man in front—his eyes gleamed a blood-red.

“Which one of you is the doctor?” he growled.

“I am,” Doctor Qi stepped forward decisively. “Come to the back. Your brother’s injury is serious—he needs to be on a bed.”

“Now that’s more like it,” the red-eyed man sneered. He shot a glare at Xiao Han. “Calling yourself ‘closed’? If my brother weren’t dying, I’d have killed you where you stood. Move.”

Doctor Qi led them to the back. Though unaware of their origins, Wan Fulián had seen someone with red eyes before. She turned to Xiao Han, worried.

“Go,” Xiao Han whispered urgently. “Forget me.”

“Where to?” she asked.

“My home,” he said firmly. “Tell my father. Bring reinforcements. Go to the escort bureau and stay there. Don’t come back.”

Doctor Qi had his own calculations—he was hoping to bring the red-eyed man to a back room that housed both a “blood gourd” and a Six Gates operative. But when the agent peeked out the window and saw the man’s face, he nearly stopped breathing—and didn’t come out.

“Let’s go,” Doctor Qi said, changing course at the last minute.

Some gut instinct saved him. Instead of luring the man into a trap, he diverted him next door.

The Six Gates operative heaved a silent sigh of relief. A rookie, he wasn’t ready for anything this dangerous. Quietly, he cracked the window, slipped out, and galloped off to find Yan Sheng.

Doctor Qi led the men into a treatment room. As he peeled back the patient’s clothes, his heart dropped—a dagger was buried in the man’s back, almost piercing his chest.

This wasn’t just a bad wound—it was life-threatening.

“How is he, doctor?” the red-eyed man asked, rough but clearly worried.

Doctor Qi kept his expression neutral. “He’s still hanging on. I’ll fetch the medicine.”

He started acupuncture immediately—only targeting pressure points that could sustain life.