Little Pink Starfish

With encouragement from Jiang Lianhuan — whose thinking was starkly different from the conservative mindset of the times — even Hua Rongyue, a modern soul, gained some confidence in the task she was about to undertake.

However, the more she thought about it, the more absurd it felt — she actually needed to draw confidence from Jiang Lianhuan of all people?

The day before she was set to depart, Baicao Hall was as lively as ever. Wan Fulián was still engrossed in her beloved martial arts storybooks, Doctor Qi continued treating patients, and Xiao Han… was still slacking off.

While hurrying through her tasks for the next few days, Hua Rongyue listened to them chat. Out of boredom, she flipped through Wan Fulián’s storybook and quickly confirmed that it was an ancient version of a wuxia novel. However, she wasn’t very interested.

First, the book mixed classical and vernacular Chinese, which gave her a headache. Second, this era’s wuxia novels didn’t follow polished modern storytelling formulas. After finishing one, Hua Rongyue felt that, frankly, she could probably earn a living as a writer here. Third, ancient values clashed too much with her own — she remembered once liking a story until a “heroine,” after being dishonored, committed suicide to preserve her chastity. That very night, she angrily burned the book.

Finding a readable storybook in ancient times was truly a challenge. As she was busy sorting herbs, she suddenly heard Wan Fulián shout, “Wait, why does this story feel so familiar? Is this… about Yi Linglong?”

“Ah? Let me see.” Hua Rongyue wiped her hands and took the book.

It was indeed a story that subtly referenced Yi Linglong — about an assassin whose looks and demeanor resembled those of a woman. It was clear the author had based the character purely on rumors from the jianghu, crafting someone suspiciously similar to the real Yi Linglong.

Though much of it was made up, the implications were obvious. Hua Rongyue couldn’t pretend not to notice.

To be honest, she hadn’t even portrayed Yi Linglong as that effeminate. Yet the author’s satire — likely a product of the times — felt harsh.

Compared to the relative openness of modern society, the ancient world was much more suffocating. Modern culture might embrace “pretty boys,” gender-bending, and all sorts of playful subversions, but in this era, someone like Yi Linglong was bound to provoke suspicion simply because of his appearance.

It reminded Hua Rongyue of the “Brother X” phenomenon during the Super Girl craze back in modern times — except now the backlash could be even harsher.

There was no way to avoid such misinterpretations. Hua Rongyue only hoped it remained confined to this one storybook and didn’t spiral into widespread gossip.

Facing the intense repression of ancient norms, she realized how poorly she was adapting. In modern times, seeing street vendors hawking BL novels, drag queens, and such had made her head hurt occasionally — but at least that world allowed for such diversity. Here, the suffocating traditionalism made her feel trapped.

Were humans doomed to always long for whatever they lacked?

Keeping her expression calm, she handed the book back to Wan Fulián while secretly reflecting. Although ancient people were more close-minded, they also lacked the vast array of manipulation tricks modern people had perfected in the information age.

Modern entertainment, with its endless layers of “truth and illusion,” had taught Hua Rongyue that much of what people believed was real was just carefully curated spectacle.

Yi Linglong had been a sincere person — truly loving, openly expressing herself, whether in clothing or makeup. Yet in the end, she gave her whole heart to a scumbag and got trampled for it. In this world, true sincerity was a rarity.

So what truly captivated audiences?

It wasn’t raw sincerity. It was sincerity that had been processed, polished, packaged — a blend of lies, drama, and carefully presented “truth.”

In short, it was entertainment. As long as the “audience” believed what they saw was genuine, it didn’t matter how fake it really was.

Hua Rongyue, despite her outward honesty and straightforwardness, understood all this perfectly. She knew how to present herself in a way that shielded her vulnerability — unlike Yi Linglong, who had been brutally genuine.

In truth, Hua Rongyue’s heart was far more guarded than Yi Linglong’s had ever been.

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A few days later, a carriage set off from a small town in Jiangnan. Strangely, it seemed that a woman had joined the party.

Most people didn’t notice. The carriage had been hired from a local escort agency, and the agency didn’t care if the passengers changed — protecting client privacy was part of the job. Their mission was simply to escort this carriage to the Qinhuai River.

Inside the carriage, the woman stayed hidden behind a drawn curtain. But on the first day, some of the guards heard her speak.

Her voice was low and husky, like a rare instrument producing a haunting melody.

Outside, another figure followed the carriage. He wore a wide-brimmed hat that concealed his features, save for a distinctive red earring that swayed with his movements.

After traveling for half a day, the caravan stopped to rest. To an outsider, the woman in the carriage appeared eerily quiet — but Hua Rongyue herself knew how much she had actually been talking these past days.

Though outwardly silent, inside she and Jiang Lianhuan had been chatting non-stop — well, mostly Jiang Lianhuan talking while Hua Rongyue listened.

“You really should come out for some fresh air,” Jiang Lianhuan said, using sound transmission to speak directly into the carriage. “Let them see what a beauty we’re guarding.”

Hua Rongyue felt mentally exhausted. Every time she dealt with Jiang Lianhuan, she felt this strange fatigue.

Her best weapon was simple: say little, or respond blandly. Hua Rongyue was not good at banter, often replying with literal, serious answers.

Still, today Jiang Lianhuan seemed unusually lively, babbling on while riding atop the carriage.

“I think if it were the real Yi Linglong,” Hua Rongyue mused carefully, “she wouldn’t want to be seen too much right now. Her recent notoriety hasn’t faded yet, and she’d be trying to stay low profile.”

Jiang Lianhuan paused. “You’re really such a killjoy, Rongyue.”

“…Sorry,” Hua Rongyue apologized.

“But according to our agreed character setting, shouldn’t Yi Linglong actually enjoy being seen?” Jiang Lianhuan teased. “After all, you are relishing the experience of being a woman. You haven’t even exposed my disguise.”

He added lightly, “And madmen are always bolder than ordinary folk.”

Hua Rongyue couldn’t deny he had a point. Jiang Lianhuan’s understanding of insanity was disturbingly spot-on.

Their current script was simple: Hua Rongyue played the crazed Yi Linglong; Jiang Lianhuan played the righteous wandering hero.

When Hua Rongyue first heard this description, she had secretly laughed — Jiang Lianhuan, a hero?

According to their story, Jiang Lianhuan had met Yi Linglong while wandering, unaware of her true identity. Seeing her cross-dressing, he didn’t recognize her and the two decided to travel together.

The reason Yi Linglong chose to follow him? Because Jiang Lianhuan had casually said:

“Young lady, you are truly beautiful.”

— and that one line was enough.

This plot was Hua Rongyue’s idea, not part of Six Doors’ original script. Initially, they had planned for Jiang Lianhuan to encounter a deranged, injured Yi Linglong and capture her.

But Jiang Lianhuan enthusiastically approved of the new version.

Their destination was a bandit stronghold — an ordinary one, until recently. Rumors suggested strange individuals had joined them, people with red eyes. Moreover, the stronghold was said to have clandestine ties with Tianyi Tower.

“Come on, show your face,” Jiang Lianhuan coaxed. “Especially considering you suggested that pickup line.”

Hua Rongyue sighed inside the carriage, then lifted the curtain slightly and asked, “How close are we?”

The guards outside turned at the sound of her voice — and were stunned by the sight of a face as beautiful as a blooming lotus.

They quickly lowered their heads and replied, “We’re almost there, miss. No need to worry.”

Hua Rongyue smiled slightly and gently lowered the curtain again.