Little Pink Starfish

A person who can make others feel captivated simply by being themselves—that’s a kind of natural talent.

Hua Rongyue had an inherently beautiful face—one of the precious legacies left to her by Yi Linglong. But having a beautiful face alone wasn’t enough. Yi Linglong herself was a very striking example of that truth.

Crafting a charismatic persona, bit by bit, is rarely successful. Truly iconic and memorable individuals are often born, not made. Imitation may capture the surface, but seldom the essence.

Hua Rongyue couldn’t see herself; only the people on the mountain could see her. So how she was perceived depended entirely on their judgment.

This was a time without video equipment, meaning a person’s reputation rested solely on others’ words. The ones judging Hua Rongyue included the mountain bandits, the “madman,” and people who had escaped from Tianyi Tower.

It had been a month since Hua Rongyue last appeared at the Drunken Residence. In the ever-shifting world of the jianghu, a month was enough time for her to fade from memory. In fact, after that incident, Yi Linglong’s presence in the martial world diminished to almost nothing. No one could find where she had gone. Many tried to pursue her after she left the Drunken Residence, but none succeeded.

The only story that remained about her appearance was an exaggerated one—”one smile froze the killers from Tianyi Tower in their tracks.” That tale came from her very first appearance in the martial world. With only ten minutes of presence before the public, it was hard to leave a lasting impression. People present that day could only describe how beautiful she was based on those ten minutes—and many of them had likely memorized every detail.

Expectations for someone who had just debuted in the jianghu couldn’t be too high, especially since killers usually kept their faces hidden. Despite tales of Yi Linglong’s breathtaking beauty, few truly cared—after all, what use was beauty if you never saw it?

Moreover, the jianghu was full of beautiful women.

Baixiaosheng held the “Portraits of the Sixteen Most Beautiful Women in the World,” and the jianghu had no shortage of talented young heroes. Rumor had it that the most beautiful woman of all was Consort Yi from the imperial palace. Not to mention all the noble daughters and young lords from various sects… In short, the martial world had far too many beauties, and Yi Linglong, to date, had only revealed half her face—there wasn’t even an accurate portrait of her.

A small number of people were curious about her looks, but her true appearance remained a mystery. Some had heard descriptions secondhand, others had perhaps seen her in person. All they could do was secretly hope she would show herself again—there was nothing else they could do.

It wasn’t until recently that a new story about Yi Linglong began to circulate again. It involved bandits, a beauty, and a swordsman—all classic elements of jianghu tales. Though its truthfulness was dubious, it had a compelling quality that made people whisper about it in private, though strangely, no one ever brought it up in public.

To the reserved and sensitive people of ancient times, stories with a hint of taboo were like forbidden fruit—dangerous yet irresistibly tempting.

Everyone privately talked about it with feverish excitement, despite acting like it was something shameful. That contradiction caused the story to spread like a virus.

At first, it was only shared among a few people, but because it was so entertaining, more and more people came to know about it. Even the aunt next door had heard the tale, but no one discussed it openly. That might be why Hua Rongyue hadn’t heard anything about it inside Baicaotang.

She recalled that in her past life, when Yi Linglong first appeared in women’s clothing, people didn’t treat it as a big secret. Most had laughed and talked openly about it… Of course, Hua Rongyue’s memories were from Yi Linglong’s perspective, so they could be biased.

But this time, the secrecy, the whispering excitement—it surprised her, though somehow felt predictable.

To be honest, she thought her recent experience was fairly “scandalous,” especially the external versions of the story, which apparently included her pouring wine for someone and being pushed into a room. Wu Wangyan’s identity as a snitch had not yet been exposed, so people didn’t know he was actually a young hero from the Huashan Sect. For most, a ridiculous story can be joked about, but something “seductive” and “forbidden” can’t be so easily discussed.

Nothing had happened that night, but perhaps because the protagonist was too beautiful—so beautiful that even stories told through mere words carried allure—but that beauty was “misplaced.”

To be precise, it was the wrong person. Like a noble young master reincarnated as a delicate lady—everything was beautiful, yet fundamentally out of place.

When beauty exists in the wrong context, it becomes completely wrong.

So even though the story was alluring, people still spoke of it in hushed tones—just like any topic that’s titillating yet unspeakable.

Hua Rongyue was quite content with this. After all, “being out of place” was a terrifying thing in ancient times. Though it wasn’t rare for men to dress as women—especially among opera performers, much like what she read in Dream of the Red Chamber—who among the respectable folk would talk about such things openly?

Compared to that, people were already being very lenient toward her. Perhaps because her appearance on the mountain was seen as rescuing the people of Tianyi Tower, or maybe because her usual cold and deadly demeanor had helped her a bit. Either way, no one mocked her like a clown, nor did they treat her with the disdain reserved for male performers in female roles.

That kind of tone—Hua Rongyue couldn’t quite describe it.

A pale lavender outfit had quietly become popular lately—especially when paired with a touch of pale yellow. But if you asked someone why they chose that color combo, they’d have no idea.

Trends usually start quietly. Most people don’t know why something catches on. But once they see others wearing it, they follow. By the time Hua Rongyue noticed, lavender with pale yellow had already become the latest fashion in the jianghu.

—To be honest, Hua Rongyue wasn’t even sure whether the trend began because of her or someone else. Everyone was being so silent about it.

The “taboo” part of the story likely lay in the fact that the “beauty” in question was actually a man. People knew Yi Linglong was beautiful, but few believed a man could look so stunning in women’s clothes that he wouldn’t be recognized.

Zhou Wanqiu was an ordinary female martial artist in the jianghu. She had recently overheard the story during a conversation between two senior sisters.

At first, she only caught words like “beauty” and “bandits,” and was curious why they were whispering. She leaned closer but couldn’t make out much, only that a beautiful woman had accidentally been captured by bandits. She worried for her at first, but then heard that the woman suddenly revealed herself to be the “Blade Saint,” easily defeating the top swordsman there and walking away unharmed…

Zhou Wanqiu wondered who this new badass heroine was—until she suddenly heard the name “Yi Linglong.” Listening more closely, she realized the “beauty” in the story was Yi Linglong himself.

“Yi Linglong?” Zhou Wanqiu was stunned, thinking she must’ve misheard. But the more she listened, the more certain she became—it really was him.

That “beauty” was none other than the number one killer in the world, Yi Linglong.

Zhou Wanqiu couldn’t quite describe her feelings. She had never been particularly interested in Yi Linglong’s looks. To her, a killer should have a cold, expressionless face. So when she heard about the Drunken Residence incident, she only listened casually.

All she could think now was—how could he not be recognized? Was that even possible? The men she knew, especially her senior brothers, all had calloused hands and muscular arms from training. She couldn’t imagine a man dressing as a woman and truly passing.

Would his skin be pale and delicate? Would his features be soft and gentle?

That story now consumed her thoughts.

For the first time, this mountain-raised girl had been introduced to Yi Linglong’s appearance in such a striking way. She’d seen plenty of people before, but even so, this story hit her hard.

“I really want to see what he looks like,” Zhou Wanqiu thought to herself.

Cross-dressing was common in the jianghu—men disguising as women and vice versa—but Zhou Wanqiu couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Back in the Baicaotang, Hua Rongyue sat face-to-face with Jiang Lianhuan.

Jiang asked, “Can you still recall what it felt like that day?”

Hua Rongyue calmly replied, “I’ll try.”