Little Pink Starfish

There are many tragic girls in the martial world, and Li Jingyi was undoubtedly one of them. Her name suggests her parents wished for her to be quiet and obedient, but Li Jingyi was not.

Though born into a noble family, she showed signs of rebellion from a young age. In that wealthy yet suffocating household, boys were trained in martial arts while girls were expected to learn embroidery and domestic skills. But Li Jingyi was different—she disliked embroidery and dreamed of becoming a sword-wielding heroine.

At around twelve or thirteen, she once ran away from home. It was said she made it as far as Jiangnan, but clearly she was caught, or Yi Linglong would never have met her at fifteen.

By the time she was fifteen, she was already married—an arranged marriage, of course. Her husband was a young nobleman who had previously interacted with Yi Linglong. If you asked for an opinion on him… well, he wasn’t exactly a good person. First, he was a womanizer, rumored to have several concubines. Second, he was a typical spoiled brat—the only thing he truly excelled at was being born into the right family.

Yet none of that would’ve left an impression on Yi Linglong if not for what happened next: Li Jingyi’s life ended abruptly that very year. Yi Linglong later heard about it from others. Some said it had to do with her violent husband. Others blamed her quiet suffering after marriage. Either way, her life was cut short.

If you asked Yi Linglong what she remembered, it was the image of the girl hiding behind her father—petite and frail, wrapped in heavy brocade, her head weighed down with ornate hairpins, looking like a fragile, top-heavy porcelain vase.

But this was someone else’s family matter. As the saying goes, even honest officials can’t settle domestic disputes—let alone Hua Rongyue, a humble assistant in an herbal clinic. She had no intention of getting involved. If nothing unexpected happened, their paths likely would’ve never crossed again. There were simply too many tragic women in the martial world, and this girl was just another stranger, even if she existed faintly in Yi Linglong’s memories.

But fate has a strange sense of humor. A small twist in time and place, and everything changes. And in this timeline, something very different was about to unfold.

Years later, after Li Jingyi had become an icon among sword practitioners and Yi Linglong’s life had become legendary, people would dig up the story of their first meeting. They would speculate, compare, and eventually immortalize it in tales. It would become one of the few poetic moments in the blood-soaked martial world.

…

But right now, in Hua Rongyue’s eyes, Li Jingyi was just a scrawny little kid.

Poorly nourished and sickly thin, though thankfully pale-skinned, she looked far younger than her actual age.

Hua Rongyue was assigned to bring her food. Peeking through the window slit, she saw those thin little arms and wondered what kind of neglect this child had suffered. Did her family even feed her?

The first two times she brought food, the girl didn’t speak, only peeking at her from the shadows. Hua Rongyue figured she was probably already plotting another escape.

Don’t overthink it—just let Doctor Qi check your health. Hua Rongyue thought as she passed the meal through the window. Better to find any hidden illness early. She didn’t want to see another tragic early death like in the previous life, whether it be physical or mental. Even if it was depression, it should be diagnosed early.

As usual, Hua Rongyue’s room had been requisitioned again. Last time it was Blood Calabash who stayed there. This time, it was Li Jingyi.

When Doctor Qi wanted to go to the backyard, he wasn’t allowed. Wan Fulián was too timid, and Xiao Han was obviously not welcome, despite his loud protest that he had zero interest in the veiled girl and even gave one of his signature cold laughs.

So Hua Rongyue was stuck with the task no one else wanted. Not because she was a doctor, but because when they arrived, she just happened to be kneading soybean cakes—looked like a lowly assistant.

She packed the food into a small container, just the right size to pass through the window. Wan Fulián, flustered by the sudden guests, hadn’t cooked that day. Hua Rongyue had cobbled something together herself.

When she passed the food through the window, she saw the girl glance up at her. Two tall men stood nearby, watching her. Hua Rongyue didn’t want trouble, so she stayed quiet. Inside, the girl peeked at her.

Li Jingyi had very pretty eyes—unlike Hua Rongyue’s slender, narrow ones, hers were round and full of life. They were lively, even cute.

She looked at Hua Rongyue.

As Hua Rongyue handed the food over, Li Jingyi suddenly whispered in a tiny voice, “Big brother…”

Hua Rongyue paused and looked up at her. The girl was nervous but didn’t look away.

With interest, Hua Rongyue asked, “Why do you think I’ll help you escape?”

“Because I saw you just now… you quietly opened the window wider,” Li Jingyi said. “Thank you, big brother. Now I can see more outside.”

Hua Rongyue said nothing.

Ah, so her little trick had been noticed by this sharp girl.

Kids at her age don’t always understand common sense, but in certain things, they can be terrifyingly perceptive. She was at that age—too smart to be naive, too young to be wise.

“Big brother, do you think I can still escape?” she whispered again.

Hua Rongyue didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth. Given the era and her family background, one failed escape had already gotten her locked up. It was unlikely she’d get another chance.

Even whispering could be risky. The men nearby were already glancing over. So Hua Rongyue spoke softly, barely audible, possibly only to herself. The moment felt too heavy—anything she said felt hollow.

“Um… maybe you will,” she finally said, smiling gently. She didn’t like lying to children, but if a white lie could bring a little joy to this girl—especially one destined for sorrow—it might be worth it.

The girl looked a little dejected. Hua Rongyue suddenly recalled a cheesy martial arts novel Wan Fulián had been reading—despite not being a fan, she’d heard the plot a dozen times.

She leaned in and said, “If you have a wish you really want to come true, write it down and hang it somewhere high. Maybe one day, a hero will see it and come to rescue you.”

That was a classic moment from the novel—a love story where the heroine, in trouble, was comforted by the hero’s words. “If anything bad happens, write it on a note and hang it up high. I’ll see it.”

Li Jingyi looked up and whispered, “So… the higher, the better?”

Hua Rongyue nodded. That’s how it went in the story, after all.

She put the dishes down, ready to leave. She figured after bouncing around for a bit, the girl would get tired and settle down.

But she underestimated her.

The girl suddenly lifted her brocade skirt and began climbing the wardrobe in Hua Rongyue’s room.

From outside, Hua Rongyue stared in shock, heart pounding. The two guards heard the commotion and rushed over. Inside, Li Jingyi was still climbing toward the top with absolute determination.

Hua Rongyue was stunned by her resolve.

Li Jingyi climbed to the highest point. For a moment, Hua Rongyue thought she was about to write something…

But no—she had another plan.

There was a tree outside the window above the wardrobe. Li Jingyi was trying to escape through it.

The men were already bursting in. Li Jingyi, still climbing frantically, made Hua Rongyue realize just how brave she was for someone so young. Her fingers were white from the effort. Hua Rongyue debated whether she should catch her if she fell.

And fall she did.

As she slipped, Hua Rongyue saw her eyes close—partly in fear, partly in peace.

In that instant, Hua Rongyue remembered the little lie she had told.

The higher the wish is placed, the more likely it will be granted… and someone will eventually see it.

If only someone could be the hero who truly rescues her…

In that moment, Hua Rongyue rushed forward and caught her, then blocked the approaching guards with a firm arm.

She rarely acted in Baicao Hall—her quiet persona didn’t match the swift, decisive movements of a seasoned fighter. But now she moved like a different person—like someone from Drunken Residence Tower.

Her motions were sharp, her long black hair trailing behind her like a whip in the wind.

In Li Jingyi’s eyes, she looked like someone who had stepped straight out of a dream.