Little Pink Starfish

Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the carriage—it had instantly become the focus of the entire camp.

“Who’s in that carriage?” someone sharing Zhang Yue’s carriage poked their head out in astonishment.

“I think that’s someone from Six Doors named Li Zixin,” someone else identified.

The voice from inside hadn’t escaped the ears of the middle-aged man from before. Clearly, he recognized the name “Li Zixin,” and fearing this might be someone important, he held his tongue.

Even Hua Rongyue was stunned. Since when was Li Zixin so loaded?

But despite her surprise, she felt quite vindicated by the gesture. Without another word, she hopped onto the carriage.

Up close, it looked even more luxurious than before. Inside was a spacious interior, veiled with heavy curtains embroidered with subtle patterns—rich in understated elegance, a style favored by the powerful.

A moment ago, the middle-aged man had denied her five times from boarding the common carriage, yet now she had switched effortlessly to a much grander one. Someone watching couldn’t help but snicker.

The middle-aged man whipped around, glaring venomously at the group—but couldn’t find the culprit. Everyone wore an innocent expression and sat quietly in their places, watching the show.

Seething, he had no choice but to swallow his anger and board the carriage as well.

Inside, Hua Rongyue found the space not only large but also tastefully decorated. It was at least as roomy as the official Six Doors carriage. Li Zixin was the only one inside.

There were no seats—just a thick carpet spread across the floor. In one corner, a small brass heater was warming wine. Nearby, a finely adorned wardrobe sat quietly. Li Zixin sat on the carpet like it was his living room, calmly heating wine, with a plate of pastries beside him.

From the outside, the carriage didn’t seem so special. Inside, however, it was clearly different.

This guy really knows how to enjoy life.

Hua Rongyue sat down on the carpet and thanked him. Li Zixin replied, “No need to thank me. This isn’t even my carriage—it belongs to the Seventh Prince. He heard you were heading out and casually sent a ride for you.”

“The Seventh Prince?” Hua Rongyue blinked.

*Wait… I *do* know a prince,* she thought. Is he the one I was supposedly relying on all this time? So he’s the Seventh Prince?

She quickly connected the dots. What she’d assumed was a casual acquaintance turned out to be a powerful backer. And not just any backer—this was his carriage, sent casually.

Alright. Good. Great. In her heart, Hua Rongyue gave the Seventh Prince a triple nod of approval. She was definitely going to cling to that thigh.

It was also clear now that Li Zixin worked for the prince. Thinking back, she wasn’t sure if his initial approach had been coincidental or intentional. But from Yi Linglong’s memories, she recalled that Li Zixin rarely showed up unless he was handling matters for the Seventh Prince.

“This carriage,” Li Zixin said, gesturing around, “does it match that bit you told the prince about? You know, the story with the maid scattering petals, the courtesan lifting her skirt?”

So the prince had even heard her half-made-up storytelling from before?

Guess those tales spread farther than I thought… Gu Long really wasn’t overrated.

Li Zixin pointed to a small lacquered box. “That has various pastries.” Then he motioned to the ornate wardrobe. “Clothes for half a month—new set for each day.”

He added casually, “By the way, that guy earlier works for Cao Jiejie. You got lucky this time. If I hadn’t come, you would’ve been in real trouble.”

“Cao Jiejie?” Hua Rongyue instantly made the connection. That must be the one who kept coming after her back in Zui Ju Lou.

She’d suspected he was a eunuch. Turns out she was right. And with the surname “Cao,” it became even clearer—this must be the chief of the Eastern Bureau.

Someone who could stand equal with a prince must be an extremely dangerous figure. But Hua Rongyue wasn’t the type to be easily cowed. She responded calmly, “If it gets too much, I’ll just tear off the mask.”

“You dare?” Li Zixin snorted. “Try that and you’ll be packing your bags before noon.”

He sighed. “It’s not that simple. If this kind of thing could be resolved openly, we’d have done it already. The key now is maintaining surface peace. Avoid direct conflict if you can. If you stir up too much trouble, no one can clean up the mess. And don’t assume that just because I’m here—or even the Seventh Prince—that someone will clean it up for you. He can’t interfere in Six Doors matters directly. So a lot of things… you’ll have to shoulder yourself.”

Hua Rongyue didn’t really understand all the political games of the royal court. But she did know this: the Seventh Prince had a history with Yi Linglong. Though their relationship with the emperor was tense, they kept up appearances.

And since Six Doors served directly under the emperor, any intervention from a prince would be overstepping. The number of times he could “get away” with doing that was limited.

“The Seventh Prince didn’t die when Yi Linglong did,” she thought, which proves he’s smart enough to survive. Getting her into Six Doors might’ve been one of the few ‘dumb’ things he ever did.

Li Zixin handed her a slip of paper. “Here’s a list of the people traveling with you. Pay special attention to the first name—Wang Lingchao. Good with a blade, fairly well-known in the martial world. This whole mess started because of him.”

“Why?” Hua Rongyue asked.

“Because he’s with the Eastern Bureau. If not for your presence, he’d be the one Six Doors was pushing onto the Heroic Youth Ranking.”

Now she understood. So this whole show was about power struggles between the prince and the Eastern Bureau.

But Wang Lingchao is dreaming, she thought. He didn’t even make the list in the last life. Whether or not I showed up, he was always going to be just background noise.

“What’s he doing here then?” she asked.

“He’s your designated ‘sparring partner,’” Li Zixin replied. “Six Doors knows it’ll be hard for you to gain fame quickly, so they arranged for some ‘famous martial artists’ to act as your stepping stones.”

These “sparring partners” were basically props.

Apart from their “stars,” Six Doors had cultivated plenty of “actors.” Unlike true martial artists who valued reputation, these people’s fame was controlled entirely by the organization. When Six Doors asked them to stage a drama, they had to play their part.

“That’s actually a good gig,” Hua Rongyue said. “Why would he agree to it?”

“You already know the answer,” Li Zixin replied. “If they showed up, it means they’ve made a deal. What happened today may seem trivial, but it shows you’re already on their radar. They’re playing dirty, so don’t take it too personally. Use this time to relax. Eat well, drink well, enjoy the ride. Then go home.”

His message was clear: don’t get too invested in the Heroic Youth Ranking. He might’ve even known ahead of time that someone planned to target her, and came to tell her not to take the bait. Implicitly, he was saying: if you must, bow out gracefully—don’t make it worse.

Hua Rongyue understood, but gave a small shake of her head.

“Don’t get so serious,” Li Zixin said. “You’d be better off playing it smooth.”

“I’ll block whatever they throw at me,” Hua Rongyue replied.

“I’m afraid you might not be able to,” he sighed. “But don’t worry too much. Neither of us can afford to stir up open trouble. Same goes for them.”

Then he added with a wry smile, “You’re too kind, too earnest. That’s your problem. But in the martial world, kindness can be seen as weakness. Seriousness leads to injury. With your skills, you don’t need to stay hidden in Bai Cao Hall. I get it—you hate killing. But every great hero has a trail of blood behind them. If you were a little fiercer, maybe today wouldn’t have happened.”

Hua Rongyue’s expression twitched.

Kind? Earnest?
Why did that almost sound like praise?

She felt weirdly proud. If people thought Yi Linglong was a good person… then that meant she’d really played the role well.

She thought back on the life of the real Yi Linglong—how he rose from a lowly killer to the master of Tianyi Tower. Hua Rongyue herself wasn’t nearly that skilled, but these petty dramas? Nothing compared to the bloodshed Yi Linglong had endured.

In fact, she could still picture Yi Linglong’s infamous rampages—blood and guts flying, like scenes from a horror film.

Those images combined with Li Zixin’s calm analysis gave her a strange sense of dark humor.

She coughed lightly, trying to suppress her smirk and stay in character.

“You really are a good person, Mr. Rongyue,” Li Zixin murmured at last, sounding almost like he was talking to himself. “It’s just a shame your personality isn’t suited for this world. If you really were Yi Linglong… no one would dare treat you like they did today.”

Hua Rongyue: “…”

She gently turned away, covering her mouth with another small cough.

Why does this all feel so guilty…?

She couldn’t help but wonder—what did the real Yi Linglong look like in other people’s eyes?

The carriage rumbled on, carrying one melancholy Li Zixin and one deeply awkward Hua Rongyue off into the distance.