Little Pink Starfish

Some quick-witted individuals had already gone to report to the authorities. Although brothels weren’t exactly fond of having the yamen (government office) involved, given the current situation, calling the officials was the best course of action.

Soon, the commotion downstairs grew louder, and everyone aboard the flower boat could hear the noise.

Someone asked Uncle Jin what to do next. He replied, “Our goal for today has been achieved. There’s no point in staying any longer. Let those two finish up and come back.”

From a hidden location, someone signaled to Hua Rongyue and Wang Lingchao with a “we’re done” gesture. Hua Rongyue saw it and rose unhurriedly, while Wang Lingchao, still fixated entirely on her, didn’t notice the signal at all.

She looked at the seemingly stunned Wang Lingchao, stood up gracefully, and walked past him without so much as a glance, heading toward the exit. The table still had some warm wine left on it.

She hadn’t laid a finger on him, yet Wang Lingchao looked as if his soul had left his body. In such a state, no one questioned her decision to leave. In fact, everyone had thought Wang Lingchao was doomed.

Perhaps it was because Yi Linglong—Hua Rongyue—had never looked at him from start to finish.

Or perhaps it was because Yi Linglong today seemed different from the rumors: more sorrowful, more fragile. Despite still appearing to be the infamous number-one killer of the jianghu, something felt… softer.

Everyone watched as “Yi Linglong” slowly walked onto the deck of the flower boat, looked up at the moon in the sky—and suddenly vanished. Only the gently steaming wine on the table remained. The liquid inside wavered briefly, then stilled.

“Where is she? Where’s Yi Linglong?” Just then, a group of yamen officers burst into the boat and surrounded the entire floor. But it was already empty—just a bunch of confused onlookers and a dazed Wang Lingchao remained.

“Find someone to bring Wang Lingchao back, and tell him not to act so rashly next time,” Uncle Jin said, slipping away from the boat before the officials fully arrived. Most of the Six Doors Bureau members did the same. Their martial skills were far superior to the yamen’s constables, so their retreat went unnoticed.

The few that stayed behind were tasked with bringing Wang Lingchao back. The flower boat buzzed with excitement. Those who had arrived late saw only a stunned Wang Lingchao and a table with warm wine—yet these two details alone were enough to ignite countless imaginations.

Amid the chaos, no one noticed that the butterfly dancer who had been performing earlier had disappeared.

---

After leaving the boat that night, Hua Rongyue went straight to a carriage waiting at the dock, where Li Zixin and the driver had been waiting.

She climbed in and told Li Zixin, “It should be over. Let’s go.”

“What happened? Where is everyone?” he asked.

“It’s fine,” she replied calmly. “I used lightness skill and came back first. Just a small hiccup. Nothing major. It went smoothly.”

Li Zixin believed her. He couldn’t have imagined what kind of “small hiccup” had occurred. He wouldn’t find out the full story until they all returned to the inn.

——And when he did finally hear it, he was stunned.

“…What? Wang Lingchao actually said that?” he blurted out, dumbfounded.

“Yes.” The one recounting the story was practically spitting as they described it. “You didn’t see it—the expressions on everyone’s faces! Half the room looked ready to explode, especially Uncle Jin… Luckily, nothing went wrong in the end. Honestly, we owe it all to Hua Rongyue.”

Seriously? Then why did she look so calm afterward? Li Zixin thought, recalling her completely unbothered face when she got into the carriage. It left him feeling both admiration and a bit of helpless frustration.

As for Wang Lingchao, the Six Doors Bureau agents stationed nearby eventually brought him back—though only after a round of questioning by the yamen. Since he’d been in close contact with “Yi Linglong,” the local authorities had no intention of letting him go easily. The Six Doors Bureau didn’t interfere.

Maybe because he’d calmed down by then, Wang Lingchao didn’t cause any more trouble during the interrogation. He was cooperative the whole time and arrived at the inn early the next morning.

There were no secrets on the Qinhuai River—rumors spread faster there than anywhere else in the empire. What happened last night was already the talk of the town by sunrise.

Hua Rongyue herself didn’t seem fazed at all. She’d returned late the night before and slept soundly until well into the morning. No one woke her, so she got up naturally, feeling completely refreshed.

So this is what it’s like to sleep in a real bed, she thought, stretching. Ten taels a night is definitely better than those tiny lockers.

She pushed open her door and leaned against the railing.

“Head Constable Jin is looking for you,” someone said.

Yawning, she heard Li Zixin sigh. “Who dares disturb our hero? Come on, I’ll take you down.”

They descended the stairs together—Hua Rongyue lived on the second floor, Jin Butou was on the first.

She followed Li Zixin calmly downstairs. Most of the time she had stayed in the shadows, and even those who’d seen her on the boat only got a distant impression. Without modern technology like photos, and with her temperament so unlike Yi Linglong’s, few could make the connection.

Even the improved living standards in ancient times made her feel a faint, almost absurd sense of happiness.

When she entered Jin Butou’s room, Wang Lingchao was already there.

As she opened the door, the smiling Jin Butou greeted her—it was clearly the same “Uncle Jin” from last night. An elderly man with a kind face nodded to her as well.

Wang Lingchao turned to glance at her but didn’t meet her eyes.

She silently closed the door behind her.

Now dressed in her everyday clothes, Hua Rongyue looked nothing like the person from the night before. She seemed like an ordinary, upstanding young man—someone unobtrusive but trustworthy. Even Jin Butou, who had once lamented the loss of such talent, gave her a respectful nod now, seeing her in a new light.

He’d heard she was mild-mannered, but their first meeting had given him a very different impression: arrogant, unruly, wild. Now, meeting her again, he finally understood what people meant by “gentle.”

Refined, composed, not the slightest trace of a martial artist—she looked like a well-educated gentleman. Standing there, motionless, without even the slightest fidget, she radiated calm.

Wang Lingchao was also sizing her up. Seeing this version of Hua Rongyue—gentle, serene—he began to doubt his own eyes and memory. This isn’t the same person from the boat! he thought. So timid, so powerless—how could this be the one from last night?

He had once feared Hua Rongyue, especially after directly experiencing that overwhelming killing intent. But seeing her now, the humiliation began to rise, slowly overpowering his fear.

“You both were too impulsive yesterday,” Jin Butou said. He looked at Hua Rongyue first and asked, “Why did you release such strong killing intent toward Lingchao?”

“I’m sorry. It was my fault,” Hua Rongyue answered immediately.

There was no point in defending herself or saying, He struck first. Having worked in an official environment before, she knew this was just a formality—a way to let both sides save face. So she accepted the blame outright.

She knew exactly what had happened and how she had singlehandedly salvaged the entire operation. It was certainly an act of initiative, but one worthy of recognition.

Wang Lingchao could probably guess what had really happened, but seeing how quickly she apologized gave him a sense of smug satisfaction.

See? Weak. Useless. All she can do is bow her head.

Jin Butou turned to Wang Lingchao. “You’re a veteran of the Six Doors Bureau. How could you make such a mistake?”

“I…” Wang Lingchao was stunned.

Jin Butou didn’t hold back. “I don’t care what personal grievances you two have. I don’t care who’s behind either of you. If anyone screws up like that again—they’re out. On the spot!”

Hua Rongyue silently lit a candle for him in her heart. She had already known last night that he’d be in for it. And sure enough, here it was.

Jin Butou said his piece and left, leaving Hua Rongyue and Wang Lingchao alone.

She turned to leave, but he suddenly called out to her, looking at her with malice.

“Feeling proud of yourself? Enjoy humiliating me in front of everyone? Feels great to steal the spotlight, doesn’t it?”

Hua Rongyue looked at him calmly and asked, “Why take such a risk? With your talent, even staying out of this could’ve made you a great swordsman.”

“You don’t understand,” Wang Lingchao stepped closer. “If you hadn’t shown up, that place would’ve been mine. That fame would’ve been mine. In the jianghu, it’s always you or me—never both.”

He leaned in, eyes fixed on her. “Sometimes, when I look at you, I feel like you need a good beating. You ask such naive questions—ones no real fighter would ask. Like you’re pretending not to care about the blood and violence of this world.”

Hua Rongyue stared at him for a moment, then suddenly smiled. “I really don’t care.”

—Given the current level of “bloodiness” in this world, she truly didn’t need to.