Little Pink Starfish

“This is a good sword. Whose is it?” Hua Rongyue asked with a glance.

“Uh… it’s mine,” Li Zixin replied, dead serious.

“Come on, I remember your sword doesn’t look like that,” Hua Rongyue laughed.

“It really is mine. Ask anyone else if you don’t believe me,” Li Zixin insisted. “Everyone’s using similar ones.”

Really? Hua Rongyue thought he was pulling her leg—until she wandered around and realized nearly everyone was indeed carrying nearly identical swords. It looked like a group-buy special from some bargain website.

She asked around, curious about the identical swords, but no one gave her a straight answer. Instead, they all grinned and stayed silent, like they were hiding something from her. Her instincts told her this had something to do with her. But since no one wanted to talk, she dropped the subject.

The night along the Qinhuai River was still lively. The place where the dancer had argued earlier was once again awash in lights and wine. Many things were inherently dirty, but dressed up so beautifully that most people chose to look away. Countless flower lanterns floated on the water—true “flower boats.” From the shore, they looked like blossoms blooming on the river.

Even with a light drizzle that night, the crowds were still thick.

On one of the boats, people were still gossiping about what had happened earlier that day—a wealthy gentleman had stepped in to rescue a dancer. Everyone had vivid tales to tell. One young swordsman drinking on the boat looked regretful. He’d come specifically to see a dancer famed for her performance, but she had already disappeared that afternoon.

He poured himself a drink. Not that he came just for her dance—but he’d heard that this dancer had once appeared on Yi Linglong’s boat and danced all night. She vanished afterward, but people present that night swore the dancer had a butterfly beneath her eye—a mark virtually unique on the Qinhuai River. So he’d followed the story here, only to learn she’d already left.

To be honest, even if he found the dancer, it wasn’t like he could do anything. She probably didn’t know the legendary Yi Linglong either. But the man—whose name was Wu Yan—still thought it worth a try. After all, if she’d danced all night for Yi Linglong, maybe she’d seen him longer than anyone else.

Maybe he could ask her what Yi Linglong was really like that night.

In his twenty-odd years, Wu Yan had met plenty of people and witnessed many things—but meeting Yi Linglong had been by far the strangest.

For starters, he’d gotten their gender wrong.

That alone was awkward enough to make it memorable. Thinking back, Yi Linglong had barely spoken that night, just sat quietly. Maybe they didn’t know how to respond to him?

Honestly, after he later learned the person he met was Yi Linglong, he was shocked for days. It upended his entire worldview. He’d never imagined that a man could wear women’s clothing so flawlessly that no one would notice a thing. But then he heard about Yi Linglong drawing a blade on a mountain—not to kill him, just to knock him out. In hindsight… maybe Yi Linglong had shown mercy?

Why a killer like Yi Linglong had shown mercy was something Wu Yan had never figured out. Maybe it’d remain a mystery forever.

As he drank, someone passed by in front of him—eyes red with emotion. He raised an eyebrow and silently followed.

…

Hua Rongyue had finally reached the Qinhuai River’s edge—and at last understood why no one at the Six Doors had told her anything earlier that day.

—Because that sword was meant to stab her.

What a wonderful surprise.

She stared at the brightly lit riverbank and sighed. This was a trap—and she had clearly walked right into it.

“Relax,” Li Zixin said, patting her shoulder. He looked more amused than concerned. “We didn’t tell you earlier so you wouldn’t get too nervous.”

“If you were afraid I’d freak out, then you shouldn’t have told me at all. Telling me now is worse,” Hua Rongyue said helplessly. “You were just afraid I’d run off if I found out earlier. Now that we’re here, you think I’m trapped.”

“Don’t be like that,” Li Zixin chuckled. “Think of it this way—no one’s actually trying to hurt you. It’s just a play. Once it’s over, maybe you’ll get to go home early. Isn’t that a nice thought?”

Indeed, the Six Doors had prepared a grand finale: a staged ambush on Yi Linglong. Their people would play both heroes and villains, perfectly choreographed so nothing could go wrong. A self-contained performance—much safer than leaving things to chance. Kind of like how performers at the Spring Festival Gala lip-sync to stay safe.

Naturally, once Yi Linglong showed up at the Qinhuai River, the Six Doors couldn’t ignore it. So tonight, local agents would team up with Head Constable Jin to perform “Yi Linglong’s daring escape from pursuit.”

Hua Rongyue couldn’t help asking, “But if Yi Linglong escapes without a scratch, won’t that damage your credibility?”

“If you escape under our siege, we lose face. And your identity is an internal secret—if that leaks, the Jinyiwei might get involved,” Li Zixin said with a laugh. “Besides, Head Constable Jin is here himself. Do you know how rare that is? After tonight, you’ll be famous.”

Do you know how rare Yi Linglong is? Hua Rongyue muttered inwardly. But she let it go. No use bringing up past glory that didn’t even belong to her.

Li Zixin kept chatting, “Just do what you did that day at the Hundred Herbs Hall—you really sold the act. Just channel half of that energy tonight and it’ll be a success.”

He couldn’t quite describe what exactly that version of Hua Rongyue had looked like—so he kept waving his arms around in vague imitation. She shoved him aside and walked off to figure out how she was supposed to fake an injury.

Faking an injury… that could be tricky. Hua Rongyue looked a bit conflicted.

The night had fallen, and the Qinhuai River was bustling. She changed into a light blue outfit, tied her hair with a silver and jade hair ornament, and held a red oil-paper umbrella—just like every other person strolling the riverside.

She might’ve grumbled beforehand, but when it came time to perform, Hua Rongyue didn’t hesitate. The Six Doors agents nearby all widened their eyes at the sight of her.

“Hua-ge looks totally calm,” Zhang Yue commented. Li Zixin nodded. “Of course. Don’t be fooled by how gentle she seems—when things go down, she’s steady as a rock.”

He glanced around. Everyone from the Six Doors was dressed in matching, sleek official uniforms and carried sharp blades. They looked less like lawmen and more like a boy band. Normally they operated in the shadows, but on nights like this—meant to show presence—they had to look sharp. Otherwise, they’d pale next to Hua Rongyue.

Wang Lingchao was also there, lurking in a corner and staring at Hua Rongyue. Ever since he was summoned by Head Constable Jin, he’d been behaving. But what went on in his head—who knew?

Hua Rongyue concentrated, trying to recall Yi Linglong’s demeanor. Even just walking down the street, Yi Linglong could draw all eyes. Before she’d come, Li Zixin had reassured her that the swords had been… subtly modified, so she wouldn’t get hurt. They hadn’t said what kind of “modifications,” likely hoping her surprise would look more genuine.

“Not bad,” some of the agents whispered as they peeked at her. She was doing great. But then someone noticed something strange. “Where’s Xing Hongming? Wasn’t he told to stay here?”

“He’s had a fever since yesterday afternoon,” someone else said awkwardly. “Said it was from a botched experiment with his own medicine. He won’t be coming out for a few days.”

“Why would he pick now to test medicine? Forget it—get the backup ready,” the lead sighed and waved his hand. The messenger disappeared instantly.

Suddenly, a loud voice rang out in the bustling street:
“Yi Linglong!”

Everyone turned.

A figure on the bridge froze but didn’t turn around like the others.

“Tonight is your death night!” shouted a group of officials in uniform.

The crowd went silent, then exploded into chaos. People screamed and fled in all directions. Only the figure in blue remained still amid the commotion.

Back to the agents, the blue-clad figure slowly closed the red oil-paper umbrella in their hand.