Little Pink Starfish

Hua Rongyue blinked her eyes open. Her vision was blurry, but she could tell she was lying in a carriage—and she’d woken because someone was trying to undress her.

The sudden movement startled the person beside her. Despite being half-dead, Hua Rongyue stubbornly raised a hand to push them away.

Once she had done that, she felt a sense of relief and promptly lost consciousness again. The person she’d shoved stood there awkwardly for a long time, unsure what to do, before finally glancing toward someone nearby for direction.

“Don’t take the clothes off,” said the other person. “Just feed him the medicine.”

Hua Rongyue was a strange one. Last time Dr. Qi had tried to remove her clothes, she’d reacted the same way. It was like a built-in reflex.

In her dreams, someone fed her medicine. Someone wiped her forehead. She stayed lost in a haze.

When she finally came to, she had no idea how much time had passed. The room was silent. She was alone.

She lay on her side, facing a dim candle flickering in the distance. She stared at it for a long time, then suddenly snapped back to herself.

Wait… where am I?

She tried to sit up—and immediately pulled at her wound, wincing in pain. But surprisingly, the injury had already scabbed over. From how bad it had been, she’d half-expected to die or transmigrate again. Yet here she was—already healing.

She could vaguely feel the ground rocking beneath her. But she wasn’t sure whether that was real or just dizziness from blood loss.

Her clothes hadn’t even been changed. Looking down at the blood-soaked garment, she saw the blood had dried to dark blotches—but whoever had treated her had been careful. Nothing had stuck to the wound.

Across the screen in the room, a fresh set of clothes hung neatly. The placement made it obvious they were meant for her, though Hua Rongyue hesitated to put them on.

She vaguely remembered being carried here by black-clad men. She still had no idea who they were. But sitting around wouldn’t help. She changed into the clean clothes, cautiously channeled a bit of inner strength, then gently pushed open the door and stepped out.

Outside, it was a world of lanterns, silk curtains, perfume, and flirtatious laughter—like a dream.

Moist air drifted past her, heavy with the scent of makeup and incense. Hua Rongyue realized the rocking feeling earlier hadn’t been an illusion.

—She was on a boat.

Meanwhile, outside, the world had descended into chaos.

Jin Butou and the others were going crazy. They had mobilized every available resource across the city, searching for Hua Rongyue, terrified something had happened to her.

Li Zixin and the team that had helped with the rescue were completely dumbfounded. No one had expected such a screw-up. Six Doors prided itself on discipline. Yet this mistake? Embarrassing.

The problem was, the rescue squad had been thrown together last minute. Many members didn’t even know each other. Everyone had worn full black tactical gear that concealed their identities. So—who was ally and who was enemy?

And the real kicker? That other group of black-clad figures who had charged in out of nowhere. No one knew when they’d arrived. No one knew how they’d blended in so easily. Unless… there was a mole?

Six Doors launched a full investigation. Every agent who’d gone that night was detained and interrogated.

Wang Lingchao sat uneasily in his room. As expected, Xing Hongming had disappeared after the operation. No one knew where he’d gone. He left no clues.

Wang Lingchao swore up and down that he had nothing to do with it. And it was true—he had instigated Xing Hongming, yes. But he hadn’t given any order to abduct Hua Rongyue.

Still, a few people who had gone with them that night were his subordinates. They’d just been taken in for questioning. Wang Lingchao had gotten through it by sheer force of will—but who knew how well the others would hold up?

After pacing for a while, someone knocked at his door.

“Wang Lingchao. Jin Butou wants to see you.”

Wang Lingchao took a deep breath. So the blade finally falls, he thought.

He composed himself and opened the door—only to be greeted by an absolutely furious Jin Butou.

Without warning, Jin Butou began shouting.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to! You think just because your uncle or your father’s in the bureau, I’ll let this slide? Last time I let it go. And now you stir up trouble again?”

“Uncle Jin, this matter has nothing to do with me,” Wang Lingchao said, feigning innocence. “Yes, I admit I’ve clashed with Rongyue before. But seriously—you think I could’ve pulled this off?”

Jin Butou exhaled deeply, trying to calm down.

He knew Wang Lingchao didn’t have the ability to pull off something like this. If he did, he wouldn’t be a small-timer in Six Doors.

Wang Lingchao felt a bit of relief. Good thing I kept my meeting with Xing Hongming secret, he thought. Otherwise, this would be so much worse.

He would never let anyone find out. This whole affair? It needed to rot quietly away like a spoiled melon.

—

Though the Qinhuai River didn’t go completely silent for three days like in the original timeline with Yi Linglong, something nearly as explosive had happened.

The martial world was buzzing.

People whispered about why Yi Linglong had suddenly shown up that night. Why Six Doors had sent out so many men. Who were the black-clad figures who’d rescued him?

Some guessed those were Yi Linglong’s accomplices. Others wondered whether he had suffered some kind of internal injury that caused him to slip up mid-fight.

But… given how he fought after getting stabbed, stronger and fiercer than ever, that seemed unlikely.

Yet not one person guessed the truth: that he’d held back because he didn’t want to kill.

The incident shook the whole city. Officials swarmed the Qinhuai waterfront, disrupting even the flower boat business. With so many men in uniform standing around, customers were too nervous to board. Boats sat idle by the shore.

It all eerily resembled the original timeline, when Yi Linglong’s three-day silence had drawn squads of officials to block off the river. Different events—but the same atmosphere. It was as if fate insisted this scene play out, one way or another.

This time, though, the river was far more lively. While ordinary clients stayed away, martial artists—always eager for drama—flocked to the scene.

Six Doors continued to search for Hua Rongyue in secret, fanning out across the Qinhuai.

The more they searched, the more uneasy they became. What kind of group could whisk someone away right under their noses? What kind of organization could leave no trace even under a citywide sweep?

They didn’t know—

If not for Hua Rongyue having a dancer on the boat switch clothes with her that night, they might have already discovered this mysterious group. And not gently, either—probably through blood and tragedy.

They didn’t yet know how dangerous this organization truly was. Not only could it hide a living person in plain sight—it could silence an entire river. It would soon make Six Doors scramble like never before.

Ironically, they would only discover this group’s existence because of Hua Rongyue. That made this version of events even more mysterious and surreal—but, oddly, a little gentler.

—

Hua Rongyue never expected things to play out this dramatically.

She didn’t dare move too much, still technically injured. She wandered cautiously, trying to figure out where she was—and what her next step should be.

Just as she reached the foot of the stairs, she passed two maids. Her hair stood on end, but the women didn’t attack. In fact, they bowed slightly to her before walking away.

As they turned, Hua Rongyue noticed the delicate flower emblems on their foreheads.

Realizing they weren’t hostile, she asked hesitantly, “Um… where am I?”

One of the maids turned back with a polite smile. “You’re on a flower boat. Don’t worry. Six Doors won’t come after you. As long as you’re still recovering, they won’t touch you.”

“Six Doors? They’re… chasing me?” she murmured.

She hadn’t meant to speak aloud, but the moment she did, the two maids seemed to receive some sort of signal.

“We’ll send someone out to investigate right away,” one said.

“Wait, what? Investigate what—”

Before she could finish, one maid gestured—and a stunningly graceful woman stepped forward. She gave Hua Rongyue a smile, then vanished in a blink.

The lightness of her movement was breathtaking.

The maid turned back. “Don’t worry. She’ll return in about half an hour. In the meantime, please go back and rest. As soon as there’s news, we’ll report it to you.”

“…Huh? Wait—you’re going to report what exactly?!”