Little Pink Starfish

That figure instantly drew Jiang Lianhuan’s attention. He wanted to follow, but he couldn’t find a proper path from the first floor to the upper level.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that the person had been observing him from above.

That man gave off an aura he couldn’t penetrate. Last time they met, Jiang had sensed danger in him—a silent, lurking kind, like a venomous snake. Jiang wasn’t particularly afraid of such people.

After all, he was that kind of person himself.

But just because he was one didn’t mean he liked them.
—Quite the opposite. He hated them.

Jiang Lianhuan never said it out loud, but whenever he encountered someone like that, a strange irritation welled up in him. He scanned the flower boat again—aside from that mysterious man, quite a few others were covertly watching him.

Well, it seemed his disturbance from the night before had worked—he’d succeeded in drawing them out.

Originally, he had only intended to provoke some of the “madmen” hiding on the boat. But now… he’d gotten more than he expected. Adjusting his expression, Jiang quickly adopted the look of a charming playboy, as if nothing had happened.

He chatted and flirted with the women around him, all while discreetly making his way upstairs.

—

Back in her room, Hua Rongyue wasn’t thinking about much else besides Jiang Lianhuan. If he had come today hoping to extract some intel… well, he was bound to be disappointed.

Shortly after she returned, someone knocked on her door.

“Come in.”

A woman entered, decked in pure gold jewelry. Her elaborate clothing was both luxurious and flamboyant—she looked like an oversized blossom come to life. Her lipstick was the color of fresh blood.

Such an outfit, clearly worth a fortune, wasn’t something a commoner could afford. This woman was Xue Xiangming, one of the most renowned courtesans on the Qinhuai River—also the flower boat’s hua kui, or top courtesan. As Hua Rongyue had noted before, many of the most famous women in this organization were also “madwomen.” Xue Xiangming was one of them.

She always wore an abundance of dramatic accessories. Her hairstyle usually featured long side bangs that concealed the corners of her eyes, beneath which lay a small red mole.

In this organization, the ways people hid their red moles varied like the Eight Immortals crossing the sea—each with their own trick. Outwardly gentle and delicate, Xue Xiangming was actually formidable. She was essentially the flower boat’s true manager and had come now to discuss Jiang Lianhuan with Hua Rongyue.

Carrying a tea tray, she exuded grace. As her name implied (“fragrant tea”), she was skilled in the art of tea—though not the kind sung of by scholars and poets.

Warm, fragrant, sensual—her presence, her outfit, had a hazy allure, like something about to slip off at any moment. Though Hua Rongyue knew such a warrior woman would never let herself be taken advantage of, even she couldn’t help but feel a bit uncertain of her own presence in the room.

If she were truly a man right now, her mind might’ve drifted right off into the clouds.

“That man downstairs… that’s Young Master Jiang Lianhuan, isn’t it?” Xue Xiangming said softly.

Hua Rongyue accepted a cup of tea and gave a light “Mm.”

The flower boat might not know about the code name “Mu,” but they definitely recognized that name.

“So, what do you think he came here for today?” Xue Xiangming lowered her eyes, brows tinged with sorrow, as if on the verge of tears. If Hua Rongyue hadn’t seen her go berserk two days ago, she might’ve actually believed it. But now it just felt comically forced.

“Don’t worry. I’ll handle him,” Hua Rongyue said calmly after a sip of tea.

There was a beat of silence—then Xue Xiangming laughed softly.

“It seems… you really are just as they say—someone who puts others at ease.”

Hua Rongyue quietly sipped her tea, not responding.

She had always wanted to understand what exactly made someone “reassuring.” Reflecting on it, she figured it might just be because she didn’t talk much… She herself used to feel reassured by the quiet types—until she realized that silence didn’t always mean competence. Sometimes it just meant someone had no idea what was going on.

…Of course, no one believed that Yi Linglong’s mind might be a blank slate.

As the two of them drank tea, Jiang Lianhuan had already slipped upstairs.

No one really noticed when he got there. Despite being under heavy watch, he was just that good at blending in. By the time anyone realized what he was up to, it was already too late.

Smiling casually, he strolled up the stairs like a man seeking some peace and quiet for a romantic night. But once he turned a corner—he vanished.

He had reached the blind spot, heading straight for the spot where Hua Rongyue had just been standing.

It was a quiet room—Xue Xiangming’s personal quarters.

——In a flash, Jiang Lianhuan reached the door.

And flung it open with a thunderous slam.

The noise jolted both women inside. The peaceful atmosphere shattered into dead silence.

Neither Hua Rongyue nor Xue Xiangming had expected the very man they were just discussing to burst in so soon.

Thankfully, there was a screen in the room. Since they had been chatting from either side of it, Hua Rongyue had just enough time to duck behind it.

She already knew Jiang Lianhuan was formidable, but he still managed to exceed her expectations every time.

Strangely though, she wasn’t completely surprised he had come. In fact, some part of her had expected this moment.

Jiang Lianhuan stood in the doorway, and for a second, Hua Rongyue felt as if she were seeing an illusion—not a memory of Yi Linglong, but something uniquely her own.

Jiang took in the scene: a man and a woman.

The woman—a renowned courtesan—stood looking startled and disheveled. Beautiful in the way men adored: light clothing, delicate face, ornate jewelry. His eyes briefly landed on her fluttering sleeves, her alluring face, and the thick tasseled fringe at the corner of her eyes.

Then his gaze shifted to the screen.

When he’d burst in, someone had darted behind it with lightning speed. A shame—because once someone was behind the screen, it would be hard to draw them out again. That level of reflexes wasn’t ordinary.

He saw the woman leaning softly against the man’s side like melted wax; the man half-reclined on a cushion, radiating an air of complete ease.

“This is our second meeting, isn’t it?” Jiang Lianhuan said.

He was almost certain this was the same man from before. The clothing was different, yes—but that snake-like aura of danger was unmistakable.

Last time, the man had been unreadable. This time was no different. Even though Jiang had barged in so suddenly, the other man remained calm and collected. Xue Xiangming seemed like she wanted to speak, but was silenced with a small gesture.

This man clearly held authority in the room. He quietly soothed the shaken courtesan. Despite her beauty, she composed herself, tidied up the tea set, and left the room silently.

Now only Jiang Lianhuan and the man behind the screen remained.

Jiang knew he had found the one in charge.
He had never sensed such danger before—not even among other so-called “madmen.” And yet, he wasn’t even sure if this man behind the screen was one.

He got straight to the point.
“You’re… the one in charge here? The master of all these ‘madmen’?”

Jiang didn’t care if his words gave anything away. He was confident the man would understand what he meant.

His instincts were rarely wrong.

The man behind the screen lay coiled like a serpent. Jiang had no idea how long he’d been entrenched in the Qinhuai region—growing stronger in the shadows, quietly constructing such a massive underground force.

The incense burning was of the finest quality. The courtesan who had just left was one of the most beautiful women on the river. But next to this man, she somehow seemed insignificant.

Because he didn’t even glance at her as she left. As if he was long used to such things.

“Master of the madmen…” the man murmured gently.

His soft tone only made the moment more unnerving. Jiang Lianhuan hated situations he couldn’t control, and the memory of helplessness from a few days ago came rushing back.

“If the madmen have a master,” the man behind the screen said calmly,
“then I fear… it isn’t me. But if you insist on a label, then let’s just say this place is a safe haven.”