Little Pink Starfish

The man had said he wasn’t the master of the madmen—but Jiang Lianhuan wasn’t naïve enough to take that at face value. Just from the man’s presence alone, he could tell this wasn’t an ordinary person. That claim could easily be humility—or deflection.

The man gestured for him to sit. Jiang Lianhuan hesitated briefly, then complied. The man opened a small incense box and dropped a sliver into the nearly extinguished burner. A thin curl of smoke rose again, faint but steady.

Jiang Lianhuan found this situation… odd. This wasn’t one of the outcomes he’d prepared for.

—He never imagined he’d end up calmly sitting across from the man.

But somehow, the man had that strange kind of charisma, one that made you want to listen—even if you came in with a sword.

On the other side of the screen, the man moved leisurely, even minding the incense. It was as if he didn’t care at all that someone full of hostility sat barely half a meter away.

The scent gradually thickened. Jiang Lianhuan finally asked, “You said just now this place is a haven for madmen… What do you mean?”

The smoke coiled into the air, growing denser.

“It means a group of madmen found a place to survive together,” the man replied. “This place might be lowly, cut off from the world, but for madmen, it’s the best they can hope for. At least here, they don’t have to worry about being killed—or accidentally killing others.”

Though the screen wasn’t seamless, Jiang Lianhuan could only glimpse the man’s fingers through the gaps—long and clean, with faintly pink nails that looked like seashells.

“Seems this place has been around longer than I thought,” Jiang murmured. “I had been wondering why there seemed to be fewer madmen in Jiangnan. So this is where they all went…”

“Looks like Young Master Jiang really doesn’t like madmen,” the man behind the screen said softly, with a faint smile.
“And it seems the rumor of you killing your own friend… isn’t false after all.”

——Bang!

A loud crash erupted. Outside, the eavesdropping courtesan Xue Xiangming flinched in alarm.

A wave of murderous intent flooded the room, thick enough to tear the air apart.

She almost barged in, but through a sliver in the door, she saw the screen inside had been split cleanly in two by a drawn sword.

…

After the explosion, the two men inside were locked in a tense standoff. The shattered screen, made of pale jade, shimmered faintly where it had broken. The incense smoke billowed up between the fragments, like black shadows forming out of nothing.

With the screen broken, Jiang Lianhuan could finally see the face behind it.

It was masked—pale white, with a single splash of red near the corner.
The mask was almost absurd in its dramatics, but it was striking—unforgettably so. That smear of red looked like the rattle of a snake.

Jiang memorized it.

At this moment, he was as dangerous as a sword just unsheathed.
“…So you really do know a lot more than I thought.”

No…

Whether or not the people on the flower boat knew about this was uncertain—but Hua Rongyue did. Shen Qinglan had told her.

In fact, when she first heard this rumor, she had desperately wanted to know whether it was true or not. It had always been hard for her to associate something like that with Jiang Lianhuan.
Sure, he hated madmen—but he also resembled them in more ways than one.

Hua Rongyue hadn’t wanted to believe it. But Jiang’s reaction just now proved that it was real.

His gaze toward her had grown noticeably colder—almost identical to the way he’d occasionally looked at Yi Linglong in their past life.

Perhaps this also made him more wary of the organization. That secret wasn’t something just anyone could know.
In her accidental remark, Hua Rongyue had unintentionally helped the organization build its mystique.

But she knew far more than that. Her time with Six Doors had granted her access to information most in the martial world would never hear. Even if she had been “slacking,” her slacking was at an elite level.

So even a few offhand remarks from her could shock Jiang Lianhuan.

“What else do you know?” Jiang asked.

He was now looking at the masked man with an emotion even he couldn’t fully identify—something close to fear.

If this man knew martial arts secrets, or even court-level secrets, Jiang could deal with that. It would mean power, yes—but not unpredictability.

But the moment just now had felt like he was sitting across from a ghost that knew everything—especially things he didn’t want known.

Because the moment had exposed him. And people are always most shaken when it’s about themselves.

“I know many things,” the man replied. “Madmen exist everywhere… They survive in ways you wouldn’t imagine. And all of them… are my eyes.”

Jiang said coldly, “A safe haven for madmen, huh? Sounds nice—but in the end, it’s just a bunch of lunatics living together. If they’ve made it this far, someone must be keeping them in check, right?”

That wasn’t wrong. He sneered again.
“Who’s to say they’ll stay that way? Can you control them? Maybe you can now, but one day… they’ll turn on you. Because madness…”

“Yes, I know,” the man said gently.

“Madmen can’t control themselves. If they could, they wouldn’t be called mad. To try to keep them in one place, give them normal lives through rules and structure—that’s naive.”

“I know all of this.”

Jiang Lianhuan choked.
The man had taken the words right out of his mouth. He had nothing left to say.

He nearly blurted out, “If you know, then why—”
But realized… there was no point.

He looked at the man’s masked face. After that calm admission, the mask somehow seemed more mysterious than ever.

This person should be a madman. But he was rational—more rational than any sane man. At the very least, he knew exactly how absurd his efforts sounded.

And yet, he still did it.
And, by the looks of it, had turned it into reality.

For something so unstable to remain stable, it must have taken incredible effort.

This madman… was terrifying.
He had ambition, rationality, and the power to make it all real.

And Jiang Lianhuan couldn’t guess what was going through his mind.

Hua Rongyue, on the other hand, wasn’t thinking as much. Her mind still worked like a regular person’s. To her, the organization seemed huge—but also unreliable.

From Yi Linglong’s memories of Qinhuai, she knew things here could go wrong very easily.
Madmen going mad were truly terrifying.

Yet somehow, she couldn’t help but find this whole thing a little… miraculous.

Like a flower blooming out of rubble. A strange, ill-timed miracle—but touching all the same.

Of course, Hua Rongyue could see it that way because she wasn’t the one running it. She was a guest.
If she were in charge, her nerves would’ve shattered by now.

She heard footsteps near the door—Xue Xiangming again, seemingly losing patience. If she burst in, Jiang Lianhuan might be in danger. So Hua Rongyue offered a hint:

“Someone might be worried about me… You’d better leave soon. Otherwise, I may not stay in such a good mood.”

She knew Jiang Lianhuan was wild, yes—but also careful. And in a situation like this, where she held all the cards and he was half-bluffed, he probably wouldn’t act rashly.

“One last question,” Jiang said, lowering his voice.
“Where is Yi Linglong?”

Hua Rongyue blinked.

She hadn’t expected that. That in such a tense moment, Jiang would ask something about her.

Maybe because the opportunity was too rare, even she felt… something.
And she gave him a surprisingly sincere answer:
“She’s still alive. Safe.”

“So… all this time, she’s been under your watch?” Jiang said with a smile.

Hua Rongyue suddenly realized—she’d been played a little.

“And how much do you know about her?” he asked.

“How much do you want me to know?” Hua Rongyue replied.

Jiang had hoped to test whether this man knew that Yi Linglong was actually Hua Rongyue in disguise.
But the other’s response left him completely at a loss.
Did he know… or not?

His tone held a hint of emotion—indistinct, blurred. Jiang couldn’t read it at all.

Time was running out. Suddenly, Jiang lunged toward the window and leapt out.

At that very moment, the door burst open—Xue Xiangming and a group of people rushed in.

After running for some distance, Jiang turned and looked back at the flower boat.

Its lanterns blazed. And at the window above, he thought he saw a man standing there, watching him.

That mysterious silhouette—
From that day on, was forever etched into Jiang Lianhuan’s mind.