Little Pink Starfish

“Mr. Hubbard, it’s me, Xiao Scott.”

When Boss Xiao sent a message to Hubbard, An Zhe was holding a human head, practicing implanting eyebrows on it.

The heated needle pierced a tiny hole into the silicone skin, then the fiber simulating human hair was inserted. Once the softened silicone cooled again, the eyebrow was firmly rooted in the doll’s skin. Boss Xiao’s eyes were deteriorating, making it difficult for him to continue this intensive work. An Zhe suspected this was one of the reasons he was so eager to find an apprentice.

Putting down the communicator, Xiao Scott took the mannequin from the glass case and placed it on the chair in the center of the room. All the mannequin’s joints could be easily moved. He crossed its legs, clasped its elbows with its hands, then twisted the head slightly downward. The light passed through the lashes, casting a shadow—an aloof, slightly melancholic sitting posture.

An Zhe looked up. The dim lighting cast varying shadows across the mannequin’s face, completely concealing the subtle difference between silicone and real human skin. It looked exactly like a silent living person.

The overly quiet surroundings—the showcases and cabinets, filled with items considered obscene in human perception—also seemed bizarre and grotesque in this atmosphere.

That grotesque atmosphere was shattered by the sound of the door opening. White light from outside poured in, illuminating half of the mannequin’s body. An Zhe squinted and looked toward the man standing at the door.

Backlit, tall, with semi-long curly black hair, brown eyes, and sharp, cold features. An Zhe could easily imagine how he looked holding a gun in the wild.

An Zhe waited for him to enter, but the man just stood at the door, his eyes fixed on the mannequin in the middle of the room. For a long time, he didn’t move, like he had turned into a mannequin himself.

Until Boss Xiao coughed and said, “Please, come in.” Only then did the man seem to wake from a deep sleep. He stepped into the room, but slowed noticeably as he neared the mannequin. An Zhe watched him raise his hand, trying to touch the mannequin’s face, but his fingers hovered in the air, never falling. In the silence, only the man’s faint, trembling breath could be heard. Perhaps a butterfly was resting on the mannequin’s eyelashes, and he was afraid to disturb it.

Finally, he withdrew his right hand, stared at the mannequin, and said, “Thank you.”

“No thanks needed,” Boss Xiao came over, his gray-blue eyes on him. “I should thank Mr. Hubbard for providing enough data.”

Hubbard gave a faint smile, though his eyes remained lowered.

Boss Xiao pointed to a human-sized sealed case nearby. “Shall I?”

“I’ll do it myself.”

He finally placed his hand on the mannequin’s shoulder, slowly lifted it, and placed it in the case.

Boss Xiao stood to the side and said, “I never knew Captain Hubbard was such an emotional man.”

“Some words were left unsaid.” Hubbard half-knelt, slowly closed the lid of the case, his knuckles white from gripping it. Only after a long pause did he stand up again.

Boss Xiao crossed his arms. “The mannequin needs maintenance every two months. Just send it over. If I come up with anything new, I’ll apply it.”

Hubbard said, “Xiao Scott never does losing business.”

Boss Xiao chuckled happily.

“Captain Hubbard is resourceful; I am not,” he said.

Hubbard: “What do you want?”

“I got a big order the other day. The subject’s data is hard to find. I want to ask for your help.”

Hubbard: “Even Boss Xiao can’t get the data?”

Boss Xiao grinned and made a gun gesture with his hand.

Hubbard curled his lips in a smile, turned, and pulled the case handle toward the door.

“Wait a moment,” An Zhe suddenly said.

Hubbard turned back.

An Zhe quickly walked to his side, undid the first button of his shirt, and took out the bullet casing hanging around his neck.

“Sir,” he said, “do you know where this is from?”

Hubbard said nothing, took the brass casing, turned it at an angle, and looked at it under the light.

An Zhe’s heart pounded.

“The supply stations and black market don’t carry this model.” After a minute, Hubbard released the casing, letting it fall back to An Zhe’s chest. He turned to leave, leaving just one sentence:

“Military issue.”

His figure gradually receded. An Zhe reached to his chest and held the casing, lost in thought.

In the quiet room, Boss Xiao chuckled.

“If Hubbard says it’s military, then it’s military,” he said, closing the door and squinting with a smile. “What, you slept with someone from the military? Duse’s business really is widespread.”

An Zhe slowly shook his head.

If it was a military item, what should he do next?

“Tsk,” Boss Xiao said, “you look lost too?”

An Zhe said, “I want to find its owner.”

Boss Xiao: “What, he didn’t pay you?”

An Zhe felt Boss Xiao’s way of thinking was totally wrong.

He argued, “That’s not it.”

“Military stuff—someone in the military would definitely recognize the model. I’ll teach you a method,” Boss Xiao said earnestly.

An Zhe: “What method?”

Boss Xiao: “The main city and the wild—you can’t reach. In the outer city, the garrison and the tribunal are all military zones. Go hang around there at night and hook one. The military’s strict, but you’ll find someone with loose morals.”

An Zhe: “……”

He thought a moment, then asked, “Which military personnel go to the wild?”

Boss Xiao flicked his forehead hard. “Who do you think drew the maps of the wild?”

It hurt—An Zhe bit his lip.

“And now you’re upset?” Boss Xiao said. “Even the Judges spend half a year outside. What do you think? The entire military goes out.”

An Zhe had nothing to say. He looked down and continued planting eyebrows. He realized he might be staying in the base for a long time.

After a full day of implanting eyebrows, Boss Xiao was very satisfied and let An Zhe off work.

An Zhe wanted some of the potato soup from the black market entrance. It was his third day working for Boss Xiao. He’d received a month’s advance salary—his ID card now had 60 credits.

But when he reached the ground floor, he immediately sensed something was off—no usual bustle, people hurried, and few remained near the exit.

He was a bit confused, but the lure of the potato soup was stronger—he walked over.

Just as he was about to reach it, An Zhe’s body suddenly stopped.

He froze for a second, turned around, and returned to the entrance.

“Come back.” A cold voice called, like icy snow atop a mountain peak.

An Zhe accepted his bad luck and turned back, taking a few steps forward to stand before the Judge.

The Judge hadn’t come alone—he was accompanied by three simply dressed, young-looking tribunal officers.

—He had run into the tribunal’s regular in-city patrol.

Then Lu Feng said flatly, “Stiff body movements, evasive behavior. Deduct one point.”

The young officer behind him took out pen and paper, gave An Zhe a careful look, then began writing down the score.

An Zhe looked at them, only to meet Lu Feng’s gaze head-on. He immediately looked away.

“Avoids eye contact. Deduct one point.” Lu Feng’s tone didn’t change. The young officer continued recording.

An Zhe found the scene a bit familiar. After thinking a bit, he realized that the Judge wasn’t just performing a patrol—he was training newcomers, just like Boss Xiao with apprentices. But Lu Feng clearly wasn’t as patient—his instruction was stiff, not a very qualified teacher.

He waited for the next deduction.

But discovered that although Lu Feng’s guidance was stiff, he wasn’t sloppy. He began asking questions. “Conclusion?”

“Reporting, Colonel,” the young officer said, “comprehensive indicators confirm the subject is human.”

“Reason for anomalies?”

“He’s afraid of you.”

Lu Feng curled his lips into a slight smile.