Little Pink Starfish

At this moment, a hand appeared before his eyes. The fingers were long, the skin cold and pale—An Zhe was too familiar with this shape. After Mr. Xiao had finished crafting it, this hand had been placed in the cabinet beside his bed; he saw it every night before sleep. It was Lu Feng’s hand.

That hand picked up one end of the bandage, the other hand took the other end, wrapped a few loops around his arm—just slightly taut.

Then, An Zhe watched those ten fingers cross over deftly and tie a neat knot in the bandage.

—Lu Feng had helped him wrap the bandage, even though the man had just mocked him a moment ago.

He pulled down his shirt sleeve and mumbled, “Thank you.”

Lu Feng said nothing.

A loud explosion suddenly came from downstairs, muffled, like it came from deep underground. An Zhe looked down. The layout of the City Defense Office was four buildings surrounding a wide central courtyard. The building he had been detained in tonight was the shortest one. At the moment, that building was in complete chaos—personnel were being evacuated, squads of heavily armed soldiers were moving in with weapons, explosions kept ringing out, the building creaked, glass shattered, and some rooms had already collapsed. A building that had seemed solid and grand half an hour ago was now gradually becoming rubble. Dust and the smoke from uranium explosions cloaked the area like white mist. The City Defense soldiers, fully armed, had set up barricades and radiation signs.

The army’s uranium bombs were depleted uranium rounds: high in penetration, weak in radiation—but long-term exposure still harmed human bodies, requiring special treatment.

Most of the evacuated personnel had been moved outside the City Defense complex. Meanwhile, Mr. Xiao, the poet, and the other prisoners were placed in temporary tents in the courtyard, monitored by five armed soldiers—An Zhe could see them.

Then, he saw Lu Feng get up and walk to the window.

Outside, the sky was covered in a thick green aurora, dazzling. Lu Feng stood at the window, his silhouette blurred into a black outline. He turned his head and looked toward the far side of the courtyard.

An Zhe followed his gaze and saw a massive black apparatus at the far end of the courtyard. It looked like a black circular disc, surrounded by layers of huge octagonal coils. The disc sloped inward from the edge to a central, thick black cone, which was connected to the coils by radiating, very fine wires or rods—possibly circuits or antennae. The entire structure was larger than two buildings. If one stood beneath the disc, they would see no sky from any direction.

An Zhe rested his chin on his hand and stared at it. Human creations always felt immense and unfamiliar to him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lu Feng took out a communicator and dialed a number. His voice was cool and clear, like a snowfall in deep winter.

“Judgment Court, Lu Feng. Requesting connection to the Lighthouse Center.”

They were close enough that the sound from the receiver scattered and reached An Zhe’s ears.

A voice replied, “Connecting, please hold.”

About twenty seconds later, a man’s voice came from the other end: “What’s happening at the City Defense Office?”

Lu Feng said, “Underground invasion. Large worm-type creatures, suspected to be social. City Defense currently secure.”

“Understood,” the other said. “High probability of worm-type creatures being communal. We’ll send a research team to the City Defense Office immediately. Protect the disperser.”

Lu Feng: “Okay.”

Just as he hung up, the communicator rang again—someone else calling this time.

Lu Feng: “Howard?”

“No more bombing beneath Building 3,” Howard said. “Our men found crawl tracks, currently in close combat underground. We’ve lost some to heavy injuries—already executed. The lightly wounded are being evacuated. You better keep watch.”

Lu Feng looked down: “I can see it.”

Then he added, “Worm-types are high-risk. Any contact with slime—evacuate immediately.”

Howard cursed on the other end. Lu Feng’s tone unchanged: “Watch the disperser.”

“No signs of movement toward the disperser yet,” Howard’s tone was agitated. “The disperser’s foundation is stronger than the buildings. Colonel Lu, just focus on your job.”

Lu Feng replied coolly, “Much appreciated.”

The call ended. Though the conversation hadn’t been pleasant, Lu Feng seemed unfazed. He leaned idly against the window, posture slightly relaxed, but his eyes tracked the soldiers’ movements below—he was watching for their safety.

With nothing else to do, An Zhe continued observing the massive machine in the courtyard.

From Lu Feng’s earlier conversation, he guessed it was the “ultrasonic disperser.”

The term was familiar—he’d seen it in the base manual. There were ten ultrasonic dispersers in the base’s outer city, all managed by the dispersal center in District 1. Earlier, back in Mr. Xiao’s shop, he’d heard the base broadcast mention that it was breeding season for arthropods and parasitic creatures. To prevent aerial invasion, the base had increased the dispersers’ output to Level III.

So, this machine’s function was to protect the base from flying monsters—like insects or birds. An Zhe didn’t understand the principle, but found it amazing.

After thoroughly examining every detail of the disperser, he turned his attention back indoors. This office wasn’t large, with just two desks, a gun rack, and several filing cabinets. Inside the cabinets were neatly stacked materials—folders with unknown content, base manuals, equipment guides, and a thick book four fingers wide labeled Base Constitution—apparently, the legal section in the manual was abridged.

An Zhe’s gaze shifted. On the shelf below the documents were several glass jars, most of them empty. One contained what looked like a dozen plant seeds. Beside it was a bag of soil samples labeled with a white “Safe” sticker.

That made An Zhe think of his spore again.

Seeds and spores were similar. The spore taken by the human military—was it also kept in a glass jar? Or some other container?

Just imagining the scene made him instinctively uncomfortable. He too felt like he was trapped in an airtight jar. The spore was the most important part of him, and he still didn’t know where it was. All the clues pointed to the man beside him—Colonel Lu Feng.

To find the spore, he needed to extract information from Lu Feng.

But he was just a mushroom. He knew he wasn’t like a real human. He also knew how terrifying Lu Feng’s perception was. The moment he asked, he might be suspected.

Or… maybe he could observe Lu Feng for a while first.

That thought sent a chill through him. He turned his head—and locked eyes with Lu Feng.

Under the light, those narrow dark green eyes were calm and expressionless. An Zhe had no idea how long Lu Feng had been watching.

An Zhe felt he was being suspected again, but had to play dumb.

Facing the Colonel’s gaze, he blinked.

Lu Feng’s expression didn’t change at all. His tone was flat: “You can go now.”

The buffer period was over.

An Zhe: “Am I going back downstairs?”

The other prisoners were housed in courtyard tents.

Lu Feng: “Mm.”

An Zhe bit his lip. After a moment, his longing for the spore outweighed his fear of Lu Feng. He said, “It’s cold there.”

Lu Feng looked at him and said, “You’re a prisoner.”

An Zhe: “But I didn’t commit indecency.”

Lu Feng looked at him for two seconds, then smiled.

“Alright,” he said. “Illegal acquisition of judge’s information—sentence doubled.”

An Zhe tried to defend himself: “I didn’t steal. I just made something with your information.”

“Oh.” Lu Feng: “Profiting from judge’s information—sentence doubled again.”

An Zhe: “…”
He couldn’t win.

Lu Feng raised his eyebrow: “How much profit?”

“I don’t know,” An Zhe said.

“Wages?”

“Sixty.”

Lu Feng laughed again. “Pitiful,” he said. “Your boss is scamming you. Remember to ask for a raise after release.”

An Zhe felt mocked again. This was the third time tonight he’d been angered by Lu Feng. He was sure this man was the most bullying human in the entire base.

Before he could reply, Lu Feng looked at his watch.

“It’s midnight,” he said. That familiar commanding tone returned: “Go sleep.”

Just then, a cold wind blew in from the window and hit An Zhe in the face. The base had a huge temperature difference between day and night.

He sneezed softly. Across from him, Lu Feng frowned—he seemed disgusted.

With that same cold frown, Lu Feng said, “Fragile.”

An Zhe was sure he’d been looked down upon. But the wind was too cold. He couldn’t hold back and sneezed again.

An Zhe: “…”

He really hated the cold. He really wanted to stay close to Lu Feng to look for clues. But from the Colonel’s expression, if he stayed another second, he might be thrown out the window.

So, he lowered his head, pulled his collar up silently, and turned to leave.

At the door, Lu Feng’s voice came: “Stop.”

An Zhe stopped and looked back.

Lu Feng still leaned against the window, arms folded. He tilted his gaze toward the right side of the room and said plainly, “You can go there.”

An Zhe followed his gaze and saw another door on the right wall. He walked over and opened it.

It was a rest room, with a simple bed and desk. At the door stood a coat rack with a black uniform coat hanging on it.

An Zhe realized whose room this was.

He said: “You…”

“I can’t sleep tonight,” Lu Feng said. “You can choose between this and outside.”

Between the two, An Zhe chose immediately: “Thank you.”

Lu Feng said nothing, turned back to the window, continuing to monitor the chaos below.

An Zhe entered the room, gently closed the door, and began to look around. The room was full of cold air, with few signs of human habitation—only some creases on the blanket at the end of the bed.

On the desk were several magazines and a dull silver short military knife. But what caught An Zhe’s eye was the booklet lying open in the center of the desk, written in black ink.

6.16, normal.
6.15, normal.
6.14, normal.

An Zhe realized what this was—it was the judge’s work log. During that protest march, one of the slogans had been “Make judges’ logs public.”

But judging by Lu Feng’s sloppy entries, even if they were public, there wasn’t much to see.

He flipped back to May.

Amid all the “normal” entries was one that stood out:
5.17, parasitic invasion, resolved, report pending.
5.18, normal, 5.17 report submitted.

Going back further—

5.11, anomaly, suspect ID 3261170514 (very low threat), gene check passed, allowed entry.

An Zhe: “…”

So that day at the city gate, Lu Feng had not only noticed something off about him—he’d also judged him as weak.

But that wasn’t the end.

A strong instinct made him keep flipping pages.

Mr. Xiao had said all military personnel, even judges, would go on field missions.

And at the place where he’d lost his spore, there’d been a judge’s shell casing.

An Zhe’s heart pounded as he flipped through ten more pages—then one unusual entry leapt out at him.

2.20, returned to city, sample delivered to Lighthouse.

His eyes paused on this line. He flipped back—this page was unusually dense with notes.

2.12, field, Abyss, updated 4 map entries, collected 7 plant samples, 4 animal samples, 7 secretions, recorded 3 multi-form monster behaviors.
2.13, field, Abyss, collected 13 plant samples, 3 animal samples, 14 secretions, recorded 6 multi-form monster behaviors.

—He had gone to the Abyss.

An Zhe’s eyes widened. His gaze locked on the final line of this page.

2.14, field, return journey, collected 1 anomalous fungal sample (spore).

An Zhe’s mind went blank for a moment. His fingers trembled as they gripped the page.