Little Pink Starfish

Downstairs, from some unknown place, came a woman’s scream—perhaps she had seen the bug too.

A beetle crawled slowly across the glass. It was the size of a palm. On its eight slender legs were densely packed tiny protrusions, which adhered smoothly to the glass surface. At the center of each leg was a white dot the size of a needle tip—its suction pad. Its teardrop-shaped tail dragged a long, soft brown antenna behind it, leaving dark brown water marks on the glass as it moved—it seemed to want to come inside.

The poet stretched out his hand, sliding his fingers along the seam between the two panes of glass: “It’s fine, it’s sealed shut, it can’t get in.”

“Each generation is worse than the last,” Boss Xiao said. “They’re getting uglier and uglier—at least they used to still look like bugs.”

“Genetic fusion,” the poet looked at the glass. “The more fused they are, the more bizarre they look, and the stronger their infectivity. I know a scientist who said that in the past hundred years, human research still can’t explain the principle of infection.”

Boss Xiao: “Tch.”

—He let out a dismissive sound, but his body shrank back toward the corner of the room, as far as possible from the window. “Can’t you just close the curtain?”

“I want to look at this city a little longer,” the poet said, pulling the curtain halfway down. The room was shrouded in dimness. In the gloom, his silhouette revealed a strange sorrow. “This… city that may not exist for much longer.”

An Zhe looked out. It was morning. Beneath the dim sky, the gray city stretched outward, half hidden in a pale mist. The sun had risen, the mist was being baked away, and at the far end of sight, enormous mechanical structures began to appear. They were tall, piercing into the sky. Humans always built strange devices. These devices ensured the safety of the base—but not always. Like now.

The poet turned his head to him. “You don’t seem scared at all.”

An Zhe pressed his lips together. He didn’t know how to respond.

The poet let down the remaining half of the curtain and smiled at him. “You’re really strange.”

An Zhe: “Really?”

“You’re too calm. Like it wouldn’t matter even if something happened in the next moment,” the poet said. “People like you are rare in this era.”

An Zhe smiled slightly. “Maybe.”

A mushroom and a human couldn’t possibly have no differences at all. He tried to act more human and asked the poet, “So what do we do now?”

The poet thought for three minutes. “Pray.”

“Pray the ultrasonic repeller isn’t completely broken. Or pray that the bugs are just a mindless swarm acting purely on instinct.”

“And then, pray that our glass is strong enough not to shatter easily.”

At the moment his words ended, a flurry of banging sounds came from outside the window—the sound of countless bugs crashing into the glass.

Boss Xiao looked at the poet darkly. “I pray you were mute.”

The poet panicked too, lifted a corner of the curtain, and quickly shut it again. “Don’t look.”

“I saw them,” Boss Xiao said. “The insect swarm is here.”

The next moment, his expression changed abruptly. “Quick! Check the air vents!”

The poet suddenly looked toward the corner of the room. “The vent is there!”

Where they looked was directly above An Zhe’s head—a hole leading outside, protected by a metal mesh, but aged and damaged, now revealing a gap. The poet tore off half a sleeve with a ripping sound and handed it to An Zhe. “Block it!”

An Zhe took it. The vent wasn’t small. He balled the sleeve fabric with his right hand and stuffed it in. “Not enough.”

The poet tore off another piece. An Zhe held the first wad in place with one hand and took the second with the other.

Suddenly, a slight pain pricked the tip of his right index finger.

An Zhe paused, but his expression didn’t change as he stuffed in the second wad, sealing the vent tightly. He sat back down on the bed. While Boss Xiao and the poet checked the room for other gaps, he raised his index finger to his eyes.

A red dot, the size of a needle tip.

The texture of his skin began to subtly change, turning into snowy white mycelium. Taking advantage of the others facing away, he yanked sharply and tore off the mycelium.

New mycelium sprouted from the torn end, reshaping itself into a human finger—an uninjured, brand new finger.

An Zhe didn’t know if this would help. The torn mycelium didn’t seem abnormal, but he had no other choice.

“No other holes,” the poet said, turning back.

An Zhe: “…Mm.”

However, the sound of insects crashing against the glass grew more intense, louder. The glass clattered as if it would shatter any moment. The hallway speakers kept broadcasting instructions, but they were nothing more than “Please close windows and doors, do not panic” nonsense.

The poet sat down, his face slightly pale. “Leave it to fate.”

“Shut your mouth,” Boss Xiao barked, his eyes serious. Then he looked at An Zhe.

An Zhe was confused. “What is it?”

“Quick,” Boss Xiao said. “Call your man.”

An Zhe: “…?”

—

District 1, Repulsion Center

The massive black ultrasonic repeller loomed faintly under the gray sky. Its disc-shaped body made it look like a giant flower blooming in the city.

The vehicle sped down the road, buildings retreating behind, the repeller’s shadow rapidly enlarging ahead.

“If the Repulsion Center is destroyed,” Lu Feng’s voice interrupted, “will the other repellers still function?”

“They might stop working,” the researcher said after a pause. “The repeller’s operation is too complex. To ensure full ultrasonic coverage of the outer city, all repellers’ power and frequency are remotely coordinated by the center. If the central hub is destroyed and the emergency system fails to activate in time, the consequences could be serious.”

“But that’s the worst-case scenario. The chances are low,” he added. “The No. 1 repeller at the Repulsion Center is the largest in the outer city. Its power is too strong for human exposure. That’s why District 1 has no permanent residents. There aren’t many staff or soldiers stationed there either. Any loss of contact might be due to other reasons. Not necessarily—”

His voice abruptly stopped. His gaze pierced through the car window, fixed on the ultrasonic repeller ahead.

Over a hundred years ago, in springtime during an age of peace, gardeners would spray insecticide to protect budding plants from being eaten by bugs.

But now—the ultrasonic repeller—this black flower, was crawling with massive worms. Gray, black, white, and yellow ridged protrusions covered its surface. Enormous worms climbed all over it.

No, not just worms.

His breathing suddenly trembled violently.

“No…” he said. “Colonel, do you see that?”

Lu Feng jerked the steering wheel!

The vehicle made an extreme turn on the narrow road, swinging around and speeding back the way it came!

The armored vehicles behind them honked furiously—then, the next second, all turned and followed.

At the end of the road, the black insect swarm burst into the sky like fireworks, soaring and falling, like a sudden downpour. Arthropods with exoskeletons pelted the glass with rapid bangs. The vehicle advanced like it was driving through gunfire.

Inside the car, the communicator was on maximum volume, crackling with the dispatcher’s trembling voice.

“Colonel, District 2 emergency communication—full-scale insect outbreak, requesting backup.”

“District 3 emergency—massive insectoid monsters discovered during evacuation, requesting support.”

“City Defense Station emergency.”

“City Operations Office emergency.”

“District 8 emergency—”

“Connect to District 8,” Lu Feng said rapidly. “Can the underground shelter safely receive all city residents for emergency evacuation?”

“Colonel Lu!” the voice on the other end was even faster. “Small mosquito-type swarms entered through the vents. We already have over ten infected. Requesting Tribunal support!”

Three seconds of silence.

Lu Feng said, “Terminate the infected. Evacuate the others. Wait for backup.”

Comm cut.

“Colonel.” A young voice came on. “The Tribunal has assembled. No casualties.”

“Split up and support all districts. Priority to District 8.”

“Yes.”

Comm cut.

“Colonel,” the researcher’s voice came again, barely calm. “We’re returning to the main city.”

Lu Feng’s voice was mild. “The main city?”

“The main city has independent defense and repeller systems. It can ensure absolute safety.”

The vehicle slowed. Ahead was a fork in the road.

Lu Feng said, “What about the outer city?”

“The entire outer base is exposed. Insectoid monsters have the advantage of size and can infiltrate anywhere. This insect tide is even more dangerous than the rodent tide that destroyed the Southeast Base,” the researcher said, gradually regaining composure. “You’re the Arbiter, but in this situation, you can’t save everyone.”

Backed by solid reasoning, the researcher regained calm and even smiled. “It doesn’t matter where you go now. It won’t reduce casualties. You know I’m right. You can’t protect anyone else, but you can save us.”

The communicator chimed again. Previously, Lu Feng had set it to emergency mode. Three seconds later, it auto-answered.

But this time, it wasn’t the dispatcher’s voice.

“Colonel,” a soft, clear voice came through, slower than Lu Feng was used to, words gently spoken: “Your thing is still with me.”

Lu Feng: “Where are you?”

“Next to the City Defense Station,” An Zhe said. “…A lot of bugs are hitting the glass.”

His voice trembled at the end, like he was scared.

Lu Feng turned the wheel halfway and drove into one of the forks. The researcher stared at the abandoned route, eyes wide, body nearly flung from his seat, restrained only by the seatbelt. He blurted, “You—”

Lu Feng seemed not to hear him at all. He only spoke into the comm: “Wait for me.”