Little Pink Starfish

For humans, once something is said, it’s hard to take it back.

—So, things turned out like this.

In the shared washroom on the fifth floor, next to a sink streaked with brown water stains, in front of a row of faucets, An Zhe held a cup in one hand and a toothbrush in the other, carefully washing up. He understood human living habits and mimicked them earnestly every day, but today, he was even more meticulous than usual—because the colonel was right next to him.

When he finished, he carefully packed his things and looked at Lu Feng.

Lu Feng had just splashed his face with cold water. Droplets clung to his damp hair like freshly melted snowflakes.
An Zhe silently handed him a towel.

Lu Feng took it and briefly said, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” An Zhe replied.
He believed what he did conformed to human etiquette—sharing things was common among humans.

He held his cup toward Lu Feng.

“Do you want to use it?” he asked. “But there’s only one.”

Resources at the base were tight. Daily necessities were rationed. If you needed more, you had to buy them on the black market. An Zhe had only one cup and one toothbrush—and the black market no longer existed, so there was nowhere to buy more.

Lu Feng stared at him for five or six seconds before moving.

An Zhe looked down. Under the dim yellow washroom light, the rim of the cup gleamed faintly gold. Lu Feng’s long fingers gripped the porcelain handle and took the cup from his hand. His right hand—the one he used to hold a gun—had a thin layer of calluses on the fingertips. When An Zhe let go, his fingers brushed lightly against them.

Lu Feng didn’t use An Zhe’s toothbrush, only used the cup to rinse his mouth with diluted toothpaste water. Afterward, he put the cup away, and the two of them headed out.

It was 11 p.m. Normally, the washroom and hallways would have water and power cut off per base protocol, but tonight, all of District 6 was in emergency shelter mode—water and power restrictions were lifted.
With people on edge, many hadn’t fallen asleep. Because of that, even at this hour, there were others in the washroom—some washing up or doing laundry, sneaking glances at the two of them. An Zhe noticed. He was sure Lu Feng had noticed too, but the colonel didn’t seem to care.

An Zhe walked in front. The washroom floor was damp, with puddles here and there. He lowered his head and carefully stepped around them.

As they reached the doorway, a dark figure suddenly turned the corner and bumped into him. An Zhe looked up.

“You—” It was Qiao Xi’s voice.

Instinctively, An Zhe took a step back and bumped into Lu Feng’s chest. He saw Qiao Xi looking at him, as if about to say something—but then Qiao Xi’s gaze shifted and froze.

An Zhe was also frozen. Qiao Xi was blocking the door—he couldn’t go forward or back.

Then, he felt a slight weight on his shoulder. Lu Feng’s fingers had landed there.

Qiao Xi’s eyes widened. An Zhe could almost see the tremble in his pupils. In the next moment, Qiao Xi quickly lowered his head and stepped aside respectfully, letting them pass.

Lu Feng’s hand on An Zhe’s shoulder gently guided him out, then let go.

All of it happened in just a moment. An Zhe’s heart pounded wildly. He was tense all over, afraid Qiao Xi might shout “An Ze” in front of the adjudicator or say something like “He doesn’t look like An Ze anymore.”

But even after they walked a dozen steps away, Qiao Xi hadn’t said a word.
An Zhe glanced back at his profile—Qiao Xi’s fingers were clenched tightly at his side, his lips pressed into a hard line.

An Zhe suddenly realized something—in this place, the adjudicator held the absolute power of life and death. Most people in the base, including Qiao Xi, didn’t even dare speak a word to the adjudicator.

They walked down the hallway and returned to the room. Lu Feng didn’t ask who that person was or what his relationship with Qiao Xi was. Strictly speaking, he and Lu Feng were still just two strangers sharing a space.

Back in the room, Lu Feng sat at An Zhe’s desk and began writing in his work manual. He wrote quickly, noting under 6.18: “Judgment Day, countless kills.”

An Zhe stood nearby watching, once again questioning the point of this manual.
He said, “You wrote so little.”
Lu Feng closed the book. “To pass inspection.”

His tone was matter-of-fact.

An Zhe: “Oh.”
Then he said, “I’m going to change clothes.”

Lu Feng replied mildly, “Okay.”

An Zhe changed out of his daytime clothes. He had a soft white cotton pajama set. After changing, he got into bed and lay on the inner side. Base rooms only had one standard-issue single bed, but it wasn’t narrow—he could even roll around a bit. An Zhe guessed it was probably because many mercenaries at the base were large-built and needed more space.

So, when he lay down, there was still room.

Lying down, he looked at the supply station assessment handbook.
Lu Feng asked, “You want to join the supply station?”
An Zhe: “Mm.”

If the outer city remained occupied by bugs…

“Go to the city office tomorrow afternoon,” Lu Feng said. “In recent years, a lot of new children have arrived. The main city’s short-staffed, so the city defense department is recruiting in the outer city.”

As he spoke, he stood up, took off his jacket and hung it on the chair, then walked over to An Zhe. An Zhe could feel those green eyes studying him.

Lu Feng continued, “You’re pretty useless, but you can take care of kids.”

An Zhe wanted to argue with the first part but found he couldn’t.
He felt embarrassed and pulled the blanket over his head.

Lu Feng gave a light chuckle. The bed dipped as he lay down.

The cold breath was close. An Zhe could hear Lu Feng’s breathing. What had happened today felt like a dream. As a mutant, he was going to spend the night with an adjudicator.

“So,” An Zhe peeked out from under the blanket and softly asked, “Do you still doubt that I’m objectively human?”

“Gene test passed. Thirty-day observation period passed.” Lu Feng, expressionless, replied: “You’re objectively human now.”

“What’s the observation period?”

“After infection, within thirty days, the infected will certainly lose human consciousness. The probability is nearly one,” Lu Feng said.

“Then… could there be a mutant who doesn’t lose their mind?” An Zhe tentatively asked. “Even though it’s a mutant, it still has a human form and thoughts. Just with an added ability—to transform.”

He knew he was a mutant, but also that he was still quite lucid.

“Do you think human willpower is strong?” Lu Feng asked.
An Zhe didn’t know how to respond, but it seemed Lu Feng didn’t expect an answer.

“Actually, it’s nothing worth mentioning. The Lighthouse has done many experiments,” Lu Feng said calmly. “Human will can’t overcome a mutant’s survival instincts. Instead, it’s the mutant that gradually digests human thinking ability for its own survival. Like today’s bugs—the Lighthouse report isn’t out yet, but I personally believe they launched a premeditated attack.”

An Zhe’s eyes widened slightly. It was the longest he had ever heard Lu Feng speak—and his words were heavy.
He said the uniquely human will was insignificant before genetic fusion. That humans were a fragile species.

“I don’t agree,” An Zhe said. Being deemed human both subjectively and objectively by the adjudicator made him feel much more at ease. At least now, he dared talk more: “If someone had really strong willpower…”

Lu Feng: “It’s not about strength. There’s no ‘if.’”

An Zhe frowned and thought carefully. “For example, if you were infected—”

—He was immediately shoved back under the blanket by Lu Feng.

“I’d kill myself right away,” Lu Feng said coldly. “Sleep.”

An Zhe figured the colonel was probably tired and didn’t want to waste words—actually, he himself was also sleepy. Lu Feng hadn’t rested in nearly forty hours, and An Zhe had only gotten a couple of hours early yesterday morning in Lu Feng’s room. He fell into a deep sleep the moment he closed his eyes.

When he woke, An Zhe didn’t know what time it was. He sat up in bed. The room was still dark like nighttime, with only a thin line of light slipping through the curtain gap, like faint sunlight filtering through layers of branches and leaves in an abyss.
He opened the curtain, but the room remained dim—outside, it was overcast.

He checked the communicator—it was already 11 a.m.

Suddenly, he felt like he had forgotten something. Jolted awake, he looked toward the bed—nothing. He was alone in the room.

Then he noticed a sheet of paper laid flat on the table, next to a ballpoint pen.

He got out of bed and picked it up—it was one of the “Oppose the Adjudicator’s Atrocities” flyers, flipped over, with a few words scribbled in black ink on the back.

Left.
Got a call.
—Lu

For some reason, An Zhe smiled. Lu Feng’s note was as terse as his work log.

He put the note down and walked to the wardrobe, starting to pick out clothes for the city office. He thought for a long time and finally chose a grey sweater.

Grey—An Zhe looked out the window.

The sky and the light were both a pale grey, hanging low at the tops of the buildings. Dense clouds clustered and spread to the edge of the city and horizon, like it was about to pour.

An Zhe felt very happy. Mushrooms liked rainy days.
Besides, Lu Feng had told him yesterday—if he passed the city defense recruitment, he could go to the main city. And the Lighthouse was there.
He felt like he was one step closer to retrieving his spores.

He decided not to hold a grudge about Lu Feng stealing his spores anymore.