Little Pink Starfish

At the top of a streetlight pole, a broadcast speaker looped its mechanical announcement:
“Currently, District 6 has sufficient supplies, with normal water and electricity supply. City Defense Bureau has achieved real-time, all-encompassing protection with the ultrasonic dispersal devices.”
“The meteorological station reports an overcast sky and high probability of rainfall. Residents are advised to close windows and reduce outdoor activity.”
“The City Office has begun its citywide personnel screening. Eligible residents should report to the City Office promptly. Now repeating eligibility requirements…”

—It was the only sound on the entire street besides An Zhe’s footsteps.
After the base incident, the city gates were sealed off, and all zones had gone paralyzed. The tension in District 6 was palpable.
On the way to the City Office, the streets were deserted, with only a few anti-“Adjudicator Act” flyers pasted on walls fluttering down in the wind. As he walked further, he noticed armored military vehicles zooming past, all heading toward the city gate.

The base was divided into 8 zones, maintained by the Dispersal Department, City Defense Bureau, and Tribunal for overall safety, while the City Office and Supply Station handled administrative tasks.
Just as the Tribunal was stationed near the gate, the City Defense was headquartered in District 5, the Dispersal Department in District 1, and the City Office’s main building was in District 6—fortunately, this meant the City Office suffered no casualties and remained operational, even recruiting.

The City Office, located near the train station and the alarm tower, was a seven-story building with a large central service hall.
By now, the sky was fully overcast. Though it was mid-morning, the atmosphere felt like early evening—gloomy, with dark clouds seemingly about to pour down directly over the building.

Only when An Zhe entered the hall did he finally feel the presence of living people.
There were five to six hundred of them, split into two long lines, mostly young faces.

The recruitment criteria had been repeated on the broadcasts, and An Zhe had seen them himself—
Applicants must be aged 18–25, with no illnesses, disabilities, criminal records, or inappropriate speech history.
He thought it over: though he had been in prison, Lu Feng had only verbally pardoned him, so perhaps the system hadn’t updated his record yet.

After meeting the basic requirements, there were additional ones:
For administrative positions, at least three base-level educational courses completed; for non-administrative, a minimum of 5,000 base credits earned as a mercenary.

—Just those two conditions eliminated most young people in the base.
Take Qiao Xi, for instance—he hadn’t chosen to study basic courses when he was a teen, instead training with a mercenary group. But even so, his record wasn’t outstanding, and his contributions still hadn’t reached 5,000.

An Zhe lined up at the end of the administrative queue.
Maybe he arrived late, or maybe the bad weather kept people away—no one else queued up behind him.

The person in front of him turned upon hearing his footsteps.

Their eyes met.

An awkward air immediately filled the space.

The next moment, An Zhe looked away to the wall beside him, and the young man also quickly turned his head.

They were not strangers—this was the boy who had dragged An Zhe into a protest, calling him “comrade.” Just yesterday, at the city gate, he had been among the demonstrators against the adjudicator and greeted An Zhe.

But then, An Zhe had walked away with the adjudicator, wrapped in his coat.

The boy didn’t want to acknowledge An Zhe, and An Zhe didn’t want to talk to him either.
They silently queued.
The interviewer—a man with silver-rimmed glasses and cold, refined features—looked hard to approach.
Strangely, the line moved quickly. Each person answered a few questions before being led through a rear corridor. Only a handful were rejected.

After just 90 minutes, only a few people remained.
It was now the turn of the young man before An Zhe.

The interviewer made a “pause” gesture and picked up the communicator.

“Please tell Colonel Lu he must come immediately—within five minutes,” An Zhe heard him say. “Sending these people to the main city is already exceptional. The main city’s security is paramount. An adjudicator must be present.”

“Main city?” the boy before An Zhe exclaimed. “We’re going to the main city? I thought this was City Office recruitment?”

“We’re facing an undesirable situation. The sudden weather change wasn’t forecasted. Reclaiming the dispersal array won’t be quick.
To ensure main city safety, the adjudicator must evacuate with us. Remember this—human interests come first.”

He ended the call and glanced at the boy.

The boy placed his ID card on the scanner. The screen displayed:

Name: Colin
Age: 21
70412

The interviewer had another monitor—probably showing more detailed data.

Colin added nervously, “I completed math, physics, and biology courses.”

The interviewer nodded slightly and returned his card. “Turn right to exit.”

Then it was An Zhe’s turn.
He scanned his card and said, “I completed literature, language, and economics courses.”

“Pass.”

At that moment, outside—

The interviewer shoved the card back into his hand and spoke rapidly: “Go!”

An Zhe quickly followed Colin into the right corridor.
At the end was a glass skybridge, now pelted with massive, dense raindrops.
They couldn’t see anything beyond.
Hurrying forward, they found the bridge connected to a train platform.
Beside the platform stood a traffic officer in black uniform.

“My dad doesn’t even know yet!” Colin asked, “Are we really leaving for the main city now?!”

The officer grabbed his arm and shoved him into the train: “No talking!”

An Zhe was also pushed inside.
The train was packed, with Colin frantically dialing his communicator. It wouldn’t connect.
They walked to the last carriage—which was empty.

An Zhe sat quietly in the corner. Behind him was the rear window, giving a clear view of the track fading into rain and fog.
Colin sat far away, trying to call, muttering to himself, “No… something’s wrong… I need to go back—”

He nearly jumped up—only for the train doors across all cars to suddenly lock with a loud clack.

Colin pounded the door. It didn’t budge, and he drew attention from the staff.

“Sit down!” barked a strong train worker. “We’re heading to the main city—what are you panicking for?”

“My dad doesn’t know I’m gone,” Colin said. “Are you hiding something from us?”

The worker was silent for three seconds.
“Your dad will be glad.”

Colin gasped for breath. “No… no…”

He muttered on, unable to say more, only fiddling with his communicator again.

An Zhe waited quietly.
Five minutes later, footsteps and voices were heard.
Then, silence fell over the whole carriage.

“An adjudicator is here to inspect,” someone whispered.

Footsteps—two people, distinct military boots.

As they approached, An Zhe looked up—

—And met Lu Feng’s eyes.

“Oh god,” said a young adjudicator behind Lu Feng. “We thought you weren’t here.”

“I… I am,” An Zhe replied, looking into Lu Feng’s eyes. A subtle unease crept over him. “Did something happen?”

It was the first time he’d seen that expression on Lu Feng—outwardly unchanged, but… heavy.

Lu Feng replied: “Nothing.”

His communicator buzzed. “Status?”

Lu Feng: “Confirmed secure.”

“Received.”

An Zhe’s anxiety grew. He looked up at Lu Feng, who also looked at him but said nothing.

Then Colin suddenly cried out in a shaking voice:
“I know… I get it now.”

He turned to the train worker.
“The dispersal array failed, didn’t it?!”

“I studied physics. Ultrasonics—ultrasound is sound, and sound needs a medium. Now it’s raining hard. Air temperature, density, pressure—all changed. The medium changed. You need to recalibrate the frequency—But, but—”
He lunged forward, clutching the worker’s arm. Eyes red, shaking all over:
“But the dispersal array is gone! You can’t recalibrate anymore, can you?! The old frequency doesn’t work in this rain, right?!”

Even as he spoke, a scream came from the front car.

Bang!
The glass beside An Zhe was struck hard.

A black insect, slick with rain, had slammed into the window.
It had six pairs of blood-red compound eyes staring straight at An Zhe. The thing was as big as a human head, with arms like long blades.
It flew back into the rain, smashing into another window.

Bangs echoed across the entire train exterior.
A sharp whistle sounded.
Through the window, An Zhe saw the neon-clad ground commander signal: “Go forward!”

Vibrations and rumbling filled the air.
With clanking metal, the train began to move.

Colin screamed and fainted, communicator still in hand.

Outside, the ground commander was swarmed by countless insects—of every size.
Within five or six seconds, his body collapsed in a bloody splash.

The train sped up.
As it rounded a curve, his figure vanished.

An Zhe stood, staring out the rear window.

Black shapes.
Everywhere.
Flying, crawling, slithering—giant worms and leaping insects with massive scythes.
When did they arrive? Perhaps the moment the rain began.

The train roof echoed. Cracks appeared in the outer glass. The inner pane held.

The train hurtled forward.
An Zhe looked at the city.

This wasn’t rain from the sky.
It was a storm of red- and green-tinged rain mixed with blood, monsters, their limbs, and human parts.
Though the windows blocked some sound, he still heard faint screams, retching, and sobbing from inside.

After ten minutes, he could imagine the massacre outside.

How many would survive?
How many would die?

He couldn’t guess. He couldn’t see the whole city.

“The base prepared for the worst yesterday,” said the young adjudicator softly. “Evacuating young able-bodied people was part of the emergency plan… But we didn’t expect it to come so fast.”

His voice was hoarse. “Sorry. If we had a few more days, the military might have recovered the dispersal array, but…”

But there was no more time. No one could predict the next second.

An Zhe understood.
It was like being in the abyss. No one ever knew what came next.

He pressed his hand to the glass—smeared red with blood and tissue. His breathing quickened.

The train sped away from District 6.
The blood faded. The windows cleared.

He had seen monsters tear, struggle, die.

But never this—
A one-sided slaughter. An instant fall.

The person ahead of him stammered, “Just… like that… it’s gone?”

Gone.
All it took was a rainstorm.

An Zhe saw a flock of black birds flying toward District 6.

Seconds later, he realized—they weren’t birds.
Their wings stayed outstretched, gliding in a straight line—they were human warplanes, coming from the main city.

They hovered above the alarm tower in District 6.

He wondered: Will they rescue anyone?

“Human genes must not fall into monster hands,” he heard Lu Feng say.

His voice was calm, yet carried a cold edge.
Footsteps sounded. Lu Feng came to the rear window, standing behind An Zhe.
An Zhe could feel his breath, so close that if he stepped back slightly, he’d touch his chest.

He heard Lu Feng speak into his communicator: “Prepare.”

Yes. Human genes couldn’t fall to the monsters.
Each death meant one or more intelligent mutants.
Whether in the wild or at the base, any infection must be killed immediately. Even the bodies were to be cremated.
So the main city sent soldiers, hoping to save people before they were infected.

An Zhe thought, “…Yeah.”

The Poet and Boss Xiao were still in there. He hoped they could be saved.

Then came the soft rustle of fabric.
Lu Feng reached out his hand.

An Zhe didn’t know what he meant to do.
He looked ahead—the train was exiting the building zones, entering the massive buffer zone between outer and main city.
The buildings of Districts 6, 7, and 8 shrank and blurred into gray shadows in the rain.

A flash of white light suddenly exploded from there!

An Zhe instinctively squinted.
The brilliance pierced his closed eyes.

Then everything went dark—
Lu Feng’s hand covered his eyes.

In the stillness and blackness, An Zhe’s senses sharpened.
Three seconds later, the train floor and the ground trembled lightly.

The silver-white train sped down the track.
As the last carriage left the outer city—
a massive mushroom cloud rose from District 6.