Little Pink Starfish

An Zhe fell asleep in Lu Feng’s car.

What woke him was an instinctive sense of danger. When he opened his eyes, he realized the car had already stopped at the entrance of the Lighthouse, and the colonel had opened the car door on his side, looking down at him.

“Did you not sleep last night?” The colonel’s voice was cold enough to freeze.

An Zhe was still in a dazed state. He rubbed his eyes to wake himself up and got out of the car.
—Only to stumble forward from exhaustion, nearly collapsing onto Lu Feng.

A strong arm caught him. An Zhe managed to stand properly and didn’t fall—but that moment of contact made him much more alert.

Inside the Lighthouse, it was quiet as usual but busy. As he walked through the first-floor corridor, four soldiers were carrying a body covered with a white sheet. Ceylan followed beside him, his face slightly pale. Seeing Lu Feng, he said briefly: “Experiment accident. Exposure.”

Lu Feng nodded slightly and took An Zhe into the elevator up to the tenth floor.

Dr. Ji was standing in the middle of the tenth-floor hallway: “You’re here.”
Lu Feng said, “What is it?”

“Let me borrow your little cutie,” the doctor turned to An Zhe and said, “Come with me.”

An Zhe didn’t consider himself anyone’s property, least of all Lu Feng’s, but he followed anyway.

The doctor led him to a familiar lab—the place where Si Nan had once been kept.

Through the transparent glass airtight wall, An Zhe saw Si Nan.
But it wasn’t Si Nan.

An Zhe walked up to the glass wall.
Inside was a black—black insect.
It was bigger than Si Nan’s original size, about half the size of an adult human.

On top of its head was a black compound eye, gleaming with a silvery sheen under the light. Between the compound eyes, extending from the top of its head, were a pair of slender antennae. On its back were long, translucent wings. Its abdomen was thin and covered in dark gray fuzz, the same covering its pincered limbs.

It looked like a bee.

At that moment, it was wildly flying and crashing within the transparent enclosure, constantly hitting the glass, as if trying to escape. But its chest, abdomen, and limbs were trembling and shaking—like it was in immense pain.

“Its condition is abnormal. Its brain waves differ significantly from previous records in the database. I suspect it still retains part of its human consciousness, and it is currently resisting the instinct of the alien form,” said the doctor. “But no one has been able to communicate with it effectively, so I wanted to ask you to try.”

An Zhe stood again before the communicator.

“Si Nan,” he said.
The elytra of Si Nan twitched, making a rustling sound. He didn’t seem to hear anything, still flailing madly through the space.

But An Zhe was certain—for one moment, that compound-eyed head turned to look at him.

“Si Nan,” he said, “Do you remember Lily?”

The rustling paused for a brief moment. Then the gray bee slammed even more fiercely against the glass wall.

Looking at Si Nan, An Zhe gently asked: “Do you have anything you want to say to her?”

Si Nan’s wings trembled violently. But he had lost his human vocal cords—what showed on the doctor’s machine were erratic waveforms with no pattern.

Dr. Ji said, “There’s a change in the signals. He understands. Who is Lily?”

An Zhe looked slightly dazed.
His conversation with Lily had been a secret—but now, there was no other way.

An hour later, a soft knock came from the lab door.

An Zhe turned.

The first thing he saw was a white skirt hem.

“Madam Lu?” Dr. Ji’s voice held a bit of surprise, “Why are you here?”

An Zhe looked up. Entering was a woman with a graceful and gentle demeanor.
She had black hair tied into a loose bun at the back, wore a light blue mask, and only her soft black eyes were visible.
Her figure was slightly plump, which made her presence more motherly.

And holding her right hand was the girl—Lily—flanked on both sides by Eden staff.

“Eden’s mutation rate has risen over the past three months. I had to personally deliver the report to the Lighthouse for further review,” she said. “It happened that I also received a request from the Lighthouse for Lily to assist with a task, so I brought her here.”

Dr. Ji said, “Much appreciated.”

“This is an exception,” Madam Lu handed Lily to the doctor. “Please treat her well.”
“Rest assured.”

After the handoff, Madam Lu slowly turned.
In one corner of the room stood Lu Feng. Since the lab door opened, he had been watching her.

“You’re here too,” she said.
Lu Feng lowered his eyes slightly, “Mother.”

“Seems like an important experiment,” Madam Lu said as she looked at him.

From opposite corners of the room, their eyes met—her gaze warm, his calm.

An Zhe watched this, sensing an undercurrent between them he couldn’t quite understand.

After about ten seconds, Madam Lu said, “I should go.”

Someone came to escort her. She was thoroughly protected.

Their footsteps faded away.

“This is Madam Lu’s 35th year working for Eden,” Dr. Ji said wistfully. “She’s truly a great woman. Why didn’t you talk to her more?”

Lu Feng stared at the tightly shut silver door, “It’s already too late.”

“You should’ve said more. Has working in the tribunal made you this cold and heartless?” Dr. Ji said. “I remember when we were kids—I messed up the surveillance on the 20th floor just so you could go see her. She always gave me candy—it was really good.”

“Dr. Ji,” Lu Feng said flatly, “Talking less won’t hurt you.”

Dr. Ji shrugged.

Three seconds later, he suddenly said, “I was really good back then. By the way, have they fixed the surveillance yet?”

Lu Feng looked at Lily, then at An Zhe, who was watching Lily: “Apparently not.”

—Lily had pressed herself against the glass wall.

Her eyes looked at the insectoid being behind the glass, and for once, her usually dull pupils lit up with curiosity: “Is this a bee?”

The gray bee clung to the wall, facing her. It paused briefly—then began convulsing in pain again.

“It looks like it hurts,” Lily looked at An Zhe. She clearly recognized him. She asked, “Did you want me to see the bee?”

An Zhe said softly, “That’s Si Nan.”

Lily blinked. Just as An Zhe thought she’d show a sad expression—she suddenly smiled.

“Si Nan,” she said to the gray bee through the glass, “You can fly now.”

There was no fear, no distance in her eyes. She hadn’t witnessed monsters killing people. She hadn’t been taught to avoid alien forms.
In a child’s eyes, bee and human were no different.
She wasn’t even surprised that Si Nan had become a bee—perhaps because, to a child, the whole world was unpredictable.

“It’s disrupted again,” the doctor watched the instruments. “But there were three seconds just now—his waveforms closely resembled human ones.”

Dr. Ji patted Lily’s shoulder: “Lily, I need a favor.”

Lily: “What kind of favor?”

“Si Nan’s mind is battling with the bee’s instincts. Maybe you can help him regain clarity. Can you keep talking to him?”

“I can,” Lily said. “Can you turn me into a bee too?”

“If I did, Eden would have me executed,” the doctor said. “But if you can talk to him, that’s even better. I need to find out how he got infected—the infection source is in Eden, but we haven’t found it. Only by locating it can we ensure the main city’s safety.”

“Okay,” Lily pressed her hand to the glass. “Will you give me a reward?”

Dr. Ji asked warmly, “What do you want?”

“I don’t want to stay on the 20th floor,” Lily pressed her cheek to the glass. “Can you get me out?”

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said. “That’s beyond my power.”

“Alright, I figured,” Lily turned back to the gray bee. “I’ll do my best.”

She really did try for the entire afternoon. Si Nan’s condition fluctuated—only occasionally did he respond normally. But according to Dr. Ji, he was much better than before, and he decided to invite Lily again the next day.

As the doctor had other busy research, and Lily didn’t like talking to others, An Zhe would also be staying at the Lighthouse in the following days to accompany her and help communicate with Si Nan.

At 7 p.m., Lily’s stamina and energy were spent. She was sent back to Eden. An Zhe was also off duty.

Having dozed off in the car at noon and been scolded by Lu Feng, he stayed alert this time—fully awake during the ride, stepping out clearly, and riding the elevator with Lu Feng up to the 37th floor.

Likewise, he was clearly facing his own room door.

The closed door.

One second, two seconds, three seconds.

Until Lu Feng’s faintly amused voice rang out behind him: “Why don’t you go in?”

An Zhe took a deep breath.
Sneaking into the ducts last night was one of the top two worst decisions he’d ever made. The other was rolling in a windy field on the night of February 14.

He regretted it deeply.

The colonel obviously knew his predicament. He calmly said: “You can reissue your ID card at the city’s municipal office. It’ll take three days. Find a place to stay.”

After saying this, he smoothly swiped open his own room door and walked in, pretending to close the door.

Just then, facing the room, An Zhe turned to look at him—brows slightly furrowed, lightly biting his lower lip, visibly conflicted, as if struggling with a decision.

But Lu Feng said nothing, just calmly watched him.

Time passed quietly.
Then—An Zhe turned and pressed the elevator button.

“…I’ll go find Ceylan.”