Little Pink Starfish

An Zhe had a dream.

He seemed to be standing above a black, swirling abyss. In front of him was a boundless and empty world. A sense of danger gripped him like a hand. Something in the distant darkness must be watching him. He couldn’t breathe.

He felt afraid. Instinctively, he looked around and stepped back. In that threatening gaze, he wanted to find something—or get closer to something—to gain a sense of safety.

So, his hand moved restlessly, lightly grabbing the corner of Lu Feng’s sleeve.
His breath quickened slightly—he was scared.

Lu Feng closed the lid of the silver cold-storage case, threw the empty disposable syringe into the bedside trash bin, and placed his gun back within arm’s reach in the nightstand.

By the time he had done all this, An Zhe’s previously quickened breathing had already calmed.
His delicate eyebrows were still faintly furrowed. A small red bead of blood had welled up on one side of his neck. Within half a minute, it had congealed into a tiny red dot—a pinhole. Whatever had been injected would leave no harm beyond that small mark.

He looked like a small, soft-furred animal—fragilely peaceful, as if he could be shattered completely at any moment, yet also as if he could be protected entirely.

Lu Feng stared at him expressionlessly for a long time. Then he reached out, his fingertips resting on the warm skin between An Zhe’s brows like a dragonfly skimming the water’s surface—those furrowed brows gradually relaxed. Within half a minute, he was sleeping soundly again.

*

When An Zhe woke up, the room was already bright—morning brightness, around eight or nine o’clock.
His panic about being late woke him up completely.

—Then he realized that the towel he had used to wrap himself the night before had loosened and slid down from his shoulders.
And his hand was tightly gripping the corner of someone’s clothing. His whole body was leaning against someone, face resting on their shoulder.

If it had been Ceylan, An Zhe would have apologized politely.
If it had been Colin, An Zhe would have fled instantly.

But this was the often-stern colonel surnamed Lu.

An Zhe quietly released his grip, then looked up at him.

Surprisingly, Lu Feng didn’t scold him this time.
He even reached out, pulled the blanket up to cover the arm and shoulder An Zhe had exposed, and said flatly: “It’s eight-thirty.”

“I overslept,” An Zhe whispered in apology.
“Oh,” Lu Feng said.

Thinking back on their sleeping position, An Zhe suddenly had a bad feeling. The colonel didn’t seem like someone who would also sleep in until eight-thirty.

“How long have you been awake?” An Zhe asked tentatively.

—Lu Feng looked at him with an indifferent glance: “Do you really want to know?”

An Zhe immediately shook his head.

That day, An Zhe’s work assignment was still at the Lighthouse, and the tasks were as boring as ever. Lu Feng also seemed to have no serious duties and stayed with him the whole time. The entire lab scene could be summarized as: Si Nan watching Lily, Lily watching Si Nan, An Zhe watching Lily, and Lu Feng watching An Zhe.

By midday, Si Nan’s condition had noticeably improved. His brainwave stability increased from a mere second or two to a steady four seconds. In those brief moments of clarity, he would tap the glass rhythmically, as if trying to tell Lily he was still there.
Hearing the results, the doctor was quite pleased and said he couldn’t leave for now, asking them to continue.

When Si Nan was completely unconscious, Lily would chat with An Zhe.

“I still want to fly out,” she said. “It’s so big outside.”
An Zhe: “You’re not allowed to go outside?”

“No. They say it’s too dangerous,” Lily said. “When I was little, I begged them to let me out for just five minutes, but they refused. I was angry at them every day.”

“Madam would comfort me, telling me not to blame them. She said the whole base was full of Eden’s children. Children sometimes act out, and sometimes hurt their mothers, but it’s understandable. Besides, the food we eat, the place we live, the electricity we use—all comes from the base.”
Lily sighed. Her actions and tone were oddly mature for someone still a child.

An Zhe patted her head.

“Only Madam is allowed outside. She’s a scientist,” Lily continued. “I want to be a scientist too.”

“I heard them say that embryos used to have to stay inside for at least five months before extraction. It was very painful. But Madam and her research team at the Lighthouse have reduced that time. Now, it only takes one month.”

An Zhe quietly listened to her talk.

At that moment, Lu Feng’s communicator rang. He answered.
An Zhe vaguely heard words like “sample,” “duration,” and “verify.”

After hanging up, Lu Feng said to him, “I’m heading out.”
An Zhe: “Okay.”

As Lu Feng’s footsteps faded down the corridor, Lily suddenly leaned closer to him and said in a conspiratorial tone: “Did you know Colonel Lu is Madam’s child?”

In these past two days, she had become much livelier.

“You even know that?” he asked.

“Because I’m smart. Others only sleep, but I know everything.”
An Zhe wasn’t that interested in gossip, but he did feel some curiosity when it came to Lu Feng.

“I’ve seen Madam’s file,” Lily said, swinging her legs on the chair. “They say the colonel is Madam’s only real child because—”

An Zhe thought, Lu Feng’s connection to Madam Lu was indeed special.
Eden’s children didn’t know who their parents were. From birth, the only constant they had was the ID number on their card.

Then Lily continued: “Apparently, there were two reasons. First, the colonel was unstable at the time—not suitable for external incubation. Second, well, that’s just speculation.”

An Zhe: “What is it?”

“Madam used to go outside Eden. Later, she had to attend Lighthouse meetings and negotiate with outsiders. She could go out. I guess Madam fell in love with someone outside. Maybe Colonel Lu is the child of her beloved.”

Lily rested her chin on her hand and looked at An Zhe: “Are you Colonel Lu’s beloved?”

An Zhe thought about the meaning of that word, then shook his head.

“Then have you donated sperm? You seem like an adult,” Lily said. “Even if you don’t have a lover, maybe you already have a child.”

“No,” An Zhe frowned. “But…”

“But what?”

An Zhe shook his head again and said no more.
He didn’t have a child in the human sense, but he did have his spores—he just didn’t know where they were.

He was afraid of exposing his alien identity if he asked Lu Feng.
And if he tried going back into the ventilation ducts, there was always the danger of getting lost—or being discovered.

The only thing he knew was that, according to Lu Feng’s manual, the spores were most likely in the Lighthouse.
And he was in the Lighthouse now—but he didn’t know how to navigate all the secured doors and confidential labs.

His spores might already be very close.

In the past two days, every time he thought of that, An Zhe felt very sad.

Lily asked, “Are you unhappy?”
An Zhe: “Mm.”

He wasn’t a complete mushroom. And a broken mushroom could never truly be happy.

At that moment, a light tapping sound came again—Si Nan had regained consciousness.
Lily immediately abandoned him and ran over to the glass.

An Zhe grew even more dejected.

Just then, footsteps echoed in the corridor—Lu Feng and the doctor returned together.
The doctor was talking to Lu Feng: “What did you do to it?”

Lu Feng: “What could I have done?”

“It was completely inert, like it was dead. Then you spent two days at the Lighthouse, and it suddenly began to respond. That can’t be a coincidence.”

“Also, it’s been floating irregularly in the nutrient tank. But when you approached the pod, it floated toward you.”

Lu Feng replied coolly, “Isn’t that your job to research?”

“You have to give us more data. What connection do you have with it?”

“I took it, sealed it, delivered it to the Lighthouse.” Lu Feng’s tone grew colder—a sign he didn’t want to continue the conversation. “That’s all.”

“This is a key research project. You need to cooperate.”
“Whatever.”

The voices got closer. They returned to the lab. The doctor resumed his work at the instruments.
Lu Feng pulled out the military equipment manual from An Zhe’s backpack to pass the time.

Recalling their earlier conversation, An Zhe began to feel a faint suspicion.

He slowly looked at Lu Feng.
Sensing his gaze, Lu Feng looked up from the book and met his eyes.

An Zhe looked at him: “Where did you go?”