Little Pink Starfish

The moment Lu Feng hugged him, An Zhe began to tremble violently.

He buried himself against Lu Feng, forehead resting on his shoulder, unable to describe his emotions. It felt like his heart was being gripped and wrenched tight. Overwhelming pain consumed him. Large, warm droplets welled up from his eyes—he knew he was crying. He understood these were tears, a human thing, yet this was the first time he had experienced such a sensation—the feeling of his heart being torn to shreds.

Why had it come to this?

He thought, if Lu Feng hadn’t let him go two months ago, he wouldn’t feel so guilty now that his identity as a non-human had been exposed. If not for the connection they’d formed, something like friendship, he wouldn’t have been so terrified when facing Lu Feng’s gun.

And perhaps, if Lu Feng hadn’t embraced him in the end, he wouldn’t feel… so wronged.

But why had Lu Feng put down the gun? An Zhe didn’t know. He had never experienced emotions this intense and didn’t know how to handle anything else.

—He didn’t understand anything, but still cried for a long time. Even when there were no more tears left, he continued to hiccup and sniffle.

The night deepened. Once calm returned, An Zhe realized the world around them was utterly silent. As if nothing else remained—only the two of them. He remained tucked against Lu Feng’s shoulder, chest against chest, their heartbeats faintly resonating through the fabric—he couldn’t tell whose was whose.

—They were both still alive.

He rubbed his eyes. His voice was hoarse: “Why did it crash?”

“Engine failure,” Lu Feng said. “I’ll get the black box.”

An Zhe hummed softly, letting go of Lu Feng’s arm. The embrace had lasted so long that when they separated, the wind seeped in between the space that had been so closely pressed together—it was cold. An Zhe shivered slightly. Lu Feng draped his coat over him and walked to the wreckage. It was a small fighter jet, not much debris. An Zhe watched Lu Feng pry open the tail with scattered parts and retrieve a bright orange box.

Remembering the day’s events, An Zhe said, “I saw several planes crash.”

Lu Feng gave a faint “mm.”

Even as a mushroom, An Zhe understood how suspicious it was for so many aircraft to simultaneously experience engine failure. He asked, “Why?”

“Don’t know. We’ll analyze it after returning to the base.” Lu Feng pocketed the box and turned to him. “Where were you staying?”

An Zhe: “On the ground.”

Lu Feng raised an eyebrow.

An Zhe promptly shut his mouth. “On the ground” didn’t sound like something a human would say.

But Lu Feng quickly noticed the only unusual things in the barren field—the black bee and the backpack. He walked over; An Zhe followed, but his calf throbbed—it had been knocked earlier.

Lu Feng turned to look. An Zhe bit his lip, limping after him.

—And then Lu Feng picked him up.

Being carried by the colonel was easier the second time. An Zhe quickly found his spot. They were so close—it didn’t feel like the distance that should exist between a human and a non-human.

But tonight, the colonel didn’t seem like a colonel, and the non-human didn’t seem like a non-human.

As he wrapped his arms around Lu Feng’s neck, An Zhe brushed against a cord—fingering downward, he touched something cool.

—Lu Feng wore a hard pendant around his neck.

Surviving under Lu Feng’s hand had given An Zhe some courage. The pendant’s shape was familiar. With fingers still resting at Lu Feng’s neck, he gently fished it out. Lu Feng didn’t protest—he seemed to allow it.

At the end of the silver chain, a brass-colored bullet casing glinted faintly under the aurora.

His own casing pendant represented a lost spore. But why did Lu Feng have one? An Zhe didn’t understand what it meant, and he softly muttered “huh?”

Lu Feng calmly said, “My father.”

An Zhe didn’t reply. After about three minutes, he tucked the pendant back into Lu Feng’s shirt and rested his head quietly on his shoulder, arms drawn in, no longer moving.

Through the fabric, Lu Feng felt the boy on his back first stiffen slightly, then slowly relax, slumping against him. After everything that had happened today, An Zhe could still lean on him so trustingly—this boy always acted beyond his expectations.

An Zhe’s warm breath tickled his shoulder. His weight was that of a typical teenage boy—not heavy to Lu Feng. He clung loosely to him, without a trace of wariness, as if danger and fear had nothing to do with him.

Lu Feng—

Sometimes he had wanted to protect everyone.

In truth, he had protected some and hurt many others. That had never been his intention, but—

As they walked, An Zhe’s breathing grew lighter and steadier. He had cried for a long time today, surely exhausted. Like all inexperienced creatures, this little non-human might be falling asleep.

Lu Feng remembered—about a month ago, when insects ravaged the city, he had received a call from An Zhe. The voice had been soft—fearful. That was his seventh year as an adjudicator. And it was the first time someone had ever asked him for help. No one else would have done that.

In this era, when hope was almost extinct, for a fleeting moment he had felt the desire to protect at least one person.

By the time he set An Zhe down, the boy was nearly asleep. Lu Feng covered him with his coat as a blanket, though clearly, he didn’t know how to take care of someone—the badge on his chest scraped An Zhe again. Half-asleep, An Zhe removed it, realizing it was the very one he’d been carrying at the base. When he’d escaped in mycelium form, his clothes and badge must have been left behind—yet now, it was back with Lu Feng.

Holding it, An Zhe sobered a bit and cautiously asked, “Did the doctor tell you anything?”

Lu Feng looked down at him: “What do you want to say?”

An Zhe murmured, “…Nothing.”

Lu Feng did intend to explain, but then he saw the little non-human curled up with his backpack, making himself small. Under the moonlight, those black eyes stared up at him—so easily stirred by emotion.

So Lu Feng let out a dry laugh and said flatly, “You think you’re that important?”

An Zhe rolled over and turned his back to him completely.