Little Pink Starfish

“What are you looking at?” Dr. Ji approached Lu Feng from behind. Lu Feng was standing at the lab window, facing the brightly lit Eden and the Twin Towers.

As he got closer, he realized the colonel wasn’t spacing out—he was toying with a communicator. The still-lit screen displayed the contact list, paused on an unfamiliar name.

“Hubbard—who’s that?” Dr. Ji stepped beside him and raised a brow. “A friend you haven’t introduced me to?”

Lu Feng didn’t answer. Dr. Ji didn’t press further. With this colonel, unanswered questions were the norm.

Just then, the tiny white spore poked out from Lu Feng’s collar, seeming to peek cautiously at Dr. Ji before quickly retreating back into hiding.

“It’s so small,” Dr. Ji said with a cheerful smile.

Lu Feng pulled it out and placed it in his palm. What had once grown to the size of his palm was now no larger than a date pit. It burrowed into Lu Feng’s hand, terrified of Dr. Ji.

“I’m not dissecting you today,” Dr. Ji said. “You’ve shrunk. Be good, eat more nutrient fluid. Grow a bit, and I’ll cut you then.”

Lu Feng shot him a cold look.

Dr. Ji crossed his arms, nonchalant. “It’s not like I’m cutting you—why the hostility?”

In recent days, the base had realized that their current biotechnology couldn’t explain the spore’s inert nature. They shifted research focus—or perhaps gave up—and concentrated efforts on another path. Today, they had finally developed a method to create mycelium extract. The plan was to dilute it and coat important equipment surfaces with it.

The hope was that the inert spore would yield inert extract, which would then pass on that inertness to the devices—maybe even infect them with it. Since, after all, distortion could make glass and wood contaminate each other, perhaps the extract could “infect” objects too.

They even sent 20 liters of diluted extract to the underground base via aircraft.

The high-ranking officers at the Lighthouse joked bitterly: science has failed, and now we’re resorting to mysticism. But they had no other choice—science seemed to have failed, and no one knew what to believe in anymore.

Dr. Ji extended a hand. “Let me play with it.”

Of course, he didn’t get anything. Lu Feng didn’t even look at him.

Still, Dr. Ji stared at the spore’s visible mycelium. “Tomorrow we can make another liter. Not bad. The base requires us to prioritize protecting the artificial magnetic pole’s core systems.”

Lu Feng curled his fingers, hiding the spore completely.

“No need to be so protective,” Dr. Ji said. “Although you’re quite fond of it, it’s not like it’s your son. Colonel Lu, have you noticed? Ever since returning from the wild, you’re not as emotionally vacant as before.”

Lu Feng remained silent. Dr. Ji kept rambling—he always talked more under stress. In the past month, his word count had skyrocketed.

Three minutes later, Lu Feng finally spoke. “When will the extract be used?”

“The Lighthouse is still debating. We can’t rule out one possibility: after distortion begins, all matter starts fusing indiscriminately. Then, the most likely outcomes are either the extract does nothing—or best case, it passes on its inertness to us. Worst case, it turns all our equipment into useless mushrooms.”

Lu Feng’s cold voice cut in, laced with frost. “If that’s possible, why use it?”

“You Judges like to eliminate all negative possibilities. But now it’s different. You know it—whatever we do, it can’t get worse than this. One more meeting and the Lighthouse will finalize the decision.”

“What exactly is inertness?” Lu Feng asked.

“Non-contagion.”

The spore emerged from his hand and scurried along his uniform, hiding under the shoulder badge farthest from Dr. Ji.

Lu Feng shifted slightly, revealing something on the windowsill—a small vial labeled “Hybrid-III” and an empty syringe.

Dr. Ji’s gaze sharpened.

“Hybrid extract? What are you doing with that?” he asked. “Don’t mess with lab supplies—they’re dangerous.”

Lu Feng looked at him and said something seemingly unrelated: “In the underground base, without a magnetic field, non-contact contagion and distortion were occurring.”

Dr. Ji nodded, not following his train of thought.

“Many soldiers who entered with me were infected—but I wasn’t,” Lu Feng said.

The doctor went quiet, listening intently.

“If the spore shows inertness, then An Zhe must also be inert,” Lu Feng said.

Dr. Ji nodded.

“But he can shift between mushroom and human form. And when human, his genetic tests show no anomalies.” Lu Feng’s voice was even. “So if I’ve been infected and gained inertness, you wouldn’t be able to tell.”

“Yes, I admit. We considered that possibility from the beginning,” Dr. Ji said. “But what’s the point? Precisely because we can’t detect the infection, we decided on wide-area extract spraying. When distortion hits, we’ll see whether it can protect humans.”

“But we also risk turning into fungi.”

“So what?” Dr. Ji looked at him, as if sensing something ominous.

“If a monster’s extract infects me, and I’m still human, it proves An Zhe passed on inertness. And the extract can be used.”

Dr. Ji stared at him, expression unreadable, then darkened. “Why you?”

“I spent the most time with him. After the underground base incident, I was with him during the contagion window,” Lu Feng said. “If he could infect anyone, it would be me.”

“It’s me.” Dr. Ji let out a bitter laugh, stepping closer, voice rising. “You only stayed with him briefly. I shared a room with him. He was obedient like a kitten. We were inseparable. I had… a lot of intimate contact with him you wouldn’t want to know about. If anyone was infected, it should’ve been me.”

“You have too many responsibilities,” Lu Feng replied calmly. “You can’t take the risk.”

“You know this is risky, don’t you?” Dr. Ji, exasperated, gasped. “I can’t take the risk—but you can? Is sacrificing yourself really worth it to you?”

Lu Feng didn’t answer.

Dr. Ji suddenly lunged and grabbed the vial. The cap was already off. He stabbed the needle in, filled the syringe.

“If someone has to do the test, it’ll be me.” His icy blue eyes glittered, voice sharp. “You’ve already done enough. For once, live.”

Lu Feng didn’t stop him. He only watched, calm, eyes like still green water.

Then he rolled up his sleeve.

On his wrist, a tiny red puncture—he had already injected himself.

“In half an hour, if I’m fine, you can use the extract.”

Dr. Ji stood frozen, chest heaving, eyes wide.

“You… you…” His eyes reddened, voice hoarse as glass on stone. “You hopeless self-harming bastard.”

“If we lose a scientist, the base survives. If we lose a Judge—have you thought about that?”

Lu Feng said nothing.

At that moment, the communicator buzzed. Dr. Ji answered, still breathless. After three seconds, his face changed.

“I’m coming now,” he told the caller.

After hanging up, he looked grim. “Another micro-distortion was detected. The base has raised the magnetic field to max power. The collapse is imminent. I’m going to an emergency meeting. About half an hour. Stay here. Don’t go anywhere—unless the evacuation begins.”

He rushed to the door.

“Wait,” Lu Feng called.

Dr. Ji stopped, still furious.

From behind, Lu Feng asked, “An Zhe—like the spore—is he immune to distortion?”

“Even if humans die, he’ll live.”

“Thank you.”

Dr. Ji slammed the door on his way out.

Lu Feng remained, gazing out the window. Under the aurora, the gray-black city looked like a jungle. The shifting lights cast strange green shadows on the buildings.

Then, a sharp beastly howl rang out across the city.

It came from the military base. It was only the beginning. Moments later, more roars followed.

Emergency lights at the base blinked on—then off. Sirens and explosions followed. Then came the high-frequency, base-wide evacuation alarm.

But Lu Feng only glanced in that direction briefly. Then he looked toward the open wilderness beyond the base.

With a whoosh, a massive bat-like creature rose from the distant mountains. Then, a swarm of black shadows followed—thousands of its kind.

The communicator lit up.

Lu Feng typed a few characters—the lab’s designation.

A few seconds later, a message from Hubbard appeared:

“Received. Arriving in 30 minutes.”

The full collapse of the magnetic field would happen within that window.

Across the base, across the wilds, monsters emerged from sky and land. As if they had long been waiting, they surged toward the base like a tidal wave.

In the corridor, emergency lights flickered wildly. Dr. Ji emerged from the meeting room, rushing toward the lab, two soldiers at his heels.

“Doctor, please evacuate immediately.”

“The military can’t protect the entire base. Drones have spotted a monster wave. We’ll only be able to defend the magnetic pole’s center.”

“I need to grab something,” Dr. Ji said quickly. “Colonel Lu is in the lab too.”

“Please evacuate at once,” one soldier pressed. “Special orders—once personnel gather at the magnetic center, Colonel Lu’s presence may trigger unrest. To avoid further complications, we may consider—”

“Shut up!”

The sirens reached their highest frequency. Red lights and alarms blared in unison. Chaos filled the halls. The monsters’ howls echoed closer. Scientists in white coats and soldiers ran in every direction.

They neared the lab door.

Dr. Ji’s eyes widened.

—The door was unlocked. He’d been too flustered to lock it.

He stepped in—and saw a soldier with a black armband aiming a sniper rifle at the figure standing by the window.

His pupils contracted—the black armband was the symbol of the anti-Judgement movement.

The communicator blinked, but he ignored it.

“Lu Feng!” he shouted.

And as he did, the gun fired.

The figure at the window swayed—and fell with a thud.

Dr. Ji froze, lips trembling. “No…”

“Don’t move!” The soldier was quickly restrained by the others. Dr. Ji rushed inside, knocking over equipment. Glass shattered underfoot. He rounded a reactor chamber and knelt beside the collapsed body, trembling. “Lu Feng? Lu Feng?”

The man’s eyes remained open. His limbs were still.

Dr. Ji touched the charred bullet wound.

His communicator blinked again. He glanced at the sender—his whole body had been shaking, but now his eyes turned cold.

A soldier came to cuff the shooter and approached them.

“No need,” Dr. Ji said coldly. “Colonel Lu confirmed dead.”

Footsteps halted.

“We’re very sorry.”

Dr. Ji, pale-faced, gave a faint, bitter smile.

“I’m not surprised,” he said. “Not surprised at all—by how a Judge would die.”

*

PL1109, Cabin.

Hubbard leaned against the cabin wall. He and Lu Feng weren’t exactly close friends.

—But maybe close enough to have faced death together.

“Took some effort to get that thing out from the unit next to yours. Can’t believe you kept it.”

“Well done,” Lu Feng said. “According to Xiao Scott’s testimony, you provided the data.”

Hubbard smiled, saying no more.

“How’s house arrest treating you?” he asked.

“Fine.”

Lu Feng scanned the cabin.

A nearby officer said, “We returned from the underground base together. Colonel Lu, we won’t report you to the military.”

“No need to thank them,” Hubbard said while cleaning his gun. “Just a monster siege again. We’re going back into combat. You fought well last time—we’d gladly have you again. It’s mutually beneficial.”

“As long as the colonel still wants to serve the base.”

Lu Feng’s lips curved slightly.

“Start checking your gear,” he said.

Hubbard was wiping a silver semi-automatic gun. His fingers paused on the grip—scratched into it was a name: “Tang.”

He stared at it.

“Who’s that?” asked a nearby officer.

“A friend,” Hubbard said. “Known him for thirty-three years.”

“That’s long.”

Hubbard smiled. “A pity.”

“Why?”

“Born together. But not dying together.”

“That’s rare.”

“Yeah.”

Lu Feng watched them, arms crossed. His half-lowered lashes gave away no emotion, not that anyone expected a Judge to empathize.

Until Hubbard noticed something.

“Where’s your gun?” he asked.

“Gave it away,” Lu Feng replied.

Hubbard smiled—seeming to understand something. Wealthier than the average soldier, the mercenary captain pulled out a black handgun and handed it over.

As Lu Feng accepted it, Hubbard said quietly, “You’ll live.”

“Thanks.”