Little Pink Starfish

Anzhe looked up and frowned at Lu Feng. He was unhappy, his eyes reddened, and he didn’t speak. He reached out to grab Lu Feng’s wrist, trying hard to push it away.

But Lu Feng was much stronger than him. Anzhe couldn’t move it at all. After a few attempts, he simply turned his fingers into mycelium and wrapped them around Lu Feng’s arm, trying to pull it away. However, the soft mycelium was even weaker than his human form, and any slight force would break it.

“Don’t pull,” Lu Feng said lowly at his ear.

Anzhe ignored him.

Lu Feng chuckled quietly, his fingers brushing over the layers of snow-white mycelium, parting them slightly, then once again placing his hand on the skin of Anzhe’s belly.

“Are there more?” he asked.

“There aren’t,” Anzhe said rudely.

This person had already taken a spore from him once—how could there be a second time? Besides, he really didn’t have any new spores now.

Strangely, although the original spore was gone and there were no new ones in his body, the feeling of emptiness had left him too. The permanent void that couldn’t be filled was gone. His spirit no longer constantly yearned for a missing spore. It was as if he had returned to the moment of his birth—when he woke up, he felt completely whole again.

Anzhe looked down at his own mycelium: snow-white, soft, flexible, each strand distinct. He was slightly dazed, reaching to touch them with his other hand. That hand was also caught by Lu Feng.

He couldn’t help but think of his time at the research institute, those days when he locked himself in an empty room, timidly turning parts of his body back into mycelium. When the human skin and bones disappeared, what was exposed was a tangled mass of gray-black matter. His original mycelium had shrunk and liquefied. Before long, his entire body would turn into a puddle of black liquid, drying up on the floor or in a corner—this was how a mushroom died. At those times, he would quickly return to human form like being shocked, looking out the window into the endless night sky, into the darkness of his life. The deep, equal fear of death that all beings shared would envelop him. He would shiver, close his eyes, and wait for it to fade before stepping out, acting like a normal person with the others in the research institute.

These were things Lu Feng could never have known.

Yet, this realization somehow made Anzhe’s eyes sting. Remembering that fear and despair, he looked up at Lu Feng again, his expression even more aggrieved than before.

Lu Feng clearly understood the look on his face.

“You’re really crying?” the Colonel raised the hand on his shoulder to touch the corner of his eye. “What’s wrong?”

Anzhe shook his head. “Anyway, I’m not giving it to you.”

He wriggled to escape Lu Feng’s grasp, but was subdued again in another way. They fell into the grass—Anzhe pinned underneath.

In mid-February, the slender, soft grass had grown tall. Spring had come early in the Abyss this year. Anzhe turned his head and saw a newly bloomed mushroom beside him. Its gills hadn’t fully opened yet, but soon, thousands of spores would be released from under its cap, drifting like mist.

Other mushrooms had many spores. He had only one—and it was gone. He bit his lip.

At that moment, he heard Lu Feng say, “Don’t be afraid.”

He didn’t respond, and Lu Feng continued, “I don’t want the spore.”

Anzhe said, “Then where is mine?”

“You want to know?”

“Yes.”

Lu Feng picked up a strand of his mycelium.

“Other mushrooms have lots of spores,” he said. “Why did you have only one?”

Anzhe replied, “I don’t know.”

“When did you know you were a mushroom?”

Anzhe thought for a moment. “A long time ago.”

“Was there a reason?”

“It rained.”

“And?”

“I broke apart, but didn’t want to die.”

“Did it hurt?”

Anzhe shook his head.

“Anything else?”

Anzhe could only think of one thing: “It rained.”

Lu Feng seemed to contemplate for a while, then asked, “You’ve fused with many organisms. Can you tell how many, whether voluntarily or not?”

Anzhe shook his head. Indeed, he had absorbed many beings—sometimes willingly, sometimes not. The only time he clearly remembered gaining a new form was when he completely absorbed Anze’s blood and tissue, gaining the ability to transform into a human.

Lu Feng asked, “Have you seen a snake?”

Anzhe nodded. Of course he had.

“A snake sheds its skin. Its outer layer is discarded as it crawls out. Many organisms do this.”

Anzhe listened.

“There are bigger differences,” Lu Feng continued. “In some single-celled eukaryotes, there’s a trait where they stop growing in harsh environments. Their main body forms a dormant cyst and survives.”

Anzhe frowned, beginning to understand what Lu Feng meant, though he still couldn’t express it clearly.

“And you are a fungus. Though not of the same species, you’re still a simple organism.”

Anzhe pushed him slightly.

Lu Feng didn’t move, just looked at him with a faint smile in his eyes.

Anzhe looked at his mycelium and whispered, “You mean… my spore grew into me?”

Strangely, saying that didn’t feel odd. It was like stating a simple fact.

He spaced out, contemplating it.

“Polly said when you shed your basic fungal form, you gained new traits—fused with those of other simple organisms—and acquired a new lifeform. The spore became a kind of cyst, a backup body after your original form decayed. That’s why you value it more than your life—it is your life. You may have achieved immortality that way,” Lu Feng said.

Anzhe’s eyes widened slightly.

“And,” Lu Feng added, “the first time I met Polly, he was in pain. The spore landed on him voluntarily. I think only you would recognize him.”

Anzhe nodded. He vaguely remembered being drawn to the sorrowful Polly—and many memories of being drawn to Lu Feng.

He just hadn’t known what he was doing at the time.

He touched his complete body and murmured, “Sorry.”

If that was the case, then he really had misunderstood Lu Feng. He’d assumed the worst. But Lu Feng had honored the promise and raised the spore.

“It’s fine,” Lu Feng leaned in close. His typically indifferent green eyes now held a mysterious emotion. He whispered, “…You’re alive.”

Yes, he was alive.

He was still alive.

Golden morning light shone on the grass. Dust sparkled in the air like a dream. Anzhe gently grabbed Lu Feng’s sleeve.

Then he remembered something else—a long-standing grudge.

That time, he knocked on the lab door and saw the spore. He thought it would float toward him, but it floated to Lu Feng instead.

He said so.

Lu Feng replied softly, “It was you who thought of me.”

Anzhe lowered his eyes.

“I didn’t know,” he said. “Back then…”

Back then, he and Lu Feng weren’t even on good terms.

And now—could they say they were?

His fingers tightened on Lu Feng’s sleeve. But all those drifting, chaotic thoughts vanished the moment their eyes met.

It was February 14th.

Four years ago today, he and Lu Feng had met on the Abyss plains.

After that, they had a brief time together. Then he slept for three years, and Lu Feng raised the spore for three years.

They hadn’t known each other long. They hadn’t had that many moments together. Compared to others, their bond might not seem like much.

But for the two of them—for a mutant and a Judge—there would never be anyone else like each other.

The wind blew.

They stared at each other in silence.

After a long while, Lu Feng whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Anzhe asked.

“For many things,” Lu Feng replied, his voice soft, his gaze never leaving Anzhe. He gently cupped Anzhe’s cheek, his voice hoarse. “Especially for waiting for me that night, on Judgment Day.”

Anzhe smiled, clearly happy, though a little bittersweet. His voice was hoarse too. “Then thank you… for always sparing me.”

Lu Feng’s pale lips curved slightly. He kissed the corner of Anzhe’s eye lightly, a gentle touch. In his cool green eyes was Anzhe’s reflection. Anzhe suddenly found that color very warm.

Lu Feng kept looking at him.

At first, Anzhe thought his gaze was gentle. But then he sensed danger—like being watched by a predator about to pounce.

When Lu Feng leaned in, pressing his full weight down and burying his face in Anzhe’s neck, that feeling peaked.

They were so close—no space between them. Lu Feng’s breath and heartbeat were against Anzhe’s ear and chest.

Anzhe hesitantly wrapped his arms around Lu Feng’s shoulders, trying to analyze the situation with his limited knowledge.

Then he whispered, “Do you… want to sleep with me?”

Lu Feng chuckled—a low, breathy sound.

“Who taught you that?” he asked.

“Boss Xiao said it,” Anzhe replied.

“Xiao Scott,” Lu Feng said accurately. “What else did he say?”

“Basically that,” Anzhe muttered.

All of Xiao’s words were centered on that idea.

“If I do, what would you think?” Lu Feng asked.

Anzhe thought seriously.

“Then… Boss Xiao is really amazing,” he said.

He used to think Xiao’s theories were nonsense. But now, even a Judge fell in line.

He told Lu Feng exactly what he was thinking.

Lu Feng laughed low in his throat, clearly amused.

After laughing, he rolled over and lay beside Anzhe.

Anzhe turned to look. Lu Feng seemed completely at ease. He’d never dared hope that a man who lived in darkness could show such an expression.

“Who else wants to sleep with you?” Lu Feng asked.

“Horson, maybe. When I rode with them to the base,” Anzhe recalled. “And maybe Josie, on the third level. Some mercenaries too.”

“And you?”

“I didn’t like them much.” Anzhe remembered their looks.

Lu Feng looked at him too. The coldness at his brow and eyes melted into a warm, relaxed expression—like the breeze across the wilds at that moment.

Anzhe dazed slightly. If time could rewind, if Lu Feng hadn’t been a Judge, if he were a bold, powerful young officer—maybe this would’ve been his usual expression.

“Then,” Lu Feng said, “I’m not like them.”

Anzhe looked at him questioningly.

Lu Feng smiled—it was beautiful, like melting ice.

“Let’s go,” he said, standing and reaching toward Anzhe in the sunlight. “I’ll take you to find Anze.”

Anzhe took his hand and got up.

“Not like them how?” he asked.

“In every way,” Lu Feng replied.

Anzhe eyed him suspiciously.

“Really?” he asked.

This time, the Colonel didn’t answer.