Mu Chen woke up before the sun was even thinking about rising. For a few moments, he had no clue where he was. Then, the cold light hanging above the divider separating his space jolted him back: the base, the camera, the upcoming assessment.
He sat up slowly, his feet finding the floor. His body felt strangely light, like he'd slept but hadn't actually rested. The living quarters were still hushed. A few footsteps echoed from the hallway, a distant door creaked open. This base, he knew, was always up and running long before people were.
He splashed some water on his face in the tiny sink area and caught his reflection. Same calm eyes. Same quiet face. A face that revealed absolutely nothing. That was good. He needed it that way.
When he walked into the ready room, Ye Fan was already there. Not geared up for combat, just in training clothes, sleeves rolled up, standing tall with a completely blank expression. Zhou Xiao was with him, looking half-asleep and clutching a water bottle. Lin Lan stood by the wall, tablet in hand.
Mu Chen paused for just a second. Ye Fan looked over. "You're late."
Mu Chen glanced at the clock. He was early, again. He finally understood the game.
"Yes, Major," Mu Chen replied.
Ye Fan's gaze held his. "Morning drill."
Mu Chen blinked. "Before the assessment?"
"Yes," Ye Fan confirmed. "Move."
Mu Chen didn't argue. They headed to the training hall. The lights felt way too bright. The glass room overlooking the floor was dark again, but Mu Chen had learned not to assume darkness meant it was empty.
Ye Fan stood in the middle of the room and announced, his voice low, "Three rounds. Run, reaction, restraint."
Zhou Xiao grumbled, "You're serious?"
Ye Fan didn't even look at him. "Do you want to be lazy, Captain Zhou?"
Zhou Xiao straightened up instantly. "No, Major."
Mu Chen listened intently. Ye Fan was using ranks and routine like a shield, acting like this was just normal training. But it wasn't. This was Ye Fan trying to reinforce control within Mu Chen's own mind before the institute tried to strip it away.
The first round was running. Ten laps. Mu Chen kept his pace steady, conserving his breath, not rushing. Ye Fan ran too, not beside him, but ahead. Always ahead, as if Mu Chen was meant to chase him. By the sixth lap, sweat trickled down Mu Chen's back. By the eighth, his legs were burning, but he pushed on. Back at the orphanage, being tired never mattered. Here, at the base, tired was just another piece of data.
When the ten laps were done, Ye Fan didn't give them much rest before setting up a reaction drill with flashing targets and markers for close-range movements. "Eyes up," Ye Fan instructed. Targets lit up in a random sequence – red, blue, white. The team had to move, touch, turn, and duck. Mu Chen followed the pattern, making himself just fast enough. Not too fast. Never too fast. But Ye Fan watched him as if every single decision was critical.
During the third sequence, Mu Chen deliberately missed a white light. Ye Fan's voice sliced through the room. "Again." They reset. This time, Mu Chen hit all the targets. Ye Fan's jaw tightened.
The last round was restraint. Not physical restraint, but control. Ye Fan stood before each team member, sending short bursts of pressure, forcing them to maintain focus and breathe through it. When he got to Zhou Xiao, he lasted about fifteen seconds before his stance faltered. Lin Lan held out a little longer. Then Ye Fan stopped in front of Mu Chen.
The hall fell silent. Mu Chen met his gaze. Ye Fan spoke, his voice low enough that only Mu Chen could hear, "Don't fall apart in there." Mu Chen's chest tightened, just a little. Then Ye Fan pushed. It wasn't a connection, not a touch, just a sharp, cold sentinel pressure aimed directly at Mu Chen's mind. A typical C-class guide would have flinched. Mu Chen let himself sway just once, enough to look convincing. Then he steadied himself.
Ye Fan increased the pressure. Mu Chen held firm, his breathing remaining slow. The room seemed to grow quieter. Zhou Xiao kept looking between them, and Lin Lan's fingers hovered over her tablet, frozen. Ye Fan pushed even harder. Mu Chen felt the edge of his own power stir in response, wanting to surge forward, to smooth things over, to shut out the noise. He didn't let it. He stayed still.
At twenty seconds, Ye Fan stopped. Mu Chen remained standing upright. Ye Fan's eyes bore into him. "Good," Ye Fan said, his voice sounding rough, as if he was both relieved and angry at that relief.
The drill ended. Zhou Xiao bent over, hands on his knees. "You did that on purpose," he said to Ye Fan. Ye Fan ignored him. Lin Lan checked her watch. "We need to go."
Mu Chen's stomach tightened again. Right. The assessment. They walked back to the living quarters in silence. At the divider, Mu Chen took a breath and reached for his badge. Ye Fan stopped him. Mu Chen looked up. Ye Fan held out a pair of black gloves. Standard issue, but newer than Mu Chen's. "Wear these," Ye Fan said.
Mu Chen blinked. "Why?"
Ye Fan's jaw tightened. "Because the room will be cold."
Mu Chen looked at the gloves. Such a small gesture. So small it almost hurt. He took them. "Thank you." Ye Fan looked away immediately, as if the thanks made him uncomfortable. Lin Lan cleared her throat from the hallway. "We have to go."
Mu Chen put on the gloves. They fit perfectly. Of course they did. Ye Fan noticed too much. Mu Chen flexed his fingers once and followed Lin Lan out. As they walked towards the institute wing, Mu Chen could still feel the lingering warmth inside the gloves. And behind him, from the living quarters, Ye Fan watched until the corridor turned and Mu Chen was out of sight.