So, the simulation room was on a lower floor, not really part of the institute building, and definitely not military. It was like this weird space stuck between the two, which honestly just made things worse. You know how those "neutral" rooms are never really neutral.
Mu Chen walked in with Lin Lan, Ye Fan a bit ahead of them, and Zhou Xiao trailing behind. Colonel Luo Wei was already there, standing by the back wall, arms crossed, looking all cool and in command. The room itself was big and gray, with a marked square on the floor, sensor rigs hanging overhead, glass panels on two sides, and this long observation window where you could see shadows moving – the institute observers, no doubt.
Mu Chen felt himself go completely still. He forced himself not to stare at the window for too long. Lin Lan handed him a thin sensor band. "Wrist," she said. He put it on. Then another for his throat, and one behind his ear. He just stood there under the bright lights, letting them hook him up with all these measurements like he was just a piece of equipment.
Across the room, Ye Fan was getting fitted with a chest monitor and sensors on his temples. His face was completely blank. Mu Chen recognized that look now: quiet anger. The dangerous kind. The kind that doesn't bother shouting because it's a waste of energy.
An institute staff member stepped up with a tablet. "Simulation protocol: controlled stress escalation," they announced. "Guide and sentinel will maintain assigned positions. Contact may be requested under observation." Ye Fan's jaw tightened for a second. Mu Chen kept his own face expressionless.
The staff member continued, "No formal link. No unscripted movement. No verbal interference unless instructed." Luo Wei's voice cut in from the back. "You will state all changes in protocol before they happen." The staff member gave her a polite smile. "Of course, Colonel." That smile made Mu Chen want to break something.
Lin Lan moved over to the side console. Zhou Xiao stood by the wall, hands clasped behind his back, his face tight with that contained anger. Mu Chen stepped into the marked square. A line on the floor separated his spot from Ye Fan's. Not that close, but close enough to feel significant.
An instructor's voice echoed from above. "Baseline phase." The lights dimmed a bit. A subtle pressure started building in the room, more mechanical than psychic. The temperature dropped, sounds were dampened, just controlled discomfort. Ye Fan stood on his mark, staring straight ahead. Mu Chen copied him. No eye contact. No obvious reaction. Just two soldiers in a room.
"Record baseline guide output," the voice commanded. Mu Chen let a faint field build up. Soft, controlled. Upper C-class, just as they'd planned. The sensor on his wrist warmed up. The voice overhead continued, "Record baseline sentinel response." A beat of silence. Then, "Elevated receptivity."
Behind the glass, someone moved. Mu Chen felt it in his gut. That was too fast. Too obvious. They'd barely started, and Ye Fan was already reacting. Ye Fan's posture didn't change, but his hands curled slightly at his sides.
"Increase environmental strain," the voice instructed. The room shifted. Not visually at first. The air felt heavier, the lights brighter. A high-pitched tone, barely audible, seeped into the sound system. Mu Chen understood it immediately. Sensory stress. Designed for sentinels. Measured by the guide's response. Ye Fan's breathing changed, just slightly. Mu Chen kept his eyes forward, fighting the urge to smooth things over, to step over that line, to just touch Ye Fan's sleeve and shut it all down. He did none of it.
"Guide output increase requested," the voice said. Mu Chen raised his field a little. The wrist sensor beeped. "Sentinel response rising." Too quick, again. Mu Chen's chest tightened. Behind the observation window, shadows moved. Writing. Watching. Recording.
The voice overhead announced, "Verbal prompt allowed. Guide may address sentinel." Mu Chen felt the trap in that. Words could change readings. Tone could alter breathing. Their files would devour every syllable. Across from him, Ye Fan finally looked up. Their eyes met. The room seemed to fall silent around that one look. No one else was there. No glass. No files. Just Ye Fan, standing under the harsh lights, anger in his jaw and too much awareness in his eyes.
Mu Chen spoke because he had to. Simple. Flat. Careful. "Major Ye Fan."
The voice overhead immediately blared, "Response spike." Behind the glass, more movement. Mu Chen's stomach churned. Ye Fan's eyes never left his face. "Guide may step within close support range," the voice continued. Luo Wei's sharp voice cut in from the back wall. "State exact distance." A brief pause. Then, "Approved advance to one meter."
Mu Chen took one step. Now they were closer. Close enough to feel heat, but not to touch. Ye Fan's gaze flickered down to Mu Chen's mouth for a split second before snapping back up. The voice overhead didn't miss it. "Visual fixation noted." Zhou Xiao let out a soft curse from the wall. Mu Chen forced his face into a blank slate. Ye Fan's voice came, low, just for him. "Don't react." Mu Chen's reply was barely a whisper. "You too."
"Contact trial recommended," the voice overhead stated. Ye Fan froze. Luo Wei immediately said, "Denied." The polite staff voice countered, "Colonel, the protocol includes—" "Denied," Luo Wei repeated. Silence. Mu Chen felt a sharp pang of relief. Then the voice overhead changed. "Environmental strain increase. No contact required."
The room shifted again. This time, the pressure hit fast and hard. The lights flashed. The tone sharpened. The floor vibrated faintly under their boots. Ye Fan's breathing hitched. Mu Chen felt the edge of a breakdown. Not complete, not yet, but close. His body moved before his mind could even decide. One more step. He crossed into the forbidden space between their marks.
The room erupted. "Unscripted movement." "Record spike." "Guide advanced without instruction." Mu Chen didn't stop. He was standing directly in front of Ye Fan now. Way too close. Every camera in the room was on them. Ye Fan looked down at him, eyes dark and burning. Mu Chen kept his face calm and his voice low. "Look at me." That was it. No force. No touch. Just words. Ye Fan's focus locked onto him completely. The edge of the breaking point steadied a fraction. The voice overhead sounded almost excited. "Response alignment rising." Mu Chen felt like he was going to be sick. Ye Fan's jaw clenched. Quiet anger, hot beneath the skin. Not at Mu Chen. At the room. At the glass. At every note being taken.
"Permission for minimal grounding touch requested," the voice said. Luo Wei snapped, "No." Ye Fan's voice came, rough and low, only for Mu Chen. "Step back." Mu Chen whispered, "Will you stay steady?" Ye Fan's eyes darkened. "If you don't, I won't." That sentence hit hard. Not just because it was tactical, but because it sounded so much like need. Mu Chen stepped back. Just one step. The voice overhead droned on, words blurring into data tags and readouts. Mu Chen barely heard them over the pounding in his own ears.
The simulation ended five minutes later. Not because it was finished, but because Luo Wei shut it down. "Enough," she said. The room lights returned to normal, the pressure vanished, the observation window went dark, and the institute shadows disappeared. Mu Chen stood in the marked square, breathing slowly, every muscle tight with the effort. Across from him, Ye Fan looked calm again. Too calm. The dangerous kind.
Staff started moving in to remove sensors. Ye Fan ripped the temple sensor off himself before anyone could reach him. One of the institute staff started to object, but Ye Fan just looked at him once, and the man fell silent. Lin Lan hurried over to Mu Chen and unclipped the band from his throat. Her fingers were quick, but her voice was low. "You were right to move," she said. Mu Chen blinked. Lin Lan didn't look up. "He was close." Then she stepped away before the sentence could go any further. Luo Wei dismissed them with military efficiency. No debrief here. No extra words. Back upstairs.
The elevator ride was silent. Zhou Xiao's face was a storm cloud. Lin Lan stared at her tablet. Luo Wei looked straight ahead. Mu Chen stood next to Ye Fan. Not touching. Almost touching. He could feel Ye Fan's quiet anger like heat radiating off metal left in the sun. When the elevator doors opened, Ye Fan walked out first, without a word. Mu Chen followed. He knew that silence. Something had shifted in that simulation room. Not because the institute got data – that was expected. It was because for one moment, right in front of the glass and lights and files, Mu Chen had stepped toward Ye Fan without permission. And Ye Fan had looked at him like the whole room had just disappeared.