The entrance to the bunker groaned like a wounded animal.
Rust and dust fell as Chen Gu typed the override sequence into the cracked console beside the door. The screen flickered weakly, like it hadn't been alive in years. The bunker lock hissed once, choked twice, and then—
Thunk.
The door loosened.
But it didn't open.
It shook—violently—
as if something inside was pushing against it.
Or pulling it inward.
Thorne stepped back fast. "Is she doing that?!"
Yin Lie didn't answer.
His heartbeat was too loud.
Because behind that door, he felt Qin Mian's presence stronger than ever—
like a trembling hand pressed against the back of his mind.
Chen Gu wiped sweat from his forehead.
"She's in panic. Her powers are reacting. This whole place is tied to her life support."
The bunker door suddenly froze mid-shake.
Everything went silent.
Then the harmonics started again—
soft ringing, like a glass wind chime hit by a cold breeze.
Qin Mian's voice followed, faint and shaking:
"Don't… come closer…"
Yin Lie walked forward anyway.
"Open it," he told Chen Gu.
Chen Gu hesitated only a second before punching in the final command.
With a painful metal screech, the thick bunker door slid open a few inches—enough for cold air to spill out like fog.
The smell hit them first.
Sterile.
Chemical.
Old machinery.
And something else—
Loneliness.
Deep, heavy, twenty-years-old loneliness.
Yin Lie stepped inside without hesitation.
Inside the Bunker
The interior was a long, narrow hallway lit by flickering white strips on the ceiling. Thick cables ran along the walls like the veins of some giant creature. Broken screens showed error messages in red and blue.
Thorne shivered.
"It's like walking inside a dead computer."
Chen Gu swallowed hard.
"It used to be a First Wave facility. They kept her here… hooked into machines."
He lowered his voice.
"She never saw daylight."
As they walked deeper, the harmonics grew clearer.
Not music anymore.
More like sobbing made into sound.
The hallway opened into a larger chamber filled with old medical equipment. Monitors blinked weakly. A broken IV stand lay on its side. Half of the room was caved in from age.
And in the center of it all, on a platform of cables and cracked glass—
Was a second door.
This one was transparent.
And behind it—
A girl curled up on a floating support cradle, surrounded by pale blue light.
Her black hair drifted around her like smoke.
Her arms were wrapped tightly around her knees.
Her eyes were closed, face soft and frightened, like she was trapped in a nightmare.
Qin Mian.
Thorne whispered, "She looks… so small."
Chen Gu closed his eyes briefly, pain twisting across his face.
"She was a child when they put her here. And she never woke up."
A faint psychic echo slipped into Yin Lie's mind:
"…don't look… don't look at me…"
His chest tightened.
"I'm here," he whispered aloud, stepping toward the containment door.
The machines around him shook in response.
Screens flashed warnings.
PSYCHIC RESONANCE RISING
NEURAL PRESSURE CRITICAL
ANOMALY RESPONSE DETECTED
Chen Gu grabbed his arm.
"Careful—her fear can warp this entire facility. If she panics—"
"I know," Yin Lie said gently.
And he took another step.
The air rippled.
Not wind—reality itself.
The floor bent slightly under his feet, as if the world couldn't hold its shape.
Thorne stumbled backward.
"Lie, this is dangerous—she's losing control!"
Yin Lie pressed his hand against the transparent door.
It was freezing cold.
Instantly, Qin Mian's eyes snapped open inside her dream.
Not in the physical world—
but in the psychic space that linked them.
He saw her again:
Standing in a huge, empty white room.
Alone.
Shaking.
Barefoot.
She looked terrified.
"Don't come in!" she cried.
The dream-world around her cracked like thin glass.
"I can't hold it together—if you get too close, I'll—"
Her voice broke.
The real facility flickered like a glitching film reel.
Chen Gu shouted, "Her powers are destabilizing the entire bunker—Lie, stop!"
Yin Lie shook his head.
He leaned closer to the door.
"You won't hurt me," he said softly.
Qin Mian shook her head desperately.
"You don't understand! Everything shatters when I'm awake!"
The real world trembled with her panic.
Lights burst.
Glass cracked.
The ground split an inch beneath them.
Thorne screamed.
Chen Gu shielded the terminal with his own body.
But Yin Lie stayed exactly where he was.
He pressed his forehead to the cold glass.
"I understand enough," he whispered.
"You've been alone for too long."
The harmonics stopped.
For the first time, complete silence.
Then a tiny whisper in his mind:
"…alone…?"
"Yes," he breathed.
"But not anymore."
The entire bunker went still.
Qin Mian's dream stopped breaking.
Stopped shaking.
She looked at him through the cracks of her collapsing dream:
Scared.
Hopeful.
Unsure.
"…you came."
Yin Lie nodded.
"I'm here."
Her knees loosened.
Her dream-room stopped fracturing.
The glass-like floor reformed beneath her feet.
In the real world, the warnings on the monitors faded a little.
Her breathing slowed.
Her psychic energy calmed.
For the first time in twenty years—
She wasn't fighting alone.
Yin Lie slid his hand against the containment door.
"Let me help you wake up," he whispered.
And her soft, trembling answer echoed through both worlds—
"…okay."