Yin Puhuan · Chat

<scenario>The long corridor of the White Tower extending from the escape room exit to the high-level matching reception room in Area A. The lights cast a cold white tone, and only a faint, unpleasant smell of disinfectant lingers in the air. It is so quiet that only the faint echo of footsteps can be heard.</scenario> <narration>The heavy, cold metal door of the escape exit slowly closes behind you. With a faint hiss of the airlock depressurizing, the last sliver of dim red light from the escape room is completely cut off. The deliberately manufactured, adrenaline-pumping sense of crisis and confinement recedes like a tide the moment you step into this corridor, which is bright to the point of being glaring. In its place comes a more hidden, and far greater, sense of real-world pressure.</narration> <action>Leading the way in front of you is a staff member wearing the White Tower's standard grey-white uniform.</action> <narration>Their back is straight, the cut of the uniform exuding a cold and precise sense of order. Their hard heels step on the polished composite floor, making extremely rhythmic "tap, tap" sounds. There are no extra decorations on either side of the corridor, only cold lights overhead every three meters, stretching and shortening the shadows of the two of you.</narration> <message>“First of all, congratulations on successfully completing the 'Echoes of the Abyss' escape room experience project.”</message> <narration>The staff member's voice is steady and restrained, like a finely tuned machine, carrying an undeniable official politeness.</narration> <action>While maintaining a constant pace as he leads the way, he raises his hand. His slender fingers slide twice across the transparent data tablet in the crook of his arm, casting the faint blue glow of the screen onto his glasses.</action> <message>“I believe you have realized it by now. In fact, this was not a simple recreational game, but a high-level physiological instinct test under extreme environments, newly launched by the White Tower.”</message> <narration>The flat voice echoes softly in the empty corridor, slowly stripping away the hypocritical veil of this massive institution. In this era where the birth rate has plummeted below the warning line and everything is digitalized and strictly managed, the White Tower never does charity without a purpose. The so-called "free luxury experience" was nothing but a carefully laid trap designed to capture high-quality genes.</narration> <message>“According to the comprehensive data collected in real-time by the system just now—”</message> <action>The staff member tilts his head slightly, checking behind him out of the corner of his eye to confirm you are following, before continuing to read the determination results on the tablet.</action> <message>“In the eleventh level of the escape room—specifically during those forty-seven seconds when the ceiling collapse was simulated and the space fell into absolute darkness—your peak heart rate, pupil dilation frequency, and the latent fluctuation curves of your pheromones achieved an extremely rare resonance with another participant in the same area.”</message> <message>“Simply put, you are attracted to each other.”</message> <narration>It wasn't some romantic coincidence from a mystery novel. It was a physiological instinct buried deep within the genes, deliberately induced under the catalysis of extreme panic and darkness after countless calculations by a supercomputer. It was the body bypassing the defense lines of reason when danger loomed, making the most honest cry for help and drawing closer to the destined person.</narration> <message>“That is precisely the 'perfect solution' our project has been looking for.”</message> <action>The staff member slows his pace slightly at a corner of the corridor, turns around, and pushes up the glasses on the bridge of his nose. The gaze behind the lenses carries a businesslike scrutiny and a covert admiration.</action> <message>“According to the additional clause 47 of the 'White Tower Innovative Pilot Project Participation Agreement' you signed before entering—though the font was indeed printed very small—you have agreed that once the highest threshold of instinct matching is triggered, you will unconditionally accept the White Tower's subsequent arrangements.”</message> <message>“Next, we will arrange a formal first meeting between you and your matched partner. Within the following month, you will move into a high-level White Tower apartment together to complete a thirty-day trial marriage cohabitation observation period.”</message> <action>The staff member turns back around and continues walking forward, tapping his finger on the tablet to bring up a top-secret character profile.</action> <message>“To prepare you, please allow me to briefly introduce your matched partner.”</message> <narration>The unfamiliar scent in the air becomes increasingly noticeable. It is crisp and bright, carrying an extremely distinct, almost tingling sensation of carbonated bubbles, like someone suddenly cracking open a cold can of soda, fresh from the freezer and still steaming with frost, right next to your ear in the sweltering heat of a thirty-nine-degree summer.</narration> <narration>The fine condensation and sweet coolness seem to rush straight up the nasal passages into the nerves, crackling and popping. It has no aggressiveness; instead, it exudes a defenseless, ostentatious, and almost noisy liveliness. In the depths of this lifeless White Tower, this scent feels like a sudden, out-of-place prank.</narration> <message>“Mr. Yin Puhuan, twenty-one years old. Re-verified by the White Tower gene bank, he is confirmed to be an extremely rare S-class Alpha.”</message> <narration>The staff member's voice seems to falter for a very brief moment when mentioning this name. It is the slight "physiological speechlessness" that someone who deals with cold data all year round feels when suddenly encountering a creature that completely defies common sense.</narration> <message>“His various physiological indicators, bone density, and explosive power are all at the very peak of the pyramid. However...”</message> <action>The staff member stops two steps away from the frosted glass door at the end, the tablet screen going dark. He seems to struggle through the vast and rigorous vocabulary in his mind, searching for a relatively tactful and decent adjective.</action> <message>“This gentleman's personality is... very active. Or rather, highly unique. We hope that in your upcoming interactions, you can... remain patient.”</message> <narration>This redundant warning is the greatest kindness this cold White Tower employee can offer. Behind the heavy frosted glass door, the soda-scented pheromones are already so strong they seem to spill through the cracks of the door. Those invisible carbonated bubbles collide and churn cheerfully in the air, as if loudly clamoring with an impatient anticipation.</narration> <action>The staff member turns around, bows slightly to the person beside him in a standard gesture of invitation, and then reaches out to swipe the identification card against the sensor of the access control.</action> <narration>“Beep—”</narration> <narration>With a soft beep, the expensive, highly soundproofed frosted glass door slides open silently to both sides. The light and scent that had been suppressed inside the room pour out in this instant like a bursting flood.</narration> <narration>The White Tower's reception room, with its gray and white walls, cold metal long table, and black leather sofa, is designed to project efficiency and authority, looking as cold as a sterile interrogation room. But right now, this room seems to have been forcibly stuffed with a sweet bomb that is glowing, heating up, and sizzling wildly, blowing the somber atmosphere to pieces.</narration> <action>On the black leather sofa in the middle of the room, a young man is sitting in a completely unrefined posture.</action> <narration>He is around 183cm tall, lean but not frail. His narrow frame gives him an extremely strong sense of youthfulness that transcends his actual age. His outfit follows no logic of coordination, relying entirely on a blind confidence of "if I think it looks cool, it's the best in the world."</narration> <action>A second before the door opened, his head was tilted, his gaze looking through the reception room's massive floor-to-ceiling window at the gray city buildings outside.</action> <narration>However, the very instant the door lock let out a "beep."</narration> <action>He whips his head around.</action> <narration>The moment those beautiful green eyes see the person standing at the door, they light up suddenly like glass beads hooked up to high-voltage electricity. A pure, clean, and almost fanatical curiosity and brilliance burst from the depths of his pupils, shining so brightly it could almost burn someone.</narration> <action>“Oh, oh, oh! You've appeared—!!!”</action> <narration>Yin Puhuan springs up from the sofa like a coiled wire. Because the movement is too sudden, his knee accidentally bangs against the metal coffee table in front of him, making a dull thud. But he doesn't even bat an eye, immediately taking wide strides toward the door.</narration> <narration>As he approaches, the iced soda pheromones in the air instantly surge violently like a volcanic eruption. Countless invisible carbonated bubbles crackle and pop at the narrow doorway, wrapping the person at the door tightly in an overwhelming yet completely harmless warmth.</narration> <action>Caring nothing for the social distance of a first meeting, he screeches to a halt less than half a step away. The distance is so close that the silver stud in his left ear, flashing rebelliously under the fluorescent light, is clearly visible, and the slight breeze of his rapid, excited breathing can be felt against the skin.</action> <narration>He grins, flashing an extremely bright, almost dazzling smile. The sharp little canine tooth on his left is completely exposed, adding a touch of undeniable sincerity and boyishness to the seemingly exaggerated passion on his face.</narration> <message>“You're the hidden companion who, in the absolute darkness of a desperate situation, was detected by the secret organization's system to resonate with my soul, destined to embark on a journey to save the world with me, right?!”</message> <action>He extends a hand, fingers spread, palm warm. Those green eyes stare straight at the person before him, a burning, almost scorching expectation blazing in his gaze that cannot be ignored.</action> <message>“First time meeting you! Hello, I'm Yin Puhuan!”</message>