[INT. FACTOR IV — SUBLEVEL — ENTRYWAY / SERVER CORRIDOR]
The light changed. Wood and warm light became chrome and vertical LEDs. Blue lights pulsing like veins under glass. The faint rhythm of servers hums through the air. The temperature dropped a few degrees. The air smelled like a typical high-tech park. Panels glinted with anonymous code; the sound of a distant server rack was constant and reassuring in a mechanical way.
Where above the library meant community, below meant function: racks of hardware lined the hall like silent sentries, glass panes displaying code flow, optical cables running like arteries.
A door opened further in. Voices argued — sharp, playful, familiar to anyone who's spent time in family businesses or old guilds. One voice in particular was loud and theatrical, full of the kind of bravado that's really chaotic energy trying to be confident.
Ān Bái was the first to come into view. He was older, rougher, the prankster energy refined into a field commander's swagger. His hands were stained with coolant; he'd been elbow-deep in hardware. Water Arm users often had the deceptively casual look of people who made chaos flow where it needed to.
Behind him Ān Shēn, his twin brother hovered — hands folded, expression tired, eyes cataloging the trio with analytical accuracy. He looked like someone who dissassembled problems for breakfast. Quiet, precise. Water Arm too, but the calibrated kind — research, measurements, cool logic.
And Ān Tián Qí — cousin and older than the brothers, warm but grounded, clothes in a floral dress — followed with a tablet in hand, probably reading data. Her Gold & Earth Arm presence felt like quiet stability; she moved like someone used to containing storms.
ĀN BÁI :
"I told you the coolant pressure wasn't the problem! It's the algorithm—"
ĀN SHĒN :
"—The coolant pressure is the problem. You just didn't—"
ĀN TIĀN QÍ (measured, quieter ):
"We don't 'roll' things without a plan... Bái, you're arguing strategy like you're performing a stunt. Sit down and let the math talk."
Ān Bái opens his mouth to argue, thinks better of it, then slumps in his seat, eyes to the ceiling.
ĀN TIÁN QÍ :
(sighs audibly)
"I'm too old for this."
As they step in, Ān Bái spins around, sees the newcomers, freezes.
ĀN BÁI
"…We're closed."
QIŪ HUÀ BǏ
(quietly to Yè Yī and Violet)
"Are we sure we didn't just walk into a sitcom?"
YÈ YĪ
(straight-faced)
"I'm starting to think this is a prank."
VIOLET
(light smirk)
"Welcome to the tech side of the Specialists. You'll get used to the dysfunction."
Ān Tián Qí folded her hands and looked to Violet, Yè Yī and Qiū Huà Bǐ — an assessment, quick and silent.
ĀN TIĀN QÍ:
(to the trio, a warm smile her face)
"Hello, sorry for the chaos. Would you like tea, coffee or anything else?"
Violet inclined her head, expression minimal.
VIOLET:
"Anything with lemon. Healthy."
YÈ YĪ
"Tea."
Yè Yī spoke up, intercepting Qiū Huà Bǐ's near call for coffee.
ĀN TIĀN QÍ:
(smiles then nods)
"Okay."