Against the Algorithm

Chapter 4: Declarations and Distinctions

Yao sighed. "They won't stop." The weight of her words settled in. She had been harassed for three straight days. For something Ai Jia lost on his own.

Sicheng, who had remained silent this entire time, finally moved. His fingers tapped once—just once—against the armrest of the couch, a subtle motion, but one that carried weight. "Annoying." he murmured, his voice low, smooth.

Yao, still rubbing her temple, let out a small, tired laugh. "You're telling me."

Sicheng exhaled through his nose, standing up in a slow, deliberate motion. His presence immediately filled the space, drawing attention, shifting the energy in the room from casual concern to something colder. Something dangerous.

Yao, feeling the shift, blinked up at him, slightly thrown off. "W-What?"

Sicheng didn't answer right away. He simply walked over, stopping in front of her, his amber gaze scanning her too-tired face, the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers fidgeted with the strap of her bag. Than, his voice dropped into something calm, something controlled. "Do you want it to stop?"

"I... yes?" Yao swallowed, shifting slightly.

Sicheng nodded. "Then I'll handle it."

Her breath hitched.

The room went silent.

Yue, blinking, muttered, "Oh shit."

Lao K exhaled. "Yeah, okay. Ai Jia's screwed."

Ming, sipping his tea, hummed in agreement. "Poor bastard has no idea what's coming."

And Yao?

She didn't know why, but something about the way Sicheng said it—the way his tone left no room for doubt—made her heart race in a way she really wasn't ready to admit. She stood frozen in place, her hazel eyes wide as she watched Sicheng walk out of the ZGDX base without another word, his stride purposeful, his shoulders squared with a quiet finality that sent a shiver down her spine. She didn't know where he was going.

No.

That was a lie. She knew exactly where he was going. And that realization made her heart hammer against her ribs. Because Sicheng hadn't just offered to handle it. He had decided. And now, with Ai Jia's phone tucked securely inside the pocket of his leather jacket, Lu Sicheng was headed straight for YQCB's base—no hesitation, no delay, no warning. And he was not in the mood to be merciful.

YQCB's base was buzzing with activity when Sicheng arrived. Players and staff moved through the halls, murmuring about scrims and upcoming strategies, oblivious to the storm that had just walked through their front doors. But Ai Jia, standing in the middle of the common area with his captain, Liang Sheng, and their coach, was not oblivious.

The second he saw Sicheng, his expression twisted.

"You!" Ai Jia hissed, taking a sharp step forward, his usual smugness replaced with something bitter—something angry. "You have my phone—"

Sicheng didn't even blink. Instead, without a single word, he reached into the pocket of his leather jacket, pulled out Ai Jia's phone, and tossed it onto the table between them with a sharp clatter.

Ai Jia's breath caught. His entire body stiffened, his fingers twitching.

Liang Sheng, standing beside him, crossed his arms, his sharp eyes flickering between them.

Sicheng tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Here," he said smoothly. "I'd say 'don't lose it again,' but considering how easily it was stolen, that seems pointless."