Against the Algorithm

Chapter 17: Fractures and Shifts

"I am heading to HQ today in two years."

The second it left his mouth, he knew it was a disaster. He dragged a hand down his face, shaking his head once like that would reset the part of him that had just short-circuited entirely.

"I mean, in two hours."

She didn't question the mistake. Didn't tease him for it. She was too busy yawning, shifting her weight as her legs peeked further into view. It was not helping. "That's still not a good reason to wake me up before seven," she grumbled. "Besides, I can't go today. I have some lunch plans with Jinyang to talk." And then she pouted harder. A full-on sulky, scrunched-lipped expression that pushed her cheeks forward and made her eyes round with quiet protest.

Sicheng's self-control cracked like glass. He clenched his jaw, fingers twitching at his sides, his body so tightly strung he wasn't even sure he could relax if he tried. He needed to walk away.

Now.

Before he forgot that she was half-asleep and didn't know what she was doing to him. Before he stepped forward and backed her into that doorframe. Before he showed her, without words, exactly what she looked like to him right now. His voice dropped, the words low, rough, unfiltered. "Be careful when you go out today, Tong Yao."

She blinked at the shift, her expression flickering with subtle confusion. She'd heard it. The edge. The weight behind it. But she didn't ask. She didn't press. And he didn't let her. He turned before she could say anything, before he lost what was left of his sense, walking down the hall with sharp, even strides. He didn't look back. Because if he did....if he let himself see that damn nightgown one more time. He wasn't going to walk away. And he couldn't afford that. Not yet. Not when she still had no idea just how far gone he already was.

The café buzzed faintly with conversation, spoons tapping against ceramic cups, and the occasional hum of the espresso machine. Yao sat in the farthest booth, tucked neatly against the wall, her coat buttoned even though the indoor heating was warm. She'd arrived early. She always did.

Across from her, Jinyang stormed in, dropping into the seat with a dramatic huff, eyes flashing. "Ai Jia said Sicheng took your phone and hung up on him."

Yao blinked, caught off guard by the lack of greeting, and fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. Her voice came out quiet, hesitant. "He... didn't take it. I handed it to him."

Jinyang stared. "You what ?"

Yao's fingers curled tighter into her sleeve, eyes darting toward her mug. "I didn't want to argue anymore. And he... was right."

"Right about what?" Jinyang leaned forward, tone sharpening. "That you shouldn't go out with your friends ? That you need permission to leave the house now?"

Yao flinched slightly, shoulders pulling inward. "No, I just—" she swallowed, voice dipping even softer. "You never asked what happened."

That stopped Jinyang for a breath, but only for a breath.

Yao took a quiet inhale, fingers pressing against the warm mug, grounding herself. "The night I moved to the base... someone broke into my apartment."

Jinyang blinked, her lips parting.

Yao didn't raise her voice. Didn't push. She simply continued, her voice almost too soft to hear. "I was home. I hid in the bathroom and locked the door. I didn't have time to think." The mug shook slightly between her hands, and she tightened her grip. "He—Sicheng's security guy—he called him. Told him to come get me. And he did." She didn't say more. Didn't explain that the man had already been there watching from afar. Didn't say the intruder never made it past the hallway. She left those pieces in silence where they belonged.