Against the Algorithm

Chapter 19: The Cost of Chaos

Then Pang let out a wheeze.

And then—it was over.

The whole room dissolved into laughter.

Even Ming, calm and reserved as ever, offered a quiet, "She's back, huh?"

Lao K nodded, smirking. "Looks like it."

Pang, still grinning, leaned over and whispered, "Told you it wouldn't take much."

Rui, entering just in time to hear the tail end of her scolding, glanced around the room and, after a long moment, simply nodded once and muttered, "Good."

Yao, confused, still bristling, squinted suspiciously at all of them. "What? What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Sicheng replied, leaning back in his chair, fully relaxed now.

She crossed her arms. "It doesn't sound like nothing." But even then—even with her narrowed eyes and her puffed-up irritation—she didn't notice. Didn't see the way they were all leaning in a little more now, the way the room felt lighter, the way the tension from the past week had finally, finally cracked open. Didn't realize that she had wandered right back into the center of the group and stayed. Didn't realize that she had returned without needing to be asked.

And Sicheng, watching her from across the room, his expression softening just slightly as she continued to lecture them without realizing she was smiling again, finally let out a slow, satisfied breath.

Because everything was back where it should be.

And so was she.

The moment the first couch cushion flew across the room with reckless, furious determination, a single arc of rebellion caught in midair, time seemed to hold its breath—and then, all at once, the room exploded into chaos, beautiful and unrestrained and so very them .

Tong Yao, cheeks flushed with irritation and determination alike, lips pulled into a frown so small it was almost pout-like, stood amid the growing battlefield with an expression that could only be described as ruffled righteousness. Her entire posture bristled with energy, her arms moving quickly as she gathered every available pillow, every forgotten throw cushion, every soft weapon within reach, eyes narrowing as she assessed her targets like a strategist preparing for war. And then—without hesitation—she launched another one.

The first direct hit struck Yue square in the face.

He yelped, a sound of such genuine betrayal that it echoed across the room with theatrical flair as he reeled backward, tripped slightly over the coffee table leg, and promptly dove under it with the kind of speed and desperation usually reserved for emergency situations.

" UNPROVOKED ATTACK! " he bellowed from under the table, his voice rising in pitch as another cushion thudded to the floor just inches from his feet. " I REPEAT—AN UNPROVOKED ATTACK! "

Another cushion launched, whizzing past Pang and narrowly missing his bowl.

Lao Mao, already grinning from ear to ear, dodged the next one with a smooth shoulder lean, elbowing Lao K in the ribs. "She's going full offense. No survivors."

Lao K, chuckling deeply, ducked just enough to avoid another pillow as it zipped by. "She's got better aim than half the league."

Pang, catching one mid-flight with the ease of a man born to receive snacks or soft projectiles, smirked broadly. "At least she's got good form. That was a clean arc."