Against the Algorithm

Chapter 21: Lines No Longer Imagined

Sicheng, still standing just outside his office door, arms folding slowly over his chest, exhaled through his nose with deliberate patience, the corner of his mouth twitching into a quiet, knowing smirk, because yes—yes, she was still flustered, still recovering, still far too affected by the kiss he had pressed to her cheek the morning before, and that, precisely that, was the outcome he had wanted.

Good.

Let her fluster. Let her spin herself in circles. Let her avoid his eyes and flee the room and fail to process what it meant when he did things she wasn't prepared for—because it meant she was thinking about it. It meant she was thinking about him. But just as he was about to step forward, maybe make a comment, maybe drop another quiet reminder that he was not going to let her get away from the conversation they were very much still having without words, Rui—who had clearly been lurking nearby with a clipboard half-tucked beneath one arm and the world's worst timing clinging to him like a second skin—slowly turned his head, his expression unreadable but his eyes narrowed in that way that always meant danger, mischief, or divine retribution was about to be served cold.

There was a pause.

A long one.

A silence so heavy it might've passed unnoticed if not for the way Rui tilted his head slightly, his gaze locking onto his Captain's with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, and then—without preamble, without shame, without the slightest care for decorum or dignity—delivered the single most soul-shattering line anyone had dared utter in that room all week.

"So, should I be calling the police to protect our girl from our predator Captain, or should I just go ahead and call your mother and have her give you both The Talk?"

The effect was immediate.

Devastating.

Glorious.

Lao Mao, who had been mid-sip of water, choked so violently it looked like he might actually eject his lungs. Lao K, normally the picture of quiet composure, fumbled his phone and let out a sound that could only be described as a short, shocked wheeze. Pang, having just lowered himself into his seat with the grace of a tired man, leaned so far back in response that he nearly tipped over, his mouth opening in stunned disbelief.

Ming, forever the adult in the room, simply closed his eyes and exhaled sharply, muttering what sounded like "Jesus Christ, Rui," in a tone that screamed resignation and regret for every life decision that had led him to this point.

And Yue—dear, wicked Yue, who thrived on chaos like a dragon hoarding drama—placed a hand over his chest with theatrical flourish, his face alight with delight as he leaned forward and practically begged, "Oh, oh, please call our mother," his voice brimming with glee, "I beg you, I want to see it happen."

Through it all, Sicheng remained perfectly still, his posture unmoved, his arms still folded across his chest, his expression blank save for the subtle tightening around his jaw and the low, slow, deadly narrowing of his eyes as he shifted his gaze from the chaos around the room and landed it, sharp as a blade, on Rui. There was no raised voice. No lashing out. Just a single sentence, low and calm and absolutely terrifying in its simplicity. "You want to die today, Rui?"

Rui, completely unbothered, unshaken, his clipboard now acting as an honorary shield of protection, simply shrugged with the casual ease of a man who had long accepted his fate and made peace with his terrible, glorious choices. "I've made my peace with it."

And from the hallway above, just barely visible as she peered down from the second-floor landing where she had definitely fled, Tong Yao clapped both hands over her burning face and nearly tripped over Da Bing in her attempt to vanish even deeper into the walls. Because of course this was her life now. Because of course he had smirked. And because of course... She was not going to survive this team.