Against the Algorithm

Chapter 31: Orbit

The moment she turned toward them, still flustered, still unsure if they'd think she was overstepping. Every single one of them nodded in approval.

And Jinyang?

She smiled slowly, watching the way Cheng didn't even glance at the schedule. His gaze never left Yao. Wrapped around her finger? No. It was deeper than that. They were orbiting her now and none of them seemed to mind.

Yao, still looking adorably flustered and entirely too earnest for her own good, stood near the fridge with her fingers lightly brushing over the edge of the laminated schedule as if adjusting it for the fifth time wasn't completely unnecessary. She cleared her throat softly, her voice quiet but certain as she turned slightly to glance back at Ai Jia and Jinyang. "Lee Kun Hyeok messaged me on Weibo," she said. "He said he'd be happy to come to the Saturday group dinners too. I—I didn't even ask. He just saw the post about my cooking and sent me a thumbs-up and a bunch of cat stickers."

That was all she said.

But it was enough.

The air shifted.

Visibly.

Because somewhere across the room, the temperature dropped two degrees as Lu Sicheng—still standing with one hand in his pocket, the other nursing his water bottle—lifted his gaze slowly from the couch toward her.

Sharp.

Pinning.

Amber eyes locked onto her as his voice cut through the low murmur of the living room, low and edged with something quiet and unmistakably territorial. "When," he asked, "did you and Kun Hyeok start messaging each other?"

Yao blinked, startled by the question, clearly not having expected that to be the part he latched onto. Her lips parted, hesitating slightly. "I... I posted about dumplings two nights ago and he replied to it." Her brows furrowed innocently. "I thought it was polite to respond..."

But by then, it was too late.

The moment had already passed.

And the room?

Absolutely erupted.

"Oh no, someone's hair is turning green." Lao Mao muttered, grinning as he leaned back dramatically against the couch.

"God, it's the smell of vinegar, so strong!" Pang choked on his drink, lifting his hand to his mouth as he coughed out a strangled.

Yue, lounging sideways in his chair with all the smugness of a younger brother who lived for chaos, arched a brow and deadpanned, "Do we need to get him a fan? The jealousy's coming off him in waves."

"Should we call the stylist? Get ahead of it? Book Cheng in for a hair dye appointment—go full jade green, match the mood." Pang added, already elbowing Lao K.

Sicheng didn't flinch.

Didn't glare.

Didn't even roll his eyes.

He just stared at Yao, his gaze unwavering, his jaw ticking once before he muttered, almost too low to hear, "I should've known better than to let him near the claw machine."

Yao's face turned scarlet. "W-We were at the mall!" she stammered. "You're the one who invited me!"

"And you're the one who answered him," Sicheng replied flatly, crossing the room slowly toward her, his tone still calm—but his eyes? Burning. "On Weibo. In public."