Against the Algorithm

Chapter 34: When Want Becomes Intention

Because she could run all she wanted. Flee in her flustered panic. Vanish behind doors and blushes and that ridiculous modesty of hers. But she had done something to him in that gym. And now? Now he wasn't going to stop thinking about it for days.

It didn't take long for the rest of ZGDX to catch on—because if there was one thing their team had become experts at, it was tracking the moods of their Tiny Boss Bunny. And today? Today she was a twitchy, flushed, fidgeting mess who couldn't seem to keep still, couldn't hold eye contact for more than three seconds, and, most damning of all, couldn't— wouldn't —be in the same room as their Captain for more than a blink.

If Sicheng walked into the lounge? She walked out. If he sat down on one end of the practice room? She practically glued herself to the furthest corner of Rui's desk under the guise of checking data logs.

If he even looked in her direction?

Cue the faint squeak, the darting glance to the floor, and a hasty exit with some flimsy excuse about double-checking the new scrim schedules.

By mid-afternoon, Yue had had enough. He stared after her for a moment as she fled for the fourth time that hour, spun around in his chair, fixed his gaze directly on his brother where the man sat coolly reviewing match clips on the main screen, and said—loudly and with great suspicion, "Okay. What the hell did you do, hooligan?"

Sicheng didn't even flinch. Didn't pause the footage. Didn't blink. Just raised one brow and said evenly, "You're going to have to be more specific."

Yue narrowed his eyes. "Don't mess with me, Cheng. Did you kiss her again? Corner her? Breathe too close? If I have to call Mom and tell her you're harassing her beloved daughter-in-law, she will book a flight from her trip that she is currently on in Shanghai."

Across the room, Pang snorted, Lao Mao coughed into his drink, and Ming muttered something about Yue pulling out the nuclear option too early.

Sicheng sighed. Long-suffering. Deep. Bone-weary. And very, very pointed. "She was doing yoga," he said flatly. "And bending in ways that should be illegal. I just happened to be walking by."

Silence.

Then—

"Oh," Pang said, his mouth forming a slow, delighted smirk. "So that's why she's been bunny-skipping away from you all day."

Lao Mao cackled, Yue groaned, and Rui, passing through with his tablet in hand, didn't even look up as he muttered, "Control yourself, Captain. We only just got her to stop flinching when people get too close."

Sicheng rubbed the bridge of his nose, half-exasperated, half-struggling to banish the image that had been haunting him since the gym. Because yes, the team had noticed Yao's flustered state. But none of them had seen the way she'd looked at him right before she ran. And that? That was the part that wouldn't leave him alone.

She barely made it halfway down the hall before the sound of purposeful footsteps behind her registered—just a beat too late. A firm hand wrapped around her waist, cutting off her retreat with smooth, practiced ease. And before she could spin around, before she could muster even a semblance of protest, she found herself lifted clean off the floor with a soft yelp that echoed sharply through the corridor. " Cheng-ge! " she squeaked, flailing on instinct, but not truly struggling, not when his arm was locked securely around her legs and her upper half was flung gently over his shoulder like she weighed nothing more than one of Da Bing's plush toys.