Against the Algorithm

Chapter 35: Storm Signals

Because there she was.

Their Tiny Boss Bunny.

Still in her team jacket, standing in front of the now-muted television like she had just been personally insulted by it. Her expression was a masterclass in flustered fury—lips pursed, brows drawn, hands clenched into fists at her sides as she muttered under her breath in a way that was, quite honestly, terrifying. And not a single one of them had heard her speak like this before.

"...I swear, if that brat talks like that again I'll bury him in patch notes so deep he won't know which meta he's playing in. 'Old men,' my ass—Sicheng could 1v5 him blindfolded with a broken mouse and still win."

Yue blinked, wide-eyed and nearly speechless, his phone halfway to his mouth like he'd been trying to record but forgot how to function. He glanced sideways at Rui, who was frozen in the corner like he didn't know whether to intervene or grab popcorn.

"...and I'll tell you this right now, if he thinks for one second that underestimating us is going to give him anything other than a hard stomp and a stat page he'll have to explain to his coach in therapy—he's got another thing coming."

Sicheng and the boys entered just then, their victory energy crackling off them—and all of them, every single one, paused in the doorway. Because hearing that come from her —their usually reserved, logic-driven, calm-to-the-point-of-faintly-terrifying Data Analyst?

It was glorious.

Lao Mao leaned into Lao K and whispered, "She's still going..."

"She's gonna hit a 1k word count on death threats before she notices we're here," Pang muttered, half in awe.

And Sicheng? He just leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, expression unreadable except for the faint twitch of a smile tugging at his mouth. He'd seen her fierce. He'd seen her hold her ground.

But this?

This was new. And it was personal. It wasn't about numbers anymore. It was about them. And she wasn't going to let anyone walk over ZGDX—not on her watch.

And that?

That made him fall a little harder all over again.

She didn't even give them time to say a word.

The second the door had closed behind Sicheng and the team and the muted static glow of the TV screen flickered with replays of ZGDX's domination, Yao spun on her heel so fast it nearly sent the end of her braid flying. Her boots hit the floor with a sharp stomp, eyes blazing, cheeks flushed, and one small, furious finger jabbed straight toward the very lineup of men who had just annihilated King's first round with terrifying precision.

"You—" she started, voice sharp, commanding, and impossible to ignore, "—had better bury that brat in the second round."

Another stomp. A pointed glare.

"Utterly. Bury him."

Lao Mao blinked like he'd been struck by lightning.

Pang audibly choked on his laughter, slapping a hand over his mouth.

Yue straight-up flinched and leaned behind Rui, muttering under his breath, "Why is she scarier than our entire PR department?"

Sicheng, still leaning lazily against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, arched a brow and said nothing. He didn't have to. The pride in his expression, the curve at the corner of his mouth, and the soft glint in his amber eyes said it all.