Against the Algorithm

Chapter 36: Crayfish and Favoritism

The moment the warm breeze hit the kitten's backside, a soft, indignant hiss escaped the tiny creature's mouth.

Sicheng's lips twitched.

But it was Da Bing who responded first. From his perch, the large white Siberian finally descended, landing with a soft, heavy thud on the floor and padding forward like a fluffy, judgmental god. He circled once, tail high, eyes narrowed, before planting himself beside Yao with the regal air of one surveying an unruly subject.

The kitten hissed again, twisting slightly at the drying sensation.

Da Bing did not approve. With a swift flick of his paw, he delivered a precise but gentle swat to the kitten's ear—not enough to hurt, but absolutely enough to scold. The kitten froze, startled, then let out a chirp of protest as if he hadn't meant it.

Sicheng choked on a low laugh, the sound barely suppressed behind a curled knuckle as he leaned his weight onto one arm. "Already asserting authority," he murmured. "Good."

"Did he just... scold him?" Yao looked up with wide eyes, startled by Da Bing's intervention.

Da Bing, thoroughly unbothered, lifted his paw and gave the kitten one last pointed glance before circling back to sit directly at Yao's side, almost like he was reminding the newcomer precisely who came first in this household.

"He has a name now." Sicheng reached over and scratched Da Bing's chin, nodding once.

Yao blinked, surprised. "He does?"

The man's amber eyes gleamed with something wry and faintly smug. "Xiao Cong."

Yao's lips parted, a soft laugh escaping before she could stop it, affection blooming across her expression. "Little Intelligent One?"

"Fits," Sicheng said, shrugging one shoulder as the kitten looked up at him, wide-eyed, still slightly puffed but no longer hissing. "Needs some manners, but he's sharp. Brave enough to hiss at his own bath and dumb enough to do it in front of Da Bing. Classic little brother behavior."

Yao giggled, switching the hairdryer to the kitten's front paws. "Xiao Cong," she echoed softly, testing the name on her tongue. "Alright. Xiao Cong it is."

Da Bing let out a single approving mrrp , closing his eyes as he leaned against her side again, now apparently satisfied that proper discipline had been administered.

And Sicheng?

He leaned back fully, legs stretched out in front of him, gaze fixed on the two felines—one impossibly large, one impossibly small, both of them draped across the soft haze of his girlfriend's quiet, domestic warmth—and thought, not for the first time, that somehow, in all the chaos, he'd stumbled into something painfully close to perfect.

The last of the dampness had disappeared from the kitten's soft, gray-striped fur, the downy fluff now puffed out in every direction like a small storm cloud with paws. Yao had just reached for a towel to gently brush away any lingering moisture when Sicheng moved, rising fluidly from where he'd been crouched and reaching down with calm, sure hands.

"I'll take him."

Yao blinked, startled. "You—"

But she didn't get to finish.

Sicheng had already lifted the kitten into his arms with the ease of someone who'd spent more than enough time wrangling one oversized feline and was unimpressed by the antics of a miniature version. Xiao Cong blinked up at him, wide-eyed and suspicious, but didn't struggle. Not when that steady, firm grip settled him securely against Sicheng's forearm, and certainly not when a quiet command followed.