Against the Algorithm

Chapter 37: The One Who Stays

Sicheng blinked, glancing at her. "Step up from what?"

"Oh, Da Bing bit me when I gave him his first shots. Full mouth. No hesitation. Drew blood."

Sicheng choked on a laugh as Xiao Cong meowed again, clearly offended on behalf of his elder brother or just deeply offended in general. "He looks like he's giving a speech," the Captain muttered dryly. "About injustice and betrayal."

"I'd call it a full protest," Li Mei replied, glancing at Yao with a smirk. "But at least he has manners. Mouthy manners, but still. Improvement."

"He's learning from Da Bing," Yao said helplessly, clutching the kitten as he twisted dramatically once more, then yowled like a dying opera star the second the needle went in.

"Between the sass and the theatrics, I don't know if you adopted a kitten or a tiny spoiled prince." Sicheng shook his head, folding his arms again as he watched the drama unfold.

"Both." Yao muttered.

Xiao Cong, for his part, flopped against her shoulder with a final, wounded huff—clearly defeated, clearly martyred—and clearly still deeply offended.

The vet just rolled her eyes fondly and marked down the shot with a smirk. "Well. He's got personality. And at least he didn't draw blood."

The moment Li Mei reached for the small bottle of kitten vitamins, Xiao Cong, still perched in Yao's arms, lifted his head slightly, ears twitching. His pale gray eyes narrowed at the movement, and before anyone could react, he moved like a blur of fur and offense. In one quick, fluid motion, he ducked, twisted, and dived straight into the oversized hood of Yao's hoodie, disappearing entirely as the fabric puffed up slightly from the sudden invasion. The only evidence that he hadn't simply vanished into the void was the immediate, low, and unmistakably offended growl that echoed from within the depths of the hood.

Yao blinked.

Sicheng, seated with his arms folded across his chest, lifted an eyebrow slowly. "...Did he just—"

"Divebomb the hood?" Li Mei finished, staring at the now bulging back of Yao's hoodie where the kitten had buried himself like a bunker. "Yes. Yes, he did."

A warning hiss followed, muffled but determined.

"Xiao Cong," Yao tried, her voice soft, coaxing, clearly trying not to laugh, "they're just vitamins—"

A louder growl.

"I don't think he cares," Sicheng said, leaning back and watching with the cool detachment of someone thoroughly entertained but pretending he wasn't. "He's declared war. You're now the fortress."

"Apparently," Yao muttered, trying to gently tug the edge of the hood as the kitten growled again and clamped down, not with claws, but with stubborn weight—as if the very idea of being moved was treasonous.

Li Mei just sighed, clearly fighting a grin. "You know what? I'll give you the bottle. You can try when he's not feeling so dramatic."

"Try in the middle of the night," Sicheng added dryly. "When he forgets he's mad."

"He's not mad," Yao defended half-heartedly as the bundle in her hood shifted with another disgruntled huff. "He's just...overwhelmed."

Another growl.

"Overwhelmed and dramatic," Sicheng muttered.

The vet handed over the vitamins with a shake of her head. "Well. At least he's healthy. Just...emotionally fragile."