Against the Algorithm

Chapter 40: The Quiet Before the Reckoning

Summary: A fever sets the world in motion. Beneath hospital lights and whispered promises, truths come to light—not with explosions, but with steady, deliberate force. What begins as care becomes clarity, and what follows isn't just protection. It's a declaration. Quiet. Absolute. And no longer made alone.

Notes:

Author's Note: Things are happening and people are going to regret life.

Chapter Forty

It started with a thump.

A tiny one.

Then a second—closer this time—followed by the unmistakable bounce of small, eager paws and the light chirp of determination. Xiao Cong, eyes bright and tail flicking, launched himself straight onto the bed like a missile made of pure determination and fluff. His tiny body collided directly with Lu Sicheng's ribs, earning him a low, disgruntled grunt from the man who had, moments ago, been asleep.

Sicheng didn't even get the chance to roll over before Da Bing's much heavier weight shifted onto the mattress behind him. A paw—definitely not gentle—tugged insistently on the back of his hoodie, followed by a low, rumbling huff that clearly translated to: Get up. Now.

He cracked one eye open, scowling at the ceiling. "Are you both serious right now?"

Xiao Cong meowed urgently directly into his face.

Da Bing didn't let go of the hoodie as he growled.

Sicheng groaned, dragging his hand down his face, ready to toss both furballs off the bed—until Yao stirred beside him, the soft sound of her whimper slicing through the morning quiet like a blade. Her body shifted slightly, face scrunching, one hand pressing against her stomach as a breathless, pained whine slipped from her parted lips.

That was all it took.

Sicheng was upright in an instant, his scowl gone, replaced by full, razor-sharp focus as he looked down at her. Her cheeks were flushed an alarming shade of red, the skin just beneath her eyes tinged too dark, too heavy, and her brow was creased in a way that had nothing to do with restless dreams. He pressed his palm to her forehead. And cursed, his voice low, tight, immediate. "Shit."

She was burning.

Not warm. Burning.

Moving quickly, he slipped from the bed, brushing Xiao Cong gently aside as he grabbed the thermometer from her nightstand drawer, flicked it on, and slipped it beneath her arm without waking her too much.

The digital beep came too soon.

39.9°C.

His stomach dropped.

"Fucking hell," he hissed under his breath, yanking his hoodie down as he moved toward the door, not bothering to tie his hair back or even put on socks. Halfway through the hallway, he hit the group comms with a sharp voice command. Lao K , get upstairs. Now. Go to Yao's apartment. I need someone with her while I get dressed."

There was a moment of silence, then the static-pitched reply came fast and tight.

Lao K: "On my way."

Sicheng was already tearing down the stairs, pausing only to shove his feet into the first pair of sneakers he saw, then turning right back to head to his own room. " And K— " he snapped into the comm, breathless as he moved. " Get her into the thick socks in the second drawer of her dresser. The soft Lu hoodie is on her couch—get it on her. Don't let her get up. Keep Da Bing close to her, he'll keep her grounded. I'm taking her to the hospital as soon as I'm dressed. Don't argue. Just do it. "