Against the Algorithm

Chapter 43: Off-Script

Summary: One kitten's tantrum spirals into accusations, threats, and a storm of stolen kisses, sharp commands, and Shikigami erasers. But beneath all the drama, something quieter takes root—discipline, loyalty, and a warning: you don't disrespect ZGDX and walk away without consequence. Not when she's watching. And definitely not when he's playing.

Notes:

Author's Note: Furry Shenanigans

Chapter Forty-Three

It was late evening, the kind of stillness that fell over the ZGDX base when the clamor of games had quieted, the takeout boxes had been discarded, and most of the team had sprawled across couches and beanbags in varying states of digital exhaustion. The low hum of a streamer recap played in the background, but no one was really paying attention to it—until a certain sound sliced through the calm like a dagger.

"Xiao Cong!"

Yao's voice, while not raised, carried the unmistakable edge of warning that had every male in the room straightening just a bit—even Da Bing, who had been contentedly lounging in a sunbeam near the window, lifted his head with a slow, feline blink of curiosity.

Yue paused mid-scroll through his phone and glanced over. "What'd the tiny menace do now?"

Sicheng didn't even look up from the reports he was reviewing. "Vitamin time."

A soft thump followed by a distressed little mrowr echoed through the room.

"Vitamin time?" Pang repeated, eyebrows lifting as he leaned back in his seat.

"Salmon-flavored drops," Lao K muttered from the kitchen, sipping tea. "Supposed to be good for his joints and fur."

"I thought I heard the bottle." Lao Mao added, just as another thump followed.

Yao, kneeling beside the long sectional couch in the living room, let out a slow breath as she held the small bottle of pink-tinted liquid in one hand and peered under the couch with practiced patience. "Xiao Cong..." she coaxed gently. "Come on out. You need to take this. You know you always feel better afterward."

From beneath the couch, the tiniest, most dramatically betrayed sound came in reply. A low, sustained mrrreeeeeooowrrr that carried all the heartbreak and resistance of a cat who believed his life was over. And then—another sound. A tiny sneeze. Then silence.

"God," Yue whispered, eyes wide as he leaned forward, "he's fake crying. That little traitor's learned to fake cry."

"Did he just sneeze for dramatic effect?" Pang asked, gaping.

Sicheng finally glanced up, eyebrow raised as he stared toward the couch. "Yes."

Yao sighed again, shifting to lie flat on the ground, her platinum hair spilling beside her arm as she gently reached a hand beneath the couch. "Cheng-ge, please help me coax him out." she muttered without looking up.

Sicheng stayed seated for precisely five more seconds, clearly hoping Xiao Cong would come out of his own accord.

He didn't.

What did happen was another pitiful mew—followed by the sound of the kitten rolling over dramatically beneath the couch and kicking his tiny legs like he was moments from death.

"He's weaponizing guilt," Lao K stated blankly. "He's going full drama prince."

Lan, had she been present, would have been proud.