Against the Algorithm

Chapter 43: Off-Script

From across the room, Yue, now holding a water bottle, shook his head and sighed. "She's going to write a thesis on psychological warfare at this rate."

Lao K snorted. "And the Captain will edit it."

Sicheng just smiled, unrepentant, as he leaned into the silence that followed. She always looked best when her cheeks were red, her steps were flustered, and his name was on her tongue like a challenge she hadn't decided whether to throw or kiss away.

The base was quiet with the kind of focused tension that only came before a match, and not just any match— FNC . Even with the others moving around the lounge and finalizing their gear, the air held a particular weight that only came when rivals stood waiting on the other side of the arena.

Sicheng had just finished zipping up his uniform jacket when he heard footsteps above. Slow but steady. He glanced up, gaze sharpening the moment she appeared at the top of the stairs.

Yao descended, her platinum hair pulled back into a loose braid and her ZGDX uniform fitted neatly beneath her half-zipped jacket. Though her skin still held the faint undertone of recovery, she looked composed, purposeful. Her hazel eyes swept the base as she moved, calm but tired in a way that didn't go unnoticed by anyone.

Sicheng was already waiting for her at the bottom, straightening slightly as she reached the final step. He said nothing at first, just looked at her. Not in that teasing way he usually did—no quiet smirk or playful remark—just a quiet assessment, his gaze fixed on the subtle tension in her shoulders and the slight rasp still clinging to her breath.

She stopped in front of him and adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

Before she could speak, his voice cut in low.

"How are you feeling," he asked, quiet and serious. "Not the version you give the others. Truthfully."

Yao blinked at the weight behind his words before answering, voice soft but clear. "My throat's still a little rough," she admitted, "and I'm still feeling a bit tired. Not awful, just... not completely there yet." She drew in a slow breath, then continued. "But I think I'll be fine to come with you. I won't be on stage, I'll just sit in the lounge. I can rest there just as easily as I can here."

Sicheng frowned slightly, his eyes narrowing just a little. "You sure?"

Yao nodded, her tone firm this time. "I've already had two full days of rest. It's just a lounge seat, and I want to be there with you."

A pause. Then, "I won't push past what I can do," she added, knowing what he needed to hear.

He didn't respond right away, only lifted his hand to adjust her collar, fingers brushing lightly against her neck. His jaw flexed like he wanted to argue—but didn't. "Alright," he said quietly. "But if anything changes, anything, you tell me. You're not staying there out of pride."

She gave a small smile. "You'd drag me home yourself if I didn't."

"I would," he said without hesitation.

Yao glanced over her shoulder toward the stairwell, her expression softening. "I already gave Da Bing and Xiao Cong their treats. They're staying in my room, and I locked the door so Xiao Cong doesn't try to start climbing furniture again."

Sicheng grunted. "Last thing we need is another shattered lamp."

Yao gave a half-laugh. "It was one time."

He didn't reply, just picked up her team jacket and handed it to her before quietly adjusting the zipper with a gentleness only she ever saw. "Let's go," he said simply.