Against the Algorithm

Chapter 47: More Than Enough

Yao's eyes shimmered, and she nodded once more, holding his gaze. "I know."

And Lu Sicheng, who had spent a lifetime keeping his heart locked behind calculation and control, let the corner of his mouth curve into a faint, quiet smile—one that belonged only to her. Because she knew and that was everything.

The evening had grown quieter, the heavy warmth of earlier fading into something gentler, softer—like the hush that followed the closing of a well-worn book. Afterward, without needing to say much, they had each slipped away to shower. Yao padded into her bathroom, still flushed but at ease, while Sicheng returned to his own room downstairs in the base to clean up and give her the privacy he knew she needed to recenter herself.

Now, freshly showered and changed, she stood barefoot in her apartment, dressed in one of her oversized sleep shirts and soft cotton shorts, her damp platinum hair braided loosely over her shoulder. The familiar low hum of the base filtered up faintly through the floorboards, but up here, it was peaceful—her space, her sanctuary.

Sicheng had come back not long ago, already comfortable, changed into one of his faded black shirts and drawstring lounge pants, and now he stood near the corner of her couch, towel in hand, finishing the last lazy motions of drying his hair. There was something easy in the way he moved, his presence steady and grounding, the kind of calm she had come to associate with safety.

She lingered in the doorway to her room, watching him for a moment. He didn't notice right away—his focus somewhere distant as he folded the towel and tossed it over the back of the chair with practiced care.

Yao took a small breath.

Then another.

"Cheng-ge?"

His head turned immediately, eyes locking on hers with that soft attentiveness he never seemed to lose when it came to her.

She bit her lip, fingers fidgeting at the hem of her shirt. "Can I ask you something?"

He nodded, stepping a little closer. "Of course."

Her voice lowered, barely more than a whisper as her gaze flicked to the floor, then slowly back up to his eyes. "Would you... sleep here tonight?" She hesitated, cheeks already turning red, her hands clutching at the fabric of her shirt like it would anchor her in place. "Not—not like that," she added quickly, stumbling over her words. "I mean just... sleep. Like you said before. About staying some nights. I know you said you wouldn't mind but..." she trailed off, voice softer now, almost fragile. "I don't really want to sleep alone tonight."

Sicheng's eyes softened immediately, something in his expression shifting from calm to warm—deeply, protectively warm. He closed the distance between them with slow, quiet steps, reaching out to gently tuck a damp strand of hair behind her ear. "You don't have to explain," he said, his voice low, sure, and steady. "If you want me here, I'm staying." She nodded once, her shoulders easing just a little as a shy, relieved smile curved at the corners of her lips. Without another word, he leaned in and pressed a soft, grounding kiss to her forehead. Then he pulled back slightly and murmured, "Go get in bed, Xiǎo tùzǐ. I'll turn out the lights." And she did. Because even in the quiet of her apartment, with no words left between them, he always knew how to make her feel safe.

The soft, early light of morning spilled gently through the edges of the curtains, casting a faint golden hue across the bedroom. The room was quiet—still, even—the kind of silence that wasn't empty, but full of something warm and settled, like the world had paused just long enough to let them exist in peace.

Lu Sicheng woke slowly, not with the jolt of alarms or training schedules, but with the steady warmth of the girl curled up against him. His eyes blinked open to the familiar softness of her platinum braid trailing across his chest, her head tucked neatly beneath his chin, her breath feather-light against the base of his throat. One of her legs was hooked around his, her body pressed close along his side, and her arms had found their way under his shirt sometime in the night—small, warm hands resting just over his ribs like she was holding him in place even while dreaming. He smirked faintly, eyes still half-lidded as he tilted his head slightly to look around the room without moving too much. His gaze drifted toward the corner where the cat tree stood like a silent guardian.

Da Bing was sprawled across the top tier, tail dangling off the side, entirely unbothered.

Xiao Cong was curled into a small, fluffy ball on the middle perch, his ears twitching slightly, even in sleep, as if on standby in case his mama needed protection.

Sicheng chuckled softly under his breath and turned his eyes back to the woman wrapped around him.

Yeah.

He could really get used to this.

There was something so easy about waking up like this—no cold air, no sterile sheets, no echoing silence of his own room downstairs. Just her. Her scent. Her warmth. The familiar feel of her body molded to his, trusting him, clinging to him like he belonged here.

And the truth?

He kind of did. More than once lately, he'd found himself sleeping deeper, longer, better in this bed than he ever did in his own. The mattress wasn't even better. The blanket was fine. The room was a little warmer than he preferred. But she was here. And when she was wrapped around him like this, with her heartbeat pressed to his chest and her soft breath brushing over his skin. It was like nothing else mattered. He tilted his head, pressing a faint kiss to her hair, and murmured so quietly it was meant only for himself, "Might as well move in up here..."

Her fingers twitched slightly against his ribs, but she didn't wake.

And for once?

He didn't feel the need to move.

Not even a little.

Notes:

Author's Note: The Muse would like to say that all comments, even small ones, are very much welcomed and they very much enjoy reading them!