Against the Algorithm

Chapter 47: More Than Enough

Her face flared red.

Yue looked over from across the room, utterly delighted. "Do I need to clear the hallway so you can make out on the stairs again or—?"

"Shush." Yao hissed with red cheeks.

Sicheng, smirking to himself now, turned and started up the stairs with her trailing behind, arms filled with the remaining gifts.

The kitten cavalry followed them halfway—Xiao Cong carrying himself like a soldier tasked with escorting high-value assets, and Da Bing flanking at the rear with the stoic energy of a bodyguard who was tired of the humans being ridiculous.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Sicheng glanced back over his shoulder. "You know," he said casually, "if this is the standard every time someone congratulates you, you're gonna need a second closet."

Yao gave him a look as she unlocked her apartment door. "I'll just use your closet."

Sicheng blinked.

Then slowly smiled. "Deal."

Once they were in her apartment, the calm settled quickly—soft light filtering through the curtains, Da Bing immediately hopping onto the bed with the grace of a seasoned guardian, and Xiao Cong trotting in behind him like he had to personally approve the perimeter.

Yao knelt near the coffee table, quietly unpacking the garment bags and boxes with more care than she'd had downstairs, now that she wasn't surrounded by teasing commentary, dramatic sighs, or Yue trying to steal food from anyone within reach. She sorted through the new pieces—folded tops, cardigans, carefully tailored skirts and jackets—gently smoothing the fabrics with the pads of her fingers. The jacket Jinyang had chosen fit her style perfectly, and the boots were shockingly comfortable.

But then—

She spotted it.

A smaller garment bag, tucked beneath one of the folded blouses and nearly missed if not for the shimmer of silk peeking out along the side.

Yao tilted her head, frowning slightly, and carefully drew the zipper down.

What she found made her freeze.

Lace.

Silk.

Lots of lace and silk.

In delicate, scandalous shades of wine red, ink black, and pearl white. Bras that were little more than whispers of fabric and intricate stitching, matching panties with barely-there straps, and a silky robe with embroidered florals and feathers.

Her entire face went up in flames.

And then—

A squeak. High-pitched, sharp, and very much not her usual level of composure.

"Wha—!"

She yelped and scrambled to close the garment bag, fumbling the zipper with flushed hands before stuffing it back into the box like it had personally insulted her family name. Behind her, she heard a low, amused voice.

"What was that?"

Yao jumped.

She turned slowly.

Sicheng was standing by her desk, mid-way through removing his jacket, his brows slightly raised and his expression dark with interest—because her squeak had not been subtle, and the way her ears were practically glowing red now was anything but innocent.