Against the Algorithm

Chapter 49: Unlocking What Was Ours

Yao sat still, one leg tucked under her, the Lu medallion warm against her skin where her fingers rested gently over it. She stared at her phone for a long moment, then slowly typed a message.

To: ZGDX_Chessman
From: ZGDX_TinyBossBunny

Can you come upstairs?

No fluff.

No explanation.

She didn't need to send anything else.

It took less than a minute.

There was a soft knock, followed by the click of her door unlocking, and then he stepped inside. He wasn't dressed for anything formal—just in a dark hoodie and joggers, socks and slippers, quiet, eyes sweeping the room the moment he entered. He didn't speak right away.

Didn't need to.

She looked up at him from where she sat, and without a word, he moved to join her, sinking into the cushion beside her, his hand briefly brushing hers. Her fingers tightened slightly over the fabric of her sleep pants before she reached for the laptop. She opened it, pulled the email back up, and turned the screen toward him.

His amber eyes flicked down to it. He didn't react—not visibly. Not at first. And that, more than anything, confirmed what she already knew. When he finished reading, she slowly turned the screen back and closed it with quiet precision.

"Why?" she asked softly, her voice not accusing, not cold—just steady, calm, searching. "Why did you think this was necessary?"

He didn't answer right away.

She wasn't expecting him to. "I know you, Lu Sicheng and I know Jin-er" she continued, voice even lower now, her fingers curling slightly into the hem of her shirt. "You don't do anything without a reason. You're not impulsive. You don't strike unless you have all the facts. And you don't ever cross a line unless someone pushes you hard enough to deserve it." Her eyes met his, unwavering. "So... why?"

For a moment, all he did was watch her—like he was measuring what she already knew, what she had guessed, what she had quietly pieced together. And then, finally, his voice came, low and even, with a depth that held no pride in what he'd done—only certainty. "Because they tried to hurt you in an unforgivable way," he said simply. Yao didn't flinch. "They didn't just fail you," he continued, jaw tight, voice calm in that razor-sharp way that only surfaced when something mattered. "They plotted to use you. They lied. They tried to make you vulnerable on purpose. And when that failed, they tried to destroy you through someone else." His fingers tapped once against the side of the couch, then stilled. "You weren't supposed to find out yet," he added, more quietly. "I didn't want you carrying it."

She looked down at her lap, silent for a moment. Then—"I'm not angry, Cheng-ge." His gaze lifted sharply. She wasn't crying. She wasn't shaking. She was steady. Still. "I just wanted to understand," she whispered, lifting her hand to press it gently over the medallion hanging against her chest. "And now I do." Her voice didn't falter. "I know you didn't do this out of revenge or anger," she said. "You did it because you're the kind of man who protects what's his." Her fingers curled tighter over the crest. "And I am, aren't I?"

His jaw tightened slightly, eyes locked to hers. "You've been mine since before I gave that to you." he said, voice low and steady, the weight of truth behind every word.

She nodded once, leaning into him, her head against his shoulder. Then, softly, "I just wanted to hear it from you."

For a moment, all he did was sit there, still as stone, her weight gently against his shoulder, her hand resting over the medallion he had placed around her neck—his name, his legacy, resting just above her heart. But inside him, something stirred—quiet, coiled tension laced not with guilt but with uncertainty. She had taken it all in—his silence, the truth, the weight of what he'd done—and hadn't flinched. She hadn't pulled away. But that didn't stop the question from forming. Didn't stop it from needing to be asked.