Against the Algorithm

Chapter 53: Keys to the Quiet

He tilted his head toward her, the picture of calm menace. "Yes. I am."

"No."

"Yes."

"Lu Sicheng—!"

But he was already pulling out his phone, thumbs moving with intent as he tapped Yue's name.

Yao's eyes widened. "Don't you dare—"

The call connected.

"Yue," he said smoothly, completely ignoring her flailing behind him. "Bring our parents,down to the garage. Tell Dad Yao's inheritance has teeth."

A pause.

"No, I am going to tell you what it is. I want to watch him suffer."

Yao swatted him gently on the arm.

He hung up with all the satisfaction of a man about to unleash chaos.

"You are a menace," she muttered, flushing as she stepped back toward the sleek white Porsche just to put something between her and the incoming Lu Parental Unit.

"And yet," he replied, slipping his arm lazily around her waist and pulling her right back, "you keep letting me in your bed."

Her blush deepened dangerously. "That is not a point in your favor."

"It is for me." And then, calmly, as if he hadn't just engineered a full-family ambush for the sole purpose of watching his highly decorated father collapse into longing, Lu Sicheng leaned down and murmured in her ear, "Let me have this. Just once. He made me sit through a three-hour speech at fifteen on the importance of delayed gratification. I've been delaying this gratification for twelve years."

Yao dropped her forehead to his chest with a groan. "You're the worst."

"Absolutely, when it comes to pay back against that dramatic man and the number one harpy."

The first sound was the familiar chime of the motion-triggered security panel as the inner door unlocked.

Yao, still trying to regulate the sheer amount of heat in her face from being wrapped in Sicheng's smug satisfaction, straightened just as Yue's voice echoed into the vastness of the garage.

"Okay, what the hell—"

His sentence cut off mid-word.

Footsteps halted.

Dead silence.

Then—

"Oh my god," Yue breathed. He stepped in like someone who had walked into the wrong timeline—slack-jawed, eyes bouncing across each row with increasing disbelief. He spun a slow circle on the spot, taking in vehicle after vehicle, engine after gleaming engine, pausing briefly at the row of motorcycles before turning back toward Yao with a look that was equal parts reverent and scandalized. "Tiny Boss Bunny," he whispered, lifting a hand dramatically to his chest, "you own a fleet. This is not a garage. This is a private museum. This is a Bond villain's backup lair."

"I hate driving." Yao groaned softly and leaned her hip against the nearest car.

"I don't," Yue said immediately. "And I would like to personally offer my services as emotional support test driver, should you ever need someone to 'make sure they still work.'"

Before Yao could muster a reply, the soft click of heels across concrete signaled Lan's arrival. She stepped into the garage without a word, her expression neutral as her gaze swept across the cavernous space, analyzing details like she was mapping the blueprints in her mind. Her eyes paused on the motorcycle lineup—just long enough for the faintest twitch of amusement to tug at the corner of her mouth—before she turned toward her son and raised an eyebrow.