Against the Algorithm

Chapter 57: The Space They Made

She peeked out from over the towel, eyes narrowed but glowing. "I might." she mumbled.

He stepped closer. Not rushed. Not pushing. Just near enough that his fingers could brush against hers, resting lightly at the edge of the towel. His voice dropped again, low and sincere. "Come to bed, Wǔ xiān." And for all her fluster, all her pink cheeks and towel clutching and post-shower silence, she nodded. Slowly. She didn't resist when he reached for the folded clothes on the counter. She just stood there, still warm from the shower, still wrapped in her towel, her eyes lowered as her hands trembled ever so slightly at her sides. The air between them was quiet now, not tense, not shy exactly. Just full of something. Something settled. Something safe.

Sicheng didn't tease her. He didn't smirk. He just stepped close, holding her gaze for a moment, waiting—always waiting—until she gave him the smallest nod. And then, slowly, carefully, he helped her dress. First her underwear, soft cotton he guided up her legs with careful hands and a reverent kind of stillness. Then her sleep shirt, the familiar oversized one that always seemed to smell faintly like lavender and warmth. She slipped her arms through the sleeves as he held it out, and when the hem dropped just past her thighs, she let out the smallest breath of relief.

Sicheng pressed a kiss to her forehead. Then—without warning, without needing permission—he scooped her into his arms.

Yao squeaked, burying her face in his chest, her legs curling instinctively as he carried her through the still hallway, his steps slow and even, one arm under her knees, the other curled behind her back. "You didn't have to—" she began, muffled.

"I wanted to," he said, voice low.

She didn't argue again.

He carried her all the way back to the room, the bed still half-turned down, the light from the bedside lamp casting a soft amber glow over the covers. He placed her down gently, as though she weighed nothing, and then followed her into the blankets, pulling them up over both of them until they were wrapped in warmth and in each other.

Yao curled into his side, her head tucked beneath his jaw, her hand resting lightly over his heart. He shifted just enough to hold her fully, one arm around her waist, the other pulling the blankets tighter.

He didn't say anything at first. Just held her. Just breathed her in. And then softly against her hair. He whispered, "I love you." Not because he needed her to say it back. But because he wanted her to hear it. Feel it. Know it.

Yao pressed closer. Her fingers curled lightly in his shirtless chest, her face hidden, her heart thundering—but she didn't hesitate. "I love you too..." she whispered. Barely a breath. But everything he needed. His arms tightened. And the world disappeared. Just her. Just him. And the quiet rhythm of something that felt like forever.

The room was quiet again.

Yao had already drifted off in his arms, her breathing soft and steady, her head tucked beneath his chin, one hand curled loosely against his chest like she belonged there—like she'd always belonged there.

Sicheng, though—he was still awake. Barely. But just enough. He shifted slightly, careful not to disturb her, and reached for his phone from the bedside table. One hand. Screen brightness low. Thumb moving slowly as he typed out the message:

ZGDX_Chessman: No scrims. No strategy briefs. No PR. We're taking the day. I'm spending it with Yao.

He sent it to Rui.

Two seconds later, his screen lit up with a reply.

ZGDX_Rui: Fine. But no home runs in the base.

Sicheng blinked. Then narrowed his eyes at the screen like Rui could feel it through the walls. He typed slowly.

ZGDX_Chessman: One: I'm the owner. This is my base. My team. My rules.

A pause.

He followed it up with the second message.

ZGDX_Chessman: Two: If you ever say that out loud where she might hear it and figure out what it means... I'll tell my mother.

Another pause.

Then...

ZGDX_Chessman: And when I tell her? You'll be registered for a three-day sensitivity training conference. With guest speakers and mandatory journaling.

It took three full minutes for Rui to reply.

ZGDX_Rui: Message received. Enjoy your day. I'm logging off for the next twenty-four hours. Please don't tell Madam Lu.

Sicheng smirked faintly to himself. Tucked his phone away. And pulled Yao closer into his chest, pressing one last kiss to the top of her head before letting his eyes fall closed. She was his and the world? Could wait. He was just starting to drift. The weight of the day, the warmth of her breath against his collarbone, the comforting press of her body wrapped snugly in his arms—it was pulling him under like an anchor.

A soft thump at the edge of the mattress. The creak of the covers shifted behind Yao's back.

Sicheng cracked one eye open. Barely. And there they were.

Da Bing—thirty-five pounds of glorious judgment—leapt lightly onto the foot of the bed, tail flicking once before he made his way up the blankets. He paused only long enough to glare at Sicheng, as if to say She's mine, too, then curled himself in a regal little crescent right behind Yao, his broad frame flush against her back. Right behind him, Xiao Cong was dragging his much smaller, dramatic self up with two full-body wiggles and a series of soft chirps.

He stepped delicately over the blanket, climbed right over Da Bing's flank like the white Siberian was just part of the furniture, and nestled himself on the other side of Yao's hip. Tiny paws stretched out. Tail flicked once. Then stillness. Settled. Claimed. One large cat. One tiny kitten. Both plastered against her.

Sicheng stared. Then let out a soft, barely-there snort, amusement curling at the edges of his voice as he whispered against her hair. "Seriously?" Neither cat moved. Da Bing only huffed in response—like the bed was his territory and Sicheng was lucky to have earned partial rights. Yao didn't stir. She was surrounded. Wrapped in his arms, shielded by her cats, breathing slow and soft and even, like every part of her, had finally found where it belonged. Sicheng closed his eyes again. His smile lingered. And then he slept with his girl curled in his arms, Her world curled against her back and everything exactly as it should be.

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!