Against the Algorithm

Chapter 57: The Space They Made

Sicheng didn't let her finish. He kissed the back of her shoulder. Then nuzzled against the soft skin behind her ear, the barest sound of a smile in his breath. "I'd like that." he murmured, his voice low, steady, and warm.

And the tension in her body melted. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, her fingers unclenching, her body relaxing against him fully again. "Okay," she whispered.

And he pressed one more kiss to her flushed cheek. Then quietly, gently, without a rush, he helped her up.

The shower was warm, steam curling through the air as the water ran in soft, steady rhythm against tile. The light was low, soft from the overhead glow, not harsh—not blinding. It felt quiet. Contained.

Safe.

Yao stood beneath the stream, her back to him, her long silver hair cascading down her back, damp and clinging to her skin. Her cheeks were still pink—not from the water, but from everything that had come before, and everything still unspoken between them.

Sicheng, behind her, had just finished rinsing himself off, soap and heat washing away the remnants of the night. His hands moved easily, naturally, reaching for the shampoo as he stepped back in. Then, in that casual, gruff tone that always betrayed just how amused he really was, he muttered under his breath, "...Glad I hijacked one of your drawers."

"What?" Yao blinked, her head turning slightly, wet strands brushing over her shoulder.

Sicheng's smirk was audible in his voice as he poured a measure of shampoo into his palm. "I said," he repeated, louder now, "I'm glad I hijacked one of your drawers."

She turned to look at him fully, eyes wide, water dripping down her temple. "You what?"

He only smirked harder, reaching out and gently tugging her toward him by the waist with one soapy hand. She stumbled a half-step forward into the heat of his body, flushed, flustered, entirely caught off guard. "I did it right after you asked if we could have sleepovers," he murmured, voice low and teasing against her wet temple. "You remember. You said—and I quote—'Just in case you feel too lazy to go back to your room.'"

She gasped, sputtering now. "I—I didn't mean permanently! That was—! You moved in ?!"

"Not completely." He kissed her cheek as he slowly lathered his hands. "Just half a drawer. Maybe a shelf. And I left space. I'm polite like that."

She let out a helpless little squeak as he gently turned her by the hips to face forward again.

Then he guided her under the water, fingers threading through her soaked strands with careful precision. "You didn't notice?"

"I—I just thought I'd accidentally ordered too many sleeping shirts or took too many of yours..."

He chuckled low behind her as his fingers massaged shampoo gently into her scalp, his thumbs brushing the base of her skull in slow, circling motions. She went quiet then, eyes fluttering shut as he worked. The warmth of his hands in her hair. The water cascading over her shoulders. The soft sound of him humming under his breath behind her, like it was just any other morning between two people who belonged like this—together, unhurried. When he leaned in to kiss the top of her head, she didn't flinch. She smiled and leaned back into his touch.

By the time the water was off, the room was thick with steam, their quiet breaths the only sound as Sicheng wrapped a towel around her gently, his hands steady and unhurried as he guided her out of the shower.

Yao mumbled something into the edge of her towel.

He glanced down, brow lifting. "What was that?"