Against the Algorithm

Chapter 57: The Space They Made

She peeked up at him, eyes still pink at the corners, and muttered under her breath again, "...Clingy hooligan."

His lips twitched. He didn't deny it. He leaned down, pressing a kiss just beneath her damp jaw as he reached for another towel to wrap around his hips. "True," he said smoothly, voice low and content. "But I'm your clingy hooligan."

Yao flushed deeper, the warmth in her chest spreading faster than she could stop it. Her hands clutched at the towel wrapped around her as she tried to scowl up at him—but it failed. Miserably.

He smirked as he moved to the counter, grabbing her sleep shirt—the one that was soft and oversized and slightly wrinkled from having been pushed aside the night before—and set it down next to a pair of clean cotton underwear. Then he turned back to her. "Here," he said, voice softer now. "Put these on."

She blinked. "Aren't you—?"

He was already pulling open the bathroom door. "Wait here," he called back over his shoulder, drying his hair with one hand. "I'm going to check the bedding."

"The—?"

He paused in the doorway, glanced back at her with a glint of something terribly smug in his eye. "We're were a little messy, Wǔ xiān," he said with no shame at all. "I'm making sure we don't have to sleep in the aftermath."

Yao made a sound— mortified , somewhere between a gasp and a horrified squeak and ducked behind the towel.

Sicheng chuckled low as he disappeared into the hall, voice still drifting behind him like it was nothing. "Don't move. I'll be back in a minute."

And she stood there, flustered, pink, and helplessly tucked in steam and towels. Realizing she'd never stood a chance against him from the start.

The bedroom was sort of dark as it could get with the sun coming out more but everything was where it should be. The bedding, though tangled, hadn't needed changing—just a quick straightening and the toss of a fresh blanket across the foot of the bed.

Sicheng pulled on a pair of loose sleep pants, leaving the rest as it was. No shirt. No need. His skin still felt warm from the shower, the air curling over his chest as he raked his fingers through his damp hair, pushing it back with a low breath. He moved back down the hall, quiet, bare feet against polished floorboards. The bathroom door was still cracked and when he stepped back inside... He snorted softly, the sound low and filled with something unmistakably fond. Because Yao, sweet, flushed, wrecked little Yao, was still standing in the exact same spot. Wrapped entirely in her towel. Her sleep shirt and underwear still folded neatly on the counter beside her.

And she?

Hadn't moved. Her cheeks were burning. Her eyes wide and darting the second she saw him reappear in the doorway, shirtless, calm, and wholly unbothered by the memory of everything they'd just done. She wasn't trembling. But she was clearly mortified. Still flustered. Still buried in the steam and the weight of it all.

And Sicheng... just stood there. Looking at her. Letting the silence settle. He didn't tease her, not this time. Instead, he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed loosely over his chest, eyes softening as they traced the outline of her bundled shape, small and precious and completely overwhelmed by her own emotions. And he thought, not for the first time... He really hoped she never lost that part of herself. The part that turned red when he said something shameless. The part that still hid behind towels even after her hands had clutched at his shoulders and she'd whispered his name as she came apart in his arms. The part that was still trying to figure out how to be brave in the middle of something so new and still herself through every second of it. He smiled. Quietly. Fully. "You gonna stay in there all day?" he asked softly.