Against the Algorithm

Chapter 58: Measured Steps

And Sicheng?

He watched her. He could feel her body softening in his arms, the way her smile had started to grow more real with every step, the way her breath came lighter, freer. It made something warm and reckless twist in his chest.

So—

Feeling particularly smug—

He suddenly spun her.

Not fast.

But enough to make her breath catch, her steps falter into something that ended in a soft yelp muffled against his shoulder.

She blinked up at him.

Eyes wide.

Mouth open.

Before she could even gather herself, he dipped her.

Fully.

One hand at the small of her back, the other steady beneath hers as he bent her low and close, her hair brushing toward the floor, her startled gasp filling the room.

"Sicheng—!"

He grinned.

Unrepentant.

Her eyes met his, flustered and accusing—and then she laughed. Not a little smile. Not a shy breath. A full, bright, melodic giggle, like sunlight breaking through haze. It escaped her before she could stop it, her hand curling into his shirt as she laughed again, her cheeks pink and her eyes shining. "You're such a hooligan—!"

"Mm," he murmured, slowly pulling her back up into his arms, his nose brushing against hers. "Your hooligan."

She tried to swat him weakly on the chest, but the laughter lingered, fluttering in her chest, completely uncontained. He kissed her forehead as they swayed again, slower this time. And all the while, he couldn't stop smiling.

The music had faded into the background now, a soft instrumental track looping gently through the room, but neither of them moved to turn it off.

Yao was still tucked against Sicheng's chest, her arms loosely around his middle, her cheek resting just beneath his collarbone as they rocked side to side, slow and aimless. The echo of her laughter still lingered in the air, but it had settled now, softened into something quiet and content. She stayed like that for a while. Eyes closed, breath warm through the cotton of his sleep shirt. Before her voice came low. Shy. Almost uncertain. "...I love this part of you."

He stilled, just for a beat. Not because he didn't understand. But because she said it like it was a secret. Something fragile. Something precious.

She pressed her face a little closer into his chest. "I love when you smile like this... when you're playful," she murmured. "When you're not thinking about the team or the league or what you have to carry." Her fingers curled slightly in the fabric near his side. "When it's just you."

Sicheng exhaled slowly, the breath catching slightly in his chest. He tightened his arms around her, just enough to pull her closer, his cheek pressing against the top of her head as his voice dropped. "I'm always me," he said, rough and quiet, "but I get to be with you." She nodded against him, her face warm. He didn't say anything else. He didn't need to. He just held her there, in the middle of their space, the music still playing quietly, the world still outside. And his arms—steady, sure—wrapped completely around the only girl who had ever made him want to smile this way.

The movie played in the background, some lighthearted romantic comedy she'd picked from her modest DVD shelf—nothing heavy, nothing complicated. The kind of film where even the heartbreaks ended with warmth and the endings were already written.