Summary: A call in the dead of night shatters the stillness, pulling Lu Sicheng into motion without hesitation. What follows is a quiet storm—decisions made swiftly, boundaries redrawn, and a space once separate now shared.
Overprotective Chessman
Overprotective ZGDX
Chapter Eleven
Over the next several weeks, Sicheng personally oversaw everything.
He had already decided.
Yao might not have agreed yet, but he knew. Knew that eventually, sooner or later, she would.
And when she did?
Her space would be ready.
So, while everyone else went about their usual routines, Sicheng was working silently behind the scenes, overseeing the empty space on top of ZGDX's base, turning it into something entirely new.
A home.
For her.
Not a shared dormitory like the rest of the team. Not just a room in the base. A personal apartment-like space, one that would give her the privacy she needed, the separation from the team when she wanted it, while still keeping her close enough to be part of them. Because he had listened. He knew she wasn't used to living with others. Knew she had been on her own for too long. And Sicheng, meticulous as ever, made sure everything was done properly.
The living area was designed with her taste in mind, soft, cozy, filled with warm but neutral tones, nothing too overwhelming or cluttered. Her bedroom was carefully set up—quiet, private, somewhere she could actually rest without distraction. And the office space? He made damn sure it was exactly what she needed. A fully equipped workspace, soundproofed, complete with a proper desk, dual monitors, and a direct connection for private calls or virtual meetings with her mentor. Because he knew. Knew that her PhD work wasn't just important to her—it was part of who she was. And if she was going to live at the base, then she was going to have a space that allowed her to keep every part of herself.
But he didn't stop there.
Because Sicheng knew one more thing.
Da Bing.
That massive Siberian wasn't just a pet—he was family.
So Sicheng went out of his way to set up cat trees, beds, and perches all over the damn apartment, ensuring that the spoiled feline would have his own spaces, his own comfort, his own domain. And as a final touch, he had the kitchen stocked, not with fresh food yet, but with non-perishables, basic ingredients, things she wouldn't have to immediately worry about. Because once she was here, she wouldn't be lacking anything. It was done quietly. Without announcing it to the team. Without bringing it up to Yao yet. Because he knew. Knew she wasn't ready to say yes.
Yet.
But sooner or later?
She would and when that moment came, Sicheng wanted her to step into a space that was already hers.
Sicheng was not a light sleeper. Years of discipline, of late-night training sessions and a lifestyle that demanded constant focus, had trained him to be a deep, calculated sleeper—one who only woke up when necessary. So when his phone rang at two in the morning, vibrating sharply against the nightstand, he was already shifting awake before his mind had fully processed it.
His instincts kicked in immediately. There was only one reason he'd be getting a call this late. He snatched the phone without hesitation, pressing it to his ear. "What?" His voice was low, sharp, still rough with sleep—but instantly alert.
The voice on the other end was calm, steady, but carried an underlying weight.
"It's done. I handled it."
Sicheng's fingers tightened around the phone, his jaw clenching as his mind fully caught up.
Yao.
Something had happened to Yao.
He sat up immediately, throwing off the blanket, his body already moving before he could process the next words. "Explain." His voice was cold now, controlled but carrying an unmistakable edge.
"Someone broke into her apartment." The man's tone was even, efficient, not wasting time. "I took care of it. The guy won't be a problem ever again."
Sicheng exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face as his temper flared dangerously—but this wasn't just anger. This was something darker, something territorial, something that made his entire body tense with the urge to rip apart anyone who even thought of hurting her.
But then—
The next words hit him harder.
"She won't come out of the bathroom."
Sicheng stilled. "What?"
"She locked herself inside with the cat." A brief pause. "And the furball is pissed. He's hissing and growling at anyone who comes close."
Sicheng was already on his feet, grabbing his keys. "She's not hurt?"
"Not physically."
That was enough.
Sicheng didn't hesitate. Didn't stop to process anything else. Because none of it mattered. She wasn't staying there another second. Not after this. Not when she had locked herself in the bathroom, too shaken to come out. Not when her damn cat was baring its fangs in her defense, refusing to let anyone near. She wasn't staying there. She was coming home. He got in his car, his voice low, dark, and utterly final as he spoke into the receiver.
"Keep everyone away from that door."
A pause.
Then—
"I'm on my way."
~
The drive to Yao's apartment was a blur.
Sicheng wasn't speeding—he didn't need to. His focus was razor-sharp, his grip on the wheel firm, his breathing steady despite the storm building inside him. By the time he pulled up outside her building, he was already calculating everything. She wasn't hurt. She was alive. But she was locked inside a bathroom, refusing to come out, too shaken to even face the outside world.
And that?
That was unacceptable.
The moment he stepped out of his car, the man he had assigned to watch over her was already waiting by the entrance.
Sicheng didn't ask unnecessary questions. He didn't waste time confirming details he already knew. Instead, as he approached, his amber gaze dark and lethal, he spoke only once. "Where is he?"
The man didn't blink.
"Gone."
Sicheng exhaled slowly. Good. He didn't need details. Because the way the man had said it—efficient, final—meant only one thing. Whoever had broken in wasn't coming back.
Ever.
But that wasn't the problem anymore.
The real problem was inside.
Her.
Without another word, he stepped past the man and entered the building, his footsteps calm, controlled, but his pulse pounding steadily beneath the surface. When he reached her apartment, the front door was open, signs of forced entry still visible, but the scene inside had already been cleared.
And yet—
The second he stepped inside, he felt it.
The tension.
The stillness.
And from behind the closed bathroom door, a low, warning growl.
His gaze flickered toward the sound, his sharp eyes locking onto the small hallway leading to the bathroom.
Da Bing was inside with her.
Sicheng stepped closer, listening. A rustle of movement. The faintest hiccup of a breath. She wasn't speaking. But she was there. He exhaled slowly, lifting a hand to the door, his knuckles tapping lightly against the wood.
"Yao."
No answer.
A pause.
Then—
"…Go away."
Her voice was soft, hoarse, unsteady—but there.
Sicheng closed his eyes for a brief second, pressing his palm flat against the door. "I'm not leaving."
Silence.
Then—
A soft scratch, the sound of Da Bing's claws dragging against the door from the inside. The cat wasn't just protecting her—he wanted out, but he wouldn't leave without her.
Sicheng exhaled slowly, his voice lower, more certain now. "Let me in, Xiǎo Tùzǐ.."
Silence again.
Then—
A shuffle.
A pause.
And finally—
The lock clicked.
Sicheng didn't hesitate. The moment the door cracked open, he pushed it fully, stepping inside before she could change her mind.
And there she was.
Yao.
Sitting on the closed toilet seat, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them, her platinum silver hair slightly disheveled, her hazel eyes red-rimmed but wide and startled as she looked up at him. Da Bing, pressed close to her legs, let out a deep protective growl, his tail flicking sharply as he glared at Sicheng like he was an intruder.
Sicheng barely spared the cat a glance. His focus was entirely on her. She was pale. Shaken. And she had been locked inside this bathroom for god knows how long, refusing to come out, refusing to face the world. He crouched down, his elbows resting on his knees as he looked at her. Not demanding. Not pushing. Just there. "Come home, Xiǎo Tùzǐ."
"…I—" Yao stiffened as her breath hitched, her fingers twitching slightly against her sweater.
Sicheng didn't rush her. Didn't tell her to hurry up, didn't tell her she had no choice. Instead, he simply extended a hand.
Waiting.
Yao's gaze flickered to his hand.
To him.
Then—
Slowly, hesitantly—
She reached out.
The moment Yao's hesitant fingers brushed against his, Sicheng didn't wait—he moved immediately, his grip steady but unshakably firm as he pulled her toward him with a smooth, calculated ease that left no room for resistance. Her frame, smaller than usual, trembled the second she was within reach, the exhaustion, shock, and sheer weight of everything that had happened pressing down on her, and without a word, without hesitation, he lifted her.
Yao let out a soft, startled breath, but she didn't struggle, didn't protest, simply curled slightly into herself as Da Bing, still fiercely protective, stepped away from where he had been standing guard and moved toward the door, his large, heavy paws padding against the floor as he made it clear he wasn't leaving without both of them.
Sicheng, his grip firm yet undeniably careful, adjusted her weight effortlessly against his chest, his gaze flickering once toward the apartment around them, toward the quiet evidence of the violation that had taken place here, the broken sense of security, the space that no longer belonged to her. As he stepped out of the small, cramped bathroom, he barely paused, his movements measured, unhurried, but carrying an unshakable certainty as he walked toward the main entrance where his man was already waiting, standing stiffly, professionally, but not unaware of the tension in the air.
With a brief nod to the guard, Sicheng wordlessly draped a thick blanket around Yao's trembling frame, shielding her from the cold, from the weight of the night, from everything else she wasn't ready to face yet. His voice, low, controlled, dangerously smooth, carried no room for misinterpretation as he spoke.
"Pack everything carefully. Handle it as if it belongs to me."
The man nodded without hesitation. "Understood."
Sicheng's gaze, sharp as a blade, darkened further. "If anything gets destroyed, if anything is missing, or if I find out that someone didn't follow my instructions exactly, they will answer to me." The weight of the command settled heavily in the air, an unspoken promise of consequences that needed no further elaboration.
The man, who had already known exactly who he worked for and what was at stake, simply bowed his head slightly, acknowledging the order without question.
Satisfied, without another word, without giving Yao the chance to linger in this place any longer, Sicheng turned, his arms securing her closer against his chest, her warmth fragile but real against him as he stepped through the doorway. He didn't look back. Because this place? This wasn't her home anymore. And she wasn't coming back.
Sicheng carried Yao down the dimly lit hallway, his strides smooth, unhurried, but carrying the kind of quiet authority that left no room for hesitation. The apartment complex was eerily silent at this hour, the weight of the night pressing in around them, but it didn't matter—his focus remained entirely on the girl in his arms, the blanket wrapped around her barely concealing the trembling of her small frame.
She hadn't spoken since they left the bathroom. Hadn't asked where they were going. Hadn't protested. She simply curled into herself, her fingers gripping the fabric of the blanket weakly, as if trying to hold onto something solid, her hazel eyes half-lidded, unfocused, the adrenaline crash hitting her in full force now that the worst of the danger had passed.
Da Bing, silent but never far, walked just behind them, his thick Siberian fur still bristled in lingering tension, his sharp blue eyes constantly scanning, ensuring that nothing and no one could come close without his permission.
By the time Sicheng reached the car, he shifted his grip slightly, opening the door with one hand before lowering Yao carefully into the passenger seat, his movements precise, calculated, carrying an almost absentminded gentleness that he wasn't even aware of. She flinched slightly when her back met the seat, not in fear, but in that small, involuntary way of someone who was too overwhelmed to process everything yet.
His jaw tightened, but he didn't acknowledge it, didn't give her any words of reassurance that she wouldn't be able to absorb right now anyway. Instead, he reached down, adjusting the seatbelt himself, securing her firmly before pulling back just enough to meet her dazed, exhausted gaze. "You're safe, Xiǎo Tùzǐ. I won't let anything happen to you." His voice was low, smooth, steady, the kind of tone that left no room for argument.
Yao's lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but nothing came. She just nodded once, small, hesitant, her fingers still curled into the blanket.
Satisfied for now, Sicheng pulled back, stepping aside as Da Bing leapt up effortlessly into the back seat, the massive cat settling in immediately but keeping his piercing gaze locked on the surroundings, unwilling to relax just yet. Sicheng shut the door, rounding the car with calm efficiency, sliding into the driver's seat and starting the engine with a single flick of his wrist.
Yao, still quiet, still curled beneath the weight of everything that had happened tonight, didn't ask where they were going. But she didn't need to. Because Sicheng had already decided. And she wasn't going back to that apartment. She was going home.
As Sicheng drove through the quiet, dimly lit streets of Shenzhen, his sharp gaze flickered toward the passenger seat every so often, keeping a watchful eye on Yao's unmoving form. She had passed out not long after they started driving. Not fully asleep, not resting in the way she needed to, but gone enough that her body had forced her into a shutdown, the weight of the night finally taking its toll. Her breathing was shallow but steady, her hands still gripping the blanket as if she was afraid to let go, her frame curled slightly toward the door, as if even now, she wasn't fully convinced she could allow herself to relax.
His grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. This never should have happened.
And now?
Now, he was going to ensure it never did again. Without breaking focus, he pulled his phone from where it rested near the gear shift, tapping a single name before pressing it to his ear.
It rang twice before a groggy but very irritated voice answered.
"Lu Sicheng."
He could already hear the sharpness in her tone, the barely restrained displeasure of having been woken up at this hour. But before she could complain—before she could say anything at all—Sicheng cut straight to the point. "I need you to contact Yao's university first thing in the morning."
A pause.
Then, fully awake now, his mother's voice hardened instantly.
"…What happened?"
Sicheng exhaled slowly, his tone sharp and deliberate. "Someone broke into her apartment."
Silence.
But he could feel it. The way the air shifted even through the phone, the way his mother's presence—always controlled, always calculated—darkened instantly.
"Is she hurt?"
"No. But she's not going back there."
A beat.
"Obviously."
"She was staying there under a housing scholarship. I need you to contact the university and handle whatever needs to be done. She's not staying there anymore, but I don't want this to affect her status." Sicheng continued smoothly, his tone giving no room for argument.
Lan, already moving through the logistics in her mind, spoke evenly, but there was a distinct coldness beneath her tone now. "I'll have it taken care of by morning."
"Make sure it's done quietly." Sicheng nodded once, even though she couldn't see it.
His mother hummed, a sound that was both approving and calculating at the same time. "Of course. No one needs to know where she's staying now."
Because now?
Yao wasn't going to be living in some barely secured, university-sponsored housing. She was going to be where she belonged. Where nothing like this would ever happen again. Where no one could get to her.
Lan exhaled sharply, her voice low, edged with something lethal. "Who was it?"
"It's handled." Sicheng's jaw tightened slightly, his amber gaze locked on the road ahead.
Another pause.
"Good."
She didn't ask for more details. She didn't need to. Because if her son said it was handled. Then whoever had dared to touch Yao's world was already gone. And for the first time since he picked up the call, Lan's voice shifted slightly, the ice in her tone melting just a fraction.
"Take care of her, Sicheng."
His grip on the wheel didn't loosen, but his gaze flickered toward the passenger seat one more time. Toward the girl who had spent years taking care of herself, the girl who had been forced into independence before she was ready, the girl who had never had anyone looking out for her in the way she deserved. His mother didn't need to tell him that. Because he already was. And he wasn't going to stop. Not now. Not ever.
The drive back to the base was quiet, the air thick with an unspoken weight that neither Sicheng nor Yao—still asleep in the passenger seat—needed to acknowledge out loud. The tension from earlier still lingered, not in the way that came from immediate danger, but in the way that settled deep into the bones, in the way that came from knowing everything had changed.
As he pulled up to the base, Sicheng barely let the car idle before he shifted into park, exhaling slowly as he glanced toward Yao, still curled up under the blanket, her breathing soft but uneven, as if she were floating somewhere between exhaustion and restlessness, unable to fully let herself go. She wasn't awake yet. But he wasn't going to wake her.
Instead, without hesitation, he stepped out of the car, rounding the vehicle with quiet efficiency before opening the passenger side door. He adjusted the blanket around her carefully before slipping his arms beneath her, lifting her with ease, her frame still light against him as she instinctively curled inward, her body responding automatically to the shift in movement.
Da Bing leapt down from the back seat with a sharp, purposeful thud, his long tail flicking once as he stretched out before immediately trotting behind Sicheng, keeping pace without hesitation, his sharp blue eyes darting around the surroundings as if still assessing the safety of the territory they were stepping into.
Sicheng, already expecting what was coming, barely paused as he approached the front door of the base, his arms tightening around Yao just slightly as he braced himself. Because the second the door swung open…. They were all there. The entire team. Standing in the dimly lit entryway, some half-dressed, some rubbing the sleep from their eyes, some fully awake and already assessing the situation with sharp, knowing gazes.
Lao Mao and Pang stood near the back, their usual teasing expressions replaced with something unreadable as they both took in the scene in front of them.
Lao K had his arms crossed over his chest, his brows furrowed slightly, his gaze locked onto Yao's still figure in Sicheng's arms.
Ming, as expected, was silent but focused, his gaze calculating, already piecing things together without needing to be told anything.
Rui, looking the most stressed out of all of them, immediately opened his mouth to demand an explanation—
And then there was Yue. Who, after taking one look at the situation, immediately clamped his mouth shut, his usual playful demeanor vanishing completely.
Sicheng, standing there in the center of their stares, didn't bother offering any explanations, didn't waste time letting them react. He simply gave them all a look. A single, sharp look that silenced the room instantly.
Don't ask. Don't speak. Not now.
The weight of that unsaid command settled over the entire team, the air shifting just enough for them all to understand that whatever had happened tonight wasn't up for discussion.
At least not here. Not now.
Satisfied that no one was going to push, Sicheng's voice came low, even, and utterly final as he turned his attention to Yue.
"Go open my door."
Yue blinked. "Huh?"
Sicheng's gaze didn't waver. "I'm laying her down in my room. I'll sleep out here."
Yue, for once, didn't argue, didn't make any comments, didn't even hesitate. He simply turned on his heel, moving toward the hallway without another word, his usual energy completely replaced by something unreadable.
Sicheng, adjusting Yao slightly in his arms, finally stepped past the team, Da Bing brushing past their legs as he trotted after them, his tail still flicking sharply, his body language clear—he was staying close. And as the rest of the team watched Sicheng disappear down the hall with Yao in his arms, no one dared to say a single word.
Sicheng pushed the bedroom door open with quiet efficiency, stepping inside before moving toward the bed, adjusting his hold on Yao just slightly as he lowered her carefully onto the mattress. Even as she shifted in her sleep, her breath hitching just slightly as she instinctively curled into the warmth of the blanket he pulled over her, she remained unconscious, too exhausted, too drained to register the change in surroundings. He exhaled slowly, his fingers brushing over the edge of the blanket, ensuring it was tucked properly around her frame. She was safe now. She was here.
And yet—
Even knowing that, even after making sure she was settled, he couldn't bring himself to pull away immediately.
His sharp amber gaze lingered, tracing over the exhaustion still present in her features, the way her platinum-silver hair spilled over the pillow, the way her brows furrowed slightly even in sleep, as if her mind was still caught somewhere between reality and the remnants of the nightmare she had just lived through. His jaw tightened slightly, his fingers flexing before he finally let out a slow breath, his expression shifting into something unreadable as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. The contact was brief, barely there, but it held more weight than he was ready to acknowledge. And as he pulled back, Da Bing, who had been watching him the entire time, immediately leapt up onto the bed, the massive Siberian cat curling into Yao's side without hesitation, his thick fur brushing against her arm as he let out a low, possessive rumble.
Sicheng watched as Yao shifted slightly in response, her body recognizing the familiar presence of her furball guardian, her fingers subconsciously curling into the cat's thick coat even in sleep.
His lips pressed into a thin line before he finally exhaled, stepping back, his movements calculated as he turned toward the door, pushing it open without looking back. As soon as he stepped into the hallway, the others were already waiting. He barely had to say anything—just a single nod—before they understood the unspoken command.
Follow me.
No one argued.
No one hesitated.
They all fell into step behind him, their usual chaotic energy nowhere to be found as they followed him down the hall toward the living room, the tension thick and suffocating in a way that hadn't settled yet—because none of them knew what had happened. And as soon as Sicheng came to a stop in the center of the room, rolling his shoulders slightly before finally turning to face them—
The questions began.
The moment Sicheng turned to face them, the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface finally cracked, unleashing the flood of questions that had been building the second he had walked through the front door with Yao in his arms.
Yue, as expected, was the first to speak, his voice low but edged with something that was too sharp to be casual, his usually laid-back demeanor completely absent now. "What the hell happened?"
Lao K, arms crossed over his chest, his usual teasing gone, tilted his head slightly, his gaze locked onto Sicheng's face as he spoke with a rare seriousness. "She looked—" He hesitated, choosing his words carefully, but the weight behind them was obvious. "She didn't look okay."
Pang, who had been sitting near the edge of the couch, leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he let out a slow breath before muttering, "She wasn't just exhausted, was she?"
Rui, usually the first one to panic, wasn't speaking, but his expression was tight, his gaze flickering toward the hallway where Yao was now resting before settling back on Sicheng, his silent but obvious expectation clear—he wanted answers.
Sicheng didn't respond immediately. Didn't rush to explain. Instead, he exhaled slowly, his fingers flexing slightly before he dragged a hand down his face, forcing himself to stay controlled, to not let the remnants of his fury cloud his words—because if he let it surface now, if he let them hear just how close he had come to losing it entirely, it wouldn't help anything. Finally, after a long pause, he spoke, his voice low, even, but undeniably edged with something cold beneath it.
"Someone broke into her apartment."
Silence.
Complete, suffocating, heavy silence.
And then—
Lao Mao, his usually calm expression shifting just slightly, his brows furrowing, spoke first. "…What?"
Yue's entire body went rigid, his fingers curling into his sleeves as he processed what he had just heard. "You're kidding."
Sicheng's amber gaze flickered toward him, his expression unreadable. "Do I look like I'm joking?"
Pang let out a sharp exhale, dragging a hand through his hair before muttering, "No, but I wish like hell you were."
Ming, the only one who had yet to speak, finally shifted, his sharp gaze calculating as he asked, "And?"
Sicheng didn't hesitate. "It's handled."
Yue's head snapped up, his expression darkening. "How handled?"
Sicheng's lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tightening slightly before he spoke, his tone completely void of anything but certainty. "He's not a problem anymore."
Silence.
Lao K let out a slow breath, rubbing at his face before muttering, "Good."
Pang nodded once, his gaze unreadable as he leaned back into the couch. "Yeah. Good."
Rui, who had been silent up until now, finally exhaled, his fingers adjusting his glasses slightly before he muttered, "But that's not the only problem, is it?"
Sicheng's gaze flickered toward him, and for the first time since this conversation started, something in his jaw ticked slightly. Rui wasn't wrong. Because the bigger issue wasn't the man who had broken into her apartment. It was the girl now sleeping in his room, curled under a blanket with a cat that refused to leave her side, a girl who had been too shaken to come out of the bathroom until he had stepped inside himself.
The real problem?
Was that she hadn't fought him when he carried her out of there. Hadn't asked to go back. Hadn't even questioned it. Because deep down, she knew she wasn't going back.
And now?
Neither was Sicheng. He exhaled slowly, his fingers curling against his palm before he finally looked up, meeting the gazes of every single person in that room, ensuring they understood the weight of what he was about to say. "She's not staying there anymore. She's moving in here."
Yue's brows shot up, but he didn't argue.
Lao Mao, after a brief pause, simply nodded. "Makes sense."
Pang let out a slow breath, shaking his head slightly before muttering, "Guess that was gonna happen sooner or later anyway."
Rui, his protective instincts already activated, wasn't disagreeing.
And Ming?
Ming simply tilted his head, studying Sicheng with something unreadable in his gaze before murmuring, "And what about her?"
Because this wasn't just about where she lived. It was about where she belonged. And if there was one thing they all knew about Tong Yao, it was that she had spent her whole life figuring out how to take care of herself, how to exist without being someone's responsibility.
So Sicheng didn't answer immediately. Didn't try to force the conversation in one direction or the other. Instead, he exhaled slowly, his amber eyes flickering once toward the hallway where she now rested, before looking back at them. "She'll figure it out." And he would be right there when she did.
The base was quiet, the weight of the late hour settling over them, but despite the exhaustion that clung to him, Sicheng didn't sleep deeply. Even after forcing himself to rest for a few hours, even after making sure that Yao was in his room, safe, curled up in a space where no one could touch her, his body refused to fully relax. His mind, sharp and wired from everything that had happened, lingered somewhere between exhaustion and vigilance, waiting for something—anything—to go wrong.
And then it did.
A scream— raw, piercing, blood-curdling in its sheer panic— ripped through the silence of the base, shattering the fragile calm in an instant.
Sicheng lunged upright, fully alert in less than a second, his heart slamming against his ribs as his mind instantly registered where the sound had come from.
Yao.
He didn't hesitate. Didn't pause. Didn't even think. His body was already moving before his brain could catch up, his long strides eating up the distance between the living room and his bedroom in seconds, his heart hammering with a force that he refused to acknowledge as panic. He wasn't the only one who had been jolted awake.
Doors were being thrown open down the hallway, muffled curses and rapid footsteps filling the air as the rest of the team scrambled to react, but Sicheng was already too far ahead, already reaching the door to his room as he shoved it open with enough force to send it slamming against the wall.
The sight that met him nearly stopped his breath entirely.
Yao was pressed against the headboard, her entire frame trembling violently, her eyes wide with unfiltered terror, her breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps that sounded painfully close to sobs. Da Bing was in full defensive mode, his thick fur bristled as he crouched low on the bed beside her, his ears flattened, his sharp blue eyes flashing as he let out a deep, guttural growl, his entire body coiled like he was ready to strike at something that wasn't there.
And that was the problem. There was nothing there. Nothing that could hurt her. Nothing that was wrong. But she didn't know that. Her body was still trapped in the nightmare, still caught in the sheer terror of whatever had woken her, whatever had pulled that horrific scream from her lips, whatever had made her forget that she was safe.
Sicheng exhaled sharply, forcing his own racing heart to steady, his sharp amber gaze taking in everything in seconds, cataloging everything that needed to be done before he even moved.
Then—
Without hesitation, he took a slow, careful step forward.
"Yao."
She flinched violently, her breath hitching as her hazel eyes snapped toward him, wild, unfocused, completely lost somewhere that wasn't here. Somewhere she couldn't escape from.
His jaw tightened slightly, but his voice remained low, steady, controlled. "You're safe, Xiǎo Tùzǐ."
She didn't react. Didn't move. Didn't blink. She was still trapped in it.
So he tried again.
"It's just me."
Still nothing. Still that same lost, wide-eyed terror, the same shallow, gasping breaths, the same uncontrolled shaking. His fingers flexed slightly, but he didn't reach for her yet. Instead, he took another small, slow step forward, his body language deliberate, measured, controlled in a way that made it clear he wasn't a threat.
"Look at me, Yao."
For a brief moment, she did. Her hazel eyes flickered, something breaking through the haze, something grappling to find solid ground. He held onto that. Kept his gaze locked onto hers, kept his voice steady, calm, unwavering. "You're not there anymore."
A sharp breath hitched in her throat, her fingers gripping the blanket so tightly her knuckles had turned white.
Sicheng didn't push further. Didn't rush her. Didn't force himself closer. He just stood there, waiting, watching as the panic slowly began to shift, as the terror in her expression flickered into something else—something breaking, something exhausted, something raw.
Her breath came in short, uneven bursts, but the worst of it was beginning to pass, her body recognizing that she wasn't alone, that whatever had gripped her wasn't real anymore.
And then—
After what felt like an eternity—
Her lips parted slightly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"…Sicheng?"
And that?
That was enough.
He moved then. Closed the final space between them, stepping forward with an unshakable certainty as he reached out, gathering her trembling frame into his arms.
And this time—
She didn't flinch. Didn't fight him. Didn't try to pull away. She just collapsed into him, her entire body going limp, her breath hitching sharply as her fingers curled into his shirt, as if clinging to something solid for the first time in hours. His grip tightened. Just enough to keep her here. Just enough to let her know she wasn't alone. And as she buried herself against him, shaking, exhausted, trying to breathe past the weight of whatever had just shattered inside her—
Sicheng just held her.
Because right now?
That was all she needed.
It wasn't long before the rest of the team arrived, their hurried footsteps echoing through the hallway as they rushed toward Sicheng's room, their energy a stark contrast to the heavy silence that had fallen inside. The door was still ajar from when he had thrown it open, and as they stepped inside, their gazes immediately locked onto the scene in front of them—Yao, trembling, pressed into Sicheng's chest, her fingers curled tightly into the fabric of his shirt as if letting go wasn't an option.
No one spoke at first.
The weight of the moment settled over them, pressing into the air like an unspoken command. Don't ask. Don't make it worse. Just understand.
Ming, ever the quiet observer, was the first to step inside fully, his usually unreadable expression carrying something sharper, something that flickered with rare emotion as his gaze swept over Yao's shaking form. He didn't say anything, didn't ask unnecessary questions—he simply took in every detail, filing it away, already understanding what the others had yet to grasp.
Lao K, who had always been the most even-tempered, exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening slightly before he exchanged a brief glance with Ming, both of them standing just far enough away to give space but close enough to make it clear—they weren't leaving.
Lao Mao , usually the first to break tension with an offhand comment, looked visibly uncomfortable, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie as he shifted slightly on his feet, his gaze flickering between Yao and Sicheng before he finally exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "Damn…" It wasn't much, but it was enough to show just how much he didn't know what to do with this.
Pang, usually the loudest, the one who thrived on chaotic energy, had gone completely silent, his lips pressed into a thin line as he stood near the doorway, arms crossed, watching the way Yao hadn't moved an inch since Sicheng had pulled her into him.
Rui, their manager, looked outright exhausted, his face etched with concern as he ran a hand over his face, his gaze flickering toward Sicheng as if to ask a silent question—What now?
But it was Yue who moved first.
The younger Lu brother, who had never once hesitated to pry into Sicheng's business, who had always been the first to poke and prod at anything remotely personal, was surprisingly quiet as he stepped forward. His gaze flickered toward Yao, toward the way she was curled into his brother's hold, her entire frame still trembling in the aftershocks of whatever had torn her from sleep. Then, without looking away, without letting his usual sharp humor ruin the moment, his voice came low, steady, and uncharacteristically serious. "What happened?"
Sicheng didn't look at him immediately. Didn't acknowledge the question right away.
Instead, his fingers flexed slightly where they rested against Yao's back, his thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of the blanket still wrapped around her as he exhaled slowly. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, even, but carrying the kind of weight that told them all exactly how serious this was. "She had a nightmare."
Silence.
It wasn't an answer they had expected, and yet, as the words settled in the air, as they glanced at each other, at the way Yao was still struggling to even her breathing, still gripping onto Sicheng as if letting go meant losing something she couldn't afford to lose— It became clear that it wasn't just a nightmare. It was something worse.
Yue's jaw tightened slightly, his hands curling into his hoodie pockets, his expression unreadable as he exhaled through his nose. "Right. That much we figured."
Ming, who had remained silent, finally spoke, his voice just as even but carrying something else beneath it. "She screamed."
Sicheng's fingers twitched slightly against Yao's back, but his face remained unreadable. "I know."
"Not just screamed." Ming continued. "That wasn't a normal reaction. That wasn't someone waking up scared. That was something else."
Pang, who had been watching everything unfold in quiet tension, finally ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head slightly. "I don't think I've ever heard her raise her voice, let alone…" He trailed off, the words unspoken but understood.
Let alone scream like she was being torn apart.
Rui exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck before looking toward Sicheng. "What do we do?"
Sicheng, still steady, still unshaken in a way that only someone who had already made up their mind could be, lifted his gaze from Yao just slightly before speaking with unwavering certainty. "She's staying here.
Yue blinked, but he didn't argue. No one did. Because what was there to argue? Yao wasn't leaving. She wasn't going back to that apartment. She wasn't going anywhere they couldn't reach her. And now? Now that they had all seen just how deeply this had affected her, just how vulnerable she had been in that moment of panic, just how much she had needed someone to be there when she had woken up to a world she didn't recognize— There was no chance in hell any of them were going to let her go back.
Sicheng, still holding onto her, still waiting for her to breathe, waiting for her to find her way back from whatever place her mind had trapped her in, glanced toward the others one last time, ensuring they understood. "She's not alone anymore." And none of them were going to let her forget that.