Summary: Still shaken from the night before, Yao is given more than just space—she's given a choice. Lu Sicheng, quiet and resolute, opens a door she didn't know existed, offering her a place that isn't temporary or conditional, but hers. As the team rallies without question and laughter slowly returns to the room, something begins to shift. Because sometimes, home isn't just where you're safe. It's where they won't let you go.
Chapter Twelve
Hours later, after the team had finally settled back down, conversations dropping into hushed murmurs, and exhaustion taking over, Sicheng had made a decision.
Yao had still been visibly shaken, her hands clutching at the fabric of the blanket that had been draped over her, her movements slower, more hesitant, as if she was still grounding herself in reality after the events of the night. Her hair had been slightly damp with sweat, her expression distant, her body tense as if she couldn't quite let herself relax fully.
And Sicheng, having enough of it, had simply stood, extended a hand, and stated in a voice that left no room for argument, "You're taking a shower."
Yao had hesitated, blinking up at him with wide, uncertain eyes, but when she had tried to mutter something about being fine, about not wanting to be a bother, Sicheng had simply exhaled deeply, already expecting the resistance.
"It's not a request, Tong Yao."
And that had been that.
She had ended up in his bathroom, standing under the steaming water, letting it wash away the exhaustion, the lingering weight of fear that still clung to her like a second skin. He had left clothes for her, not bothering to offer anything overly formal or complicated—just a pair of old sweats that were too small for him, a black shirt, and an oversized hoodie that had long since lost its usefulness to him but now completely swallowed her. By the time she finally shuffled out of the hallway, her damp silver hair hanging loosely over her shoulders, her frame now completely drowned in the fabric of his clothing, the room had already been waiting for her.
The moment she stepped into the main area, barefoot, quiet, hesitant, every single person in the room turned to face her— And every single person had the exact same thought at once.
Adorable.
The sweats, despite being too small for Sicheng, were still slightly too long on her, the waistband cinched at her waist to keep them from slipping, the fabric pooling just slightly at her ankles. The black shirt she had layered underneath the hoodie was practically invisible beneath the thick fabric, the sleeves hanging far past her hands as she fidgeted slightly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, looking even smaller than she already was.
Ming, who rarely showed outward expressions of amusement, actually exhaled through his nose, his lips twitching slightly.
Lao K exchanged a look with Pang, both of them clearly trying to keep their thoughts to themselves.
Rui, who had spent the entire day mother-henning her in silence, seemed seconds away from commenting on how she looked like a child who had just stolen clothes from her older brother.
And Yue?
Yue was struggling. Because the second his gaze flickered from Yao to his very tense older brother, he had to bite back the smirk threatening to pull at his lips.
Sicheng, who had been leaning against the armrest of the couch, had gone completely still the second Yao stepped into the room. He wasn't gawking. Wasn't staring outright. But he was absolutely taking it in. The way his clothing engulfed her, making her seem even smaller, even softer, even more painfully unaware of the effect she had on the room. The way she fidgeted, her fingers curling into the long sleeves, her body shifting slightly as if she wasn't sure she was allowed to be standing there. The way she was clearly more withdrawn than usual, her posture just a little more defensive, as if she wasn't sure where she belonged.
And that?
That made something click in him.
Sicheng let out a slow, deep exhale, rubbing the back of his neck before finally pushing himself up from where he was sitting. "Come with me."
Yao's head snapped up, blinking at him. "Huh?"
He didn't elaborate. Didn't offer an explanation. He just turned, moving toward the far end of the hallway without looking back, fully expecting her to follow.
And after a second—she did.
With Da Bing trotting after them, she shuffled behind him, still fidgeting with the long sleeves of the hoodie as she tried to keep up with his pace, the warmth of the fabric engulfing her like a protective barrier as she trailed slightly behind him, uncertain but obedient.
Sicheng didn't take her toward the usual set of stairs. Didn't take her toward the rooms that everyone else used. Instead, he led her toward a separate staircase, one she had never noticed before, one that was tucked away near the far end of the hallway, a route that wasn't commonly used by the others.
"…Where are we going?" Yao hesitated slightly, her steps slowing.
Sicheng, still ahead of her, didn't turn around. Didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached the top of the stairs, pushed open the door leading to the newly renovated space he had prepared just for her, and then— Without any sort of grand reveal, without any dramatic explanation, without even looking at her— He simply stepped aside, letting her take in the sight for herself. Her new home. The space he had meticulously prepared, personally overseen, carefully designed just for her. A place that was hers and hers alone. A place where she would never have to feel like she didn't belong.
Yao stepped forward hesitantly, her hazel eyes wide and filled with quiet wonder as she took in the space before her, her fingers instinctively clutching at the long sleeves of Sicheng's oversized hoodie as she slowly scanned the room, trying to process everything at once.
The first thing that caught her attention was the sheer size of the space, far more expansive than she had expected, with warm lighting, high ceilings, and an open layout that somehow felt both grand and intimate at the same time. But what truly left her breathless were the large, floor-to-ceiling windows that stretched along the far wall, offering a breathtaking panoramic view of the city below, the distant skyline glowing against the night, the flickering lights of Shenzhen painting the world outside in a way that made it look almost surreal.
For a long moment, she simply stood there, transfixed, her breath catching slightly as the realization slowly sank in—this wasn't just some empty space in the base. This was a home. A home that had been designed for her.
Da Bing, clearly having already decided he belonged here, made an immediate beeline for the massive plush cat tree positioned near one of the windows, his large paws gripping the edge as he effortlessly leapt to the highest perch, his long tail flicking in contentment as he surveyed his new domain like a king settling into his throne.
Yao, still standing near the entrance, her arms tucked into the oversized hoodie, finally turned slowly to face Sicheng, her voice quiet but carrying the unmistakable weight of confusion and disbelief. "…What is this place?"
Sicheng, who had been leaning casually against the doorway, watching her take everything in, finally pushed off the wall, his movements calm, unhurried, but carrying an undeniable sense of purpose as he stepped forward. His sharp amber eyes flickered toward her, taking in the uncertainty, the hesitation, the way she still looked as if she couldn't quite believe she was allowed to be here. He exhaled slowly before answering.
"It's yours."
Yao blinked rapidly, her brows furrowing slightly as if she wasn't sure she had heard him correctly. "Mine?"
Sicheng nodded, his tone smooth, steady, carrying an unshakable certainty that left no room for doubt. "This is your space. Your home. I had it done for you."
She didn't speak immediately. Didn't know how to speak. Her mind was still catching up, still trying to process what he was saying, what it meant. She turned again, her gaze sweeping over the details she had missed at first glance—the way the furniture was arranged in a way that felt both open and cozy, the way the kitchen area was fully stocked with non-perishables, the way there was a separate room just beyond the main living space that was clearly meant to be an office, carefully set up with everything she would need to continue her studies. And then there was her bedroom, the door slightly ajar, revealing a glimpse of a space that was warm and welcoming, with soft lighting and furniture that felt like it had been selected with her comfort in mind.
Everything about this place felt intentional.
And that?
That terrified her.
Her throat tightened slightly as she turned back to Sicheng, her hands clenching the sleeves of the hoodie as she struggled to find the words, to understand what she was supposed to say, how she was supposed to respond. "I—I don't understand…" Her voice was soft, hesitant, her gaze flickering to the space around them again before landing back on him. "Why did you… why would you do this?"
Sicheng met her gaze head-on, his amber eyes unreadable, but his voice carried nothing but certainty. "Because you needed it." That was it. No long explanation. No elaborate reasoning. Just the truth. Because she did need this. Even if she didn't know it yet.
Yao's breath caught slightly, her fingers curling tighter into the oversized sleeves of his hoodie, her hazel eyes still wide with uncertainty, with something raw and unguarded as she tried to process his words. "What do you mean?" Her voice was soft, hesitant, almost as if she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer.
Sicheng exhaled slowly, his sharp amber gaze unwavering as he stepped forward, closing the small distance between them but not crowding her, not pushing her. Instead, his voice was calm, measured, carrying a certainty that left no room for misinterpretation. "I did this because I know you."
Yao stiffened slightly, her lips parting as if she wanted to speak, but no words came.
"You're used to being on your own." His voice remained steady, unshaken, as if he had already thought this through a hundred times before saying it out loud. "You're not used to being surrounded by people constantly. You never have been. And I wasn't going to make you live somewhere that didn't feel like yours."
She swallowed hard, her throat tightening, because he was right. She had spent so much of her life in quiet spaces, living alone since she was eighteen, learning how to exist without being part of something bigger, without feeling like she had to fit into a world that wasn't built for her. She had figured out how to be self-sufficient, how to rely on herself and no one else. And now, standing here, in this space that he had built for her, it was the first time she had ever been given something that wasn't about what was convenient for others—it was about her.
Sicheng watched her, taking in every flicker of hesitation, every unspoken question behind her eyes, before continuing, his voice dipping lower, smoother. "This is your sanctuary, Yao."
She blinked, startled by the words, the weight of them sinking into her chest before she could even begin to process them. "No one is allowed up here unless you allow it."
Her breath hitched.
"Not the team. Not Rui. Not me."
She stared at him, her heart pounding too loudly in her ears, because the way he said it—the absolute finality in his tone, the quiet authority that left no room for argument— It meant that this wasn't just some temporary arrangement. This wasn't about convenience. This was hers. Her space. Her home. And no one, not even him, would step into it unless she wanted them to. Her throat tightened again, but this time it wasn't from uncertainty. It was something else, something heavier, something she wasn't sure she was ready to name yet. Slowly, hesitantly, she whispered, "You… really did all of this for me?"
"Of course I did." Sicheng tilted his head slightly, watching her carefully, his gaze burning with something deep, something unreadable. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Sicheng had been prepared for hesitation, had expected her to take time to process everything, to stand there with that wide, disbelieving look in her eyes as she tried to wrap her mind around the fact that someone had done this for her, that she had been given something so deliberately hers—something that wasn't a burden, something that wasn't conditional, something that was simply meant for her. But what he hadn't been prepared for— Was the sudden impact of her small frame colliding into him. For the briefest moment, his breath caught.
Because Yao never initiated touch. She had always been the type to flinch when startled, the type to tense slightly whenever someone got too close, the type to keep a respectable distance, not because she was afraid, but because she had never learned how to reach out first.
And yet—
Here she was.
Arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her fingers clutching at the fabric of the hoodie she was still swimming in, her face pressed against his chest as if she had simply acted before thinking, before hesitating, before stopping herself.
And Sicheng, for the first time in longer than he could remember, found himself completely, utterly still. Because he hadn't expected this. Hadn't expected her to cling to him so tightly, hadn't expected the way she would lean into him with the full weight of someone who didn't even realize what she was doing, didn't even realize how naturally she had just given into it. His arms came around her on instinct, the motion smooth, controlled, but the second his hands settled against her back, the second he felt her respond to the contact by leaning further into it, something sharp twisted inside of him.
Because his mother had been right. The memory of her words came back to him in full force, the calculated certainty behind them ringing clear in his mind.
"She's touch-starved."
He had acknowledged it, had known it even before Wang Lan had pointed it out, had seen it in the way Yao hesitated when people reached for her, the way she froze for a fraction of a second before letting someone touch her, the way she never actively sought out contact herself. But knowing it wasn't the same as feeling it. Because now, standing here, with her in his arms, with the way she had unconsciously melted into the embrace, he could feel it—the way her body reacted, the way it took no effort at all for her to settle against him, the way she instinctively adjusted to the warmth like she was absorbing something she had gone too long without.
And that?
That was the real problem. His jaw tightened, his fingers flexing against the fabric of the hoodie she wore, but he didn't pull away. Didn't loosen his hold. Didn't do anything but hold her exactly where she was, exactly how she needed in this moment.
Because for now—
For once—
She had reached for something, and he wasn't going to be the one to let go first.
For a few seconds, there was nothing but warmth, nothing but quiet, nothing but the steady, unshaken certainty of his presence wrapped around her.
And then—
She realized what she had done. It hit her all at once, the weight of her own actions crashing down on her like a tidal wave, the sudden, sharp awareness of just how easily she had clung to him, of how she had closed the distance between them without a single second of hesitation. Her breath hitched audibly, and in the next instant— She was yanking herself back. It was so sudden, so abrupt that she nearly stumbled in her own haste to create space, her balance momentarily thrown off by how quickly she had moved. Her hands clawed at the fabric of the hoodie, gripping at the oversized sleeves as if she could physically anchor herself from the sheer mortification flooding her system.
Oh god.
Oh god, oh god, oh god.
Her entire face was burning, heat rushing up from her neck to the very tips of her ears, her hazel eyes widening in horror as she scuttled backward, practically retreating like she had just touched fire. She couldn't even look at him. She couldn't even process the way he was reacting, because she was too lost in her own flustered panic, too lost in the reality that she had just—
She had just hugged him.
She had just thrown herself at him.
She had just—
Oh god.
Her breath came out uneven, rapid, completely thrown off by the realization, her fingers twitching violently against the fabric of the hoodie, her head bowing as she practically curled into herself, trying to shrink, trying to disappear, trying to pretend that hadn't just happened. "I-I—I didn't mean—" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, her words tripping over themselves as she desperately tried to backpedal, as if somehow explaining it would undo what had just happened. "I-I wasn't—I wasn't thinking—I just—" Her brain refused to cooperate. Her words weren't making sense. She was too flustered, too overwhelmed, too horrified at herself to do anything but babble uselessly. Her entire body felt too hot, her heart hammering wildly in her chest, her legs unsteady beneath her, and she was still trying to put as much space between them as possible, her steps awkward, scattered, her gaze darting anywhere but toward him.
Because she couldn't. She couldn't look at him. She couldn't handle whatever expression he was making, whatever reaction was on his face, whether it was amusement, confusion, or—worse—something unreadable. So she did the only thing her panicked brain could manage. She turned her back on him completely, wrapped her arms tightly around herself, and tried to pretend like she wasn't seconds away from absolutely self-destructing where she stood.
Sicheng watched it all unfold silently, his sharp amber gaze steady, unreadable, as Yao all but self-destructed right in front of him. One second, she had been pressed against him, warm, small, clinging without hesitation, completely unaware of what she was doing—and the next, she was tearing herself away like she had been caught committing some kind of crime. She was flailing, stammering, grasping for words that wouldn't come, her hands curling into the oversized sleeves of the hoodie as if she could physically shrink herself out of existence. And then, as if the embarrassment wasn't already consuming her enough, she turned her back on him completely, wrapping her arms around herself like a barrier, like a shield, as if that alone could undo what had just happened.
Sicheng didn't move. Didn't say anything. Didn't immediately react. Because he was still processing the absolute ridiculousness of what had just occurred. The way she had thrown herself at him so easily, so naturally, like it was the most instinctive thing in the world. The way she had melted into the embrace without a single ounce of hesitation, seeking out warmth, seeking out something she had never realized she needed.
And then—
The moment awareness had hit her? The way she had completely short-circuited, as if she had just done something unforgivable.
He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face, forcing himself to rein in the sudden urge to laugh at how absolutely absurd this entire situation had become. Because she was hiding from him now. Hiding like a flustered child, like she had just said something mortifying in public and was now trying to pretend she didn't exist.
And it was—
It was kind of adorable.
His lips twitched slightly, but he managed to keep his expression neutral, his amusement buried beneath a layer of calm patience as he finally—finally—broke the silence.
"Yao."
Her entire body jerked slightly, her back still turned, her fingers tightening their grip on the hoodie sleeves as if she could physically shield herself from whatever was coming next.
She didn't answer.
Didn't move.
Didn't even breathe.
Sicheng sighed through his nose, shifting his weight slightly, watching as she continued to stand there, completely and utterly stiff, as if maybe—just maybe—if she stood still enough, he would forget she was there. Finally, after another long pause, his voice came again, smoother this time, low but edged with quiet amusement.
"Are you done panicking, Xiǎo Tùzǐ?"
Yao made a very soft noise, something between a squeak and a strangled whimper, and Sicheng had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smirking outright. Because she was actually dying of embarrassment. Because this—this entire thing—was so unnecessary, so dramatic, so unbelievably her that he didn't even have to look at her face to know it was probably bright red.
When she still didn't respond, still didn't move, still looked like she was trying to become one with the oversized hoodie in an attempt to vanish entirely, he exhaled again and finally decided to make it easier on her.
"Relax." His voice wasn't teasing. Wasn't sharp. Wasn't mocking. It was just calm. Just steady. Just the same unshaken certainty that had always been there. "You don't need to run from me."
Another pause.
Then—softer this time, so quiet it barely reached her ears—
"You never did."
Yao stilled completely. Her fingers, still curled into the hoodie, flexed slightly. Her breath, still unsteady, hitched just slightly. And for the first time since her entire breakdown had begun. She hesitated. Because this was different. Because now? She wasn't just panicking over what she had done. She was realizing something else entirely. And that? That was even more dangerous.
Sicheng, watching the way she remained frozen in place, still gripping the sleeves of his hoodie as if she could physically disappear into the fabric, finally decided to have mercy on her. She was already flustered beyond comprehension, already overwhelmed, already too caught up in whatever spiral her brain had trapped her in.
Pushing her further?
Pointless.
So instead of teasing her, instead of making her embarrassment worse, he exhaled slowly and shifted the conversation entirely. "My men will be here later with your things."
Yao blinked.
Slowly.
Like she hadn't expected him to say that. Like her brain had been so consumed by her own panic that she had forgotten everything else. "M-My things?" she repeated softly, her voice hesitant, her head turning just slightly as if debating whether she was brave enough to look at him yet.
Sicheng nodded, his arms crossing over his chest as he watched her carefully, gauging every subtle reaction. "Your apartment's being packed up as we speak."
Her lips parted slightly, her hazel eyes flickering with something unreadable, something hesitant but not resistant. Not afraid. She wasn't fighting it. Wasn't arguing. Wasn't telling him she wanted to go back. Because deep down, she already knew. She wasn't going back. There was nothing left for her there. And he wasn't about to make her handle it alone.
"My mother is taking care of your university housing situation." His tone was smooth, controlled, utterly steady in a way that left no room for uncertainty. "She'll handle whatever needs to be done with the scholarship. You won't have to deal with any of it."
Yao blinked again, her fingers twitching slightly against the fabric of the hoodie. "She—" She hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. "…She's really handling all of that?"
"Do you think she wouldn't?" Sicheng exhaled slowly, tilting his head slightly as he watched her.
Yao bit her lip, her hands tightening slightly, but she didn't answer. Because she knew the answer already. Lu Wang Lan wasn't the type to say something and not follow through. If she had decided to take care of it, then it was already done.
Sicheng, seeing that she wasn't about to argue, leaned slightly against the edge of the counter, his gaze still locked onto her. And then, in a voice so calm, so utterly certain, he gave her the only instructions she needed to hear. "All you need to do now is focus on yourself."
Yao stilled as her hazel eyes flickered toward him again, wide, uncertain, something vulnerable pressing at the edges of her hesitation. Because no one had ever told her that before. No one had ever taken care of everything else for her. No one had ever made it so that the only thing left for her to do was just… exist.
Be.
And yet, here he was, standing in front of her, telling her that she didn't need to worry, that she didn't need to handle everything on her own, that for the first time in a long time. Someone else was making sure she didn't have to carry everything alone. Her fingers flexed slightly, the fabric of the hoodie soft against her skin, her body slowly beginning to relax, as if her mind was finally catching up to what was happening.
And Sicheng, watching it all unfold, simply waited. Because he knew she was realizing something. Something big and he wasn't going to rush her. Because sooner or later, she was going to say it out loud.
A few hours later, the sound of footsteps, quiet conversation, and the occasional grunt of effort filled the otherwise peaceful space as the team moved carefully, carrying boxes and bags up the stairs to the apartment that Sicheng had prepared for Yao. None of them complained, none of them questioned why they were doing this—because it was obvious. She wasn't just moving in. She was being brought home. And none of them were going to let her feel like she was a burden because of it.
Yao, still clearly overwhelmed, stood near the entrance, her hazel eyes flickering between them as they moved around her, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of the hoodie she was still wrapped up in. It was obvious she didn't quite know what to do with herself, didn't quite know how to accept this much attention without feeling like she needed to apologize for it.
Lao K, who had been carrying in a large box filled with her books, noted the way she kept shifting awkwardly, her posture slightly stiff, her gaze filled with hesitation, and he exhaled through his nose before tilting his head toward the couch. "You can sit down, you know." His voice was even, casual, as if he were commenting on something as simple as the weather. "You don't have to stand there like we're moving you along with the boxes."
Lao Mao, who had just finished stacking some of her bags neatly by the entrance, grinned slightly, glancing over at her. "Yeah, Yao, you look like you're about to bolt."
Pang, who had already made himself at home by stretching across one of the chairs, sighed dramatically. "She's probably overwhelmed because we're actually doing things properly instead of throwing everything into one giant mess like we usually do."
Ming, always the quiet observer, exhaled softly, his gaze flickering toward her with something calm, steady, and pointed. "Just let it happen."
Yao, already flushing slightly, swallowed hard before shifting again, her fingers curling into the oversized sleeves of Sicheng's hoodie. "…I just don't want to be in the way."
Sicheng, who had been watching her from his position near the doorway, let out a slow breath before stepping forward, his tone smooth, firm, and carrying a quiet finality that left no room for argument. "You're not."
She glanced up at him, blinking, clearly still hesitant, still unsure of how to process everything.
Sicheng didn't push further, didn't try to force her to sit down immediately, but his expression was steadfast, unwavering, the kind that told her she wasn't going to change his mind no matter how hard she tried.
And slowly, finally, after a brief pause— She moved toward the couch, sitting down carefully, her body still a little tense, but the longer she sat, the more her shoulders began to lose that stiff hesitation.
The team didn't make a big deal out of it. They didn't hover, didn't fuss over her—because that would have made it worse. Instead, they kept talking, kept moving, kept things as normal as possible, as if this had already been the way things were supposed to be from the beginning.
And that?
That made it easier.
Because instead of feeling like she was being taken care of, like she was some fragile thing that needed to be handled carefully, she was just—
There.
Part of it.
Part of them.
And as Da Bing jumped up beside her, curling up lazily against her thigh, flicking his tail in contentment, she finally exhaled softly, her fingers absentmindedly scratching behind his ears as she let herself settle into the space that had already become hers.
As the last of the boxes were carried inside and things began to settle, the tension that had lingered in the air finally started to lift, shifting into something lighter, easier, as if the team had collectively decided that tonight didn't need to be any heavier than it already was.
Yao, who had been slowly relaxing into the couch, her fingers absentmindedly scratching behind Da Bing's ears, hadn't realized how much she had needed the shift in energy until Yue, never one to let things stay too serious for too long, suddenly turned toward her with a grin that was just a little too mischievous.
"Alright, Yao, serious question."
She blinked, her hazel eyes flickering up toward him, still looking a little hesitant, a little unsure, but curious nonetheless. "What?"
Yue stretched his arms behind his head, his grin widening slightly. "Let's say, hypothetically, someone were to completely wipe out in public. Like—bam—face hits the ground, full-on disaster moment. What's the best way to recover?"
"Oh my god, Yue." Pang snorted from where he was sitting across the room.
Lao K smirked. "What, are you planning ahead for your next embarrassing moment?"
Ming, ever composed, merely sighed. "Is there a reason for this question, or are you just trying to distract her?"
Yue didn't even hesitate. "Both."
Yao, still a little caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic, opened her mouth automatically—but then, before she could even think about what she was saying, the answer just slipped out.
"Pick yourself up and say, 'Sorry, it's been a while since I have inhabited a body,' and then just walk away."
Dead silence.
Complete.
Utter.
Silence.
Then—
Lao K choked.
Lao Mao bent over, letting out a sharp, wheezing laugh as he slapped his knee. "Oh my god—Yao—"
Pang was gone, actually doubling over from where he was sitting, his head in his hands as he tried to breathe. "No—no way that just came out of her mouth—"
Rui, the one person who should have been responsible, looked absolutely horrified but also like he was holding back laughter as he pressed a hand over his face. "Please don't ever actually say that in public."
Ming, though normally unfazed by everything, actually exhaled through his nose, his lips twitching slightly as he muttered, "Unexpected but effective."
Yue, who had started this entire thing, was currently staring at Yao like she had just delivered the single greatest piece of wisdom he had ever heard in his life. "That… that might be the best thing I've ever heard."
Yao, who had only just realized what she had said, immediately turned red, pulling the sleeves of the hoodie over her hands as if she could somehow erase the last thirty seconds."I—I wasn't thinking—I just—"
Sicheng, who had been standing near the kitchen, having just finished grabbing himself a drink, finally turned his head toward her, his expression unreadable.
For a moment, the room held its breath, waiting to see what he would say.
Then—
He exhaled slowly, took a sip of his drink, and muttered under his breath:
"…Accurate."
The room exploded again.
Yao let out a high-pitched squeak, her entire body going stiff the moment she heard Sicheng's comment. The weight of what she had just said, the absolute ridiculousness of blurting it out in front of the entire team, finally hit her full force. And she absolutely could not handle it. With zero hesitation, she yanked the oversized sleeves of Sicheng's hoodie over her hands, curled into herself, and buried her face into the fabric, effectively disappearing from existence.
The room erupted again, the team absolutely losing it at her reaction.
Lao Mao, still recovering from laughing, leaned back against the armrest, grinning widely. "She's actually combusting—look at her—she's gone."
Pang, who had barely caught his breath, let out another sharp wheeze, shaking his head. "We broke her. Someone call tech support."
Yue, clearly having the time of his life, draped an arm over the back of the couch, shaking his head in mock admiration. "I've never been prouder. This is growth."
Lao K, amused but composed, leaned slightly toward Ming. "We should probably make sure she doesn't overheat from secondhand embarrassment."
Ming, completely deadpan, glanced at Yao's now-hidden form and simply said, "She'll survive."
Meanwhile, Sicheng, who had caused the final push into her downward spiral, stood near the kitchen, completely unbothered, his expression still unreadable as he sipped his drink. But his sharp amber gaze was flickering toward her, watching the way she had curled up, the way she was practically trying to disappear into the hoodie that was far too big for her.
And his lips?
They twitched.
Just slightly.
Just enough for Yue, who was always watching, to catch it. "Oh my god." Yue's grin turned outright wicked as he leaned forward, eyes flashing. "Ge, you're enjoying this, aren't you?"
Sicheng didn't respond immediately. Didn't confirm or deny it. He simply exhaled, finished his drink, and finally set the glass down before turning his attention back to Yao, who was still curled into herself like a flustered ball of regret. And in a voice that was far too calm, far too smooth, he simply asked, "Are you planning on coming out of there at any point, or do I need to get you a permanent hiding spot?"
Yao let out another muffled squeak, shrinking further.
The team howled.