Summary: It starts with a schedule and ends in soft chaos. Between carefully placed magnets and casually dropped names, one truth becomes impossible to ignore—she's not on the outside anymore. She's at the center, whether she means to be or not. And as everyone adjusts to the gravity she quietly exerts, one thing is clear: no one's leaving her side when it matters.
Notes:
⚠️Author's Note: Alert Territorial Chessman!
Chapter Thirty-One
Yao stood in front of the fridge, her fingers fidgeting with the edges of the color-coded schedule she had carefully laminated and double-checked twice—just to be sure it accounted for both the spring half of the OPL season and the natural chaos that came with living among professional e-sports players.
Behind her, Ai Jia and Jinyang lingered a few steps back, watching with identical expressions—curiosity giving way to something warmer, deeper, something undeniably amused.
She pressed the magnet into place on the upper left corner, smoothing the laminated schedule carefully against the stainless steel surface, and then stepped back with a small, quiet inhale. Her cheeks were already pink, her lashes lowered, and she didn't need to say a word for the truth to be written all over her face.
She had put thought into this.
Care.
Time.
This wasn't about control, and it wasn't about making demands—it was about balance. About making space for everyone in her life, because she loved them all in different ways and didn't want anyone to feel less important. Not her team. Not her best friend. Not the man whose voice alone could ground her on her worst days.
Monday nights: Reserved for her and Cheng.
Wednesday nights: Reserved for Jinyang and Ai Jia, unless YQCB had an urgent matter to deal with.
Thursday nights: Team night, as long as training didn't run overtime—pizza, movies, game reviews, casual chaos.
Saturday nights: Group night, if no one had matches. Dinners out or at home. A rotating cast of ZGDX, YQCB.
It was a small thing.
But it mattered.
And when Yao turned around, biting her lip nervously, her fingers twitching in the sleeves of her hoodie, Ai Jia blinked, because right then, it hit him again just how much she had grown. This wasn't the girl who used to hover at the edge of every group photo or nervously rehearse her sentences before offering input on a strat sheet. This was the girl who had fought her way into the middle of a world not designed for her and carved out a space where everyone wanted to stay.
Jinyang let out a low whistle, tilting her head as her eyes skimmed over the schedule. "Wow, she really has every single one of you wrapped around her finger." she muttered, arms crossing lightly.
"It's actually worse than I thought." Ai Jia exhaled, the corner of his mouth twitching.
And when they looked toward the living room—
They saw it.
Sicheng standing at the edge of the hallway, one arm crossed lazily over his chest, the other holding a half-empty water bottle, his gaze locked on Yao with that quiet, unreadable softness that only appeared when she wasn't looking. Pang leaned over the couch arm with a grin, already reading the schedule out loud like it was gospel, while Yue blinked, muttering something about how he needed to rearrange his snack schedule accordingly. Lao Mao and Lao K nodded silently like it had been obvious she'd end up organizing them all eventually.
The moment she turned toward them, still flustered, still unsure if they'd think she was overstepping. Every single one of them nodded in approval.
And Jinyang?
She smiled slowly, watching the way Cheng didn't even glance at the schedule. His gaze never left Yao. Wrapped around her finger? No. It was deeper than that. They were orbiting her now and none of them seemed to mind.
Yao, still looking adorably flustered and entirely too earnest for her own good, stood near the fridge with her fingers lightly brushing over the edge of the laminated schedule as if adjusting it for the fifth time wasn't completely unnecessary. She cleared her throat softly, her voice quiet but certain as she turned slightly to glance back at Ai Jia and Jinyang. "Lee Kun Hyeok messaged me on Weibo," she said. "He said he'd be happy to come to the Saturday group dinners too. I—I didn't even ask. He just saw the post about my cooking and sent me a thumbs-up and a bunch of cat stickers."
That was all she said.
But it was enough.
The air shifted.
Visibly.
Because somewhere across the room, the temperature dropped two degrees as Lu Sicheng—still standing with one hand in his pocket, the other nursing his water bottle—lifted his gaze slowly from the couch toward her.
Sharp.
Pinning.
Amber eyes locked onto her as his voice cut through the low murmur of the living room, low and edged with something quiet and unmistakably territorial. "When," he asked, "did you and Kun Hyeok start messaging each other?"
Yao blinked, startled by the question, clearly not having expected that to be the part he latched onto. Her lips parted, hesitating slightly. "I… I posted about dumplings two nights ago and he replied to it." Her brows furrowed innocently. "I thought it was polite to respond…"
But by then, it was too late.
The moment had already passed.
And the room?
Absolutely erupted.
"Oh no, someone's hair is turning green." Lao Mao muttered, grinning as he leaned back dramatically against the couch.
"God, it's the smell of vinegar, so strong!" Pang choked on his drink, lifting his hand to his mouth as he coughed out a strangled.
Yue, lounging sideways in his chair with all the smugness of a younger brother who lived for chaos, arched a brow and deadpanned, "Do we need to get him a fan? The jealousy's coming off him in waves."
"Should we call the stylist? Get ahead of it? Book Cheng in for a hair dye appointment—go full jade green, match the mood." Pang added, already elbowing Lao K.
Sicheng didn't flinch.
Didn't glare.
Didn't even roll his eyes.
He just stared at Yao, his gaze unwavering, his jaw ticking once before he muttered, almost too low to hear, "I should've known better than to let him near the claw machine."
Yao's face turned scarlet. "W-We were at the mall!" she stammered. "You're the one who invited me!"
"And you're the one who answered him," Sicheng replied flatly, crossing the room slowly toward her, his tone still calm—but his eyes? Burning. "On Weibo. In public."
Jinyang, watching the exchange unfold like the world's most intense domestic drama over dumplings, leaned toward Ai Jia with a grin and whispered, "Should we go? I feel like this is about to turn into a lovers' quarrel and I'd rather not be caught in the crossfire."
Ai Jia, holding Yao's snacks and clearly already regretting being part of this dynamic, just sighed.
And Yao?
Still red. Still wide-eyed. Still backed up slightly against the fridge like she wasn't sure if she was about to be scolded or kissed. Stammered faintly, "I—I can stop replying if you want…"
Sicheng's response was instant. "You're not stopping," he said quietly, stepping into her space. "But I am changing your settings."
Yao blinked. "…My Weibo settings?"
Sicheng leaned in, one brow raised in absolute deadpan certainty. "From now on," he said, "they message me first especially if it's from boys that need to remain in their own lane."
And the boys?
Absolutely lost it.
Yue fell off the chair, wheezing.
Lao Mao howled.
Ming and Lao K smirked as they glanced to one another with an amused look.
Pang clapped once and declared, "There it is! Possessive, territorial mode activated. Someone go make popcorn!"
And Yao?
Yao was still blushing furiously but she didn't move away. Because territorial or not. He was hers and she, absolutely, was his.
Sicheng didn't say another word—not to the peanut gallery still wheezing behind him, not to the flushed, wide-eyed girl half-hiding behind the refrigerator door, and definitely not to the smug Midlaner across the room who looked one sarcastic breath away from saying something else that would earn him an eraser to the face. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone with the slow, deliberate calm of a man calculating revenge with perfect clarity, and unlocked it with a flick of his thumb. His fingers moved quickly across the screen, the corners of his mouth twitching downward into something half annoyed, half resigned.
To: Hierophant [Delivered]
Stop messaging my girlfriend, you clingy raccoon. I know she's polite and sunshine incarnate, but that doesn't mean she's accepting applications for new orbiting idiots. Get your own emotional support human.
He hit send.
Then sighed.
Because of course Kun Hyeok would respond. The man was incapable of reading the tone when it suited him. And the worst part? He liked Yao. Not in any kind of threatening way but in the infuriating, gleeful, soft-eyed way that everyone who met her eventually did. Because she was just like that. Warm without trying, sharp when needed, and polite even when she was internally panicking. It wasn't her fault. She didn't even realize she drew people in. She was just… her. His little sunshine-brained strategist who still apologized to vending machines when she bumped into them and got flustered when people praised her too directly.
Sicheng turned, gaze sweeping across the room as he caught her peeking around the fridge door again like a startled fox kit. He muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else, "Why is it that my girlfriend is basically a gravitational anomaly?"
No one answered.
But Pang did lift a hand and call out helpfully, "Because you pulled the sun down from the sky, Captain. Now the rest of us are getting the tan!"
Sicheng threw him a look, then typed another message.
To: Hierophant [Delivered]
Touch the claw machine plush again and I will put you through a scrim so brutal, your mouse will file for emotional damages.
Then he pocketed his phone and walked right back over to where Yao stood, blinked once at her completely innocent expression—and tugged the fridge door closed gently. "Mine," he said calmly.
The phone buzzed once.And the moment Lu Sicheng saw the contact name flash across the screen, Lee Kun Hyeok with a raccoon emoji he never bothered to remove, his eyes narrowed. He unlocked the message with the air of a man bracing himself for a storm.
Hierophant: Yah, hyung, don't be so dramatic. Your girlfriend is polite. It's not my fault she has the social gravity of a k-drama female lead. I'm just a friendly satellite. 😇
Sicheng's jaw tightened.
Buzz.
Another message.
Hierophant : Speaking of... you should probably brace yourself. Hang Suk noticed her during the drawing ceremony. You know how he is.
There was a pause, just long enough to give Sicheng false hope that the message barrage had ended before the third one dropped like a bomb.
Hierophant : One look and he's smitten. Said, and I quote, "She looks like the kind of girl who'd scold me for skipping meals and then bring me ginger tea." He's already planning to ask for her contact next match day. I told him good luck. I'll let you two fight to the death.
Sicheng didn't breathe for a second. Didn't blink. Just stared at the screen with an expression so dark, so utterly unreadable, that the three ZGDX idiots still lurking in the room collectively took a step back like something primal had stirred. Then—slowly, very deliberately—he turned off his phone. Tucked it back into his pocket. Cracked his neck. And muttered beneath his breath, voice low, clipped, and very, very dangerous. "…I'm going to kill him."
Yue, from across the room, blinked. "Kun Hyeok?"
"No, Hang Suk. " Sicheng said, voice devoid of inflection.
Lao Mao, already backing up, held up both hands. "Captain, remember your blood pressure—"
Pang whistled. "Wow, vinegar and territorial homicide. Cheng's officially gone full possessive husband mode."
But none of them dared joke too loud. Because Lu Sicheng wasn't just annoyed. He was already planning a scrim so brutal, so psychologically dismantling, that Hang Suk's mouse might actually file for abuse.
Sicheng's eyes slid back to Yao, who was now sitting on the couch, brushing Da Bing's fur and completely unaware of the war brewing in his chest. And that made it worse. Because she didn't know. Didn't know how she looked when she smiled softly at nothing. Didn't know how her voice carried that quiet, gentle cadence when she spoke Korean with that slight Suzhou lilt. Didn't know how other people, rivals, opponents, younger brothers, saw her.
But he did.
And Hang Suk?
Was about to regret ever opening his damn mouth.
Sicheng exhaled slowly, ran a hand down his face, and muttered, "I'm changing all the strat pairings for next week. We're scrimming FNC until they break."
And God help them when they did.
Yao, still gently brushing through Da Bing's thick, stubborn coat, paused mid-stroke as she glanced up at the sudden shift in the room's atmosphere, Sicheng had gone still in that way he always did when something had thoroughly irritated him, but what truly caught her attention was the way Jinyang had quietly started snickering beside Ai Jia, who had turned his head slightly to hide the amused grin tugging at his lips. Her hazel eyes flicked between them, then back to her clearly brooding boyfriend who was very pointedly not looking in her direction as he tapped—no, stabbed—at his phone with barely restrained annoyance. Blinking, confused but cautious, she tilted her head and asked, her voice soft but threaded with uncertainty, "Who's Hang Suk?"
The moment the name left her mouth, Jinyang actually let out a full laugh and leaned into Ai Jia, muttering, "Oh, she doesn't even know —he's doomed."
"Do you want the short version or the dramatic Cheng-ge version?" Ai Jia coughed to cover his own laughter.
Yao, thoroughly perplexed now, looked back to Sicheng. "Cheng-ge?"
He didn't answer at first. Just slipped his phone into his pocket with the slow deliberation of a man counting down to someone's public execution. Then—finally—he met her gaze, eyes sharp, mouth set in a thin line. "Hang Suk is Kun Hyeok's younger brother," he said evenly. "Captain and Jungler of FNC. Apparently, he saw you at the drawing ceremony."
Yao blinked again. "Okay…?"
Sicheng's jaw tightened. "He's 'smitten.'"
Her brows furrowed. "With who?"
"You!" Jinyang and Ai Jia said in perfect, unrepentant harmony.
Yao's mouth parted slightly in confusion, and then—realization dawned. Her eyes went wide. "Oh. Oh." A pause. Then, quietly—"He doesn't even know me."
"Didn't stop him," Sicheng muttered.
"This is gonna be better than any telenovela." Ai Jia, grinning now, nudged Jinyang with his elbow.
"Wait till she finds out Kun Hyeok said he'd let them fight to the death." Jinyang leaned forward conspiratorially.
Yao, entirely overwhelmed, looked back at Sicheng. "You're not seriously mad, are you?"
He gave her a look. A long, flat, utterly betrayed look. And then, without breaking eye contact, he said, "I'm scrimming them until his mouse cracks and he regrets ever being born."
Yao opened her mouth. Closed it. Then slowly turned to Da Bing. "…Do you think I should apologize to someone I've never met just because I exist?" Da Bing, unbothered as always, sneezed. Which, judging by the way Sicheng's eye twitched? Was probably the only response necessary.
Yao, still gently running her fingers through Da Bing's thick fur, seemed to retreat for a moment from the teasing chaos unfolding in the room, her head ducked just slightly, the edges of her lips curving with something soft and shy, something quiet that bloomed in her chest like a warm glow she could no longer contain. And then, while Sicheng was still plotting murder by scrim, and Jinyang was still grinning like she lived for the drama.
Yao shifted her attention away from the boys and leaned closer toward her best friend, voice barely louder than a murmur, but threaded with unmistakable pride and hesitant joy.
"Jiejie, I got the notification." she said softly, her lashes dipping low.
Jinyang, mid-laugh, blinked and turned sharply, immediately picking up on the change in tone. "Notification?"
"My dissertation was accepted. I don't have a defense date yet… but they approved it." Yao nodded, the smile growing just a little wider, still modest, still quiet, but brighter now.
There was a beat of stunned silence.
Than, Ai Jia's head snapped up, mouth parting, a grin already forming but he didn't even get a word out before Jinyang let out an actual squeal.
"Bei-Bei! Why didn't you say something sooner?!" she all but shouted, immediately reaching out to grab her.
"I was going to—just… it didn't feel real yet." Yao let out a startled laugh, flustered and pink in the cheeks.
Jinyang wasn't having it. She cupped Yao's cheeks and shook her lightly, smiling so wide it hurt. "Real or not, I am so proud of you. You're defending, you're actually doing it! That's huge!"
Ai Jia finally found his voice, smiling warmly as he added, "That's incredible, Yao. You've worked so hard for this."
Yao ducked her head again, the edges of her mouth twitching with another quiet, shy smile. "I just… wanted to tell you both first after I told the team. They were here when I got the notification and heard me cheering."
From where he sat, arms crossed and expression unreadable, Sicheng's gaze didn't shift—but his jaw loosened slightly, and the corner of his mouth curved, just barely, as if that one soft, sincere sentence had planted something deeper in his chest than he could put into words. Because even when she was glowing with accomplishment, she was still the girl who looked for her people first and he was one of them.
Jinyang, still holding Yao's hands in both of hers like she might squeeze the defense date out of her through sheer force of will, didn't even try to contain the gleam of determined affection in her voice as she declared, "The moment you find out when the defense is scheduled, you better tell me. Immediately. I don't care if I'm mid-meeting—I'll ghost faster than Rui slashing a practice bonus."
Before Yao could nod, Ai Jia chimed in from beside her, tone smooth but carrying that signature dangerous amusement, "Seconded. I'll be there. And I bet Lee Kun Hyeok would be thrilled to attend too."
The reaction was instant.
Across the room, Sicheng's head turned so fast it could have counted as a high-speed camera pan. His amber eyes narrowed at Ai Jia with enough silent weight to convey I will end you without needing to raise his voice.
Pang snorted loudly.
Lao Mao, not even trying to be subtle, muttered, "Cheng's hair's turning green."
While Yue exhaled through a laugh, "Bro, the vinegar in the air just triggered my allergies."
"You might want to start covering stories and legal stories and alibis." mutters Lao K as Ming snorted as Rui groaned out with a shake of his head.
Yao blinked, visibly confused. "Why would Kun Hyeok be interested?" Sicheng opened his mouth, clearly about to derail the conversation entirely, but Yao beat him to it, her tone far too casual and innocent for the bomb she was about to drop. "Well… maybe because I used his best friend as the foundation for my dissertation."
Silence.
And then—
Sicheng stilled. His eyes widened as he remembered, just enough to be noticeable, then narrowed in deliberate satisfaction. His posture shifted, the full weight of smugness radiating off him in quiet waves as he stepped behind Yao, reaching to rest a casual hand over her shoulder like she was already a trophy he'd claimed, the subtle smirk tugging at his mouth all but spelling mine. "That's right." he said, voice velvet-smooth and low. "You did use me, didn't you?"
Yao nodded shyly, cheeks warming. "For the strategic analysis and adaptability metrics section. Specifically, your unpredictability in high-pressure matches and how you build non-linear aggression curves in team fights. I… needed someone who doesn't rely on formula or pattern."
"I've never seen him stand taller. Dude's practically preening." Yue looked like someone had just handed him the season's best drama plot.
"She really picked the one man in this room who thrives off being unquantifiable… and quantified him." Ming shook his head in quiet awe.
Lao K deadpanned, "The irony is lethal."
Pang grinned wide. "She fed his ego and still managed to make it academic. I'm in awe."
But Sicheng?
He didn't care what they said. Not one bit. Because she could have chosen anyone in OPL to study. Dozens of captains, hundreds of players, countless playstyles. But she chose him. His leadership. His adaptability. His mind. And for Lu Sicheng, that wasn't just flattering. That was absolute confirmation. She saw him. She understood him. And in his world? That made her his.
Yue spoke up with the kind of wide-eyed, deeply haunted expression that only someone with firsthand knowledge of what absolute destruction looked like could wear—his voice sharp with the kind of sincerity rarely heard from him. "No, but seriously," he said, looking straight at Yao, his face pinched with genuine fear. "Salt Maiden, you have to tell our mother the second you get your defense date. I'm not joking. If she finds out after the fact, we are all going to suffer. Like—biblical plague level. Hellfire. She'll rain it down on the base."
The entire room went still for a beat.
Then came the collective grimace.
Because they all knew.
Firsthand.
Lao Mao visibly shuddered. Lao K closed his eyes like he was reliving something traumatic. Pang, deadpan, muttered, "She docked my pay once for forgetting her birthday. Her birthday. I'm not even her kid."
And Sicheng?
Sicheng didn't speak. He just leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, expression unreadable but the slight narrowing of his eyes, the way his thumb tapped once against his bicep, said everything. Because even he wouldn't cross his mother when it came to Yao.
Yao, looking mildly stunned by the sheer intensity of the reaction, blinked at them, mouth parting slightly.
Yue just gave her a look. "Promise me. Promise all of us. That the moment you get the date, you tell her."
And Yao, cheeks warm, voice small, nodded. "I… I will."
A collective exhale rippled through ZGDX like they'd all just survived something. Because no one—not even their fearless Captain—was ready to face Madam Lu's wrath if her girl went through something as important as a dissertation defense without her being there front and center.
Before Yao could process the collective wave of loyalty from ZGDX, another voice—sharp, confident, and laced with a kind of amused finality—cut through the room like silk sliding across steel.
"I own a damn team, Bei-Bei," Jinyang said from her place near the doorway, arms crossed, one brow arched as she leaned casually against the frame, her heels tapping lightly against the floor. "You think I can't rearrange a calendar or two?"
Yao turned toward her, startled, only to find her best friend already striding forward, the familiar fire in her eyes that only ever appeared when someone dared suggest they might have to face something big without her.
"YQCB will be fine," she continued, flicking her fingers like the idea of rescheduling was barely a blip. "I've got Ai Jia and Lee Kun Hyeok on roster. One's your honorary brother, the other is basically a mechanical genius. Between the two of them, I think they can manage to survive without me for a day."
Ai Jia, already perched near the couch and picking through a pack of Yao's preferred snacks like he had lived there his entire life, grinned without looking up. "More than happy to cover," he said smoothly, popping a cracker into his mouth.
"And I'll personally drag Kun Hyeok's ridiculous ass there if he so much as tries to claim jetlag," Jinyang added with a smirk.
Across the room, Sicheng's jaw ticked subtly.
Not from disapproval.
But from the sheer audacity of how many men seemed to believe showing up for Yao was a given.
And she?
She was sitting there looking completely overwhelmed, her wide hazel eyes darting between the people surrounding her, her lips parted slightly in stunned silence.
Jinyang reached out, grabbing her hand, her voice softening. "We're going to be there, Bei-Bei. All of us. No matter when it is. No matter what else is happening. Got it?"
Yao blinked once. Twice.
Then nodded.
Because for the first time since the acceptance had come through, she truly believed it—she wouldn't be standing alone when she defended everything she had built. Not when her entire world had already decided they would be right behind her.
Ai Jia lifted his head, still lounging with casual ease and a half-eaten cracker in hand, before correcting smoothly, "Okay— technically I haven't blocked anything yet, since you haven't given us a date." He pointed the cracker toward Yao without missing a beat. "But the second you do? I'll shift YQCB's schedule around it. I'll pull match delays, I'll beg the bracket coordinators—I'll even bribe the broadcast team with free food if I have to."
Jinyang, standing beside him now with her arms crossed and a knowing look in her eyes, smirked. "And if that doesn't work, I'll throw a tantrum on live stream and threaten to pull my team from the match entirely until they reschedule. Let's see who wins that game."
Yao blinked, her mouth falling open just slightly as she stared at the two of them like they had officially lost it. "But—what if the timing's bad?" she murmured, still struggling to wrap her mind around the way everyone had dropped into planning mode without even blinking. "What if it messes with both your teams? What if you can't make it because of the OPL schedule?"
Ai Jia gave her a look that could only be described as equal parts fond and exasperated. "Yao," he said slowly, deliberately, "you're talking to two people who've watched you survive your family, grind a dissertation while working part-time for ZGDX, and accidentally charm the entire goddamn league without even trying. You really think we're going to miss your Ph.D. defense because of a bracket shuffle?"
Jinyang smirked again, but her voice softened as she added, "If anyone tries to stand in the way of us being there? I'll remind them that you're not just any student—you're the future of esports analysis. And if they're lucky, maybe someday you'll still agree to work with them."
Ai Jia tossed in a lazy, "Preach," from the couch.
And Yao—speechless, overwhelmed, but starting to smile—could only nod faintly, her fingers tightening around the edge of her sweater. Because she knew, right then, that the date didn't matter. When it came, they'd be there.
Yue sat at the far end of the couch, his phone tilted discreetly in his lap as his fingers flew across the screen with practiced ease. The others were still engaged in their chaotic rhythm, Ai Jia tossing dramatic assurances about rescheduling the league, Jinyang threatening to throw public tantrums, Sicheng watching Yao like he was already planning how to move heaven and earth for her.
No one noticed Yue's subtle smirk when his phone buzzed back almost instantly. He didn't say anything, just pressed the speaker button and leaned back, casually propping his feet on the table.
"Ah, my Yao-Yao," came Madam Lu's unmistakable voice, warm and dripping with her usual polished authority, "you only need to give me two days' notice. That's it. Just two."
The entire room went silent.
Every eye slowly turned toward Yue, who grinned and gestured toward the phone like a magician pulling off a well-rehearsed trick.
On the other end, Madam Lu's voice didn't even flinch.
"And if those old bastards on the OPL Gaming Board don't fall in line? I'll have every commissioner in the league calling for a two-week technical suspension across every arena. Cables down, Wi-Fi out, cameras frozen. I dare them to say no."
Yao's eyes widened in sheer, startled disbelief, her mouth opening but no words managing to form.
Jinyang coughed once and muttered, "Holy shit, she really is the Queen."
Ai Jia, for once, didn't argue.
Even Sicheng looked vaguely impressed.
Pang whispered under his breath, "I suddenly feel like we've all been living under the illusion of power."
And Yue? Yue was already biting back laughter, grinning from ear to ear as he lifted the phone just a little higher. "Thanks, Mom." he said sweetly, the devil in his tone unmistakable.
"Oh, don't thank me," Madam Lu replied smoothly. "Just make sure our girl eats and rests properly. The moment she knows the date, I expect to be informed. No one gets in her way. Not even the league."
Yao, still stunned, managed to whisper, "Aunt Lan…"
Madam Lu's voice gentled. "You worked too hard for this, sweetheart. Let the rest of us handle the nonsense. You just walk in there and defend what's already yours."
And no one, not a single soul in that room, dared argue with her.