Summary: What begins as a simple vet visit quietly unfolds into something far more revealing. In soft silences and small moments—between growls, laughter, and lines unspoken—certainty takes root. Not just in how they move together, but in how neither of them moves away.
Notes:
Author's Note: Furry Shenanigans
Chapter Thirty-Seven
It was early afternoon, the gentle light spilling through the high windows of the base casting warm shadows across the living space as Yao moved carefully down the stairs from her apartment above, her steps quiet and measured, a bit awkward from the way she was adjusting the soft travel carrier in her hands. Xiao Cong, tucked comfortably inside, gave a curious little chirp, the kind that always happened when he was unsure if he should nap or investigate the sounds of downstairs life.
Yao bit her lip as she reached the last step, one hand curled around the strap of the carrier, the other gently pressing down to keep the kitten from trying to peek out. She didn't notice anyone at first, too focused on making sure she didn't jostle the little ball of fur too much. But the moment she lifted her head. She blinked, her steps halting completely as she found herself face to face with Sicheng.
He stood near the entry, dressed in black jeans and that signature leather jacket, keys dangling from his fingers and expression already set with the kind of unyielding certainty that made her feel flustered before he even spoke. And then he did speak—voice calm, casual, and utterly final.
"Did you really think you were going alone?"
Yao froze, her mouth opening slightly, then closing again. Her fingers clenched a little tighter around the strap of the carrier as her cheeks turned the soft shade of rose that had become all too familiar around him. "I… I didn't want to be a bother," she muttered quietly, ducking her head, her eyes flickering to the floor as she shifted her weight, the very picture of someone who had expected him to be too busy, too tired, or simply not interested.
Sicheng exhaled, the sound short and a little sharp, not in irritation but in disbelief—because after everything, this was still what she thought? He reached out, fingers catching gently under her chin to lift her gaze up to his, his thumb brushing once across the softness of her skin as his voice dropped just slightly—quiet, sure, but threaded with the protective weight that always slipped through when it came to her. "You're not a bother, Yao. You never were." And then, letting go of her chin but not of her presence, he nodded toward the carrier with an amused quirk of his brow. "Let's go. I want to meet the vet who's going to be stuck with your tiny menace and the thirty-five-pound one next month."
Yao's lips twitched, a small smile breaking free even as her face remained flushed. She glanced down at the kitten, who was pawing at the mesh, then back up at the man who had already turned to open the door, waiting—like he always did—for her to catch up. And she did. She always would.
The vet's office was quiet, nestled off a quiet street not far from the ZGDX base—familiar and warm in a way most clinics weren't, with soft ambient music humming from the speakers and a delicate herbal scent lingering in the air that somehow managed to calm even the most irritable animals. The front desk was manned by a young tech Yao vaguely recognized, but she didn't even get a full greeting out before a familiar voice carried in from the back.
"I thought I recognized you, Yao-er."
The door behind the reception counter swung open with practiced ease, and Dr. Li Mei stepped through with a dry smile already forming on her lips, her hair pulled back in a tight twist and a stethoscope hanging around her neck like a constant accessory. She had aged gracefully since the first time Yao had met her—when she was a shy, freshly settled nineteen-year-old girl with a traumatized rescue kitten and no idea how to speak comfortably to strangers in Mandarin, even though she had been living in China, Shenzhen exactly for a year, since she was 18.
"Where's my biggest nightmare and favorite patient?"
Yao flushed faintly as she stepped forward, the carrier strap still looped around her shoulder. "Not today. He's fine. This one's his new brother."
"New—" Li Mei stopped, blinking as she rounded the counter and caught sight of the gray-striped fluff currently glaring through the mesh of the carrier. Her eyes flicked up—and then past Yao, finally noticing the tall, broad-shouldered man leaning casually near the door, arms crossed and amber eyes sweeping over the space with quiet calculation. "Well. This is new." She turned her gaze back to Yao, one brow arching with practiced amusement. "You didn't mention your plus one."
Sicheng didn't flinch under the look—just gave a faint nod of acknowledgment and murmured, "Lu Sicheng."
Li Mei blinked, the name settling in before recognition followed. "Ah. That Lu Sicheng." She smiled slowly, then turned back to Yao with a twinkle in her eye. "You've come a long way from showing up with Da Bing wrapped in a towel, convinced his sneeze meant he was dying."
Yao flushed deeper. "I was nineteen."
"You were terrified," Li Mei said fondly, gesturing them both toward one of the smaller exam rooms. "And now you're walking in here with a new kitten and your very tall, very famous boyfriend."
Yao spluttered, her ears turning pink.
Sicheng just smirked.
They settled into the room, Yao carefully unzipping the carrier and coaxing Xiao Cong out with gentle fingers and a soft whisper. The kitten gave a dramatic meow of protest before crawling into her lap, curling close but clearly alert.
Li Mei crouched, slipping on gloves and gently reaching for the small creature, already assessing his condition with expert fingers. "He looks good. Bit underweight, but nothing a few weeks of food and spoiling won't fix. Has he eaten yet?"
"Twice," Yao said softly, watching every move. "And he's been using the litter box without issue."
Li Mei glanced at Sicheng. "You two keeping him?"
Sicheng, without hesitation, nodded. "He's hers. So yeah."
Something about the firmness of his voice made Yao's heart thump hard against her ribs and Li Mei, perceptive as ever, caught it. But she didn't comment. Instead, she nodded and returned to her work, her voice clinical and calm, shifting into Mandarin as she murmured about vaccines and deworming, kitten vitamins and scheduling for a follow-up. And Yao, quiet but comforted, sat there the entire time with Xiao Cong in her lap and Sicheng watching from the chair beside her, arms still crossed—but his attention, entirely, completely hers.
The moment the needle cap came off, Xiao Cong froze, his pale gray eyes narrowing with full feline indignation as he glanced down at the syringe like it was a personal insult. His tail flicked, ears flattening just slightly as he pushed back against Yao's hand with all the dramatic resistance of a betrayed monarch about to be ousted from his throne.
Yao, trying her best not to laugh, adjusted her grip as the kitten twisted with an impressive level of protest for something so small. "I'm sorry, baby, but you have to get these," she murmured softly, gently scratching his chin to coax him still.
He let out a loud, pitiful meow. One that sounded more accusatory than scared.
Sicheng, still seated to the side, tilted his head as one dark brow lifted. "Is he actually…talking back?"
Li Mei, thoroughly unimpressed as she swabbed the kitten's shoulder with practiced ease, gave a short snort as the dramatic meows increased in pitch. "He's sassing me," she declared, amused. "Loudly. But honestly? It's a step up."
Sicheng blinked, glancing at her. "Step up from what?"
"Oh, Da Bing bit me when I gave him his first shots. Full mouth. No hesitation. Drew blood."
Sicheng choked on a laugh as Xiao Cong meowed again, clearly offended on behalf of his elder brother or just deeply offended in general. "He looks like he's giving a speech," the Captain muttered dryly. "About injustice and betrayal."
"I'd call it a full protest," Li Mei replied, glancing at Yao with a smirk. "But at least he has manners. Mouthy manners, but still. Improvement."
"He's learning from Da Bing," Yao said helplessly, clutching the kitten as he twisted dramatically once more, then yowled like a dying opera star the second the needle went in.
"Between the sass and the theatrics, I don't know if you adopted a kitten or a tiny spoiled prince." Sicheng shook his head, folding his arms again as he watched the drama unfold.
"Both." Yao muttered.
Xiao Cong, for his part, flopped against her shoulder with a final, wounded huff—clearly defeated, clearly martyred—and clearly still deeply offended.
The vet just rolled her eyes fondly and marked down the shot with a smirk. "Well. He's got personality. And at least he didn't draw blood."
The moment Li Mei reached for the small bottle of kitten vitamins, Xiao Cong, still perched in Yao's arms, lifted his head slightly, ears twitching. His pale gray eyes narrowed at the movement, and before anyone could react, he moved like a blur of fur and offense. In one quick, fluid motion, he ducked, twisted, and dived straight into the oversized hood of Yao's hoodie, disappearing entirely as the fabric puffed up slightly from the sudden invasion. The only evidence that he hadn't simply vanished into the void was the immediate, low, and unmistakably offended growl that echoed from within the depths of the hood.
Yao blinked.
Sicheng, seated with his arms folded across his chest, lifted an eyebrow slowly. "…Did he just—"
"Divebomb the hood?" Li Mei finished, staring at the now bulging back of Yao's hoodie where the kitten had buried himself like a bunker. "Yes. Yes, he did."
A warning hiss followed, muffled but determined.
"Xiao Cong," Yao tried, her voice soft, coaxing, clearly trying not to laugh, "they're just vitamins—"
A louder growl.
"I don't think he cares," Sicheng said, leaning back and watching with the cool detachment of someone thoroughly entertained but pretending he wasn't. "He's declared war. You're now the fortress."
"Apparently," Yao muttered, trying to gently tug the edge of the hood as the kitten growled again and clamped down, not with claws, but with stubborn weight—as if the very idea of being moved was treasonous.
Li Mei just sighed, clearly fighting a grin. "You know what? I'll give you the bottle. You can try when he's not feeling so dramatic."
"Try in the middle of the night," Sicheng added dryly. "When he forgets he's mad."
"He's not mad," Yao defended half-heartedly as the bundle in her hood shifted with another disgruntled huff. "He's just…overwhelmed."
Another growl.
"Overwhelmed and dramatic," Sicheng muttered.
The vet handed over the vitamins with a shake of her head. "Well. At least he's healthy. Just…emotionally fragile."
And from the hood came one last sigh of feline despair—heavy, betrayed, and thoroughly theatrical—before Xiao Cong fully nestled in, his tail flicking once in final protest before disappearing entirely into the hoodie's shadows.
"Definitely Da Bing's little brother," Sicheng said without missing a beat. "No doubt."
Yao exhaled slowly, her shoulders slumping as she looked down—or rather, back—at the inflated curve of her hoodie, which now housed one very dramatic, thoroughly offended ball of fluff. Her fingers lifted to gently pat the bulge, and her voice, though soft, carried the weight of long-suffering patience that could only be forged through experience. "Xiao Cong," she said, tone even and lightly chiding, "if you keep this up, if you keep growling and hiding and acting like the world's ending just because of a little vitamin drop…" She paused for emphasis, letting her fingers drum lightly once more against the hood. "I'm not giving you any cream tonight."
The reaction was immediate.
Inside the hoodie, there was a shift—one of subtle betrayal, like a prince being threatened with exile from his throne. A low, wounded mrrrow emerged from the depths, followed by a very slow, deliberate poke of a tiny gray-striped paw from the edge of the fabric, as if testing to see just how serious she was.
Sicheng, watching the scene unfold from his seat across the exam room, covered his mouth with his fingers in a way that was meant to look like he was merely thoughtful, not smirking.
Li Mei, veteran of Da Bing's antics and now apparently Xiao Cong's, outright snorted. "Did…did he just bargain?"
"He's weighing the cost of rebellion," Sicheng muttered. "Cream or pride. The internal conflict must be intense."
Yao, for her part, didn't budge. "No cream," she repeated, gentler this time but still firm, her fingers now stroking the edge of the fabric. "No cream, no extra tuna, no Da Bing sharing his snacks."
The second paw emerged. Then a slow, reluctant face, eyes blinking up at her as if he were the victim in all of this.
Yao blinked back.
Sicheng chuckled lowly. "And just like that—"
"Negotiations have begun," Li Mei finished, already reaching for the vitamin dropper again. "Go on, little prince. Be brave for your cream."
And with an appropriately dramatic sigh that seemed to deflate his whole body, Xiao Cong slowly, reluctantly, slid out of the hoodie and back into Yao's waiting arms. "Mmhmm," Yao hummed. "That's what I thought."
"Da Bing taught her well and now she's passing the legacy on." Sicheng said, standing and brushing imaginary dust off his sleeves, already proud.
"Poor kid never stood a chance," the vet murmured as she handed over the vitamins again.
"None of us did." Sicheng agreed with a smirk, watching as Xiao Cong braced himself like he was about to endure a noble trial by fire instead of a tiny drop of salon-flavored kitten supplement.
Xiao Cong, thoroughly affronted by the betrayal of being vaccinated and subjected to the indignity of salmon-flavored vitamins, had taken refuge in the farthest corner of his carrier. He had his back to the world, tail twitching like an offended prince whose court had failed him, and the faint growl rising from his throat left no room for interpretation—he was displeased, he was betrayed, and he was not speaking to anyone.
Yao crouched in front of the carrier, her fingers curled lightly on the edge of the open door, peering in with a mix of concern and exasperated fondness. "Xiao Cong…"
The kitten didn't even twitch. He had fully committed to the act of offended silence.
From behind her, Sicheng crossed his arms as he leaned casually against the counter, eyeing the small fluffball of fury with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "He's ignoring you," he said with a dry note of amusement, "like you broke a sacred oath."
"I didn't even do anything!" Yao murmured, utterly betrayed, her voice low and coaxing. "It was just vitamins, and the shot wasn't that bad."
The vet, Li Mei—who had known Yao since she first walked into her clinic with a snowy white Siberian nearly half her size—chuckled softly as she finished scribbling the final notes into the new file marked Xiao Cong. "He's got an attitude. I'll give him that. He's definitely not the submissive type."
"I tried to warn him," Yao muttered under her breath as she reached into her bag and pulled out the soft toy mouse she had stuffed in her pocket just in case. She slipped it through the carrier opening. "You can be mad, but at least be mad with your favorite."
Xiao Cong didn't move. But the mouse? After a long beat of tense, betrayed silence, it was subtly dragged under one paw.
Yao blinked, then whispered, "Okay. Partial forgiveness."
Sicheng, crouching beside her now, leaned in and glanced toward the carrier door. "You're still being snubbed."
"He's dramatic," she sighed.
Sicheng glanced at her, eyes glinting. "And you're surprised? You found him in a box, in the rain, and he's already trained to have a flair for the theatrical."
"I promised him cream. I told him he'd get a treat." Yao sighed again, glancing back into the carrier.
"And then you let someone poke him with a needle," Sicheng added mildly, lips twitching into a full smirk. "He's registering betrayal on a spiritual level."
"I'm a terrible mother." Yao groaned and rested her forehead briefly on her knees.
Sicheng rolled his eyes and reached over, ruffling her hair affectionately before murmuring low in her ear, "Give him half an hour and a piece of chicken. He'll forget he was ever mad."
The vet snorted from her station. "I'd say he's got the same attitude as a lot of men I know."
Sicheng gave her a side-eye. "He's smarter."
Xiao Cong let out a small huff from the carrier, as if to say he agreed wholeheartedly. And while he still didn't turn to face them. The twitch of his tail slowed. His paw curled protectively over the plush. Forgiveness was no longer pending. It was just being drawn out for dramatic effect.
Yao stood at the counter, her posture neat but slightly reserved, one hand gently holding her phone while the other rested on the form she was filling out. Her handwriting was clean, precise, as she scheduled Xiao Cong's next vaccination and, without hesitation, booked a full grooming appointment for Da Bing. The familiarity with which she handled both tasks betrayed years of care and responsibility—ones she had shouldered long before most girls her age ever thought of owning a pet, let alone two.
Lu Sicheng stood beside her, leaning with casual confidence, one hand slipped into the pocket of his jacket while the other scrolled absently through his phone. But even as he pretended distraction, his gaze returned again and again to the soft curve of her profile, to the way her lashes dipped as she checked the date on her screen, to the faint line of concentration between her brows.
Dr. Li Mei had known Yao since she was barely out of her teens—just turned nineteen, quiet as snowfall, carrying a massive white fluff of a Siberian kitten into the clinic with all the delicate intensity of someone who hadn't yet learned how to ask for help but had decided to try anyway. Now, at just over twenty, the girl had changed. Not drastically. Her voice was still soft. Her manner still shy. But she stood straighter now. Her words came with more certainty. And more than anything, she no longer came alone. The vet's eyes flicked briefly to Sicheng, who hadn't looked away from Yao in the last several minutes except to glance at her paperwork. There was nothing performative in the man's presence—just that quiet, unshakable gravity that came with knowing exactly who someone was and still choosing to stand beside them, every damn day.
Dr. Li Mei took the clipboard gently from Yao and gave a small smile. "You've done well with him." she said, nodding toward the now-sulking gray-striped fluffball tucked into Yao's hoodie like a gremlin.
Yao returned the smile shyly, brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear, murmuring a soft thank you that barely reached over the counter.
But Dr. Li Mei wasn't finished. Her gaze slid once more to Sicheng, then back to Yao. "I'm glad," she said, her voice quiet but firm, "that she has someone now."
Yao blinked, a bit startled by the sudden shift in tone.
Dr. Li Mei smiled gently, eyes kind but knowing. "Someone besides her two idiot friends."
Sicheng's brow lifted, amusement flickering faintly, but he didn't correct her. He only looked down at Yao, whose hand was now gripping the edge of her hoodie. And his voice—low, smooth, steady—was quieter than usual when he spoke. "She doesn't need anyone to protect her."
Dr. Li Mei didn't miss a beat. "No," she said, still watching him. "But even someone who doesn't need protection deserves to have it."
Sicheng didn't reply. But his hand brushed down her braid again, fingers lightly touching the edge of her sleeve. Yao didn't pull away. Didn't flinch. Just leaned into the warmth of it with the quiet certainty of someone who had never expected to have a place like this and was still learning how to accept it.
And she didn't let go.
The soft jingle of bell chimes greeted them as they stepped into the pet store, the warm scent of cedar shavings, dried hay, and subtle notes of pet food mingling in the air. Yao moved with quiet purpose, her expression focused and her steps light as she made a beeline for the small display of collars lined up in coordinated color sets. She scanned the rows, her fingers brushing softly across a few before selecting one—a soft, smoky gray that would match Xiao Cong's coat almost perfectly, with a faint shimmer that caught the light when tilted.
Sicheng didn't say a word as he trailed behind her, a step slower, his attention not on the collars or even the obnoxious wall of squeaky toys across the aisle. His amber eyes stayed locked on her—specifically on the way her hair shimmered as she tilted her head, the crease between her brows as she concentrated, the way her lips moved in silent thought as she pictured the collar around her newest furball's neck.
But he wasn't the only one watching her.
Sicheng caught it immediately.
The glance. Then the second. A third, lingering far too long.
A group of college-aged guys, hovering near the aquariums, had taken notice of the platinum-haired girl in soft cotton and quiet smiles, too wrapped up in her task to notice the attention directed her way. One of them leaned over to his friend, muttering something with a grin that made Sicheng's jaw tick, subtle but sharp.
He moved.
Not fast. Not aggressive. Just close—so close his presence pressed in behind her like a wall of quiet steel. His hand brushed lightly against the small of her back as if steadying her without needing to speak. She looked up, momentarily startled, blinking at the sudden nearness before relaxing almost immediately at the familiar warmth in his gaze. "You pick?" he asked, voice soft but edged with that steady, territorial undertone that always settled deep in his chest when it came to her.
She nodded, lifting the collar with both hands and turning it slightly in the light before glancing up at him, all shy pride. "I think this one suits him."
He made a sound in agreement, barely more than a hum, but his eyes hadn't left the group across the store, not until they finally glanced away under the full weight of his stare.
She didn't notice. Too busy moving to the tag engraving station and selecting a small, silver bone-shaped tag, fingers carefully typing in the letters as she murmured, "Xiao Cong," and added their shared contact number beneath it.
Sicheng stood beside her, arms loosely crossed, gaze shadowed with something unreadable.
Not possessive.
Just protective.
Because no matter how sweet her expression or how distracted she was with her tasks, she had always been his. Even if she hadn't realized it at the time. And as the machine finished etching her name choice onto the metal, he reached out, gently resting his hand on top of hers for just a moment.
"Let's go home," he said.
And she smiled, without realizing the weight those simple words held for him.
They were nearly at the checkout counter, Yao still holding the small bag with the collar and engraved tag nestled inside, when the sound of approaching footsteps made her pause. The bell over the pet store's door hadn't chimed again—no one was leaving. No, whoever it was had been lingering, and now they were moving closer.
"Hey—aren't you Lu Sicheng?"
The voice was light but laced with the kind of swagger that usually came from people who were more impressed with themselves than anything else. Sicheng didn't bother turning immediately. He heard the second voice follow up.
"Chessman, right? ZGDX's Captain?"
That got his attention—but not because of the name. No, it was because Yao, without even seeming to realize it, had shifted ever so slightly behind him. Not cowering, not afraid—just instinctively seeking the steady, familiar shield of his presence. Her hand clutched the shopping bag a little tighter, her other brushing lightly against the back hem of his shirt in silent contact, a grounding touch.
The first guy grinned wider as he spotted her movement. "Then that must make you Tong Yao, right? ZGDX's Data Analyst?"
Sicheng finally turned his head fully, his amber eyes unreadable but sharp. "She is."
Yao, already pink in the cheeks from being addressed so directly, managed a polite nod, but her gaze didn't rise above their shoulders. She didn't like this kind of attention—the public acknowledgment, the people who thought they knew her just because they recognized her face or name. And Sicheng saw it immediately in the way she curled inward slightly, not out of fear but discomfort.
The second guy stepped a little closer, looking between them with a kind of awed curiosity, as if seeing the two of them together like this confirmed something from their social feeds. "Wow. Didn't think we'd run into you both here. We're fans. Big fans of ZGDX."
Sicheng's response was nonchalant, but layered. "Glad to hear it." His tone wasn't warm. Wasn't cold either. Just final. Enough to make the air between them shift slightly.
One of the guys, oblivious or maybe just bold, added, "Didn't think she'd be this quiet in person."
Yao flinched slightly at the way he phrased it, her lips pressing into a thin line, but she still said nothing, and that's when Sicheng stepped forward—not enough to seem threatening, but enough that the message was unmistakable.
"Funny," he said, the sharp edge of his voice smoothing into something colder, "how people assume they know someone because of a few words online."
Both boys fell awkwardly silent.
Sicheng didn't give them a chance to backtrack. He reached for Yao's free hand, lacing his fingers through hers in an unhurried, deliberate motion as he added, "You've said hello. Now say goodbye."
There was no anger in his voice. Just quiet command.
The kind that didn't ask twice.
The first guy cleared his throat and muttered, "Right, yeah—sorry to interrupt."
They walked away a beat later, suddenly all too aware that they were not the ones in control of this conversation.
Sicheng didn't say anything for a moment, just walked with Yao, still holding her hand as they left the pet store. Only once they were outside and the cooler air brushed against them did he glance down at her. "You okay?"
Yao nodded faintly, but she was biting the inside of her cheek. "I just... don't like it when people talk like they know me."
Sicheng's hand tightened around hers just slightly. "They don't," he said simply. "But I do."
And that was all she needed.