Relationships/Platonic/Romantic: One-Shots

Summary: The off-season right before the season actually starts, always brought a strange mix of peace and pressure, a lull in the storm that left professional players to their own devices long enough for meddling mothers and matchmaking aunties to start pushing their agendas. For Lu Yue, substitute no more and now ZGDX's official starting Midlaner, that meant enduring Lu Sicheng's pointed sighs, sly smirks, and the occasional outright bribery to do the kind of brotherly favor that reeked of impending disaster.

One-Shot

Yue found himself seated in the corner of a quiet, overly elegant tea house, dressed too nicely for a Tuesday afternoon, nursing a glass of lemon water with the kind of frown that suggested he'd rather be doing absolutely anything else. His only goal was to politely, and hopefully swiftly, turn down the woman his brother's latest matchmaking victim had arranged to meet. It wasn't personal. Just procedure. Sicheng had no interest in the blind date, and Yue, weak-willed when it came to bribes involving new gaming gear, had reluctantly agreed to go in his place.

And then she walked in.

She moved with a hesitant grace, like someone who hated being the center of attention but had long since learned how to command it when necessary. Her hair, loose and thick, spilled over her shoulders in deep hues of crimson and burnt gold, like the dying sun kissing the edge of the world. And her eyes—God help him—her eyes were a shade of blue so strikingly clear it felt like staring into a tide pool just before it shattered against the rocks. She didn't seem impressed to see him. He stood anyway.

"Lu Yue," he offered, lips twitching at her raised brow, the awkward shuffle of her hands as she took him in, clearly expecting someone else. "I'm here on behalf of my brother. He's—"

"If he couldn't even be bothered to show up and turn me down himself," she said before he could finish, her tone mild but undeniably cutting, "then I'm not interested in the likes of him. Or his lackey."

Ouch.

Yue blinked, then, to his own surprise, he laughed—quietly, genuinely—and slid back into his seat. "Well, I wasn't expecting that. But okay, I deserved that and so did he."

The woman gave him a once-over, then started to rise. "No offense. But I don't do cowardly men."

"None taken," Yue said smoothly, already shifting his weight forward with sudden, sharp intent. "But I'm not my brother. And I don't run from a challenge."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, just enough to let him know she was curious in spite of herself. She didn't sit down, not yet, but she didn't walk away either. "Yu Yao," she said finally. "In case you want to tell your brother who he missed out on."

His gaze sharpened instantly. "Yu?" he repeated, the name striking something familiar.

She tilted her head, eyes gleaming with the kind of warning that often came just before a person decided to gut someone with words. "Yes. As in Yu Ming's younger sister."

That gave him a full second of silence. "Well, damn."

"Excuse me?" Yao blinked, caught between confusion and amusement. 

Yue grinned wide, slow and honest and entirely inappropriate for a guy who was supposed to be ending this meeting. "You're Ming's sister?"

"Half. What exactly is that reaction supposed to mean?" she corrected, eyeing him like he'd just grown horns. 

"That means I can't just walk out of here now. Not when I just found out you're smart, fiery, and related to the one man who scares the hell out of half our roster." Yue murmured, leaning forward, his elbows braced on the table, his expression losing some of its playful edge. 

"I said I wasn't interested in your brother." she reminded him firmly.

"Good," Yue said, his tone turning lower, rougher, steadier. "Because for once, I'm not here for him." Yao hesitated, just for a breath but it was enough. Yue could see it, that flicker of uncertainty sparking behind the ocean in her gaze, the instinct that warned her she should probably leave, matched equally by the flicker of curiosity that made her stay right where she was. So she sat. Yue smiled, not the sharp, smug grin he usually wore, but something quieter, softer, with a hint of challenge threading through it. "I didn't come here looking for you," he said, voice low. "But now that I've found you? I'm not leaving empty-handed."

Yu Yao didn't seem like the type to be easily charmed. She was guarded, steady-eyed and calm in that quietly razor-edged way that made Yue reevaluate his usual arsenal of flirtation and settle instead into something more sincere. She didn't rush to fill silences. She listened, considered, responded with short, direct observations that made it clear she was used to dissecting information and drawing conclusions before most people even realized the conversation had started.

"So," he ventured, gently prodding his straw around in his second lemon water, "you clearly don't want to talk about my brother. What do you want to talk about?"

Her lips curved just slightly. "You're persistent."

"I prefer 'thorough.' Especially when someone interesting walks into my life by accident."

Yao snorted again, that same unamused noise she'd made when she'd first laid eyes on him. But this time it lacked bite. "You say that to all the girls you try to rescue from your brother's reputation?"

"I've never had to," Yue replied, tilting his head slightly. "Most of them don't have your spine. Or your mouth."

She blinked, a bit caught off-guard by the bluntness, but held his gaze. "You're still here."

"Like I said. I don't run from a challenge." 

That earned him the smallest upward twitch of her brow, but she finally relaxed back into her seat, one arm draped along the back of her chair, her other hand resting neatly beside her tea. "What do you do, Lu Yue?"

"I play Mid," he answered smoothly. "ZGDX. I took over starting after the end of last season." He waited, expecting recognition, or maybe one of those obligatory reactions people gave when they realized they were sitting across from someone in the pro scene. But Yao just nodded, calm and unimpressed.

"You good?"

Yue laughed. "I like to think so."

She smiled faintly, and for a moment he was struck by how her entire face softened when she did that, like the last light before twilight dipped over the city.

"You watch the league?" he asked, curiosity edging into his tone now.

"I follow it," she admitted, eyes glinting. "I play, too."

That sparked something. 

"Seriously? What rank?"

"Top tier," she answered easily, like it wasn't a big deal.

His brows lifted. "Top as in…"

"Top as in, I play scrims under a different handle. Not professionally. Not officially. But enough to know who's worth watching."

"Interesting," he murmured. "So what's your handle?"

She paused, just for a beat too long. Then: "Smiling."

Silence.

Real, stunned, heavy silence.

Yue froze.

Smiling.

Smiling.

The same Midlaner who'd wiped the floor with Lu Sicheng's team in a private off-season scrim just last week. No team affiliation, no video footage, just stats—and an embarrassing defeat logged under ZGDX_Chessman's name. 

"No. No way," Yue muttered, sitting forward abruptly. "You—you're Smiling? The Smiling?"

Yao looked entirely too pleased as she sipped her tea. "Did your team lose?"

"My brother is still sulking," Yue said with a disbelieving laugh. "He's convinced you were using cheats. I told him he was just old."

"Well," Yao mused thoughtfully, her voice dry as dust, "he did get caught in that bait trap four times in a row. I was beginning to think I should have gone easier on him."

Yue stared at her like he'd been punched. Then he leaned back, exhaled deeply, and let his hands fall into his lap with something dangerously close to admiration glowing behind his eyes. "You play like a predator," he said finally, quietly. "Calculated, fast, relentless. I remember thinking it was like being cornered by something that already knew how you'd die."

"That's the point," Yao replied softly. "It's not about speed. It's about inevitability."

Yue grinned, wide and slow and utterly disarmed. "Marry me."

Yao choked on her tea, her shoulders jolting forward, eyes wide. "You're insane." she muttered, coughing into her sleeve.

"No, I'm serious," Yue said, his voice practically glowing with mischief now. "I haven't been this turned on since the world finals two years ago."

"You're not even trying to be subtle."

"Would it work if I was?"

"Absolutely not."

"Then I'm going to keep being honest," he replied, all playfulness and dark-edged charm, "because I'm realizing something very dangerous about you, Yu Yao."

"And what's that?" she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.

"You make me want to fight my brother."

Her smile returned, this time just a little brighter, a little softer. She didn't say it, but the quiet shift in her posture, the tilt of her head, the way her gaze lingered, spoke volumes.

Yue, leaning forward once more, offered her his hand, this time not as Lu Sicheng's replacement or a professional Midlaner, but as himself. "I came here to turn you down," he said, his voice low. "I'm not leaving until I have your number."

Yue still hadn't gotten over the fact that the girl his brother had so smugly arranged to ghost was not only Coach Ming's half-sister, not only the sharpest-tongued woman he'd ever met, but also Smiling, the elusive, merciless player who had dismantled ZGDX's off-season scrim with surgical precision and hadn't even blinked when facing Lu Sicheng's infamous ADC pressure. And now? Now, Yue wanted more. Not flirtation. Not banter. He wanted to know her. "So," he said, his voice dropping into something quieter, more curious, as he leaned a little further forward. "You're Smiling. You're Ming-ge's sister. And you're terrifying with a mouse and keyboard. But what do you actually do? When you're not embarrassing professional players in your spare time."

Yao tilted her head, lips curving slightly at the question, and for a moment he saw something flicker in her expression, something hesitant, not quite self-conscious, but almost like she was gauging how much to say. Then she answered with an almost offhanded calm that didn't match the weight of her words at all. "I'm a surgeon."

Yue blinked. "I'm sorry—what?"

"Technically," she added, swirling her tea, "I hold a dual medical degree. General surgery and clinical internal medicine. I finished my last practicum last spring."

He stared at her. Blinked again. His lips parted slightly as if to speak, then closed, then opened again. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

Yue leaned back slowly, his chair creaking as he stared at her with what could only be described as cautious disbelief wrapped in something dangerously close to awe. "You're twenty-two years old," he repeated, more to himself than to her. "You're a doctor. A surgeon. And you also happen to moonlight as the Midlaner who made my brother rage-quit a scrim for the first time in four years."

Yao shrugged lightly. "I like to stay busy."

Yue exhaled a long breath, the kind that carried a mix of stunned admiration and grudging defeat. "You're not real," he muttered. "You can't be. There's no way."

"You asked."

"I thought you were going to say 'university student' or maybe 'grad school.' Not House meets Faker. "

Her eyes glittered with the barest hint of amusement. "Is this where you tell me you're just a pretty face?"

He grinned, recovering quickly, leaning back in with a playful glint. "I'll have you know, I graduated last year with a dual major in accounting and data analytics. Finished my MBA in under a year."

That did it. Her brows lifted in genuine surprise. "At twenty-three?"

"Started early. Finished earlier. I figured if I wasn't going to become a doctor like my mother wanted, I should at least make my backup plan financially terrifying."

"And you still went pro in esports."

He shrugged. "I like games. But I also like to win. And it turns out I'm good at both business and battles."

Yao's eyes remained on him for a moment longer, then—just barely—she smiled again, smaller this time, but warmer. "That," she said softly, "is the first real thing you've said all day."

Yue blinked, then gave a quiet laugh. "And here I was thinking I'd already made a strong impression."

"Oh, you did," she replied dryly. "I just wasn't sure if it was going to last past your next pickup line."

He met her gaze, slower this time, with a steadier smile, one that wasn't performative or teasing, but quiet. Intentional. "It's going to last," he said. "Because you just became the first woman who's made me feel like I might have to work to keep up."

Yao tilted her head, watching him with something unreadable in her gaze. "And that's not intimidating?"

"It's exciting."

She didn't say anything to that. But she didn't look away, either. And this time, when she reached for her phone and slid it across the table, Yue didn't even hesitate before typing in his number. Not for his brother. Not as a favor. But for himself.

Outside the tea house, the light had shifted into that late-afternoon haze that painted the buildings in soft gold and gave everything a quiet, suspended feeling, like time itself had paused to exhale. Yue walked beside her, hands in his pockets, every inch of him relaxed but sharp-eyed, his gaze occasionally flicking sideways to study the woman at his side like he still couldn't quite believe she was real.

Yu Yao didn't say much, but then again, she didn't need to. The silence between them wasn't awkward. It pulsed with something steady and low-burning, like a match slowly approaching a line of waiting gunpowder—inevitable and intense. When they reached the curb, her DiDi was already idling, the driver's name blinking softly on her phone screen. Yao turned to him, brushing a strand of crimson-sunset hair behind her ear as she met his gaze. "Thanks for lunch," she said, her voice soft but certain.

"Thanks for not walking out." Yue gave a small smirk, the edge of it gentler than his usual grin.

Yao huffed quietly, almost a laugh, and opened the car door. Before stepping in, she glanced back up at him. "I meant what I said. Tell your brother if he ever sends someone in his place again, I'll block the entire family."

Yue's smile widened. "Good thing I didn't come here for him then."

Her eyes held him for a beat longer than necessary. Then she slid inside, closed the door, and the DiDi pulled off with a quiet hum, her figure retreating behind the tinted glass.

Yue stood there for a moment, watching until the car disappeared around the corner. Then, slowly, he reached for his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and hit the name that he'd avoided all morning. It rang once. Twice.

Then a sharply clipped voice snapped through the receiver, every syllable honed with the kind of authority only a Lu matriarch could wield.

"Yue. Please tell me you didn't attend that blind date once more for your useless brother."

"I did."

Silence.

Yue's smile returned, a touch smug, a touch dangerous. "Yeah. He bribed me to go in his place."

"He bribed—oh for the love of—" She cut herself off. "I should have known. That arrogant little—"

"I want her." Yue said, cutting clean through her irritation with a voice so calm, so final, it stilled everything.

"What?"

"I want her," he repeated. "She's smart, she's stunning, she's got fire, and she's the most impressive person I've ever met. Sicheng doesn't want her, but I sure as hell do. I'm not letting her go."

There was a pause, shocked, breathless, thunderously silent on the other end of the line. And then, with a stunned little exhale that barely masked her glee, his mother asked, voice pitched higher than usual, "Yue… are you telling me you're claiming her?"

"Girlfriend first," he said smoothly, eyes narrowing with intent. "But I've got every plan to make her my Intended."

This time, there was no pause. Just a sharp, delighted gasp followed by a distinctly uncharacteristic squeal that Yue had never— never —heard from the formidable woman who raised him. "Oh finally," she gushed , "finally one of you has taste. Yue, my precious boy, I will personally destroy your brother if he dares get in your way."

"I'll handle him," Yue said with a quiet chuckle. "You just make sure when I bring her to the house, there's none of that passive-aggressive matchmaking crap. She's mine, not yours."

"You say that now," she said, amused, "but I haven't met her yet."

"She's a dual-degreed surgeon and doctor at twenty-two," Yue added casually.

Dead silence.

Then a shriek.

"A doctor? At twenty-two?! Yue, marry that girl. Immediately."

"I'm working on it." He ended the call with a small smirk still playing on his lips, slipping the phone back into his jacket as he turned on his heel, his gait relaxed but his mind already ten steps ahead. Because Yue hadn't lied. He hadn't just stumbled into a date. He'd just found the one thing he hadn't even known he'd been looking for and he wasn't about to let her go.

The moment Yue stepped back into the familiar walls of the ZGDX base, the noise hit him like a wall, keyboard clicks, the low thrum of practice games echoing from the team lounge, and, of course, the unmistakable sound of his brother's voice rising over it all.

Lu Sicheng, reclined lazily on the common area sofa, raised one brow without even looking up from his phone as Yue walked in. "Well?"

Yue didn't break stride. "It's done," he said flatly, rolling his eyes as he passed, not bothering to slow or offer anything more than that deliberately vague reply.

Sicheng looked up sharply at the tone, but before he could speak, Yue was already gone, disappearing down the hallway that led to the more private areas of the base.

He didn't knock.

He didn't need to.

Ming looked up from his desk just as the door opened and then closed behind Yue with a soft but deliberate click . The man's gaze sharpened instantly at the sight of him—Lu Yue didn't usually come seeking quiet conversations unless something was very wrong.

Yue didn't waste time. He stepped inside, hands tucked loosely into his jacket pockets, his posture relaxed but his eyes serious. "I need to talk to you."

Ming leaned back in his chair, arms crossing slowly over his chest, not saying a word.

Yue drew a breath, then gave it to him straight. "I had lunch with your sister."

That got a reaction. Barely a flicker across the coach's face, but Yue saw the shift in his shoulders, the narrowing of his eyes. "My sister?"

Yue nodded. "Yeah. I was supposed to turn her down for my brother. It was a blind date. He got out of it, bribed me to go instead."

Ming's expression darkened instantly. "Your brother," he said slowly, his voice cold now, "was supposed to meet Yao? "

"We didn't know she was your sister," Yue said quickly, shaking his head. "None of us had any idea who she was—not until she told me during lunch."

"And Sicheng sent you in his place." It wasn't a question. Ming's jaw tightened, the muscle ticking once before he leaned forward, steepling his fingers beneath his chin.

"I didn't know who she was either," Yue said, his voice steady. "But I do now." Silence stretched between them for a long beat. Ming didn't speak, didn't blink. Finally, Yue exhaled and moved to sit across from him. "I'm not here to apologize for my brother," he said plainly. "What he did was shitty. But I'm not him."

Ming said nothing.

"I'm not asking for permission," Yue added after a moment, his tone quieter now. "But I am asking that you keep this to yourself for now."

Ming's eyes narrowed slightly, but Yue didn't flinch under the weight of that scrutiny.

"I plan to court her," he said. "Properly. No games. No shortcuts. I want her. Not because of who she is. Not because of her looks or her brain or how she wiped the floor with Sicheng in scrims last week—though let's be honest, that was hot as hell. I want her because of who she is. And I plan to win her over. Not as Lu Sicheng's leftover date. Not as some backup plan. As mine."

Ming stared at him for a long time, unreadable. Then, finally, the man leaned back in his chair again, the weight in his posture slightly easing, though the storm in his gaze didn't quite fade. "You get one shot, Yue."

"I won't need more than that."

"You hurt her…"

"I won't."

More silence.

Then Ming gave a slow nod, once. "I'll keep it quiet," he said. "But if she comes to me with anything less than joy in her eyes…"

"I'll walk away before that ever happens," Yue said, standing smoothly, his expression unreadable but grounded. "I just need time. And your silence." He turned for the door, pausing with one hand on the handle, glancing back over his shoulder. "She's special, Ming Shen. More than anyone realizes."

Ming didn't reply, but something in his gaze shifted—just slightly—as Yue stepped out and closed the door behind him.

Yue was in bed when the message came through. His phone buzzed twice on the nightstand, soft against the quiet hum of the base around him, the soft noise of someone's late-night music filtering through a distant wall, barely audible. He picked up the device lazily, expecting maybe Rui or Lao Mao with a training update, or possibly his brother asking where the hell his new charging cable had gone. What he wasn't expecting was the name now glowing across the top of the screen.

Yu_Yao

And beneath it, the message that had him sitting straight up in bed, the grin tugging at the corner of his lips spreading slow and wide as he read:

Yu_Yao: Just so you know, I've scheduled a scrim tomorrow under Smiling's handle. I plan to obliterate your brother.Not because he sent someone else to turn me down, though that's part of it.But because he underestimated me.And that, I don't forgive.

A beat later, another message appeared, and this one came with a sharper edge that made Yue exhale a quiet laugh.

Yu_Yao:He thought I wasn't worth his time.So I'm going to make him remember my name every time he queues into a Midlaner for the rest of his damn career.

Yue didn't answer right away. He stared at the messages, his thumb hovering just above the keyboard, the quiet hum of pride and something more dangerous stirring under his skin like heat rising through layers of steel. He could see her—sharp-eyed, steady-handed, that quiet fire simmering just beneath her skin as she prepared for war, not because she wanted revenge, but because she demanded respect. He finally replied.

ZGDX_Lv:I hope he underestimates you again.Watching him get humbled by you was the most fun I've had all off-season.

Three dots danced.

Paused.

Then reappeared.

Yu_Yao: You really think I'm going to go easy on your brother just because you're trying to date me?

ZGDX_Lv: No. I'm counting on you to go harder. He deserves it.

Another pause.

Then her reply landed like a calm blade drawn at dawn.

Yu_Yao: Good.Because I'm planning on using the exact same trap combo I used last time. And if he still falls for it... I might post the footage myself.

Yue's laugh rang low and wicked in the darkness of his room as he flopped back on the pillows, one arm behind his head, his phone glowing in the other.

ZGDX_Lv: Remind me again why I'm falling for you?

Yu_Yao98: Because I'm smarter than you.And prettier.And I can carry your entire team in a solo queue with one hand while sipping tea.

Yue grinned.

ZGDX_Lv: You forgot something.You also look really good doing it.

A pause.

Yu_Yao: Go to sleep, Yue.

He smirked, finally letting his eyes fall closed, his phone resting against his chest, screen dimming slowly.

ZGDX_Lv: Yes, Doctor.

Yue had the distinct, gut-deep feeling that Lu Sicheng had no idea what was coming for him tomorrow. Yue would be there to watch every second of it and maybe, just maybe, to hand his brother a tissue when it was all over.

The ZGDX training lounge was filled with the low hum of concentration—headsets on, chairs creaking softly as the team settled into place, eyes already locked onto their monitors as they queued up the next scrim. Everyone was alert, prepared, but not exactly bracing themselves for war. After all, this was just another off-season practice match. Nothing unusual. Except Ming stood behind them, arms crossed and face unreadable. And Yue, already seated at Mid, had a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth that refused to go away.

"Who's this one against again?" Lao Mao asked, cracking his knuckles.

"Handle's Smiling," Lao K replied, reading off the schedule. "Solo queue monster. Ranked top ten on all three servers. No listed team. Just ruins people's careers in his spare time, apparently."

"Him again?" Sicheng snorted from his chair, adjusting his mouse grip. "Didn't we already lose to him once last week?"

"Yup," Pang said with a sigh. "Still having nightmares about that trap combo. I fell into it three times. Three."

Sicheng clicked his tongue. "No way in hell I'm letting some rando Mid carry a match again. This time, I've got him figured out."

Behind them, Yue bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. And next to him, Ming's arms tightened ever so slightly across his chest, his eyes never leaving the screen. The match was loaded. And just like last time, Smiling locked in her champion fast. No hesitation. No delay. A Midlane pick that practically screamed confidence.

"Cocky," Sicheng muttered. "I'm going to make him regret showing up."

Yue didn't answer. Instead, he watched the game timer tick down, his fingers flexing slowly over his keys. From the first few seconds of laning, it was clear Smiling hadn't come to play nice. The pacing was precise, movement efficient, aggression balanced on a knife's edge. There was no overextension, no wasted energy, just pure mechanical dominance and deliberate positioning that controlled tempo, vision, and map pressure like she had the whole damn thing scripted. Three minutes in, Smiling landed the first blood on Lao K. Five minutes in, she baited Sicheng into overextending, then collapsed on him with such brutal precision that the entire room went silent as his screen grayed out.

"He's so good," Pang muttered, wide-eyed. "Like, stupid good."

Sicheng swore under his breath. "Lucky shot," he muttered. "I'll adapt."

But Yue could already see it happening. The same pattern as before. The same slow unraveling of control. Yao didn't just play like she wanted to win—she played like she was punishing them. Every rotation was a lesson. Every trap a reprimand. She stalked the map like a predator, and none of them knew how to escape her claws. By the ten-minute mark, Smiling was legendary. By fifteen, the kill score was 19 to 3. By twenty, the game was over.

Complete domination.

Sicheng yanked his headset off with a frustrated growl, pushing back from his desk with enough force to make the chair creak violently beneath him. "This guy—this damn Smiling—he's got to be ex-pro. No way he's just solo queue."

Pang was still staring at his death recap. "I'm not even mad. That was art. I think I might be in love."

Lao Mao frowned. "Who is this guy?"

Sicheng gritted his teeth, running a hand through his hair. "I'm going to find out. No one embarrasses me twice and gets away with it."

And as the others fell into a flurry of frustration and confusion, two figures remained silent.

Ming stood like a statue, his expression unreadable, though a flicker of something that might have been grim satisfaction lingered in the tightness of his mouth. Yue, however, couldn't hide the smugness radiating off him. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head, and stared at the now-black game screen with a smile that said he'd enjoyed every single second of that chaos.

Sicheng turned to him, suspicious. "What the hell are you so happy about?"

Yue's voice was lazy, smooth, almost too innocent. "Nothing," he said lightly. "Just admiring good strategy." 

The next morning, ZGDX's base buzzed with its usual rhythm—coffee machines humming, keyboards clacking, Rui hollering faintly from the hallway about someone forgetting to log their practice hours. But the epicenter of rising chaos sat squarely in the main lounge, where Lu Sicheng had taken over the entire coffee table with what could only be described as an investigation board. Screenshots. Stat logs. Username history. Rank charts. Server IP traces. All of it. The rest of the team passed by with varying expressions of horror, amusement, or secondhand embarrassment.

Lao Mao paused at the threshold, blinking. "Uh… Captain?"

Sicheng, hunched over his laptop like a man possessed, didn't look up. "Smiling is someone's alt. Has to be. There's no way they don't have a team. No official socials, no voice chat pings, no VODs. They're either using a proxy or they're covering their digital trail deliberately."

Pang peered over his shoulder. "You've got three monitors open, two spreadsheets, and a search history that would terrify the CIA."

"I'm going to find out who this bastard is," Sicheng growled. "No one humiliates me like that twice and vanishes into the void."

Yue, lounging on the couch with his phone in one hand and a toothpick between his teeth, snorted behind him.

"What?" Sicheng snapped, turning.

Yue arched a brow, utterly unbothered. "Maybe they're just better than you."

Ming, seated across the room with a laptop and tea in hand, didn't even glance up. But a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched the corner of his mouth.

Sicheng narrowed his eyes. "You two are way too calm about this."

"No offense," Yue said, flipping lazily to his next app, "but you getting your ass handed to you by this gamer isn't exactly new."

Sicheng shot him a glare.

Yue winked.

Lao K, watching the entire exchange from his spot beside Lao Mao, tilted his head slightly. His eyes flicked from Yue's ever-present smirk to the subtle shift of Ming's shoulders—his silence less from disinterest and more like restraint. That alone was rare. His gaze sharpened. They knew something. He didn't say it out loud. Not yet. But he tucked that observation neatly into the back of his mind as Sicheng resumed typing like a madman, muttering about firewalls and account trails and questioning how anyone could be so irritatingly anonymous in 2021.

Meanwhile, tucked into a sunlit corner of a quiet café several districts away, Yu Yao sat with a slice of matcha cake and her phone open beside her coffee. She sipped slowly, watching the foam dissolve on top, then reached for her phone as the first message came through.

ZGDX_Lv: So? How's it feel to leave my brother foaming at the mouth?

Yao's reply came within seconds.

Yu_Yao: Oddly satisfying.Though I did hold back on killing him at Baron just to make sure he raged longer.He looked like he was going to cry when Pang died in midlane for the fourth time.

Yue laughed, then typed quickly.

ZGDX_Lv: You have no idea how many tabs he's got open right now trying to figure out who you are.I think he might actually call in a PI.

Yu_Yao: Should I tell him I'm a 14-year-old esports prodigy from Siberia?With a vendetta?

ZGDX_Lv: You're evil. I like it.

Yu_Yao: You're biased. I like that more.

Yue stared at the screen for a moment, a strange warmth settling in his chest. This—this teasing, brilliant, quietly dangerous woman—she was his kind of chaos.

Then another message popped up.

Yu_Yao: Also, I was thinking… maybe next week you and I scrim together instead.One lane, two wolves. Let's see how long your Captain lasts then.

He grinned, slow and wide.

ZGDX_Lv: You trying to flirt with me through murder plans?

Yu_Yao: Is it working?

ZGDX_Lv: You're lucky I like the idea of you carrying me.

A pause.

Then her final message for the hour:

Yu_Yao: Good. Because I'm not letting you go, Lu Yue.

His thumb lingered over her name, eyes sharp and full of something fiercely pleased, even as the sound of Sicheng cursing in the next room echoed down the hall. "Let him hunt." Yue muttered under his breath, smirking to himself. Because at the end of the day, there were only two people who knew the truth behind Smiling. And neither of them had plans to tell.

The front doors of the ZGDX base opened quietly, the afternoon sun casting a soft glow through the glass as a figure stepped into the entryway, her stride unhurried but confident. She wore no lab coat, no badge announcing her as anything other than a visitor, but there was a clinical neatness to the way she carried herself, precise, like every step had purpose. Her long hair, a sweeping cascade of crimson and molten gold, shimmered against the black of her slacks and slate-gray blouse. And when her eyes lifted, clear, piercing, the kind of ocean-blue that didn't just reflect light but commanded it. As she eyed Rui before her. "I'm here to see Yu Ming," she said simply, voice calm and precise. "I'm his surgeon. I'm following up on his hand."

In the common lounge, chaos reigned.

Sicheng was still obsessively flipping between tabs on his laptop, half-glaring at a folder of failed IP traces when the notification ding rang through the system announcing a guest had arrived.

"Ming, there's someone here for you," Rui called from the hallway, glancing toward the monitors. "Claims she's your doctor?"

Ming, seated near the window with a tablet in hand, gave no outward reaction except to stand smoothly and set it aside though on the inside he was sweating bullets.

Yue, lounging nearby and already very aware of what was coming, slowly stretched and let a smirk curl at the edge of his lips as he stood.

And then she appeared. The moment Yu Yao stepped into the lounge, time fractured. Every eye lifted. Every conversation dropped.

Even Pang's mouth, mid-chew on what had once been a victorious mouthful of chicken skewer, hung slightly ajar.

And Lu Sicheng, he looked up, and for a brief, unguarded second, he stared. Because she wasn't what he expected. No one expected her. She wasn't loud. She wasn't dramatic. She didn't walk in demanding attention. She simply was. That kind of presence, quiet but impossible to ignore, spoke louder than any entrance ever could.

"Yao-er," Ming said calmly, he was anything but damn well calm, already approaching. "You didn't have to come all the way here."

"Considering you've already disobeyed the post-op care schedule twice," Yao replied crisply, drawing a small medical bag from her shoulder, "I didn't trust that you wouldn't again."

Ming huffed quietly, resigned as he knew there was no way of getting out of this with her.

Sicheng blinked, then narrowed his eyes. "Wait. Doctor? "

Yao didn't even glance at him. She walked past him without pause, stopping only once she reached Ming's side. She set the bag down on the counter, pulled on a pair of gloves, and gestured for him to sit.

Lao Mao leaned toward Lao K. "Why do I feel like we just got evaluated without her even blinking?"

"She's gorgeous," Pang muttered. "Like dangerous gorgeous. You think she's one of those assassins who uses surgery tools?"

Lao K, however, didn't speak. He was watching Ming and Yue. And the tension strung invisibly between them, like something volatile held in place with careful silence.

Yue finally stepped forward, unable to stop the smile tugging at his lips as he made his way over to her. "You didn't tell me you were coming."

"I didn't want to give my brother time to run." she replied calmly, her voice smooth but laced with razor-edged intent as she reached into her bag.

Sicheng blinked, confusion flickering across his face before it slowly twisted into something more focused. "Your brother?"

Yao looked up then, ocean-clear eyes cutting sharp across the room, not at Yue, not at anyone else, but directly at Sicheng. "Yes," she said, enunciating each word with crisp clarity. " My brother."

The temperature shifted instantly.

Ming, standing beside her, cleared his throat with the weariness of a man whose private life had just detonated across the living room of his professional one. "Everyone," he said with zero fanfare and less patience, "this is my younger half-sister, Dr. Yu Yao."

The silence that followed was nearly comical.

Lao Mao's eyebrows shot up so high they nearly vanished into his hairline.

Pang, halfway through a sip of boba tea, choked violently. "Wait. You? Have a sister? Since when?!"

Ming didn't answer. He just walked to the nearby chair like a man marching to his own execution.

Yao, gloves already on, calmly gestured for him to extend his hand. "Since always," she said mildly, checking the healed skin with precise, gentle pressure, completely unbothered by the way every man in the room was still staring like she'd walked in carrying a glowing sword.

Except Yue.

Yue looked like he knew he'd won the lottery.

Sicheng, however, was staring at him now, eyes narrowing slowly, expression shifting with suspicion as the wheels started to turn. "You've been acting like you know something," he said, low and flat.

Yue didn't even bother to deny it. He just leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, and gave a smile far too pleased to be innocent. "What can I say?" he said lazily. "Some people prepare for surprises. I just enjoy them."

And sitting calmly beside her brother, Yu Yao didn't even blink. But her eyes, God, those eyes, sparked with something cold and fierce and quietly wicked as she gently flexed Ming's wrist and said in a soft, professional murmur, "Good news. Your bone's healing nicely. Bad news? I'm not clearing you to resume full coaching gestures until you stop using your hand to bang on desks when Pang dies."

"I only died once today." Pang yelped from across the room.

Yao turned her gaze on him and said nothing.

He immediately looked away.

Lao K, arms folded, eyed Ming… then Yue. Then Yao. Then back at Ming. The suspicion in his face said only one thing. This wasn't over.

The check-up had barely finished when Ming tried to brush her off. "I'm fine." he muttered, already standing as he began flexing his hand.

"You're not cleared to be using your wrist like that," Yao snapped, immediately straightening as she stripped off the gloves and tossed them into the portable waste kit in her bag.

"I know my body."

"Apparently not, since I'm the one who had to surgically correct what you broke."

The room stilled again.

Ming glanced toward the others, clearly trying to redirect, but Yao turned fully to face him now, hands landing sharply on her hips as her stance shifted, small but deadly. 

The entire base had frozen like someone had slammed the pause button on reality.

Because standing there, all 5'3 of her, was Dr. Yu Yao, staring up at her towering 6'2 older half-brother with her hands planted firmly on her hips, her tone crisp and surgical as she launched into a full-scale scolding that could make military generals flinch. "And if I hear from anyone that you've been using that hand to gesture dramatically again," she said, voice calm but lethal, "I will not only revoke your post-op privileges, I will call Baba, and I will show him the slow-motion footage from the scrim room camera—complete with audio—of you slamming your palm on the desk like a toddler denied candy."

Ming's jaw locked. "You wouldn't," he said, the faintest flicker of dread crossing his usually unreadable face.

"I already have the file," she replied sweetly. "Labeled and timestamped."

Every player in the room went still. Pang's bubble tea slurping came to a violent halt. Lao Mao's eyes were wide, filled with reverence and an ounce of genuine fear. Lao K stood with his arms crossed, as still as a statue, but his gaze flicked sharply from Yao to Ming—then to Yue, who leaned casually against the far wall with an expression so smug it could've been bottled and sold as blackmail perfume.

Sicheng, however, was staring. Not at Ming. Not even at the rest of his team scrambling to avoid eye contact. At her. At the woman whose presence had turned the entire room inside out without raising her voice once. "Wait," he said slowly, eyes narrowing. "She's seriously your sister?"

"Half-sister. Same father. I raised her." Ming sighed with the weight of a man giving up a secret under duress.

"You raised her?" Pang blurted. "You mean the walking storm in flats?"

Yao glanced over her shoulder, cool and composed. "Still standing here, you know."

Pang flinched. "Right. Sorry. Please don't medically shame me."

Yue, still comfortably amused, shook his head and murmured under his breath, "Unbelievable."

Sicheng turned sharply toward his younger brother. "You knew about this?"

Yue gave a slow, almost infuriatingly casual shrug. "I might've met her before."

"That," Sicheng snapped, "isn't an answer."

Yue smiled, lazy and content. "No, it's not."

And with that, the room dipped back into chaotic tension.

But Yao was already packing up her bag, professionally efficient, her focus returning to her task as she handed the new brace to Ming and gave her final, perfectly enunciated instruction: "Wear it. No excuses. No exceptions. Or I will text Baba." 

Ming muttered something in defeat and took the brace. And as Yao slung her bag over her shoulder and turned to leave, every man in the room instinctively stepped aside, giving her a clear path as if she carried the authority of a general and the aura of a lioness.

Sicheng stared after her like he was trying to re-run the last five minutes through a lagging mental processor.

Lao K leaned slightly toward Yue and muttered, low and skeptical, "You're sure you're just acquaintances?"

Yue's smirk returned, quiet and dangerous. "I never said just anything." And with that, he pushed off the wall and followed after her, leaving behind a lounge full of pro players who had absolutely no idea what kind of whirlwind had just blown through their world—but every one of them knew one thing for certain.

Dr. Yu Yao was not to be underestimated.

The base door clicked shut behind Yue, and with it, the room seemed to exhale, slowly, unevenly, like every member of the team had just survived a tornado but was still too stunned to move.

Pang was the first to break the silence. "I think I just developed a fear of doctors."

Lao Mao whistled low under his breath. "I'm not even mad. She had Ming pinned like a bug. You know how hard that is?"

"She said Baba," Pang whispered, eyes wide. "Like their dad has rank. Like Ming is scared of him."

Only Lao K stayed silent, arms crossed, his gaze shifting toward the hallway.

Because Lu Sicheng had already stood. And he was walking. Not fast. Not loud. Just steady. And no one stopped him. Because everyone knew that expression—that quiet burn of suspicion, pride, and relentless need to understand. He didn't knock when he reached the office door. He didn't need to. He opened it, stepped inside, and closed it behind him with a soft click.

Ming was already seated, one leg crossed, fingers moving calmly over a digital stat pad, like his half-sister hadn't just lit the entire base on fire.

Sicheng stood there for a long moment, waiting.

Ming didn't look up.

Finally, Sicheng broke the silence, his voice low, sharp, but calm. "So. You have a sister."

"Yes," Ming said flatly.

"You never thought to mention that?"

"No."

Sicheng's jaw tightened. "She's a doctor. A surgeon."

"Yes."

"She threatened to call your father like she was invoking divine punishment."

"She wasn't threatening. She will call him."

"And Yue knows her."

Ming said nothing.

Sicheng leaned forward slightly. "Do you know how Yue knows her?"

Still nothing. That silence—measured and intentional—pressed into the space like a wall.

Sicheng narrowed his eyes. "You're not going to say anything, are you?"

Ming's eyes flicked up once, briefly. "No."

Sicheng's hand curled loosely at his side, the control evident in every inch of his body, in the tight pull of his shoulder, in the edge creeping into his voice. "She's not just some girl," he said quietly. "Yue doesn't look at 'just some girl' like that. And you—you let her tear into you in front of your players like it was nothing. So, who is she really?"

"She's my sister," Ming repeated, calm and quiet. "That's all you need to know."

Sicheng studied him for a long time.

The silence stretched.

Ming went back to his pad. And Sicheng, after another long moment, gave a humorless laugh under his breath and turned for the door. And with that, he walked out, the door clicking shut behind him. Leaving Ming alone. Still silent. Still watching the numbers. But behind his stillness, something in his eyes flickered and then disappeared. "Sorry Cheng but you missed your chance. I am not going to let you try a hand at taking her for yourself…..not when Yue has proven already that he will take care of her." 

The base door clicked quietly behind them, the soft echo of it fading into the late afternoon light. The sun had begun its slow descent, casting warm orange streaks across the pavement as the faint sounds of the city beyond the gate pulsed with life. It was quieter out here, cleaner, somehow. No tension. No eyes. Just them.

Yao adjusted the strap of her medical bag over her shoulder, her expression returned to something gentler, more introspective. Gone was the storm that had threatened her brother with full medical compliance. In its place was the quiet strength Yue had first met—the brilliant, cutting presence wrapped in the subtle elegance of a woman who rarely needed to raise her voice to command attention. He walked beside her, hands in his pockets, his stride easy and unhurried, but something beneath it was taut. Focused. The DiDi pulled up at the curb, smooth and silent, headlights blinking once in greeting.

Yao took one step toward it, then paused as Yue's voice broke the stillness between them, quieter than usual, stripped of its lazy drawl, and touched with something uncharacteristically serious.

"Yao."

She turned, glancing up at him, those ocean-clear eyes catching the light and softening instantly.

He didn't smile. Not fully. Not yet. "I was wondering," he said, his voice steady but low, "if you'd like to get dinner sometime." There was no teasing in it. No posturing. Just Yue, standing there like the man who had spent days biting back the instinct to make it official, now finally stepping forward and laying the offer bare between them.

Yao's fingers tightened slightly around her bag strap, her gaze flickering down briefly before returning to his—and when she spoke, her voice wasn't sharp or firm. It was soft. Shy. And real. "I'm free Thursday night."

Something in Yue eased. Not visibly. Not in any dramatic shift of posture or breath. But his eyes, those clever, dark eyes, warmed at the edges as he nodded once, firm and certain. "Thursday," he repeated quietly. "I'll text you the place."

Yao gave the faintest nod, the kind that looked more like permission than agreement, and opened the car door. Before stepping inside, she glanced up again, her hair catching in the breeze, that unreadable expression flickering over her face like something unspoken was rising but hadn't quite reached her lips. Then she slipped into the car and pulled the door shut.

The DiDi drove off, blending into traffic.

And Yue stood there on the sidewalk, the sun dipping low behind him, watching the car vanish down the road with a small, quiet smile that never reached his mouth but settled somewhere deep behind his eyes. Because Thursday was just a few days away and he had plans.

The restaurant was upscale without being pretentious, quiet without feeling cold. Dim lighting cast a soft golden hue across polished wood, exposed brick, and wine racks lining the walls. Each table was far enough apart to make the space feel private—intentional.

Lu Yue had arrived early. He didn't usually do that. But something about tonight had him buttoning his shirt twice, adjusting his cuffs more than once, and checking his phone with a level of restlessness he didn't know he was capable of. He sat near the window, nursing a glass of water, posture relaxed but gaze flicking toward the entrance more than he'd admit.

And then she walked in. Yue's breath didn't catch, not exactly. It just… paused. She wore a soft, dark gray dress, the fabric flowing down to mid-calf, hugging her form without clinging, understated but undeniably elegant. Her heels tapped softly against the wood floor as she stepped forward, graceful without trying to be. Her hair was pulled up in a loose twist that revealed the elegant slope of her neck, a few strands falling near her ears, framing her face. And her makeup, light, subtle, just enough to soften her features without hiding a single expression, was done with the same precision as her speech: clean, careful, and devastatingly effective.

Yue stood immediately. Not because it was polite. Because he couldn't not.

Yao spotted him a moment later, and the tiniest breath caught in her chest, just enough to still her for a half-step before she straightened and walked forward. Her hands didn't clutch her purse. Her eyes didn't dart. But there was something behind them, something soft, vulnerable, a hint of shyness she couldn't quite suppress. And it made her all the more striking. "You clean up well," she said, her voice a little quieter than usual, her lips curving slightly.

Yue looked at her, really looked, for a heartbeat longer than he probably should have. "You look..." he paused, mouth pulling into something slower, deeper than his usual smirk, "...like the kind of woman who makes every man in this place rethink his life."

Yao flushed. Not dramatically. Just a warm bloom of color high on her cheeks, like the compliment had landed somewhere she hadn't expected. "You always this smooth when you're serious?" she asked, sliding into the seat he pulled out for her.

"I'm not trying to be smooth," he said, taking the seat across from her. "I'm trying not to mess up the one chance I really want."

Yao blinked and then she looked down, adjusting the silverware on her side of the table, hiding a small, startled smile behind a breath. "Well," she murmured, "so far you're doing okay."

Yue smiled, leaning forward slightly, the candle between them casting soft shadows across the planes of his face. "Then let's see if I can keep it that way."

The soft clink of utensils on porcelain faded into the gentle murmur of conversation around them, but at their table, time moved differently. The candle between them flickered gently with every shift of air, casting a warm glow across Yao's cheekbones and softening the sharp line of Yue's jaw as he leaned slightly closer—not enough to cross any boundaries, but enough to be present.

"Are you always this composed?" Yue asked, his voice quiet, as though anything louder might break whatever held the space so delicately between them.

Yao smiled, just a touch. "It's easier to be composed when you're used to being the youngest in every room that expects you to lead."

"That sounds exhausting," he said honestly, watching her closely.

"It's…" she hesitated, fingers brushing the rim of her water glass, "...habit now. Necessary. Expected."

"But not who you are?"

Her eyes lifted then—sharply, fully—and for the first time that evening, Yue saw past the polished surface and into something quieter. Something that ran deep and tight behind her ribs like tension she'd never quite learned to release. "I'm a lot of things," she said softly, "but I've learned to be what people need me to be. What I want to be... doesn't always come first."

He didn't answer right away. Didn't offer some rushed comfort or canned line. Instead, he studied her, his voice low when it came again. "I don't want the version of you that's for everyone else." Yao's breath caught again, almost imperceptibly. "I want you," he said, not with pressure, but certainty. "As you are. Whatever that means. Even if you don't know yet."

She looked down for a moment, her thumb brushing against the base of her wine glass. "That's a dangerous thing to say."

"Not if I mean it."

She exhaled, slow, then glanced up. "Why me?"

Yue's eyes didn't waver. "Because you walk into rooms like you're already ten moves ahead. Because you speak like every word matters. Because you're the only person I've ever met who could terrify a room of pro players and still blush when complimented." That made her laugh—soft and real, breaking through her tension like a crack of sunlight between clouds. "And because," he added, voice deepening just slightly, "I haven't stopped thinking about you since that tea house." Yao's fingers stilled. "And you?" he asked, more gently now. "Why'd you say yes?"

She hesitated, gaze dropping to the white tablecloth before she answered. "Because no one's ever looked at me the way you did," she said quietly. "Like I'm not something to solve or survive... but something worth staying for."

Silence stretched between them, warm and full, not awkward but steady, like a foundation being laid, brick by quiet brick.

Yue reached for his glass again, but this time, as he lifted it, his knuckles brushed lightly against hers. Not grabbing. Not demanding. Just enough to be felt. "I want more than one dinner," he said, meeting her gaze with unflinching sincerity.

Yao smiled again, this time smaller, softer, but no less radiant. "I know," she whispered. And when she raised her glass in return, the quiet clink between them sounded like the first promise of something beginning. Something real.

The restaurant had grown quieter by the time they stepped outside, the evening air cool and brushed with the scent of distant rain, the streetlights casting long shadows against the cobblestones where their footsteps echoed softly. They walked without urgency, side by side along the quiet sidewalk, the city glowing around them in dim gold and silver hues. The silence between them wasn't heavy. It lingered like a shared breath, a mutual pause neither of them wanted to break too quickly.

Yao's dress swayed gently with each step, her heels ticking quietly against the pavement, and Yue, hands still tucked loosely in his pockets, walked close enough to feel her presence, but not so close that he intruded. They didn't need words just yet. Not when the silence felt this full. But than, almost absentmindedly, her hand shifted, brushing against his as she adjusted her purse strap. Yue's fingers twitched. Not grasping. Not grabbing. Just… brushing back. The lightest touch. A deliberate ghost of contact that lasted only a moment, a silent offering. And then he waited. 

Yao didn't look at him right away. But after two steps, she slowed. And without a word, without prompting, she turned her hand slightly and slipped it into his. Willingly. Quietly. Surely. His hand closed around hers, firm but gentle, his thumb moving once, just once, across the back of her knuckles, and for a moment neither of them spoke.

Yue's heart thudded in the quiet, not fast, not nervous, just full. Then he stopped walking. She did too, turning to glance up at him with soft curiosity in her eyes. And before he could think better of it, Yue lifted her hand to his lips and pressed the faintest kiss against the back of her fingers, not teasing, not coy, but reverent. The kind of kiss that meant something.

Yao's breath hitched. Her eyes widened just slightly, and the flush that bloomed across her cheeks was soft, warm, and beautifully uncontrollable. She didn't pull away. Instead, she looked down at their joined hands, his warm against hers, her fingers lightly curled in his and whispered, just loud enough for him to hear: "No one's ever done that before."

Yue's smile was quiet, his voice lower now, like even speaking too loudly might scare the moment away. "Then they weren't paying attention." Her blush deepened, but this time, she didn't look away. She didn't need to. Because she was still holding his hand. And she wasn't letting go.

They didn't speak for several blocks, not because there was nothing to say, but because silence, in this moment, felt like something sacred. Her hand remained in his, fingers woven together with a warmth that had nothing to do with heat and everything to do with intention. Yue wasn't leading her. He wasn't pulling. He simply walked with her. 

And then, after a beat of hesitation, Yao's voice came, soft and low, barely louder than the hush of the wind slipping between the buildings. "Can I ask you something?"

Yue glanced over, his grip on her hand shifting only to reassure, never to tighten. "Anything."

She was looking ahead, not at him, the city lights reflecting in her eyes like distant stars. Her thumb rubbed lightly across the inside of his palm, and he could feel the subtle tension building behind the question she hadn't spoken yet. "Why accounting?" she asked. "And data analytics. And business school. You could've just... played."

He was quiet for a moment, and when he answered, his voice wasn't flippant or smooth. It was thoughtful. "Because I wanted control," he said honestly. "Not in the flashy, power-hungry way. Just... if gaming didn't work out, I needed something that couldn't be taken from me. Something no one could touch."

She turned her head then, eyes meeting his for the first time in minutes. "I get that," she said quietly. "Wanting something that's yours."

Yue's gaze held hers a second longer before he asked, gently, "What about you?"

Yao hesitated.

"I mean," he clarified, slower now, "you're brilliant, talented, terrifyingly composed... But do you ever get to just be? No expectations, no degrees, no pressure?"

She looked away again, something tight in her throat that hadn't been there a moment ago. "No," she murmured, and that one word carried more weight than most full sentences. "Not really."

Yue slowed their steps again, sensing the shift in her tone, and asked carefully, "Have you ever let anyone in before?"

Yao's hand tensed slightly in his. Then, without looking at him, she spoke so softly he barely caught the words. "No."

That silence returned but this time it didn't stretch awkwardly. It settled gently, like a blanket, like an admission held with care rather than judgment. Then Yue, voice lower still, asked, "You ever dated before?" She stopped walking completely. He did too. 

Yao looked down, her lashes casting shadows across her cheeks as she swallowed, voice almost lost to the night. "No," she whispered. "In fact…" She bit her lip, shifted her weight. "I've never even been kissed."

Yue didn't speak. Didn't react. Didn't laugh or tease or flinch. He just watched her, really watched her, as she stood there with that soft, flushed vulnerability blooming across her face like something fragile that had taken every ounce of courage to hand over. And when he finally did speak, his voice was as soft as hers. "I'm glad."

She looked up, startled, confusion written in the delicate arch of her brows.

"I'm glad," he repeated, "because if you'll let me... I want to be the first."

The wind brushed past them again, tugging lightly at her hair. And for a long moment, Yao said nothing. Then, very slowly, she nodded. But she didn't ask him to kiss her then. She didn't step closer. She just turned, gently tugged his hand to guide him forward again, and whispered the softest answer he'd ever heard. "Not yet."

Yue smiled, warm and patient and sure. "Whenever you're ready." And they walked on, hand in hand, beneath the soft glow of streetlights and the quiet promise of something just beginning.

The ride pulled up in front of her apartment building, headlights casting long shadows along the quiet curb, the soft interior glow reflecting against the sleek metal of the car's side. The city had dimmed into that late hour lull where the world seemed to hush just for them.

Yao hadn't let go of his hand. Even as they stood beneath the soft spill of the streetlamp, her fingers still curled gently around his, not tightly, not nervously—just present.

Yue stepped forward first, moving to open the car door for her, but he didn't speak right away. He just stood with her in the soft silence, his body angled toward hers, the warmth of him brushing gently through the space between them like a whisper not yet spoken.

Yao glanced up, her lips parting slightly in preparation for goodbye, but Yue's voice caught her first.

"Yao."

She paused, waiting.

His eyes searched hers—gentle, steady, never pushing. "Would it be alright if I called you my girlfriend now?"

Her breath caught. Not because she hadn't expected it. But because he asked. Because he waited. Because he hadn't assumed or taken or named her without her say. She swallowed, cheeks already coloring in a soft, slow flush that rose from her neck to the tops of her ears. Then, quietly, she nodded.

Yue's smile softened, something slow and private, just for her. "Good," he murmured, and without waiting another beat, he leaned in—not fast, not bold—just enough to press the warmest, softest kiss to her cheek. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't loud. It just was. And it made her close her eyes, just for a second, because the way his lips met her skin—barely a breath of pressure, reverent and real—felt like more than just affection. It felt like acceptance. When he pulled back, he didn't say anything more. He just helped her into the car with the same quiet grace he'd carried all evening.

As she settled in and closed the door, her window lowered, and she looked up at him—still wide-eyed, still blushing—but smiling now, soft and full and completely hers. "Text me when you get home," she said.

"I will."

"And Yue?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad it's you."

The car pulled away before she could see the way he exhaled, long and low, like she'd just put something right back in place that he hadn't realized had been missing.

Morning at the ZGDX base was its usual collection of half-shouted greetings, the hum of PCs booting up, and the distant groan of Pang complaining about the lack of fresh boba. Breakfast wrappers rustled, muted music filtered through headsets, and caffeine was the language everyone spoke until at least ten.

Except Lu Yue. Who walked into the common area like he'd just had the best sleep of his life and probably dreamed in gold and silk. His hair was slightly tousled in that effortless way people try to style but never quite manage. He had a bottle of water in one hand, phone in the other, and an absolutely idiotic grin tugging at his lips as he sat down on the arm of the couch like the air around him owed him something. He unlocked his phone. Looked at the screen. Smiled again. Did it twice more in under a minute.

Which, naturally, did not go unnoticed.

Lao Mao was the first to narrow his eyes. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"I don't like it," Pang muttered. "He looks... satisfied. That's never good."

"Did someone drug him?" Lao K asked, one brow slowly arching. "Or did he finally buy that custom keyboard he's been whining about for two months?"

Yue didn't answer. He just grinned wider, tapping something into his phone, then chuckled under his breath.

Lao K tilted his head. "What has you acting like that?"

Yue looked up, eyes still slightly glazed from whatever glow he was basking in, and said with infuriating calm: "My girlfriend."

Silence dropped like a hammer.

Three jaws fell open.

Even Rui, who had just walked in with a clipboard, froze halfway through a sip of his tea.

Lao Mao sputtered. "You—you have a girlfriend?"

"Since when?" Pang added, eyes darting wildly. "You were single yesterday!"

"Exactly. Yesterday night changed everything." Yue said smugly, holding up his phone like a badge of honor. 

And then, "Lu Yue."

The room turned as one.

Ming had entered from the hallway without a sound, coffee mug in one hand, his expression unreadable. But his eyes, sharp and focused, were locked on his Midlaner like he was dissecting his soul. Yue's smile flickered. Just a little. Ming took one step forward. Then another. Then stopped just a few feet away from him. And the silence that followed was loud. "If you hurt my sister," he said quietly, voice calm but dark, "I will kick your ass."

No change in volume.

No dramatic threat.

Just fact.

Yue's grin didn't disappear, it just settled, softened, folding into something smaller and more serious. "I know."

Ming stared at him a moment longer. Then turned and walked away, sipping his coffee like he hadn't just dropped a threat on the lounge floor and walked through it.

The others sat in stunned silence.

Until Pang finally choked out, "Sister?!"

"You're dating Ming's sister?!" Lao Mao added, horrified and amazed all at once. "Like the doctor who eviscerated him in front of all of us?!"

"Since when do you get to date girls like that?!" Pang demanded, nearly falling off the couch.

Yue just leaned back, arms crossed, phone in his lap, smug as ever. "Since she said yes." And that, apparently, was that.

A Month Later.

The arena lights were high and hot, the crowd already buzzing with the kind of energy that only built when top teams were minutes from going head-to-head. ZGDX stood just offstage, prepping equipment, checking comms, Ming stood farther back, arms crossed in that usual calm control that could command a battlefield without a single raised voice.

Yue rolled his shoulders, adjusted his mic, and let his headset rest lightly around his neck. He was sharp. Focused. He'd been on fire all month, clean lanes, flawless rotations, and absolutely no distraction. Until it happened. The lights above shifted. The spotlight swept once, briefly across the front row of the VIP section near the stage. And Yue's breath caught. Not because of a banner. Not because of a fan chant. Because she was sitting there.

Yu Yao. In black fitted jeans that tucked perfectly into sleek black boots, a white turtleneck that softened the sharpness of her jacket, the same cherry-red leather one he'd once teased her about not wearing because she said it was "too loud." A matte black vest layered cleanly over her chest, the entire look effortless and intentional. But what hit him hardest, was the fact that those were his team's colors. And in her hands? A sign. Handwritten. Simple. Clean. "ZGDX_Lv, I'm already proud."

Yue's heart stopped. He didn't move. Didn't blink. Because no one knew she was coming. She hadn't said a word, hadn't even hinted. And there she was—sitting like a secret exposed in the front row, calm, composed, looking for all the world like she had every right to be there. Because she did.

Ming, who'd been scanning the crowd out of habit, caught her presence a heartbeat later and said absolutely nothing. But his gaze did flick toward Yue. 

Yue, for the first time since joining the pro league, froze.

Sicheng's voice cut into comms through the earpiece. "Yue, what's up? You look like you saw a ghost."

Yue swallowed. Hard. "Nothing," he muttered. "Thought I saw someone I knew."

"Is she hot?" Lao Mao snorted in laughter.

Yue glanced toward the stage.

Yao tilted her head and smiled. That smile, the soft one, the one only he had ever earned, was waiting just for him. And Yue, heart hammering in his chest, smiled back. Small. Quiet. Because the game hadn't started. But he'd already won.

The arena thundered with crowd noise as ZGDX surged into the early lead, every play snapping into place with surgical precision, their Midlaner playing like his fingers had caught fire and refused to let go.

Yue was unrelenting. Every move was clean. Every skillshot hit. Every decision executed a second before the enemy could even react. LAN's Midlaner had started the match with confidence, but within ten minutes, he was playing scared—backing off even when he had numbers.

"Jesus," Pang muttered. "He's everywhere. He's rotating faster than our Top and Jungler—how's he even managing that?"

"Because he's not playing for a win," Lao Mao murmured. "He's playing like someone's watching."

Lao K made a noise low in his throat—something between a snort and a laugh. He adjusted his headset slightly, eyes flicking up past the top of his monitor toward the front row of the crowd, just long enough to confirm what he already knew. "Yue's girl's here."

"Yu Yao?" Sicheng asked, blinking, voice cutting in. "She actually came?"

"She's in the front row," Lao K said calmly, amused. "Wearing our colors. Black vest, white turtleneck, red leather jacket. Holding a sign."

There was a beat of silence.

And then Lao K, ever the composed one, chuckled under his breath. "Yue's ended up with the most ideal girlfriend on the planet."

Pang turned his camera ever-so-slightly in the pre-teamfight lull, peeking toward the crowd. "No way."

"She's here for him?" Mao asked, glancing between his minimap and the top of the monitor. "Like—full team color coordination?"

"Looks like it," Lao K replied. "It's subtle. Polished. Intentional. She didn't come to be seen. She came to support our Midlaner."

Yue, still absolutely demolishing the map, didn't speak. But the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth said plenty. And when he dove mid for a 1v2 and came out alive—with a double kill and only a sliver of HP.

Pang gasped. "Okay, this is insane. She shows up, and suddenly he's playing like he's got a six-month winning streak behind him and nothing left to prove."

"He's showing off," Lao Mao muttered. "And it's working."

"He's not showing off," Lao K corrected, tone level. "He's proving something. And not to us."

Yue's voice finally came through comms. Smooth. Calm. Focused. "Focus on the match."

They did. But every one of them—from Pang to Sicheng—knew one thing for sure. He wasn't playing like their Midlaner. He was playing like Yu Yao's boyfriend and it was glorious.

The lounge was humming with the post-match high—the energy still riding the edge of celebration, half the team scattered in various stages of gear removal, laughter, and stunned recounting of Yue's relentless midlane performance.

Yue himself had just stepped off the stage, headset still hanging around his neck, the towel around his shoulders doing nothing to hide the way his shirt clung from sweat and adrenaline. He was smiling. Still. The others were talking, loud, half-yelling, trying to make sense of what just happened but Yue had already tuned them out.

Because the door opened and there she was.

Yu Yao. Not in the arena lights now. Not behind the glass. But here, in the lounge. Up close. She stepped in with a sheepish softness in her eyes, her red leather jacket slung open, hands nervously adjusting the black vest layered neatly over her frame. Her eyes found Yue instantly, and despite the calmness in her posture, he could see the hesitation in the way she lingered by the door. "Hey." she said quietly.

Yue stepped forward immediately, something easing in his shoulders, something quieter beneath the residual buzz of victory. "You finally came." It wasn't teasing. It wasn't a complaint. It was gentle.

She nodded slowly, lips tugging into a faint smile. "I… switched shifts. With a friend at the hospital."

That earned a pause in the room. The others, who had noticed her enter but respectfully hadn't interrupted, slowly turned toward her now.

Yue's head tilted, brows furrowed. "You… switched shifts?"

Yao nodded again, stepping further into the room, her eyes soft but shy now beneath the weight of their attention. "They took my day shift. I'll take their graveyard." She looked at Yue as she added, almost like an afterthought, "I didn't want to miss this."

Silence.

Stunning, thick silence.

Then Pang, wide-eyed, let out a very audible whisper. "She gave up sleep to come to his game."

Lao Mao blinked slowly, glancing between her and Yue. "You're telling me she willingly took a graveyard shift—voluntarily—to sit in the front row and hold a sign for you?"

Yao's cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn't look away. "Your guys' matches always fall on my day rotations," she said softly. "This was the first time I could change it. So I did."

Lao K, who had been sipping his water in the corner, muttered without looking up, "Told you. Most ideal woman on the planet."

Sicheng, arms crossed, looked her over once with narrowed eyes, then Yue, then back again but said nothing.

Rui slowly pushed his glasses up. "And I thought Yue showing up early for breakfast was suspicious."

Yue hadn't taken his eyes off her once. "You didn't have to do that," he said gently, stepping closer. 

"I wanted to." she replied, voice low, quiet, but certain. That was the moment Yue reached for her hand, not dramatically, not in a grand gesture, but simply because he needed the touch to make sure she was real. Her fingers curled into his without hesitation. And in that warm, crowded lounge filled with confused stares, subtle grins, and at least one jaw still hanging open, Yue smiled again. This time? Softer. Quieter. Fuller. Because she was here. And that meant everything.

The energy in the lounge had shifted. It wasn't celebration anymore, it was curiosity, edged with awe and something a little closer to reverence. The woman standing beside Yue wasn't just a surgeon, wasn't just Ming's sister, wasn't just the person who had dressed in their team colors to sit front row and cheer. She was his and somehow, no one had quite processed that yet.

Until Sicheng spoke. His voice came quiet, measured—almost casual. Almost. "So... how did you two meet exactly?"

All heads turned.

Yue blinked.

Yao stilled.

Sicheng's arms were crossed, his posture completely at ease, but his amber eyes were far too focused. Not angry. Not cruel. But… sharp. Too sharp.

Yue opened his mouth and just as he looked ready to answer, the door opened again.

Ming stepped into the room. He took one look at the tableau in front of him—his sister beside Yue, everyone frozen, and Sicheng standing cool and calm like a coiled wire—and exhaled through his nose. Then leveled a look at Sicheng. A dark, utterly deadpan stare that said you did this to yourself. Ming walked over, casually grabbed his protein drink off the counter, twisted the cap off, took a sip, and then spoke. "The blind date."

Silence slammed the room.

Sicheng blinked. "What?"

Ming's tone didn't change. "You sent Yue in your place for a blind date." He looked at Yue. "You didn't tell them?"

Yue gave a sheepish half-grin. "Timing never really came up."

Ming stared.

Yue sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright. Fine. Yes. We met when Sicheng bailed on a blind date and bribed me to go turn her down for him." He slid a glance at his brother. "She showed up. I saw her. And I decided... yeah, no way I was handing that back."

Yao flushed, soft but clearly remembering that moment.

Sicheng's jaw tightened but only slightly. His voice remained perfectly calm. "I didn't know it was her."

Ming's look turned lethal. "And if you had?"

Sicheng didn't answer. Not directly. But his silence, his perfectly composed, quiet silence, spoke volumes.

The others?

They were stunned.

Pang's hand had gone limp, the half-eaten protein bar now forgotten in his palm.

Lao Mao was blinking like he was trying to process a plot twist in real time.

Rui stared like he needed to rewrite the team newsletter.

And Lao K… Lao K just nodded slowly, knowingly. "I was wondering why she looked like she walked into Yue's soul the first time she visited."

Yue, still holding Yao's hand, turned back toward her now, voice dropping lower, but no less warm. "I told you it was fate."

Yao's blush deepened, but her grip in his hand didn't loosen.

And as the silence settled again, Sicheng finally exhaled, turned his gaze away, and said evenly: "Well." He looked back at Yue, expression unreadable. "I guess even I can misplay sometimes." But behind his eyes, Yue caught it. The flicker. The quiet, buried edge of something very close to jealousy. And Yue? He just smiled. Because this game? He'd already won.

The room was still swimming in the aftermath of Ming's blunt confirmation and Yue's casual ownership of their story, the team frozen in various stages of processing that this woman —the elegant, red-jacketed powerhouse who had shown up in the front row—had once been intended for Sicheng... but had ended up with Yue.

Yao, standing beside Yue, tilted her head slightly, her fingers still lightly laced with his. And then, with a small hum—almost amused, almost thoughtful—she spoke. "Well," she murmured, "since we're revealing things…"

Yue's eyes darted to her, immediately wary. "Yao-er…"

But she only smiled softly, her voice calm and unbothered. "I suppose it's time I introduced myself properly." She let go of Yue's hand then—only to step forward with calm, self-assured ease, her red jacket catching the light, her boots clicking once on the tile as she turned her gaze across the room. "I'm Yao," she said with a small nod. "And some of you," her eyes swept slowly across Mao, Pang, and finally landed on Sicheng, who visibly stiffened under her gaze, "might know me better as Smiling. "

Dead. Silence.

Lao Mao blinked once. Then twice. "Wait—what?"

Pang's mouth opened. Closed. Reopened. No sound came out.

Sicheng froze. It wasn't dramatic. It was subtle. But Yue caught it. The way his brother's hands stilled. The way his shoulders shifted just slightly, as if bracing against something unseen. "You're Smiling?" he asked, slowly, lowly.

Yao nodded. "The one who handed you your first scrim loss this season. Yes."

Rui dropped the clipboard he'd been holding.

Lao K just leaned back in his chair and muttered, "I knew it."

"You're Smiling?" Pang burst out, eyes wide. "The Smiling? The one who trapped me three times in one game and made me uninstall for a week?!"

"Yes," Yao said sweetly, "but that was nothing personal. You just kept walking into it."

Lao Mao let out a stunned breath. "You're the ghost player with zero listed team history who broke three server ranks in under a year and has never been publicly identified?"

"Correct," she said, stepping back beside Yue like she hadn't just detonated a tactical nuke in the center of the room. And that's when Sicheng finally, finally, reacted. One hand raised to rub slowly across his jaw. Because he had fought Smiling. He had lost to Smiling. He had raged about Smiling. And now he was standing ten feet away from her. She looked him in the eye without flinching. "You sent your brother on a blind date with me," she said, tone quiet but edged with calm satisfaction. "And you didn't even show up. So I figured I'd just... return the favor on the Rift."

Yue, trying very hard not to laugh, reached up and ran a hand down his face.

Sicheng looked away first.

And that was when Pang let out a strangled sound. "Oh my god, Yue is dating Smiling."

Rui, still stunned, whispered faintly, "I need to sit down."

But Yao just smiled again, soft and serene. Then slipped her hand back into Yue's.

And Yue—smug bastard that he was—glanced around the room and said with a shrug, "Still think I don't know how to pick 'em?"

The room was still suspended in stunned disbelief. Rui had indeed sat down—on the edge of a storage crate, muttering something about early retirement. Pang was pacing with his hands on his head like someone had spoiled the final episode of his favorite drama. Lao Mao just kept repeating, "Smiling. She's Smiling. She's here. She's real."

Yue, still holding Yao's hand like it grounded him, was doing his best to appear innocent and not at all deeply entertained by the chaos he and his girlfriend had just caused.

Sicheng hadn't said another word. He was still processing. Deeply.

And than, Lao K moved. He let out a sudden, sharp snort, followed by a low, full chuckle that cut through the noise like a blade through fog. It wasn't mocking. It wasn't even surprised. It was realization. His eyes narrowed as they flicked toward Yao, then traced back to the man leaning silently against the far wall.

Yu Ming.

Lao K's gaze sharpened, and the corner of his mouth tugged upward with quiet, wicked understanding as he muttered, "Now I see it."

The others turned toward him, confused.

Lao K didn't explain right away. He simply turned that look—measured, amused, cutting, directly onto Ming, who had remained the only untouched presence in the room, perfectly still in the eye of the storm he'd let unfold. "You taught her everything." It wasn't a question.

Ming didn't blink. He took another sip of his drink and replied with a flat, deadpan tone that could cut steel. "She picked it up faster than Yue ever did."

"Hey!" Yue protested, eyes wide.

"I did." Yao added with a soft hum, barely hiding her smile.

Pang spun. "You were trained by Ming?!"

Yao shrugged one shoulder. "He was always a better mentor than a brother."

"Yao." Ming growled, sounding more tired than offended.

"See?" she said simply. "Classic Ming."

Lao K leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed, nodding slowly, fully satisfied. "It all makes sense now. The calculated map pressure. The triple bait combos. The clean rotations. You're not just gifted. You're coached."

Ming spoke. "She figured out how to beat me by the time she was fifteen."

Stunned silence.

Pang let out an audible wheeze. "Are you saying she practiced with you growing up?!"

Ming raised a brow. "I had to test my drafts somewhere."

"You used her for data?!" Mao nearly shouted.

"No," Ming said simply. "I used her to stay sharp."

Lao K gave a slow whistle. "That explains it. She doesn't just play to win. She plays to break patterns. That's textbook Ming."

"Don't inflate his ego," Yao muttered under her breath, though her voice betrayed more fondness than annoyance.

Sicheng finally—finally—spoke. "She's been one of us this whole time," he murmured, almost to himself. "Just... hiding in plain sight."

Yue chuckled low. "Correction. She wasn't hiding. You just didn't notice." And beside him, Yao smiled. Not smug. Not victorious. Just quiet and sure. Like someone who had played her hand with the perfect tempo... and knew exactly when to turn the table.

It was close to midnight when Sicheng knocked. Not loud. Just once. And on the other side of the door, the silence that followed was long—but not unwelcoming.

Finally, Yu Ming's voice came through, quiet and even. "Come in."

Sicheng stepped inside the office and closed the door behind him, his footsteps slow across the polished floor. The desk was clear now, the monitors dim, only one low lamp casting a golden halo across Ming's sharp features as he sat calmly behind his desk, arms resting loosely over the chair's arms. He didn't look surprised. Didn't look curious. He simply waited. Sicheng remained standing for a moment longer before pulling the chair across from him and sitting down without a word.

The silence stretched.

Ming didn't speak. 

And that—that—was what finally made Sicheng lean forward, his elbows settling on his knees, fingers laced tightly in front of him as he stared at the floor between them. "When were you going to tell me?" he asked quietly.

Ming didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back, eyes narrowing just slightly. "I wasn't."

Sicheng's jaw flexed, but he didn't look up. "Why?"

"Because you weren't the one she chose."

That made Sicheng glance up.

Ming's gaze was level, cool, but not cruel. "You passed her over before even meeting her," he said, calm as ever. "And Yue didn't."

Sicheng didn't flinch, but his voice dropped lower. "I didn't know it was her."

"That's the point," Ming said. "You didn't want to know. And Yue... did."

Sicheng looked away again, toward the far window where the city lights pulsed faintly in the glass. "She's—" His voice tightened. "She's Smiling."

"Yes."

"She humiliated me."

"She was holding back."

That brought his eyes snapping back to Ming's.

Ming didn't blink. "You were arrogant. She doesn't play to hurt, unless you deserve it. And you did."

Sicheng exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. "I sent him there. I gave her to him."

"No," Ming said flatly. "You didn't give her to anyone. You just didn't show up. Yue did. She chose."

Sicheng was quiet for a long moment. Then, finally, the question spilled out—soft, unguarded, and more vulnerable than anything he'd allowed to show all night. "Did I miss something I was supposed to find?"

Ming didn't answer right away. He looked at him—really looked—and for the first time, his voice dipped into something less sharp, something quieter. "No."

Sicheng blinked.

"You weren't supposed to find her," Ming said gently. "But Yue was."

That was the first time Lu Sicheng leaned back, eyes distant, heart slow and unsettled as he let that truth settle in. He didn't speak again. And Ming didn't push. They just sat there, in the quiet weight of something inevitable. Of a moment that had passed, but finally made sense.

Her apartment was quiet. The kind of quiet that came only after long hours of noise, the soft hum of city lights outside the window filtering through sheer curtains, casting pale silver streaks across the hardwood floor. Yue's jacket hung on the back of the couch. His shoes sat neatly by the door. And Yu Yao stood barefoot in the center of the room, her red leather jacket folded carefully over the arm of a chair, her long hair now loosened from the pins that had held it in place.

She looked at him from where she stood in front of the window, her silhouette illuminated softly by the city behind her. He hadn't spoken since they walked in. Neither had she. Not because they didn't have anything to say. But because silence finally felt safe.

Yue stepped toward her, slow and deliberate, his expression unreadable—not cocky, not teasing, just focused. Not on the day. Not on the team. Not on what they'd just walked through. Only her. She didn't move. She didn't need to. He stopped just in front of her, their shadows brushing together on the wall behind them. "You stayed through everything," he said softly.

She nodded, eyes never leaving his. "You looked for me in the crowd."

Another nod. "And you didn't run when the room realized who you were."

Yao smiled faintly. "I never intended to hide forever."

"No," he agreed, voice low. "But you let me see you first."

She exhaled, slow and even, her gaze softening as she whispered, "Because you never looked away."

And Yue—who had never needed permission before in his life—finally let his hand rise, brushing the edge of her cheek with the backs of his fingers, his touch reverent, like she might disappear if he wasn't careful. "Yao," he murmured, "I want to kiss you."

Her breath caught. She didn't answer with words. Instead, her hand rose, fingers curling lightly into the front of his shirt, grounding herself against him. And then she nodded. Once. And that was all he needed. He stepped in, close, one hand sliding around her waist, the other curling behind her neck as he pulled her against him, and then he kissed her. Deep. Slow. Unapologetically. No hesitation. No testing the waters. It was the kind of kiss that stole breath and rewrote gravity. That said you're mine without a single word. That threaded one month of secret glances, soft smiles, hushed nights and burning restraint into one crashing, full-bodied moment that made her knees falter and her fingers fist in the fabric at his chest. She gasped into it, just once—caught off guard by the weight of it—and he only held her tighter, his arm firm around her back, grounding her in his warmth, his strength, his want. And when he finally pulled back, just enough to breathe, his voice came hoarse against her lips. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

Yao, breathless and flushed, whispered softly, "I think I do." And then she leaned in again and kissed him. This time slow. Sure. Claiming him just as completely as he had claimed her. And when they finally broke apart again, resting their foreheads together in the hush of her apartment, there were no more walls left between them. Only them. Only this. Only the truth.