Summary: Wrapped in each other's arms and shielded from the outside world, Yao and Sicheng face the quiet truths binding them. No contracts. No titles. Just the kind of forever that is sealed not with words but with unwavering devotion.
Chapter Eleven
The morning light seeped gently through the half-drawn curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. The chaos from the day before—the noise, the shouting, the wild welcome—felt like a distant memory now, muted and far away beyond the thick silence of Sicheng's room.
Yao stirred first, blinking slowly awake, her body deliciously sore, heavy with the kind of deep, content exhaustion that only he could give her. She shifted carefully, wincing slightly at the sharp, sweet ache between her thighs, every muscle in her body humming with memory.
Sicheng was still sleeping beside her, sprawled on his stomach, his arm thrown loosely across her waist as if even in sleep he refused to let her go. His hair was tousled, his face slack with a kind of peace she rarely saw during the hectic days at the base.
She turned onto her side slowly, careful not to wake him, and let herself look at him. Really look at him. The strong line of his jaw. The way his lashes rested against his cheekbones. The faint furrow still lingering between his brows, even in sleep, like he was ready to fight the world if it even thought about taking her away again. She reached out, almost without thinking, and lightly, gently, traced a fingertip along the edge of his jaw.
Her heart ached with how much she loved him. How much she had always loved him, even before she had realized it. She had spent so long thinking she didn't belong anywhere. So long believing she had to keep herself apart, keep herself guarded.
And yet somehow, against all odds…..
Here she was.
Wrapped in him.
Wrapped in home.
Sicheng stirred at her touch, a low, sleepy grumble rumbling from deep in his chest as he shifted, pulling her closer automatically, his hand sliding down to rest against the curve of her hip. His eyes cracked open slowly, still heavy with sleep, and immediately locked onto her. For a long moment, he just stared at her, quiet, warm, something achingly soft flickering in the depths of his gaze.
Yao smiled, small and tender, her thumb brushing lightly over his cheek. "Morning." she whispered.
He grunted lowly, pulling her even closer, tucking her into his chest like he could still somehow get her closer than she already was.
They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in the golden hush of the morning, until Yao stirred, pressing a light kiss to his shoulder.
"We should thank Ai Jia." she murmured against his skin, her voice still thick with sleep but laced with quiet amusement.
Sicheng snorted against her hair, his voice rough and disbelieving. "Why the hell would we thank that pain in the ass?"
Yao laughed softly, the sound muffled against his shoulder, her fingers tracing idle patterns against his bare chest. "Because," she said simply, tilting her head up to meet his eyes, her smile widening, "if it weren't for him... I don't think we ever would've met."
Sicheng blinked once, frowning slightly like he wanted to argue—but the truth of it hung too heavy, too obvious between them to deny. He grunted again, the sound begrudging but not truly annoyed. "Great." he muttered, burying his face against her hair again. "Now I owe that idiot a favor."
Yao giggled, curling tighter into him, her heart too full to say anything more.
Sicheng sighed long and low, the sound more content than exasperated, and pressed a kiss to her temple. "I guess," he said after a long beat, his voice softer now, "I'll thank him." He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his thumb brushing lightly over her cheekbone, the weight of everything unspoken heavy between them. "But only once."
Yao smiled up at him, feeling her heart stretch wider, fuller, safer than it had ever been. "Once is enough," she whispered. And she meant it. Because it didn't matter how it had started. It only mattered that it had led her here. To him. To home. Exactly where she was always meant to be.
The peace of the morning stretched around them, warm and heavy, the kind of quiet that wrapped itself around her like a second blanket.
Yao sighed contentedly, tucking herself even closer against Sicheng's side, feeling the slow, steady thrum of his heart under her palm. For a long, blissful moment, it seemed like the world outside the room didn't exist. But eventually, reality started knocking. Literally. Her phone buzzed sharply against the nightstand, the vibration rattling against the wood. She groaned softly, burying her face against Sicheng's bare chest, hoping maybe if she stayed very, very still, the noise would magically go away. No such luck. The phone buzzed again. And again. And again.
Sicheng sighed heavily, reaching lazily over her to snatch the phone off the nightstand without even lifting his head from the pillow. He held it up between two fingers like it was something offensive, squinting at the screen through half-lidded eyes.
"Yue," he grunted.
Another buzz.
"Pang."
Another.
"Ming."
Another.
"Jesus, even Rui."
Yao whimpered softly, laughing into his chest as he dropped the phone back onto the nightstand with a dramatic thud. "They're going to break the damn door down at this rate," she mumbled, half-laughing, half-horrified.
Sicheng just smirked lazily, tightening his arms around her and dragging her even closer until she was sprawled completely on top of him, straddling his hips, her hair spilling down around them like a curtain. "Let them," he murmured against her hair, his voice low and rough and far too pleased with himself. "I'm not done with you yet."
Yao flushed scarlet, but her heart hammered with something wild and bright and so full of him that she could barely breathe. "We have to get up," she muttered weakly, even as her hands slid up his chest, fingers splaying over his warm skin.
"No," he said easily, catching her hips in his hands and holding her there, right against him. "You're still tired."
"I'm really not," she protested, but the breathless little laugh in her voice gave her away.
Sicheng grinned, sharp and wicked, and rolled his hips up slowly, just enough to make her gasp, her fingers curling reflexively against him. "See?" he said smugly, his thumbs stroking lazy circles against the bare skin of her hips. "Still tired."
Yao bit her lip, laughter spilling out of her even as she smacked his shoulder lightly. "You're ridiculous," she whispered, unable to stop smiling, unable to stop loving him with every wild, wrecked piece of her heart.
"And you," he said, voice dropping dangerously low as he flipped them with infuriating ease, pinning her beneath him once more, "are not leaving this bed until I say so."
Her heart raced, her laughter dying into a gasp as he dipped his head, brushing his mouth over hers in a kiss that promised endless, slow destruction. Another sharp buzz rattled the phone against the nightstand. Neither of them moved. Neither of them cared. Because here, tangled together in the sheets, in each other's arms, in the wreckage and rebuilding of everything they were. They had everything they needed. And for once, the rest of the world could wait.
Sicheng moved with a slow, deliberate certainty, pinning her gently beneath him, his weight anchoring her in a way that made her heart stutter painfully against her ribs. He braced himself on one forearm beside her head, the other hand sliding down the length of her side, fingers skimming over the curve of her hip with slow, reverent strokes. Their eyes locked. And without looking away, without rushing, he shifted his hips and pushed into her—deep, slow, devastating.
Yao gasped, her back arching into him as he filled her completely, her hands flying up to clutch at his shoulders, nails digging lightly into his skin.
He groaned low in his chest, the sound wrecked and raw, as he settled fully inside her, still, heavy, perfect. For a long moment, he didn't move. Just stayed there, buried deep, feeling every trembling inch of her wrapped around him, her heartbeat thundering against his. He dipped his head, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the soft skin of her neck, just below her ear. "You feel like heaven," he whispered against her, his breath warm and wrecking. "Every time."
Yao whimpered, her hands sliding up into his hair, holding him closer, her body trembling with the overwhelming fullness, the overwhelming tenderness of him.
Sicheng shifted his hips slowly, drawing out almost completely before thrusting back in with a slow, firm roll of his hips that made her cry out softly, her thighs tightening instinctively around his waist. He kissed along the column of her throat, slow and unhurried, murmuring between kisses. "So perfect." Another slow thrust, deep and sure, grinding just right against her as she gasped his name brokenly against his shoulder. "My beautiful girl." Another kiss, trailing lower, teeth grazing lightly along her collarbone. "My heart." Another deep thrust, steady and devastating, leaving her trembling beneath him, completely at his mercy. "Mine." His voice broke slightly on that word, the emotion cutting so raw and deep that it made Yao's eyes burn with tears she couldn't hold back.
She tightened her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, pressing her face against his neck as he moved inside her—slow, deep, unrelenting. Worshiping her. Cherishing her. Loving her with every careful, devastating thrust. He moved like he had all the time in the world, like there was no rush, no desperation—only the aching, endless need to show her everything he felt, everything he couldn't say with words alone. And Yao took it all. Gave herself to him completely, clinging to him, trembling under him, letting every whispered promise, every kiss, every slow, deep thrust stitch her back together from the inside out.
He kissed the tears from the corners of her eyes without saying a word, his hands cradling her so gently even as he drove into her with slow, firm precision. "You're everything," he whispered against her skin. "Everything, Yao." And with each deep, steady roll of his hips, he anchored that truth deeper and deeper into her body, her heart, her soul. Until she believed it. Until there was no room for doubt. Only him. Only them. Forever.
Yao could feel it building again—slow and relentless—the pressure coiling tighter and tighter inside her with every deep, steady thrust of his hips. But it wasn't just physical. It wasn't just the sharp, exquisite pleasure that had her gasping against him, her body trembling and desperate for more. It was him. The way he kissed her with every move of his body. The way he whispered promises against her skin, each one wrapping around her like armor. The way he looked at her—as if she was his entire world. She clung to him, nails digging lightly into his shoulders, her thighs tightening around his waist, trying to hold on as the overwhelming, aching wave rose higher and higher inside her.
Sicheng lifted his head just enough to meet her gaze, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths tangling in the small, sacred space between them. "Let go," he whispered, his voice shaking with the force of his need, his love. "I've got you." The words broke something deep inside her—something old, something fragile.
And she shattered.
Yao cried out softly, her body convulsing around him, every nerve ending lighting up, every part of her splintering and coming back together all at once. Her climax hit her in slow, rolling waves, overwhelming and beautiful, tearing sobs from her throat as she clutched at him, anchoring herself to the only thing that mattered.
Him.
Sicheng groaned, low and broken, feeling her tighten around him, feeling her fall apart for him, because of him, and he thrust into her once, twice more, deep and slow, before losing himself completely. He came with a rough, wrecked sound against her neck, his body trembling as he emptied himself inside her, holding her so tight it was as if he could fuse their bodies together through sheer force of will.
They clung to each other through it, through the aftershocks, through the shaking breaths.
Sicheng didn't move for a long time, staying buried deep inside her, wrapped completely around her, his hand stroking slow, soothing lines down her back as if reassuring himself she was still there. As if he could anchor her to him forever.
Yao trembled against him, her heart pounding wildly, her entire body humming with the aftershocks of everything he had just given her. When she finally managed to lift her head, she found him staring down at her, his dark eyes wrecked and raw, so full of love it made her chest ache. He leaned down and kissed her again, slow and soft and endless, like a promise sealed between their lips. "You're mine," he whispered into her mouth. "And you're mine," she whispered back, her voice shaking but certain. His arms tightened around her, pulling her fully against his chest, tucking her safely beneath him, surrounding her with warmth and strength and the quiet, steady certainty that she would never have to doubt again. Never have to question. Never have to wonder if she was wanted. In every way that mattered. And as they drifted slowly down together, tangled in each other, hearts hammering the same steady rhythm, Yao realized something so simple and so profound it brought tears to her eyes: She was home. At last. And she would never, ever have to leave it again.
The world outside the room stayed blissfully distant for a while.
Yao lay curled against Sicheng's chest, the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing a quiet anchor under her cheek. His fingers traced idle, lazy patterns along her spine, soft, grounding, full of a tenderness he rarely showed anyone but her.
The chaos, the noise, the weight of the world, it all stayed locked outside the soundproof walls of his room. Here, there was only peace. Only them.
"Your transfer should be complete soon for Science and Law, right?" Sicheng murmured, his voice low and rough from sleep and everything they had just shared. He knew he had been there but he had the yearning to double check and make sure as he was not losing her again, ever.
Yao nodded against him, her hand resting lightly over his heart. "Already set," she said softly. "Papers are being processed. I should be fully enrolled by next term."
He hummed quietly, pressing a kiss to her hair. "And moving into the base," he added, as if daring her to argue.
She laughed softly, the sound muffled against his chest. "I think that's already been decided, Captain Lu."
He grunted in satisfaction, his fingers sliding up into her hair, cradling the back of her head. "And after you finish school," he murmured, his lips brushing against her forehead, "we'll figure out the rest. Together."
Yao smiled, closing her eyes, letting the certainty of his words soak into her bones. "Together," she whispered back. It was perfect. Almost too perfect. Because just as she nestled closer, content to drift back into the golden haze of sleep—
There was a sudden, thunderous pounding on the door that rattled the entire frame.
They both jerked in surprise, Yao scrambling to yank the sheets up around her naked body, Sicheng cursing under his breath as he shifted up onto his elbows, glaring at the door like he could set it on fire with sheer force of will.
"LU SICHENG," a voice bellowed from the hallway.
Yao winced, recognizing it instantly.
Yue.
Of course.
"You demonic hell-spawn!" Yue shouted, the words clear even through the thick door. "Let the Salt Maiden go! Stop being a hooligan!"
The pounding continued, more insistent now, accompanied by several other voices in the background, Pang, Yue, Lao Mao, even Lao K, egging each other on in escalating chaos.
"I swear to God, Chessman," Pang hollered, "if we have to call security to break that door down, you're paying for the repairs!"
"Release the Salt Maiden!" Yue howled dramatically. "Unhand her, you villainous tyrant!"
Sicheng groaned low and long, dragging a hand down his face.
Yao bit her lip hard, trying and failing, not to laugh as she buried her face against his chest. "They're never going to let this go, are they?" she mumbled, her shoulders shaking with barely restrained laughter.
Sicheng growled under his breath, wrapping his arms tighter around her possessively. "Let them try," he muttered darkly, his voice vibrating against her hair. "They're not getting you back."
Another loud thud rattled the door, and then Rui's voice—dry and infinitely tired—cut through the chaos, "If you idiots break the door, you're all running five extra drills a day for the next month and I will not hesitate to dock your pay without mercy."
Instant silence.
Yao finally lost the battle, bursting into soft, helpless laughter against Sicheng's chest, her heart so full it felt like it might burst.
Sicheng groaned again, but this time, he turned his head and pressed a long, slow kiss into her hair, his arms never loosening, never letting her go. "Welcome to the rest of your life, Shorty," he murmured against her. And somehow… Even with the world banging on their door and chaos waiting outside. It had never sounded better.
It took a while for the pounding and shouting to finally die down.
Long enough for Yao to bury herself completely beneath the sheets, still laughing softly, while Sicheng muttered dark promises about throwing half the team into the nearest fountain when they got out. Eventually, when the noise dwindled to impatient knocking and occasional dramatic sighs, Sicheng sat up, raking a hand through his messy hair, glaring at the door like he could melt it clean off its hinges.
Yao peeked out from under the covers, her face still flushed but her smile too wide, too bright to hide.
Sicheng glanced down at her, something almost unbearably soft flickering in his eyes, before he leaned in and kissed her forehead firmly. "Ready?" he asked, voice low and dry.
"Ready as I'll ever be," she whispered back, heart pounding but steady.
He smirked and threw on a shirt, grabbing a pair of sweatpants off the chair without bothering with anything more formal. If they wanted a show, they were going to get one. He turned back to the bed, holding out his hand to her.
Yao smiled, slipped her smaller hand into his, and let him pull her effortlessly to her feet. Still wrapped mostly in one of his hoodies, with leggings and bare feet, she looked far too small, far too soft for the hell she was about to unleash outside those doors.
Sicheng liked it that way. Liked that they would all see she belonged to him. He slung an arm firmly around her shoulders as they moved toward the door. The second he opened it, chaos exploded again.
Pang let out a dramatic sob and threw himself backward onto the couch as if he had been mortally wounded. "My Salt Maiden!" he wailed, covering his face.
"You corrupted her!" Yue accused, pointing an outraged finger at Sicheng like he was a villain from a soap opera. "You lured her to the dark side!"
Lao Mao just shook his head slowly, sighing like a man resigned to his fate.
Lao K, ever the realist, muttered, "I'm not covering for you idiots if Rui fines us again."
Yue, arms crossed stubbornly, glared at Sicheng and loudly declared, "You better be treating her like royalty, you demonic hell spawn! Otherwise, I will steal her back!"
Sicheng didn't even dignify that with a reply. He just tightened his arm around Yao's shoulders, pulling her tighter against him, his smirk sharp and possessive. Yao, cheeks burning but smiling, couldn't stop laughing as she tucked herself against his side, letting him shield her from the full brunt of their dramatics.
Then, from near the kitchen, Ming's dry, bone-deep exhausted voice cut clean through the noise like a knife: "I thought," he said in a perfectly flat tone, "I was coaching a team of idiotic males." He paused, letting the silence settle for a beat. "Not a bunch of five-year-old girls throwing tantrums over a stuffed animal."
The room went absolutely still for half a heartbeat.
Pang gasped dramatically. "I am offended, Coach!"
Yue threw an arm around Pang's shoulders and nodded solemnly. "Deeply hurt."
Lao Mao snorted and grabbed the nearest couch cushion, shoving it into Pang's face to shut him up.
Lao K sighed with a look that said he was contemplating on all his poor choices that lead him here to this team.
Rui, who had been leaning against the wall the whole time with the weary air of a man already drafting disciplinary memos in his head, finally stepped forward. Without any drama, without any noise, he pulled a small white envelope from his pocket and handed it straight to Yao. She blinked in surprise, taking it cautiously. Inside was a keycard. The ZGDX base logo printed neatly on one side. Her name underneath it. Simple. Permanent. "Welcome home," Rui said dryly, adjusting his glasses like he wasn't even remotely fazed by the hurricane he had just unleashed.
Yao stared at the card for a long, breathless second, her heart swelling until it felt too big for her chest. She looked up at Sicheng, who was watching her, fierce and steady, like she was the only thing in the world worth fighting for. And then she looked at the team—her idiots, her family—and smiled. "Home." she whispered.
The day slipped into the kind of easy, chaotic comfort Yao had never realized she had been craving until now. They crammed themselves onto the couches and the beanbags scattered across the living room, fighting over bowls of popcorn, arguing loudly over movie selections, and tossing insults like candy.
Pang kept trying to switch the movie to a ridiculous slapstick comedy; Yue wanted an action movie with explosions every five minutes; Lao Mao insisted on something "with a plot," and Lao K just sighed and scrolled his phone while they argued. Rui sat off to the side with a cup of tea, occasionally lifting a finger in silent judgment whenever the noise got too loud, but otherwise letting the chaos unfold unchecked. Ming simply sat back, arms crossed, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, like he had already resigned himself to the fact that he was basically babysitting a herd of hyperactive children.
Yao curled against Sicheng's side, tucked neatly into the crook of his arm, her legs stretched out over his lap. He rested his hand lazily against her thigh, every now and then tracing slow, absentminded circles against the fabric of her leggings as if he needed the reassurance that she was real, here, his. She joined right into the banter, her special brand of sarcasm sharp enough to make Pang and Yue whimper dramatically and claim mortal wounds. "You guys are so soft," she said dryly, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth. "I've met toddlers with thicker skin."
"Abuse," Pang declared, clutching at his heart. "Coach, she's bullying us!"
"You deserve it." Ming replied without looking up.
Yue wiped an imaginary tear. "Salt Maiden, how could you betray us like this?"
Yao just smirked sweetly. "I was never on your side to begin with."
The others erupted into laughter and loud protests, and Sicheng simply pulled her closer against him, his mouth brushing the crown of her head, too smug to care about their complaining. It was perfect. It was loud. It was home.
Her phone buzzed against the couch cushion just as Lao K won the movie argument by sheer silent endurance, the action movie loading on screen.
Yao fished it out absently, glancing at the caller ID.
University of Science and Law.
Her breath caught slightly.
She sat up a little, sliding out of Sicheng's arms carefully, feeling his hand linger for a second before he let her move.
Everyone else quieted slightly, sensing the shift.
Yao swiped to answer. "Hello?"
"Miss Chen Yao?" a warm, professional voice asked.
"Yes, this is her."
"I'm calling regarding your transfer paperwork," the woman said. "We received everything today—and we have some very good news."
Yao blinked, her heart thudding hard. "Good news?"
"After reviewing your academic record from Cambridge," the woman continued, her tone clearly pleased, "we've determined you've completed the majority of your required credits for your degree."
Yao's fingers tightened slightly around the phone. "O-okay?"
"You're missing only two core classes specific to our law curriculum," the woman said. "If you enroll immediately, you can complete them within this next term—and if you pass them, you'll be eligible to graduate in just four months."
Yao's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. She was aware, distantly, of Sicheng sitting up straighter, his hand sliding back to her knee, steadying her. "Four months?" she repeated, dazed.
"Four months," the woman confirmed warmly. "You're very close, Miss Chen. We'd love to have you start immediately."
Yao blinked rapidly, a wave of shock, relief, and overwhelming emotion crashing over her. "I—thank you," she stammered, her voice cracking slightly. "Thank you so much." She confirmed a few more details, promised to come by the campus tomorrow to finalize enrollment, and ended the call with shaky fingers. xFor a second, she just sat there, staring at the phone in her hand.
Sicheng's voice, low and steady, cut through the stunned silence. "What's wrong?" he asked, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against her knee again.
Yao turned to look at him, her eyes wide and a little wild. "Not wrong," she whispered. "Good. Really, really good."
The entire team leaned in closer, collective nosiness practically radiating off them.
"Spill it." Pang demanded.
"Did they accept you?" Yue asked eagerly.
Yao laughed, a little shaky, a little breathless, but brilliant and real. "They accepted me," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "And if I take two classes starting now, and pass them, I'll graduate in four months."
The room exploded.
Pang whooped and tackled Lao Yue in celebration.
Lao Mao gave a rare, sharp grin, clapping once loudly.
Lao K nodded with a rare glimmer of approval in his eyes.
Ming smirked quietly but nodded too, that rare, reserved look of real pride slipping through his usual dry shell.
Rui muttered something about preparing a party budget and began furiously making notes in his planner.
Sicheng smiled at her. A real smile. Slow. Fierce. Full of the kind of pride and love that made her feel like the whole world had tilted around them. He pulled her straight back into his chest, pressing a kiss into her hair without hesitation, his arms wrapped so tightly around her she could barely breathe—and she didn't care at all. "You're incredible," he murmured against her temple.
"You're stuck with me now," she whispered back, her throat tight.
He laughed quietly. "Good," he said. "I'm never letting you go."
And as the team cheered, argued, and somehow started planning a party right there in the middle of the living room. Yao let herself believe it. Let herself feel it. Fully. Completely. She was home. And she wasn't going anywhere.
The celebration was still rolling strong, popcorn flying through the air, Lu Yue dramatically declaring that they needed a commemorative plaque, while Pang insisted it needed a golden statue of Yao with the title "Salt Maiden Supreme" engraved underneath.
Ming sat perched on the arm of the couch with his arms crossed, looking like he was deeply regretting every life choice that had led him here, while Rui had already pulled out a notebook and was scribbling something that suspiciously looked like "party expense estimates."
Yao laughed breathlessly, feeling more alive, more herself, than she had in years. She had barely sunk back into the cushions beside Sicheng when Yue, still lounging dramatically with his feet thrown over Pang's lap, grinned wide. "Well," he said cheerfully, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth, "this is turning out awesome."
Everyone looked at him expectantly.
He continued, grinning wider. "In one month, it's the Championship for us," he said, his tone bright and satisfied, "and then three months after that? Our girl's graduating."
The team erupted in loud cheers again, a chorus of shouts and thuds.
Yao flushed, laughing, feeling Sicheng's hand slide over her knee again under the blanket like a silent, steady anchor. Something flickered at the back of her mind. She straightened slightly, blinking. "Wait," she said, cutting through the noise, "I've been so busy with the transfer... I haven't had time to check the Arena board." She turned toward them, her eyes narrowing slightly in that way that made half the team immediately tense. "Who are you going against in the Championship?"
There was a sudden, brief hesitation.
The kind that immediately set her instincts on high alert.
Lao K, ever the most blunt of them all, cleared his throat and answered first, his voice steady but careful. "CK." he said simply.
The room shifted.
Even the chaos seemed to dim for a second.
Yao's entire body went still. Her hands tightened slightly where they rested against her lap. Sicheng shifted beside her, his hand sliding higher on her thigh under the blanket in silent support. She didn't flinch. Didn't shrink. Instead, her eyes narrowed sharply, flashing that dangerous, brilliant fire they all knew better than to underestimate. She looked around at them, at Lao K, Lao Mao, Yue, Pang, Sicheng, even Ming, and said in a voice so cold, so crisp, it could have sliced through stone, "If you do not utterly destroy them," She paused, letting the weight of her words settle, her voice sharp as a blade. "I will disown all of you." Pang gasped dramatically like she had just stabbed him through the heart. "And," Yao continued, her smile sweet but lethal, "I will move into YQCB's base."
A horrified silence fell over the room.
Even Sicheng snorted low against her shoulder, amusement rumbling from his chest.
"You wouldn't," Pang whispered, clutching at his shirt like he was mortally wounded.
Yao just smiled wider, that terrifyingly calm smile that had the power to make even Lao K glance away briefly.
Yue, recovering first, flailed wildly. "We'll destroy them! Wipe the floor with them! We'll turn them into a smoking crater!!"
"Yeah," Pang agreed quickly, scrambling after him. "We'll obliterate them! Salt Maiden's honor demands it!"
Even Lao K, usually the calm one, nodded with a muttered, "No survivors."
Ming sighed heavily from his perch. "Five-year-olds. All of you."
Rui simply wrote a new line in his notebook: Motivation Strategy: Threat of Losing Salt Maiden to YQCB —and underlined it twice.
Sicheng leaned down, brushing his mouth lightly against Yao's temple where the others couldn't see, his voice low, dark, and entirely his. "We were going to destroy them anyway," he murmured just for her. "But now? Now it's personal."
Yao smiled, slow and sharp, her heart pounding with wild, fierce pride for her team. For her home. For the future that was finally hers. And she was going to make damn sure they crushed anyone who had ever dared think they could hurt her. Starting with CK. Starting with Jian Yang.
The room was still buzzing from her declaration when Yao shifted slightly in her seat, curling closer to Sicheng's side. A slow, wicked smirk curved her lips, one that had the immediate effect of making every single member of the team sit up a little straighter. Even Sicheng arched a brow, recognizing that particular look all too well.
Yao tilted her head sweetly, her voice deceptively light. "By the way," she said, popping another piece of popcorn into her mouth as casually as if she were discussing the weather, "I thought I should offer you all a little... extra help."
Pang blinked at her, suspicious. "What kind of help?"
Yao smiled wider, sharp, deadly, beautiful. "Information," she said simply, letting the word hang heavy in the air. The team collectively leaned in closer, drawn by sheer instinct. "You know Jian Yang?" she said, voice almost sing-song now. "CK's fearless Captain and Jungler?" Everyone nodded, a low grumble of disgust rolling through the group. Yao tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, FYI, don't know if you guys have noticed it yet but keep this in mind for any... trash-talking strategies you might want to employ." She paused, savoring the moment as they all hung on her words. "Jian Yang," she said sweetly, "plays his absolute best when he's pissed off."
A beat of silence.
Then another.
Yue looked scandalized. "Wait—what?"
"He gets sharper," Yao said, her tone turning matter-of-fact, the strategic edge sliding effortlessly into place. "Faster. Meaner. His instincts kick into high gear when he's angry. And trust me," she added, her mouth curving into something even sharper, something lethal, "you do not want to face that version of him unless you're ready to bleed for every single point."
Pang groaned, flopping backward dramatically against the couch. "So what, you're telling us not to piss him off?"
Yao laughed quietly, the sound full of wicked amusement. "No," she said. "I'm telling you... I'll handle that part."
The boys blinked.
Ming, who had been sipping from a mug in the corner, arched one slow brow, clearly interested now.
"I have," Yao continued lightly, stretching out her legs with a little smirk, "a very thorough set of notes I've taken on CK's teamplays. Patterns. Tells. Weak points. Especially when Jian Yang's temper starts getting in the way." She paused, letting it sink in fully. "And since I want you to utterly dismantle their asses," she said sweetly, "I'll email them all to Ming-ge tonight."
The room exploded.
Pang whooped loud enough to rattle the windows, throwing a cushion at Lu Yue's head in victory.
Yue yelled, ducking, and shouted, "SALT MAIDEN FOR MVP!"
Lao Mao gave a rare, wide grin, muttering under his breath, "This is why she's terrifying."
Lao K just nodded once, sharp approval in his usually stoic face.
Rui, from where he stood still writing notes in his planner, glanced up and said dryly, "About time we had some real reconnaissance."
Ming, never one to waste words, simply gave Yao a slow, rare nod of deep approval.
Yao laughed, tucking herself a little closer into Sicheng's side again as the team dissolved into chaos.
Sicheng smirked lazily, his arm sliding tighter around her shoulders, his mouth brushing her temple. "You," he murmured low against her skin, "are perfect."
Yao smiled wickedly against his chest, feeling the pure, wild pride and love crashing through her like a tidal wave. Because this time. She wasn't just surviving. She wasn't just existing. She was fighting. She was winning. And she wasn't doing it alone.
The noise eventually wound down. Somewhere between the third bowl of popcorn being demolished and Pang and Yue falling asleep mid-argument about who would score the first kill at the Championship, the energy in the base softened into a warm, heavy quiet. Lao Mao and Lao K slipped away to their room with murmured good-nights, Ming disappearing upstairs with a tired shake of his head, and Rui muttering something about needing peace before he strangled the entire team.
The living room emptied until it was just Yao and Sicheng. The movie credits rolled silently across the darkened TV screen, casting faint flickers of light over the room.
Yao shifted, stretching her legs out over the couch, her body warm and pleasantly heavy from the long, perfect day.
Sicheng tugged her gently until she was curled completely against his side, one arm wrapped firmly around her shoulders, his hand stroking slow, lazy patterns along the curve of her arm.
They stayed like that for a long moment, the only sounds were the soft hum of the TV and the distant noise of Shenzhen outside the windows.
Yao tilted her head up slightly, resting her chin against his chest, looking at him in the dim light. He was staring ahead, his jaw tight, his brows drawn slightly in a look she recognized all too well. Focused. Serious. Protective. She touched his cheek lightly, drawing his gaze down to her. "What are you thinking about?" she whispered, her voice barely louder than the hum of the TV.
Sicheng studied her for a moment, his hand tightening slightly around her. Then he shifted, pressing a kiss to her forehead, lingering there, breathing her in. "When we walk into that arena next month," he said, his voice low, rough, steady, "it's not just going to be for the Championship."
Yao blinked up at him, her heart pounding harder without even fully understanding why yet.
Sicheng pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his own dark and burning with something fierce and beautiful. "It's for you," he said simply. "For what he tried to take from you. For what you fought to get back." His hand slid up, cradling her jaw, his thumb stroking lightly along her cheekbone. "For your future. Your name. Your place."
Yao's breath caught in her throat, her fingers tightening in the front of his hoodie.
"For everything they made you doubt," he whispered, his voice shaking slightly with the force of it. "We're going to walk in there and we're going to burn them down. For you."
The tears pricked behind her eyes before she could stop them, the force of his words hitting harder, deeper than anything else ever had. Not just love. Not just loyalty. Devotion. Complete, undeniable, terrifying devotion. She pressed her forehead against his, her eyes closing tightly as the emotions poured through her, leaving her breathless and trembling. You're my home," she whispered, her voice cracking.
Sicheng smiled against her skin, a rare, slow smile that was all hers, one no one else would ever see. "And you," he murmured, his mouth brushing against hers in a kiss so soft it shattered her heart all over again, "are my forever." They stayed like that, tangled together on the couch, in the quiet heartbeat between past and future, while the city moved on outside their window. Already knowing that whatever came next. They would face it. Together. Always.