Summary: As sickness, stubbornness, and soft-hearted battles unfold inside the ZGDX base, Chen Yao learns the true meaning of belonging: being cradled through the pain, being fought for without hesitation, and finally understanding that forever was never just a promise—it was already hers.
Chapter Fifteen
Morning crept in slowly and soft, the first golden threads of sunlight barely starting to seep through the edges of the curtains. The base was still quiet. Still asleep.
Yao shifted under the blankets with a small, instinctive sound, burrowing closer against the familiar warmth of Sicheng's body. But almost immediately…. Pain. A sharp, cramping stab low in her abdomen that made her entire body tense involuntarily. She froze, her breath hitching. Another wave hit, worse this time, curling tight through her stomach and leaving her gasping softly against the pillow. The nausea followed fast behind, heavy and miserable, and a low, broken whimper slipped from her lips before she could even stop it. "Crap," she muttered weakly, screwing her eyes shut. "Oh, no, no, no..." She curled onto her side, clutching at her lower abdomen with both hands, her body trembling slightly from the force of it. "Dammit," she hissed under her breath, voice rough with frustration and pain. "Damn being female. Damn nature. Damn everything." The pain rolled through her again, relentless, dragging another soft whine from her throat. Beside her, she felt Sicheng stir, the bed shifting slightly under his weight as he came awake.
"Shorty?" he muttered, his voice low and rough with sleep.
She didn't answer at first, trying, and failing, to curl tighter into herself, biting her lip hard enough to hurt as another wave of cramping hit.
Sicheng blinked the sleep from his eyes and rolled toward her fully, his hand instinctively reaching for her, settling warm and steady on her hip. He felt the tremble in her muscles immediately. Felt the way she was curled in tight, small, hurting. His whole body tensed, alarm spiking low in his gut. "Yao," he said, sharper now, his hand sliding to her back, rubbing in slow, steady circles, trying to soothe without knowing yet what was wrong. "What's wrong?"
She whimpered again, squeezing her eyes tighter shut. "Period," she finally croaked out, her voice wrecked. "It started."
There was a beat of silence as the words sank in.
Sicheng moved. Immediately. Without hesitation. He didn't ask useless questions. He didn't tease. He simply shifted, pulling her gently against his chest, cradling her smaller body against his with infinite care, tucking her head under his chin, his hands moving in slow, careful motions along her spine and hips. "Okay," he murmured, voice low and steady, grounding her through the worst of it. "I've got you."
Yao pressed her face against his chest, her body still trembling, biting back another soft sound of pain. "It hurts," she whispered, hating how small her voice sounded.
"I know," he said, his arms tightening slightly around her, his hand never stopping its slow, soothing strokes along her back. "We'll fix it." He kissed the top of her head, soft and lingering, then shifted carefully, reaching for his phone on the nightstand without dislodging her. A few quick taps, a murmured curse under his breath as he scrolled. "Heating pad," he muttered. "Tea. Painkillers. Got it."
Yao whimpered again, half-laughing, half-sobbing against him. "You're... too good at this."
Sicheng snorted softly, brushing his mouth against her hair again. "I've lived in a base full of idiots long enough to learn emergency protocols," he muttered dryly. "Pretty sure this is a higher priority than a broken monitor or someone locking themselves out of the laundry room."
She laughed weakly, clinging tighter to him. And even through the pain, even through the miserable ache curling through her body, the warmth of him, the steadiness of him, made it better. Made it bearable. Because she wasn't alone. Not in this. Not in anything. Not anymore.
Sicheng stayed with her for a few minutes longer, rubbing slow, steady circles into her lower back, whispering quiet reassurances against her hair until her trembling eased just enough. Then, carefully, reluctantly, he pulled back. "You stay here," he said, his voice low but edged with a command that left no room for argument. "I'll be right back."
Yao nodded weakly, curling deeper into the nest of blankets he tucked around her, the heat of his body still lingering on her skin.
Sicheng grabbed a hoodie off the back of a chair, pulled it on over his bare chest, and stalked out of the room barefoot and deadly silent. The second he hit the main hall, his entire demeanor shifted. The lazy, easygoing Captain was gone. In his place was Lu Sicheng, calm, cold, and lethal. A man who would tear the world apart for the girl curled up in his bed. He moved fast, heading straight for the living room where a few of the others had started to stir, blinking blearily at the early morning light.
Pang was half-passed out on the couch, snoring quietly.
Sicheng didn't waste time. He didn't shout. He didn't bark orders. He just said one word, voice low, cold, and sharp enough to slice through the sleepy haze hanging over the base, "Yao has her period."
Yue was the first to move, setting his coffee down so fast it sloshed over the rim. He had seen it before. Years ago. Back when he was still in university, still young enough to think love was simple and forever. His ex-girlfriend back than, sweet, kind, and tough as nails, had suffered through hellish periods that left her sobbing in pain, and no amount of pride or pretending could hide it. He recognized the urgency immediately. He didn't need details. He didn't need explanations. Yue shoved his chair back and moved. "What do you need?" he asked, already crossing to the kitchen.
Sicheng didn't even blink. "Heating pad. Electric if we have it. Tea—no caffeine. Painkillers. Now."
Yue nodded sharply, rifling through the drawers without hesitation, throwing open cabinets with mechanical efficiency.
Pang sat up with a snort, confused. "Wha—what's happening?"
"Yao," Sicheng said simply, his voice even, but deadly. "She's in pain."
That was all it took.
The room exploded into motion.
Pang launched himself off the couch, barefoot and wild-eyed.
Lao Mao and Lao K, hearing the noise from the hallway, appeared in the doorway—instantly assessing the situation, understanding without needing it spelled out.
Sicheng stood at the center of it all, arms crossed, jaw tight, radiating the kind of tension that would have made lesser men run for cover. But his team? They weren't lesser men. They were hers too. And none of them were about to let her suffer alone.
Yue found the heating pad first, yanking it from the bottom drawer under the sink with a triumphant grunt. "Got it!"
Pang came sliding into the room with a small arsenal of painkillers cradled against his chest like a squirrel hoarding treasure.
Lao Mao waved two boxes of tea over his head like a champion. "Chamomile or ginger! Which one?!"
"Both," Sicheng spoke, already reaching for the nearest kettle. The kitchen turned into organized chaos—water boiling, supplies gathered, everyone moving fast, sharp, efficient. Because it wasn't just about Yao hurting. It was about their girl hurting. And that? Was unacceptable.
Once everything was ready, Sicheng didn't waste a second. He grabbed the heating pad, the steaming mug of tea, the packet of painkillers, and a small stack of napkins Yue had tossed in without thinking—and carried it all upstairs himself. No delegating. No asking for help. This was his to handle. His girl. His responsibility. He nudged the door to their room open with his foot and slipped inside, letting the warmth and quiet of the space wrap around him again.
Yao was still curled up in bed, a small, miserable shape in the middle of the tangled blankets. She stirred faintly at the sound of him entering, blinking blearily up at him, her face pale, her eyes glassy with pain and exhaustion.
Sicheng's chest tightened painfully at the sight. But he said nothing. Didn't comment. Didn't tease. He moved with quiet, efficient care. First, he set the tea down on the nightstand within easy reach. Then he plugged in the heating pad, waiting just long enough for it to start warming before gently lifting the edge of the blankets and tucking it carefully against her lower stomach. Yao whimpered softly at the sudden contrast of heat against her aching muscles, but almost immediately, her body sagged a little in relief.
Sicheng knelt beside the bed next, opening the painkiller packet with a flick of his fingers, shaking two into his palm. He reached for the tea, cradling the mug carefully in one hand as he leaned in. "Come here," he murmured.
Yao shifted weakly, grimacing, but she let him help her sit up just enough, her body trembling slightly with the effort.
Sicheng pressed the pills gently into her hand, steadying the mug against her fingers. "Take these first," he said quietly.
She obeyed without protest, washing them down with a few slow, careful sips of the warm tea. When she finished, she slumped back into the pillows with a soft, exhausted whine.
Sicheng smiled faintly, brushing her hair back from her damp forehead with infinite tenderness. "Good girl," he murmured, pressing a kiss against her temple. He climbed onto the bed beside her then, careful not to jar her, settling himself against the headboard. Without hesitation, he pulled her gently into his lap, arranging her just the way he wanted her, her head tucked under his chin, the heating pad still pressed against her stomach, the blanket wrapped securely around both of them.
Yao whimpered softly again, but this time it was less from pain and more from the overwhelming comfort of it all.
"Stay still," Sicheng muttered against her hair, his arms tightening around her with quiet possessiveness. "I've got you." And she did. She stayed still. She let herself be cradled and cared for and protected. Something she had never let herself want before. Something she had never dared believe she could have. But with him? It wasn't a weakness. It wasn't a burden. It was a promise. A place to rest. A place to heal. Her breathing evened out slowly, her body relaxing little by little under his hands, the pain dulling into something she could endure as long as he was holding her.
Sicheng stayed awake, stroking her hair, tracing slow, lazy circles into her back, his mind far from sleep. He looked down at her, the girl who had barreled into his life like a whirlwind, the girl who had carved herself into his heart with quiet ferocity, and thought, not for the first time, how absurdly, stupidly lucky he was. How close he had come to missing her. How easily he could have overlooked her if not for that first wild, furious glimpse of her chasing Ai Jia into his base with nothing but a pillow and a mouth full of curse words. He smiled faintly against her hair, his arms tightening around her instinctively.
Not losing this.
Not ever.
And as Yao drifted off against him, her breathing slow and even once more, Sicheng leaned down, brushing a kiss against the crown of her hair. His voice barely a whisper, but steady and certain against the soft hush of the morning: "Forever, Shorty." And he meant it. With every piece of himself that mattered.
A few hours later, the soft hum of the morning had fully settled into the base. The sunlight shifted through the curtains, warming the room in slow, lazy streaks.
Yao stirred faintly against him, still curled securely in his lap, her fingers tangled loosely in the front of his hoodie, her breathing softer now, steadier.
Sicheng brushed a hand gently through her hair, smoothing it back from her forehead, his thumb tracing idle circles against her temple. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss against her hair before murmuring low, almost reluctantly, "Shorty... I need to slip out for a little bit."
Yao shifted slightly, her brow furrowing, the warmth of him too grounding, too safe to easily let go of. She made a small sound of protest, and he chuckled quietly under his breath, brushing another kiss across the top of her head.
"Not long," he promised, his voice rough but reassuring. "Just a quick trip."
She tilted her head up, blinking at him blearily, still half-lost in sleep and comfort. "Where?" she whispered.
He smiled faintly, brushing a thumb across her cheek. "Animal market," he said, soft, amused. "Need to grab fish food." She blinked again, trying to connect the dots. "And... replace the little guy that died last week," he added after a beat, his mouth tugging into a wry smile. "Died from old age."
Yao let out a soft, breathy laugh, her head dropping lightly against his chest.
Sicheng nuzzled into her hair, holding her a moment longer before pulling back just slightly, his hand warm and steady against her cheek. "If you need anything," he said, his voice low and serious now, "you text me. I'll come back immediately."
She nodded against him, her heart squeezing painfully tight with how seen and safe he made her feel.
"And," he continued, his mouth brushing against her forehead, "if you don't want to wait for me." He pulled back just enough to catch her gaze, his thumb tracing a slow, grounding line along her jaw. "The idiots are downstairs." He smiled a little wider, something fierce and fond burning in his dark eyes. "They're waiting for a word from you. Just one." He tapped her lightly under the chin with two fingers, teasing, but the seriousness never left his gaze. "They'll get you anything you need." "Anything," he repeated, lower, quieter, making sure she understood.
Yao laughed softly, a real smile breaking across her face despite the lingering ache. "Even if I demand someone carry me to the bathroom?"
Sicheng's mouth curved into a lazy smirk. "Especially that," he drawled. "Yue's still paying off a bet he lost last week. He's yours to order around."
Yao giggled, snuggling back into the pillows as Sicheng carefully tucked the blanket around her shoulders again, smoothing it down with that same ridiculous gentleness he thought no one noticed.
He kissed her once more, slow, lingering, then pulled away reluctantly. "You'll be okay for a little while?" he asked quietly, brushing her hair back again.
"I'll be okay," she whispered back, smiling up at him.
Sicheng nodded once, sharp and certain, then grabbed his wallet and keys from the nightstand, pausing at the door just long enough to shoot her a look over his shoulder. One that promised, without a single word spoken: I'm never far. And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him. Leaving Yao tucked safe in the warm, quiet cocoon of their room. And the knowledge that downstairs, an entire base full of ridiculous, protective idiots was ready to move at a single word from her. Because she wasn't just part of the team anymore. She was part of them. And no one, not the past, not pain, not the world, was ever taking that from her again.
Sicheng moved through the crowded animal market with practiced ease, the small, carefully bagged fish container swinging lightly in his hand as he wove through the maze of stalls and vendors. The late morning sun poured down in golden shafts between the canopies overhead, casting flickering shadows across the tiled ground. He was almost at the exit, his mind already half on getting back to the base, when his phone buzzed softly in his hoodie pocket. He shifted the bag to his other hand and pulled the phone free, glancing down at the message lighting up the screen.
It was from Yao.
ZGDX_Salt Maiden: If it's not too much trouble, could you maybe grab me takoyaki? Large, with extra seaweed and bento flakes? I haven't had it since, I had gone back to Cambridge and then came back.
Sicheng smiled faintly, a warmth settling deep in his chest as he read her words. She hadn't asked like she expected it. She hadn't demanded. She had asked the way she always did—softly, cautiously, like she wasn't sure if she was allowed. As if he would ever say no. He thumbed a quick reply without hesitation.
ZGDX_Chessman: Of course. Stay in bed. I'll bring it back.
Sliding the phone back into his pocket, Sicheng adjusted his grip on the fish bag and turned toward the side exit where the food stalls were set up just beyond the animal vendors. But before he could take a step, a sharp, high-pitched yowl cut through the usual noise of the market.
Sicheng froze instinctively, his head snapping toward the sound. At first, he didn't see it. Just the usual chaos of kittens roughhousing in a large, gated pen—pouncing, tumbling, tiny squeals and playful hisses filling the air. But then…. he spotted him. Off to the side.
Perched regally on top of a stacked crate, utterly still, utterly unimpressed by the chaos around him.
A kitten.
Not just any kitten.
A six-month-old Main Coon, the perfect coloring of a ragdoll, creamy pale fur dusted with faint smoky markings, a wide ruff of fluff around his neck like a tiny lion's mane, and piercing, ice-blue eyes so vivid they looked almost unreal. The kitten sat there, surveying the others with a look of such judgmental disdain it was almost human. Like he couldn't believe he had been forced to share a pen with such uncultured peasants.
The other kittens shrieked and tumbled over each other, chasing tails and pouncing on loose feathers, but this one—
This one stayed poised.
Watchful.
Unimpressed.
Sicheng stared, something low and undeniable tugging hard in his chest. The kitten shifted slightly, one paw lifting daintily as if to avoid touching the floor any more than absolutely necessary, and fixed those brilliant blue eyes straight onto him. For a second, they just stared at each other—man and cat, two creatures equally skeptical of the noisy world around them. Then the kitten let out a short, imperious chirp, tilting his head slightly.
Sicheng huffed out a soft laugh under his breath.
The tiny bastard had attitude.
Serious attitude.
And somehow, Sicheng knew, as surely as he knew his own name, that if he walked away from that pen right now without that kitten in his arms...
Yao would never forgive him.
Hell, he wouldn't forgive himself. Because this one?
This little, arrogant, sharp-eyed prince?
He wasn't just any cat. He was hers. He just didn't know it yet. Neither did she. But Sicheng would fix that soon enough.
Sicheng didn't hesitate. He shifted the bag of fish carefully into his left hand and made his way through the crowd toward the pen where the kittens were contained.
The vendor, a middle-aged man with a sun-beaten face and a quick, eager smile, spotted him immediately and perked up, sensing an opportunity. "Looking for a kitten, sir?" the man asked, waving a hand over the squirming, chaotic mass of fluff wrestling in the play area. "Best bloodlines in Shenzhen! Big, strong, healthy—"
Sicheng didn't even glance at the tumbling chaos. His eyes were locked on the tiny king perched above them, the one who sat apart, watching the world with judgment so profound it was almost personal. Without missing a beat, Sicheng pointed directly at the pale ragdoll-colored Main Coon. "That one."
The vendor blinked, surprised. "Oh—yes, yes! Very good choice! Very expensive, very rare—"
Sicheng didn't flinch. "How much?"
The man named a number, high enough to make any normal customer flinch, hesitate, bargain.
Sicheng simply pulled out his phone, opened his banking app, and showed the screen to the vendor. "Account number." he said flatly.
The vendor stumbled over himself in excitement, rattling off the details.
Sicheng transferred the money without blinking, watching with faint amusement as the man's face lit up like he'd just won the lottery. Once the transfer confirmation pinged, the vendor handed him the paperwork, birth records, vaccinations, certifications, all while babbling thanks.
Sicheng signed it with a flick of his wrist, barely reading it. His attention was solely on the kitten.
The vendor opened the pen and tried to catch the little one, but the kitten dodged expertly, leaping onto a higher crate with the effortless, lazy grace of an emperor indulging mere mortals.
Sicheng snorted softly under his breath and crouched low, setting down the fish bag for a moment. He held out one hand, palm open, slow and steady. "Come here." he murmured. The kitten's ears twitched. Those piercing blue eyes locked onto him again. And after a long, considering moment, during which Sicheng swore he could feel himself being judged and evaluated, the kitten padded down with a single, regal hop. Straight into Sicheng's hand.
The vendor gasped. "He's never—!"
Sicheng scooped the kitten up carefully, cradling the small, warm body against his chest. The little Main Coon let out a soft, approving rumble and immediately buried his face against the curve of Sicheng's neck, purring so loudly it vibrated through his hoodie.
The vendor just stared, stunned into silence.
Sicheng straightened, tucking the kitten securely into one arm and grabbing the fish bag again with the other hand. He didn't say anything more to the man. Didn't need to. He simply gave a small nod and turned, carrying his two new passengers toward the food stalls. His mind was already spinning, not with worry, not with doubt. But with anticipation. Because he could already see it. The way Yao's eyes would light up. The way her hands would fly to her mouth, stunned and overwhelmed. The way she would cradle this little judgmental ball of fluff to her chest and fall in love instantly.
And for the first time since he left the base that morning, Sicheng smiled, a real smile, rare and sharp and almost boyish. Because if there was one thing he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. She deserved every soft, beautiful thing the world had denied her. And he was going to make damn sure she had it. One piece at a time. Starting with the small, proud kitten currently purring his heart out against his chest.
The smell of freshly made takoyaki drifted through the market as Sicheng approached the stall. He ordered without hesitation, large, extra seaweed, plenty of bonito flakes—making sure it was exactly the way Yao loved it. The vendor worked fast, handing over the hot, steaming tray with a cheerful smile that Sicheng barely registered. His mind wasn't on the food. It was on the small, warm bundle tucked against his chest, the kitten now peeking out from the edge of his hoodie like a tiny prince surveying his new kingdom.
Sicheng balanced the takoyaki tray carefully in one hand, keeping the kitten steady in the crook of his other arm, and moved with unhurried purpose back toward the parking lot. He loaded everything into the passenger seat with surprising gentleness—strapping the kitten's small carrier into place beside the bagged fish and setting the food tray carefully so it wouldn't spill. Then he slid behind the wheel, started the car, and pulled away from the market.
The drive back to the base was a blur.
Sicheng's heart beat a little harder than usual, not with nerves, but with something heavier, something more certain. He wasn't just bringing her food. He wasn't just bringing her something cute to cuddle. He was bringing her a piece of the life she deserved.
A piece of home.
And he couldn't wait to see her face.
The base loomed into view minutes later, the security gates swinging open at the sight of his car.
He pulled into the drive, killed the engine, and sat there for a moment, breathing in deeply. The kitten let out a soft chirp from the carrier, pawing at the door with a regal sort of impatience.
Sicheng chuckled under his breath and grabbed the carrier carefully, hooking the strap over his shoulder. He tucked the tray of takoyaki into the crook of his free arm, the bagged fish swinging gently from his fingers. He made his way up the steps of the base, nodding absently at Rui, who was just stepping outside with his tablet in hand.
Rui did a double-take when he saw the carrier and then wisely said nothing, only giving a faint smirk and stepping aside.
Sicheng climbed the stairs two at a time, the quiet, muffled sounds of the base fading as he moved. At the top landing, he paused just outside their room, balancing everything carefully as he shifted the carrier strap higher onto his shoulder. Inside, he could hear the faintest movement, the rustle of sheets, a soft, sleepy sigh. Yao was awake. Waiting.
Without bothering to knock, Sicheng nudged the door open with his foot and stepped inside. Yao was still curled up in bed, her hair a messy halo around her face, the blanket tangled around her legs. She sat up slowly when she saw him, her face lighting up immediately at the sight of him, and the unmistakable tray of takoyaki in his hand. But then her eyes caught on the carrier slung against his side. The faint movement inside. The soft, curious chirp from the tiny creature within.
Yao blinked.
Once.
Twice.
And then she froze, her wide eyes locked onto the Main Coon kitten peeking proudly through the mesh, as if he knew full well this was his grand entrance.
Sicheng smiled, a real, rare smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and crossed the room to her. He set the takoyaki carefully on the nightstand. Then, with infinite gentleness, he knelt beside the bed and opened the carrier door. The kitten stepped out immediately, unbothered by the new surroundings, striding forward with the kind of calm confidence that could only belong to something absolutely certain it would be adored. He padded straight into Yao's lap and sat down, tail curling neatly around his paws, staring up at her with those piercing blue eyes.
For a long, breathless moment, Yao said nothing.
She just stared.
At the kitten.
At Sicheng.
At the unspoken truth written all over his face. Her throat tightened painfully, her hands trembling slightly as she reached out, cupping the small creature against her chest. The kitten let out a low, contented purr and burrowed closer. Yao burst into tears. Soft, broken, overwhelmed tears that slipped down her cheeks without warning.
Sicheng was there in an instant, his hands bracketing her face, his thumbs wiping away the tears even as he pressed his forehead gently to hers. "You deserve everything good," he murmured, voice rough with the force of it. "And you'll have it. I swear."
Yao let out a shaky laugh through her tears, clutching the kitten tighter against her chest as she leaned into him, her heart so full it hurt. "I love you," she whispered.
Sicheng smiled against her skin, fierce and certain. "Good," he whispered back. "Because I'm not going anywhere." And neither was the, fluffy guardian now purring in her lap, another piece of the life she had built, piece by precious piece, with the man who had chosen her every single time.
Still cradling the kitten against her chest, Yao pulled back just slightly to get a better look at him. She lifted him carefully until they were face to face, his long, fluffy body stretched easily in her hands, his powerful little paws dangling lazily. He stared back at her with those piercing ice-blue eyes, steady, assessing, as if weighing her worth.
Yao narrowed her eyes right back at him, tilting her head slightly, studying him just as fiercely. A soft, breathless laugh slipped from her lips. "Da Bing," she said quietly.
The kitten's ears twitched sharply at the sound of the name.
For half a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
Then as if the name had unlocked something primal and immediate, the kitten lunged forward with a sudden, delighted chirp. He bumped his forehead against Yao's cheek first, hard enough to make her laugh, and then proceeded to rub his entire face all over hers, leaving no corner untouched. His tiny, rough tongue darted out, licking her nose in frantic, enthusiastic strokes, his purring rumbling so loud it vibrated through her hands into her chest.
Yao laughed harder, tears of pure happiness still shining in her eyes as she tried—and failed—to fend off his determined affection. "Okay, okay!" she gasped between giggles. "I get it! You approve!"
Beside her, Sicheng leaned back against the bed frame, arms crossed loosely, watching it all unfold with a rare, quiet warmth softening his features. He said nothing. Didn't interrupt. Just watched as Yao, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining, held the tiny, fiercely affectionate creature to her heart like he had been carved out of some missing piece of her soul. The kitten finally settled, draping himself dramatically across her chest like he had declared it his territory now and Yao beamed down at him, brushing her fingers lightly through his soft, thick fur.
"Da Bing," she whispered again, smiling so wide it hurt. The kitten rumbled deep in his throat, curling tighter against her with a look of pure, possessive contentment.
Sicheng smiled too, slow and private, reaching out to stroke a hand lightly over Yao's hair. "Looks like you're stuck with him now," he murmured.
Yao leaned into his touch instinctively, her heart so full it ached in the best way possible. "Good," she whispered.