Summary: As Da Bing claims his rightful throne atop ZGDX's hearts, laughter and loyalty twine tighter than ever. But behind the smiles, deeper battles loom—because when you protect your own, it is never just a game.
Chapter Sixteen
It didn't take long for the commotion upstairs to draw attention.
Sicheng had barely settled Yao down on the couch in the lounge, carefully wrapping a blanket around her shoulders and setting the takoyaki within reach, when the others started drifting in, one by one, pulled like moths to a flame.
Pang appeared first, practically bouncing in excitement, with Lao Mao and Lao K following behind at a more controlled pace, though both of them looked plainly curious. Even Rui poked his head around the corner, sharp-eyed and muttering something about already needing to update the roster to include "Salt Maiden's New General."
The second they all gathered, the room dropped into a breathless silence.
Everyone stared.
Yao, cheeks flushed with quiet happiness, stroked Da Bing's soft fur as the kitten stretched proudly across her lap, his wide fluffy body draped like a small, judgmental monarch surveying his new court.
The others inched closer, cautious.
Hopeful.
Pang crouched down first, grinning wide. "Hey, little guy. Who's the new boss, huh?"
Da Bing opened one piercing blue eye.
Stared.
Long.
Hard.
And then with slow, regal precision, Da Bing turned his head away, presenting Pang with a cold, unimpressed flick of his tail, full of disdain and scorn.
Pang's jaw dropped. "He just snubbed me."
Lao Mao chuckled under his breath.
Undeterred, Pang waved his fingers lightly, still grinning. "Come on, buddy—"
Da Bing shifted ever so slightly, adjusting himself deeper into Yao's lap, curling one large paw over her arm as if to say, mine. A clear, unspoken warning. No touching.
Pang pouted dramatically and turned, pleading for backup from Yue, who had been leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, watching the whole scene unfold with an amused glint in his eyes.
Yue pushed off the wall, sauntering a little closer.
"Watch this." Pang whispered dramatically.
Yue crouched down low, just beside the couch, and slowly reached out a hand toward Da Bing, careful, non-threatening.
Da Bing opened both eyes fully. Locked his glacial stare onto Yue. And delivered a look so profoundly judgmental that even Yue, cocky as ever, froze mid-reach. The kitten didn't hiss. Didn't growl. He just looked. A hard, unwavering, territorial stare over Yao's lap that screamed in no uncertain terms: Touch her, and you lose your hand.
Yue rocked back onto his heels with a low whistle. He turned his head slightly, glancing at the others, then straightened with a lazy smirk. "That's my brother in cat form," he announced.
The room exploded.
Pang howled with laughter, collapsing into a heap on the floor.
Lao Mao laughed aloud, a low, rumble of sound and Lao K shook his head slowly, a ghost of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Rui scribbled something down sharply on his clipboard, muttering under his breath, "Note: Da Bing outranks everyone except the Captain."
Yao, still stroking Da Bing's thick fur, was half-laughing, half-flushed with embarrassment, though her eyes were bright with quiet happiness.
Sicheng, standing behind the couch with his arms lazily draped over the backrest, smirked down at the scene unfolding before him. He watched as Da Bing, utterly unfazed by the chaos, curled tighter into Yao's lap, his wide, fluffy tail draping possessively across her legs. As if daring anyone to try and separate them. He chuckled low under his breath. Protective. Territorial. Zero patience for nonsense. Definitely his kind of creature. He leaned down, pressing a kiss into Yao's hair, murmuring low for her alone: "Fits right in."
Yao, her hands tangled in the soft, steady warmth of Da Bing's fur, her heart full and sure, whispered back, "I know."
Still cradling Da Bing protectively in her lap, Yao couldn't help but smile down at him, brushing her fingers lightly over the ridiculously soft fur around his neck. The kitten, fully content, stretched and sprawled himself even further across her thighs, purring like a tiny, smug engine.
Across the room, the boys were still bickering over who would get to be "second-in-command" under General Da Bing, Pang and Yue gesturing wildly while Rui muttered about setting up a chain of command and Lao Mao suggested the kitten needed a personalized battle flag.
Sicheng, leaning casually against the back of the couch, just smirked, his sharp eyes gleaming with lazy amusement as he watched his kingdom spiral into affectionate chaos.
Yao shook her head fondly and reached for her phone resting on the arm of the couch. She turned slightly, angling Da Bing in her arms so she could snap the perfect picture. The kitten, true to form, gave the camera a hard, judgmental stare—chin tilted slightly upward, one paw draped over her arm like he was staking a royal claim.
Yao laughed softly under her breath and typed out a quick message. She sent it first to the private family group chat, just her sister Jinyang and her brother Chen Tao.
Chen Yao: Introducing my furry menace and totally full-of-judgment son: Da Bing.
Attached was the photo, Da Bing, glaring imperiously from his cozy throne in her lap, tail flicking in lazy, smug ownership. Not even a full minute passed before her phone vibrated in rapid succession.
First from Jinyang.
Jinyang👑: OH MY GOD. LOOK AT HIM. HE'S PERFECT. I AM COMING OVER. I WILL BRING GIFTS FOR MY NEPHEW.
And then from Chen Tao.
Chen Tao: ...If he's anything like you, I feel sorry for the boys trying to survive under his rule. Congratulations. Also, I expect regular updates. And yes, he is officially my nephew now.
Yao giggled, snuggling Da Bing a little closer. She turned her head and caught Sicheng's gaze, felt the warmth there, the quiet pride in the way he looked at her, as if watching her build this beautiful, messy, perfect life was the greatest thing he had ever seen. Without needing to be asked, Sicheng reached down and ruffled her hair affectionately, his thumb brushing lightly across the shell of her ear. "You look happy," he said, low and certain.
Yao smiled up at him, heart so full it felt like it might burst. "I am," she whispered. Da Bing, as if sensing the importance of the moment, let out a low, rumbling purr and curled tighter into her lap, claiming her fully.
Sicheng chuckled under his breath. "Good," he murmured. "Because you're never going to have to be anything else again." And as the others continued to argue about kitten ranks and battle plans in the background, Yao leaned back against Sicheng's legs, her fingers threading gently through Da Bing's thick fur.
The sun was just beginning to dip low over the skyline when the front doors of the ZGDX base slammed open with a sharp, echoing bang. Every head in the lounge snapped up.
Da Bing lifted his head from Yao's lap instantly, his bright blue eyes narrowing in suspicion as he turned toward the commotion.
In swept Jinyang. A force of nature wrapped in designer boots, sunglasses perched on top of her head, her phone tucked into her bag as she breezed through the entryway like she owned it. She stopped dead the moment she spotted Yao curled up on the couch with Da Bing sprawled regally across her lap. A wide, delighted grin spread across her face. "My God," she breathed dramatically, lifting a hand to her chest like she was about to faint. "The photo didn't do him justice."
Da Bing stared at her.
Hard.
The full weight of his disapproval hit immediately, his ears twitching slightly backward, his icy blue gaze sharp and piercing like he was sizing her up and finding her barely tolerable at best.
Jinyang burst into loud, delighted laughter, clapping her hands once in pure glee. "Oh, he's even worse in person!" she crowed, practically vibrating with excitement. "Look at that glare! I love him already!"
Yao snickered, reaching up to scratch Da Bing's ears, who flicked his tail and settled himself more firmly against her, casting a final, warning glance at Jinyang before closing his eyes in feigned boredom. But the real show was only just beginning. Because just behind Jinyang, half-stumbling through the doorway, trying to catch up while balancing a bag of snacks, was Ai Jia. Completely unaware of the feline storm he was walking straight into.
The second Da Bing's eyes flicked open again and landed squarely on Ai Jia.
It was over.
The Main Coon's body stiffened slightly.
His blue eyes narrowed to slits.
And then—
Full judgment.
Full, unfiltered, imperial contempt.
It was so sharp, so instantaneous, that even Pang, sitting across the room, dropped his drink in stunned amazement.
Ai Jia froze mid-step, visibly paling under the kitten's brutal stare. "H-Hi?" he tried, lifting a hand awkwardly.
Da Bing's only response was a slow, disdainful flick of his tail across Yao's lap, followed by the tiniest, slowest blink imaginable, the kind that screamed in no uncertain terms: Unworthy.
The entire base exploded into laughter.
Jinyang doubled over, nearly collapsing into Rui, who was muttering something about needing to install new mental health breaks into the training schedule.
Pang laughed so hard he slid off the couch and lay sprawled on the floor, gasping for air.
Yue, already lounging back with a soda in hand, snorted so hard he almost spilled it all over himself.
Even Lao K cracked a rare, breathy laugh, shaking his head.
Yao was laughing so hard she buried her face against Da Bing's side, her body trembling from the force of it, while Da Bing continued to sit there like a smug little emperor, thoroughly unimpressed by the chaos he'd caused.
Sicheng, standing casually behind the couch with his arms folded, smirked lazily at Ai Jia, who looked like he wasn't sure whether to laugh or flee. "Congratulations," he drawled, voice dripping with amusement. "You've been judged unfit by royalty."
Ai Jia slumped dramatically against the wall, groaning. "This is worse than when Coach made me run suicide drills in full gear, in high school."
Yao wiped at her eyes, still giggling breathlessly, and reached down to gently ruffle Da Bing's fur. "You," she whispered to him, "are the best present I've ever been given." Da Bing rumbled a deep, satisfied purr, his tail flicking once as if accepting her praise with the kind of dignity only a true sovereign could muster.
The chaos of the morning had slowly settled, the base shifting into the more serious hum of preparation and focus that always came before a major match cycle. The Championship was close now. Closer than any of them liked to admit. And even though the lounge still carried the echoes of laughter from earlier, the atmosphere was sharper beneath it, wired with the weight of everything at stake.
Yao sat curled on the couch, Da Bing tucked loyally against her side, when Sicheng came over, his phone in hand, a faint frown pulling at his mouth. "You sure you're going?" he asked, low enough that the others, scattered around the room, gearing up for scrims, wouldn't hear.
Yao looked up at him, smiling faintly, soft but steady. "Yes," she said firmly.
Sicheng crouched down in front of her, bracing his forearms on his knees, the weight of his gaze settling heavily onto her face. "You don't have to," he said, quieter. "You can stay here. No one cares about the distraction." He said it like it was simple. Like he would bend the whole damn team around her if that was what she wanted. And that alone made her heart ache.
But Yao shook her head, reaching out to brush her fingers lightly along his jaw, grounding both of them. "I know I could stay," she said softly but seriously. "But I shouldn't."
Sicheng's brow furrowed, that instinctive protectiveness tightening his frame.
She leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping further, steady and warm. "You need the time to train," she said. "You all do." She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes squarely, no hesitation, no softness in the truth she was laying bare between them. "This is your career," she continued. "Your future. Your Championship. You have almost a full afternoon of scrims and ranked games. Ming Shen already said he wants to start implementing the notes I gave him. You don't need distractions right now, not even ones you love." She smiled then, sad but fierce. "I won't let myself be the reason you compromise what you've worked so hard to build."
Sicheng stared at her for a long moment, his jaw ticking slightly, the war clear in his eyes between wanting to lock her down safely in the base and knowing—deep down—that she was right. This was who she was. The girl who wouldn't ever let herself be the excuse. The girl who fought harder for the people she loved than she ever did for herself. Finally, slowly, he exhaled through his nose and straightened, dragging a hand through his hair in exasperation. "How long?" he asked, voice low and resigned.
Yao's smile widened just slightly, warmed by the rare, soft surrender she heard under his gruffness. "A couple of hours," she promised. "Lunch with Jinyang and Ai Jia. That's it."
Sicheng growled under his breath, nothing serious, more habit than true protest—but he bent anyway, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, cradling the back of her head with his large palm like he was reluctant to let her go. "Text me," he muttered against her skin.
"I will," she whispered back, smiling.
"And if they're late bringing you back," he added, straightening, his smirk sharp and lazy, "I'm sending a retrieval squad."
Yao laughed, light and breathless, shaking her head fondly. "You're ridiculous."
"You picked me," he reminded her smugly. And with one last reluctant brush of his knuckles along her cheek, he turned and headed toward the practice room, barking orders at the others already falling into formation behind Ming.
Yao stood, cradling Da Bing briefly to her chest before setting him down carefully on the couch with a soft scratch behind the ears. "I'll be back soon, little guy," she promised. Da Bing flicked his tail and gave her a slow, disapproving blink, as if to say he would be keeping a record of her absence.
Laughing quietly, Yao grabbed her bag and headed out to meet her sister and Ai Jia waiting at the gate. She left behind the heavy tension, the buzz of focused energy, the fierce, beating heart of the team she loved. Because she believed in them. In Sicheng. In all of them. And she would never be the reason they didn't win. Not now. Not ever.
The second Yao was out the door, the base shifted. The easy laughter and teasing from earlier tucked itself neatly away, replaced by the sharp, buzzing tension of serious preparation. The Championship was close. And none of them were willing to waste the chance to bring it home.
Ming stood at the front of the practice room, the screens already lit up with replays and map layouts. He held a thick folder in one hand—the familiar handwriting scrawled across the top unmistakable. Yao's notes. Detailed. Precise. Brutal. And brilliant. He flipped the folder open, adjusting his glasses, his voice sharp as he called everyone to attention. "New strategies today," he said simply. "Incorporating data from the analysis package Yao gave us."
The team stirred slightly, leaning in, alert, focused.
Sicheng slouched back in his chair at his usual station, arms crossed, but his sharp eyes didn't leave the screen for a second.
Ming began reading aloud, "CK's early game is strong, but their mid-game rotations—especially between their bot and mid lanes, are sluggish if forced into reactive play. Their Captain," he said, glancing up meaningfully, "is emotionally driven. Agitates under sustained pressure. Falls into predictable patterns."
The room stilled slightly.
Ming turned the page, his mouth tugging into a rare, approving smirk. "Yao's recommendation: force unbalanced trades early. Prioritize tempo over safe objectives. Bait the Captain into overextending." He tapped the page lightly with the back of his hand. "And she even included sample setups and bait plays for every major map."
Pang let out a low whistle under his breath.
Lao Mao leaned forward, studying the examples with a rare, sharp focus.
Yue muttered something under his breath as he flipped through another page, then leaned back in his chair, whistling low and long. "If she wasn't studying law," he said, half to himself, half to everyone, "we should've hired her as our damn Data Analyst." He shook his head slowly, still half in disbelief. "Seriously," he added louder, glancing around the room. "If we did? No matter who we're up against, no matter how strong they are—" He jabbed his thumb toward the folder. "We'd stay undefeated."
Ming chuckled dryly under his breath but didn't disagree. Even Rui, standing at the back of the room scribbling notes on a clipboard, smiled faintly. Because the truth was clear. Yao hadn't just helped them. She had elevated them. With a handful of notes, a few carefully crafted strategies, she had given them a weapon sharp enough to carve through the best teams in the world.
Sicheng smirked lazily from his station, adjusting his headset with slow, deliberate movements. "That's because she's smarter than the rest of you combined," he said, his voice low and rough with amusement.
No one argued. Because they knew. She wasn't just someone they protected. She was part of the reason they would win. Part of the reason they would dominate. And even though she wasn't physically there, tucked safely away with Jinyang and Ai Jia for lunch. Her presence filled the base. In every sharpened strategy. Every tightened play. Every single heartbeat driving them forward. Because Yao wasn't just their Salt Maiden anymore. She was their edge. Their future. Their home. And they were going to fight like hell to make sure she never had a single reason to doubt that she had chosen right when she chose them .
The restaurant Jinyang had chosen for their lunch was tucked away on a quiet street, a small, elegant place that smelled faintly of fresh herbs and grilled meats. The afternoon sunlight slanted through the wide windows, casting soft golden pools across the tables.
Yao sat between Jinyang and Ai Jia, a bowl of steaming noodles in front of her, but her appetite was a little muted. She laughed and chimed into the conversation when she could—smiling as Jinyang complained about being overworked by the family business, rolling her eyes fondly as Ai Jia argued over whose fault it was he had been late picking her up that morning—but her mind kept drifting back toward the base.
Toward them.
Toward him.
Every few minutes, her hand drifted instinctively toward her phone, sitting facedown on the table beside her napkin.
Jinyang caught the movement out of the corner of her eye, arching a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "They're fine," she said dryly, twirling her noodles expertly around her chopsticks. "You're allowed to have a life outside the base, you know."
Yao flushed slightly but grinned sheepishly, reaching for her tea. "I know," she said softly. "I just... I hope they're doing okay."
"You act like you abandoned a daycare full of toddlers. They'll be fine Yao-er hell they out be my own team and earned this."Ai Jia laughed under his breath, slouching back in his chair.
Yao smirked. "Close enough." Just as she took a sip of tea, her phone vibrated—then again, and again, and again, rapid little bursts. She nearly dropped the cup in her haste to grab it, flipping it over with fumbling fingers. Across the lock screen—
6 new messages.
All from the team group chat.
Heart leaping, she unlocked the phone and opened the thread.
ZGDX_Ming: First scrim—total stomp. The bot lane fell apart by mid-game. Using your rotation notes.
ZGDX_K: Their Captain tilted after the second dragon fight just like you predicted. Beautiful.
ZGDX_Pang: I am telling Da Bing, we dedicate every win today to him and his divine judgment.
ZGDX_Rui: And your notes… mostly your notes.
ZGDX_Lv: Come back soon. Pang tried to bribe your cat with jerky. General Da Bing almost clawed him.
And at the bottom, a private message, just from Sicheng.
ZGDX_Chessman: Everything's running like clockwork. Miss you. Come home soon, Shorty.
Yao pressed a hand over her mouth, her heart doing a funny, clumsy stutter against her ribs.
The boys. Her boys. Were doing just fine. More than fine. They were thriving. Building something stronger. And they wanted her there to see it. To be part of it. Always. She smiled, blinking rapidly, and typed out a quick, shaky reply to the group chat:
ZGDX_Salt Maiden: Proud of you all. I'll be back soon. Don't burn the base down.
A flood of emojis and dramatic cries of loyalty filled the thread almost immediately, making her laugh quietly into her tea.
Jinyang leaned over, smirking. "Told you they'd be fine."
Yao smiled, tucking her phone against her heart for a moment before setting it gently back on the table. "They're better than fine," she whispered and so was she.
The sun was just starting to dip low behind the buildings when the three of them, Yao, Jinyang, and Ai Jia, stepped back through the main gates of the ZGDX base. At first, it was just normal noise. The distant hum of scrims still running in the practice room, the occasional sharp crack of someone slapping a keyboard. Someone, probably Pang, was laughing somewhere deeper inside.
But the second the front door swung open. The second they stepped into the entryway. Everything stopped. Dead silence. The noise from the practice room died instantly.
Sicheng, standing just inside the hallway with the others scattered behind him, froze mid-step. His dark eyes locked onto Yao immediately. And he saw it. All of them did. The faint red imprint along her left cheekbone, already swelling slightly, and the thin, shallow scratch trailing just below it.
A mark so small it might have been missed by someone who didn't know what to look for. But not by them. Not by the ones who knew her better than anyone. Not by the ones who loved her. The entire base went still.
Airless.
Electric.
Jinyang, phone pressed to her ear, was already speaking rapidly into it, her voice sharp with barely restrained fury. "No, Tao, I don't care what you're doing. You get that damn legal team ready. Right now."
Yao stood between them, too quiet, one hand still lightly brushing over her cheek as if she couldn't quite believe it had happened.
Ai Jia stepped forward, his jaw clenched so tight the muscle ticked along his jawline. He faced the team squarely, his voice rough, low, vibrating with anger, "We ran into her half-sister."
The words hit like a punch.
Every single member of ZGDX stiffened visibly.
Ai Jia continued, his voice tight. "Apparently someone leaked online that she's dating Lu Sicheng and even though fans are trending her nickname and seemed to be actually liking the fact that they are dating…. Her half sister had a different reaction."
Yao flinched slightly at the way Ai Jia said it. As if it was something shameful. As if she had done something wrong.
Sicheng's eyes darkened. Not with embarrassment. Not with regret. With rage. Quiet. Controlled. Deadly. He took one step forward, closing the distance between them, his hand reaching out slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away if she needed to but Yao didn't move. Couldn't. He cupped her uninjured cheek with a tenderness so devastating that half the room physically tensed, watching the sheer force of restraint he was holding back. "What happened?" he asked, voice so low it was almost a growl.
Yao blinked up at him, her throat working around the words. "She... slapped me," she whispered finally, barely audible.
The weight of the words slammed into the room.
Sicheng's hand fell away carefully, deliberately. Not because he was pulling back from her. But because he knew. If he didn't move, didn't do something, he might turn around and destroy whatever stood between him and the person who had dared put their hands on her.
Behind him, Pang was already rolling his shoulders like he was preparing for a fight.
Lao Mao cracked his knuckles.
Yue muttered something so dark under his breath that Rui actually blinked in shock.
Lao K looked dark, cold, lethal, very much on the edge of gutting someone.
Even Ming, usually composed and controlled, shifted forward a step, his mouth tightening into a flat line.
This wasn't just about Yao anymore. This was family. This was theirs. And someone had crossed a line no one in this base would ever forgive.
Sicheng turned his head slightly, his voice cutting like a blade. "Where?"
Ai Jia grimaced, shoulders rigid with the effort it was taking not to break something. "Near the restaurant," he said. "Public. Cameras caught it. Police are already pulling footage."
Jinyang snapped her phone shut with a vicious crack. "Tao's team is handling everything," she said briskly. "We're pressing charges. Civil. Criminal. Full restraining order."She turned to Yao, her eyes blazing. "And if that bitch so much as breathes near you again—"
"She won't," Sicheng said, voice cold enough to freeze the air. Not a threat. A promise. He turned back to Yao then, softer, his hands reaching for hers—this time gripping them carefully, grounding her. "You're coming upstairs," he said quietly. "Now."
Yao nodded wordlessly, allowing herself to be led, still reeling slightly from the sudden weight of it all. But as she passed the others, Pang, Yue, Lao Mao, Lao K, Rui, she saw it in their faces.
No pity.
Not disappointment.
Fury.
Loyalty.
Family.
And she knew, with a clarity so sharp it made her chest ache. No matter who came after her. No matter who tried to tear her down. She wouldn't be standing alone. Not ever again.
Sicheng led Yao quietly upstairs, one hand steady at the small of her back, the other lightly covering her hand as if to shield it from the world. He didn't rush her. Didn't bark orders or crowd her. He just stayed close, solid, certain, guiding her with a patience so quiet it cracked something deep in her chest. The second they reached their room, he pushed the door open gently, ushered her inside, and closed it behind them with a soft click, shutting the rest of the world out.
Yao stood there for a moment, blinking into the quiet, unsure what to do with herself.
Sicheng didn't say anything. He simply crossed to the bathroom, grabbed a clean towel, soaked it in cold water, and wrung it out with efficient, careful movements. When he came back, he sat down on the edge of the bed, tugging her gently forward until she stood between his knees. He tilted his head up to her, his dark eyes burning with something fierce and unspoken. "Come here." he murmured.
Yao moved without thinking, letting him pull her closer. His hands were careful as he cupped her jaw, angling her face into the light. The swelling along her cheekbone was faint but visible now, angry red blooming across the pale skin, and the shallow scratch just below it still oozed faintly, raw and tender.
Sicheng's jaw tightened. But his touch was infinitely gentle as he dabbed the cool cloth against her skin, blotting the worst of it with slow, meticulous care.
Yao closed her eyes, letting herself lean into the comfort of his presence, feeling the tension bleed out of her shoulders as he worked. Neither of them spoke for a long while. Words weren't needed. Everything important was already there, in the way his thumb brushed lightly across her cheek when he finished, in the way he cradled her face like she was something breakable and precious and his. When he was done, he dropped the towel onto the nightstand and pulled her fully into his arms, pressing her carefully against his chest. "You're safe," he murmured into her hair. "You're home."
Yao clutched at the front of his hoodie, breathing him in, grounding herself in the steady, familiar rhythm of his heartbeat.
Downstairs, the team had already moved into action.
Rui was on the phone in the kitchen, speaking rapidly and sharply to the team's private legal advisor.
Pang and Yue were coordinating with Ming and Lao Mao, drafting a list of necessary security upgrades, additional staff, extra surveillance around the base, stricter visitor screenings. Lao K was methodically reviewing emergency protocols, checking every angle like he was prepping for a siege. No one had to be asked. No one hesitated. Because the moment that woman raised her hand to Yao. She hadn't just attacked one girl. She had declared war on all of them. And ZGDX? They didn't lose wars. Not when it came to protecting one of their own. Especially not her.
The base had settled into a heavy, focused quiet. Downstairs, the team was moving with purpose, organizing, planning, building a wall around Yao so high and so strong that nothing could breach it again.
Upstairs, Yao lay curled on the bed, finally succumbing to the exhaustion weighing down her small frame, her breathing soft and even against Sicheng's chest. He stayed still for a long time, his hand stroking slowly up and down her back, grounding both of them. But he knew there was one more thing that needed to be done. Carefully, without waking her, he eased her off his chest, tucking the blankets snugly around her. He rose silently, grabbing his phone from the nightstand and stepping onto the small balcony outside their room, letting the cool night air bite at his skin. He scrolled to the familiar number and hit call, lifting the phone to his ear.
The line rang once.
Twice.
Then connected.
"Grandfather," Sicheng said quietly, his voice low and clipped.
The old man's voice answered almost immediately, steady and sharp even at this late hour.
"Sicheng."
There was no preamble.
No wasted words.
Sicheng exhaled slowly, the anger he'd been holding carefully contained burning hotter now that he had space to breathe it. "I'm informing you," he said, voice even but edged with steel, "that someone put their hands on the woman I'm dating."
There was a long pause.
A heavy, weighted silence.
Sicheng continued, each word deliberate: "I have chosen my partner." He didn't elaborate. Didn't explain. Because it didn't matter who she was to the world. It mattered who she was to him. And that was enough.
Another pause.
Then his grandfather's voice, low and gravelly, rumbled through the line:
"Who."
Not a question.
A demand.
Sicheng's mouth twisted into a sharp, humorless smile. "Her name is Chen Yao," he said quietly. "She's Jinyang's and Tao's youner sister."
Another pause.
Shorter this time.
A deep, sharp breath from the other end of the line. "I know the Chens," his grandfather said finally, his voice turning thoughtful, edged with something darker. "Good blood. Strong family and very loyal to those that earn it." Another beat. "You chose well."
Sicheng didn't reply. He didn't need to.
There was a soft, ominous crackle over the line—the sound of old rage reigniting.
"Who touched her?" his grandfather asked, the calm in his voice dangerous.
Sicheng's smile sharpened further, cold and lethal. "Her half-sister," he said. "Outside a restaurant. Cameras caught it. Tao is already moving."
There was a low grunt of approval.
"I will contact Chen Tao directly," his grandfather said, voice growing colder, heavier with purpose. "We will burn the ones who harmed her to the ground."
It wasn't a promise.
It was a sentence.
Sicheng nodded once, knowing his grandfather couldn't see it but feeling the weight of the gesture anyway. "Good," he said quietly. Because no matter what it took. No matter what fires had to be lit. He would make sure Yao never had to lift a hand to defend herself again. Not when she had him. Not when she had them.
The line clicked dead without another word.
Sicheng slid the phone back into his pocket, standing still for a moment in the cool night, breathing in the sharp air, letting the rage settle into something colder, sharper, more useful. When he finally turned and stepped back inside, the sight of her. Small, peaceful, safe. Anchored him instantly. He moved quietly back to the bed, slipping under the covers and gathering her carefully into his arms, pulling her against his chest where she belonged. She stirred slightly, nuzzling closer, her fingers curling instinctively into the fabric of his hoodie.
Sicheng pressed a kiss into her hair, closing his eyes.
They had started the fire.
And he would make damn sure they burned for it.