Summary: Graduation brings more than a diploma, it brings Chen Yao face-to-face with everything she's fought to become. Under the wide, endless sky, she claims her place not just beside Lu Sicheng, but in the world, on her own terms, and this time, she isn't running from anything.
Chapter Twenty
Three months later, the early summer sun beat down gently over the sprawling courtyard of the University of Science and Law. Rows of white chairs lined the lawn, each neatly filled with graduates in deep navy robes, tassels swaying lightly in the breeze. Families and friends crowded the edges of the green, the quiet hum of conversation punctuated by laughter, camera clicks, and the occasional burst of applause as someone spotted a familiar face in the crowd.
Toward the front, under the proud banners of the university, sat Yao.
Her long chocolate hair was braided and tucked neatly under her cap, the gold tassel catching the sunlight with every small movement. Across her chest, the rich dark stole signified what everyone in attendance already knew, Full Honors. Highest distinctions. One of the top graduates of her year.
The speaker at the podium cleared their throat, tapping the microphone, pulling everyone's attention forward. "We would like to take a moment," the Dean said, voice booming slightly across the courtyard, "to recognize one of our most outstanding students—Chen Yao—who is graduating today with full honors."
A cheer broke out from somewhere near the back—one that sounded suspiciously like Pang's enthusiastic hollering, with a lower rumble of approval clearly from Lao Mao and Lao K trying (and failing) to keep it dignified. As Jinyang and Ai Jia snickered and Tao gave a tired resigned look.
Yao flushed slightly but remained composed, hands folded in her lap.
"And," the Dean continued with a broad smile, "we had hoped," The man paused, the edges of his smile tightening faintly. "that Miss Chen would deliver a few words to her graduating class today." A ripple of laughter rolled lightly across the crowd as the Dean's gaze flickered to where Yao sat, utterly still, a polite, unmovable smile plastered onto her face.
Because everyone already knew what had happened. When approached about giving the speech, Yao had, in true Yao fashion, stared the committee dead in the eye and said, in her crisp, calm voice.
"Absolutely not."
When pressed… When coaxed, pleaded with, gently reminded that it would be a tremendous honor…
She had folded her arms across her chest, leveled the entire panel with a defiant glare, and stated flatly, "There are hundreds of people who can string together sentimental lies better than I can. Pick one of them." She hadn't wavered. Not once.
And eventually, thoroughly outmatched, they had given up.
The Dean chuckled lightly now, smoothing over the memory for the crowd. "In her unique way," he said, amused affection threading his voice, "Miss Chen reminded us that true excellence does not always crave the spotlight."
Another ripple of soft laughter spread across the courtyard.
Sitting a few rows back, Sicheng smirked faintly where he lounged in his seat, wearing a dark suit that did nothing to blunt the sharp, dangerous aura he carried even here.
Yue, next to him, muttered under his breath with a grin, "That's our Salt Maiden for you. Even the Dean couldn't win."
Pang, sitting beside Rui and Ming, elbowed Lao Mao hard enough to make the chair creak, laughing quietly. "Bet he's still traumatized."
Da Bing, who had been snuck in under the radar and was nestled quite smugly in his carrier at Yao's feet, let out a low, rumbling purr as if seconding the sentiment. Yao sat through the rest of the brief ceremony with quiet dignity, her hands steady, her gaze clear. No speeches. No grandstanding. Just the solid, undeniable truth of her achievements worn openly across her shoulders and stitched into the deep, steady pride in her eyes. When the final names were called and the courtyard erupted into applause, Yao rose with the others, her movement smooth and controlled. She turned once, just once and found them. Her family. Her sister, best friend and brother Her boys. Her home.
Sicheng leaned forward in his seat slightly, his hand folding loosely over his knee, his dark eyes locked onto hers.
The ceremony ended in a rush of applause and the shuffling of hundreds of graduates and their families pushing into the wide-open courtyards surrounding the university. The air was thick with the hum of celebration—cameras flashing, parents crying, friends shouting over one another trying to find their groups.
Yao stood quietly near one of the stone archways, tugging the deep navy robe a little tighter around her shoulders, the diploma folder tucked neatly under her arm. Da Bing perched proudly inside his carrier by her side, yawning widely as if unimpressed with all the human noise. She glanced around once, searching and before she even had time to take another breath, she saw them.
Charging through the crowd with the subtlety of a thunderstorm.
Pang waving a massive white and red ZGDX flag above his head like a lunatic.
Yue yelling at him to lower it before security tackled them.
Lao Mao striding behind them with the faint air of a man who would rather be anywhere else but was determined to see this through.
Lao K with a camera slung awkwardly around his neck, snapping random, blurry pictures despite Rui's resigned attempts to direct them into something vaguely coordinated.
Jinyang and Ai Jia trailing just behind them, hands linked casually, with Jinyang wearing a wide, proud grin as she bulldozed through the crowd without apology.
And at the very center of it all, Lu Sicheng. Dark suit crisp, tie slightly loosened, walking with the slow, deliberate certainty of a man who already owned the ground he walked on. His sharp gaze locked onto her instantly. Unwavering. Unbreakable.
Yao barely had time to shift Da Bing's carrier when Sicheng closed the last few feet between them. No words. No hesitation. He reached for her, tugging her straight into his chest, wrapping his arms around her tightly like he had no intention of letting her go. The world around them blurred—the noise, the flashing cameras, the swarm of students and families—none of it mattered. Not to him. Not to her.
Sicheng buried his face against the side of her neck, breathing her in like he had been waiting three lifetimes for this. And when he pulled back, it was only just enough to tilt her chin up, his hand steady against her jaw. No one moved to stop him. Not the officials. Not the families snapping endless photos. Not the media who had begun gathering on the edges of the ceremony. Because there was something absolute in the way he looked at her. Something that said without needing words: This is mine. And without giving a damn about the eyes around them, he kissed her. Slow. Deep. A kiss full of everything he never said aloud in public. Pride. Devotion. Victory. Home.
Around them, Yue hooted obnoxiously while Pang clapped like he was at a championship parade, and Jinyang cackled outright, grabbing Ai Jia's arm to steady herself from laughing too hard. Chen Tao simply stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his mouth twitching upward into a rare, indulgent smirk as he watched his sister claim her moment.
Yao melted against Sicheng's chest, her hands fisting lightly into the fabric of his jacket, the cool press of his forehead resting against hers when he finally broke the kiss. "You," he murmured, low and rough and meant only for her, "are the best damn thing I've ever fought for."
Yao smiled, a slow, radiant thing that crinkled the corners of her eyes and whispered back, "I know." And somehow, under the wide, open sky, with the smell of confetti powder still lingering in the air, with their family crowding close around them and the cameras flashing wildly like distant stars. It felt like the real victory was only just beginning.
Two weeks after the chaos of graduation, the days had settled into a steady, almost strange rhythm at the ZGDX base. Training sessions resumed. Sponsorship shoots flooded in. Schedules thickened with preparations for the next season.
And quietly, beneath it all, Yao waited. Waited for the letter. The letter that would decide everything. That morning, she stood in the front entrance, still barefoot in one of Sicheng's stolen hoodies, Da Bing draped across her shoulders like a smug white scarf, when the courier rang the bell.
The heavy, official-looking envelope was placed into her hands with a polite bow and a murmured "Good luck," even though the man probably had no idea what he was delivering.
Yao stared at it for a long moment. She didn't move. Didn't breathe.
The boys—scattered across the living room half-heartedly setting up for a scrim—froze the second they spotted her holding the envelope.
Sicheng, seated on the couch with his laptop open across his knees, set it aside instantly, his dark eyes locking onto her with full attention.
"Open it," Pang said, bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet.
"Come on, Shorty," Yue whined, practically vibrating with impatience. "You're killing us."
Yao inhaled once, steady and sure, and broke the seal. Her fingers fumbled slightly pulling the heavy paper free. Her eyes skimmed the words and then stopped. Froze. Da Bing shifted across her shoulders with a soft rumble, pawing lightly at her hair.
"You okay?" Sicheng asked, standing now, moving toward her with a steady calm that didn't quite hide the tension in his frame.
Yao blinked slowly.
Lifted her gaze.
And grinned—
Sharp.
Bright.
Triumphant.
"I passed." she said, her voice light and steady, but vibrating slightly under the force of what she was holding back.
The boys erupted—cheering, clapping, Pang tossing a cushion straight into Yue's face in pure excitement.
But Yao wasn't finished. She held up a second sheet of paper, shaking it slightly, a sly smile curling her mouth. "And apparently," she said sweetly, "I didn't just pass." She read aloud: "Congratulations, Miss Chen. Your bar exam score not only qualifies for admission without review, but has also set a new record for the highest score in the last twenty years. Your performance has surpassed even that of one of our most distinguished alumni—Mr. Lu Sicheng."
The room went dead silent.
Every head whipped toward Sicheng in slow, stunned unison.
Sicheng blinked once. Twice. Then his mouth twitched, one corner lifting into something between disbelief and reluctant, utterly impressed pride. "You outscored me," he said flatly.
Yao beamed. Bright. Fierce. Unapologetic. "By nine points," she said, her voice full of wicked, wicked delight.
Pang made a choked noise that might've been laughter.
Yue immediately doubled over, cackling loud enough that Da Bing flattened his ears in offense.
Even Lao Mao and Lao K stared at Yao like she had just sprouted wings and declared herself Queen of Earth.
Rui, from the kitchen doorway, muttered dryly, "I am not handling the paperwork for your duel."
Sicheng just shook his head slowly, moving to stand in front of her. His hands found her hips, tugging her closer until she bumped against his chest. "You," he murmured, dropping his forehead to rest lightly against hers, "are a damn menace."
Yao laughed softly, threading her arms up around his neck, letting the weight of the moment sink in. "You love it," she whispered back.
Sicheng smiled against her hair. "Yeah," he said, rough and low. "I really do."
And as the others burst into fresh rounds of noisy congratulations, Da Bing rumbling like a tiny engine of triumph against her shoulders, and the bright summer light poured through the wide open doors. Yao realized something simple, and perfect, and true. She had won. Not just the bar. Not just the record. Not just the battles she had fought to get here. She had won the life she chose. And she would never give it up for anything.
The sun had barely dipped behind the city skyline when the chaos of their impromptu celebration finally started winding down. Pizza boxes littered the coffee table. Cans of soda and tea were scattered across every surface.
Yue was still trying—and failing—to balance a crooked paper tiara on Yao's head while Pang narrated dramatically about her "coronation," and Da Bing, dignified and judgmental as ever, sat primly on her lap as if overseeing the festivities.
Sicheng watched it all unfold from his spot on the arm of the couch, one leg stretched lazily across the floor, his arm casually draped behind Yao's shoulders. For a long moment, he let them have it. The noise. The laughter. The sheer life they had built. But then he shifted, sitting forward slightly, his voice cutting through the room with a lazy, absolute authority that immediately silenced the worst of the chaos. "Alright," he drawled, voice low and rough with satisfaction. "Now that the bar's behind us," He tugged lightly on the end of Yao's ponytail, making her glance up at him with wide, curious eyes. "and since we're still officially in the offseason," he continued, his smirk slow and dangerous, "I'm kidnapping my girl."
The room stilled.
Pang blinked.
Yue dropped the paper tiara with a loud, exaggerated gasp.
Lao Mao and Lao K just looked vaguely impressed.
Ming didn't even lift his gaze from his phone, muttering dryly under his breath, "About damn time."
Rui simply tapped a note into his tablet, probably adjusting the schedule already.
Yao blinked up at him, caught between a laugh and a question.
Sicheng leaned down, close enough that only she—and maybe Da Bing—could hear the next part. "A month-long retreat," he murmured, his fingers brushing lightly over her jaw, tilting her chin just slightly toward him. "Just you, me," His gaze flicked pointedly down to the enormous white ball of judgment curled in her lap. "and the spoiled prince," he added wryly. Da Bing, as if understanding perfectly, let out a long, low purr and rubbed his head smugly against Yao's arm. Sicheng chuckled, low and rough. "No way I'm leaving him behind. He'd end the base. And none of you," he said, lifting his gaze to the rest of the room in a slow, sweeping, deliberate glance, "are qualified to survive Da Bing without his mama around."
Yue threw up his hands dramatically. "Finally, someone acknowledges the real danger !"
Pang snorted into his drink.
Lao Mao nodded solemnly, as if Da Bing's reign of terror was a foregone conclusion.
Yao laughed, low and breathless, warmth flooding her chest. She looked up at Sicheng, her eyes gleaming under the soft lights of the base, her heart full to bursting. "And where," she asked teasingly, her voice threading light and daring, "are you planning to kidnap me to?"
Sicheng smiled slow and real—the kind of smile he rarely showed anyone else. "Somewhere quiet," he murmured. "Somewhere you can breathe." Somewhere you can just be , he didn't say aloud.
But she heard it. Felt it. And in the next moment, she nodded once, simple and sure, her fingers sliding naturally into his. "Okay," she whispered. And with Da Bing purring like a miniature storm between them and the team still pretending they weren't already planning her farewell party. Yao realized, with perfect, breathtaking certainty. There was nowhere in the world she'd rather be.
The soft hum of the private jet engines filled the cabin as the flight lifted easily into the blue stretch of late afternoon sky. The inside of the jet was quiet, wrapped in a comfortable kind of silence, broken only by the occasional rumbling purr from Da Bing as he stretched luxuriously in the open seat across from Yao.
Sicheng lounged next to her, long legs stretched out in front of him, one hand loosely curled around her wrist where it rested between them. He hadn't let go since they boarded. And he wasn't planning to.
Yao tucked her phone into the curve of her palm, typing out a quick message as the jet leveled off. To Jinyang:
Yao: Leaving for a month. If Ai Jia screws up while I'm gone, you have my full permission to enlist Yue and Pang for revenge. No questions asked. Be creative.
The response came in less than a minute.
Jinyang: Already drafting the battle plans. Enjoy your "kidnapping," my little monster.
Yao grinned to herself, the warmth of it leaking into her chest, settling deep. She flipped to her next message, biting her lip slightly as she crafted a quick text to her brother.
Yao: Disappearing for a month. With Da Bing. Don't worry.
She hit send and almost immediately, her phone buzzed again.
Tao-ge: Very well. Enjoy your time. BUT—
Another buzz.
Tao-ge: You are only 22, Yao-Yao. If you come home pregnant, I am murdering Lu Sicheng.
Yao choked so hard on her bottled water that she spluttered violently, coughing into her sleeve and nearly spraying it all over the pristine leather seats. Da Bing lifted his head with a slow, judgmental blink.
Sicheng turned instantly, his hand firm against her back, steadying her even as his brows arched upward. "You alright, Shorty?" he asked, amusement already threading into his voice.
Yao wheezed once, wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her hoodie, and thrust her phone wordlessly into his face.
Sicheng took it, read the message, and gave a low, gruff laugh that rumbled deep in his chest. "Reasonable warning," he drawled lazily, handing it back. "But it's not happening." He leaned back into his seat, folding his arms behind his head, utterly unbothered. "Yet."
"You can't just—!" Yao sputtered again, turning red, flailing lightly at his shoulder with her free hand.
He caught her wrist easily, tugged her hand down to his lap, trapping it under his larger palm. "I can," he said simply, his mouth twitching into the faintest smirk. "And I did."
She glared at him half-heartedly, her heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the leftover coughing fit.
Sicheng just leaned his head back, closing his eyes like he hadn't just derailed her entire existence with two words. Outside the windows, the clouds stretched wide and endless, the sun dipping low toward the horizon. Inside, the world had narrowed down to something simple and perfect. Warm skin. Steady breathing. Home. Da Bing hopped off his seat, padding across the aisle to clamber carefully into Yao's lap with a low, imperious meow, curling up like he owned her entirely.
Sicheng cracked one eye open, his mouth twitching with fond amusement. "You spoil him too much."
Yao scratched gently behind Da Bing's ears, smiling faintly. "You spoil both of us," she murmured back.
Sicheng's smile deepened, lazy and satisfied. "Good," he said. "Get used to it."
The drive from the tiny private airstrip to the villa didn't take long. The farther they left the town behind, the quieter the world became—lush greenery lining the narrow roads, the sharp scent of saltwater growing stronger with every winding turn. When they pulled up to the villa, it was like stepping into another universe.
A wide, open space stretched out before them—modern but simple, all pale stone, warm wood, and sweeping glass windows that opened directly onto a private beach. The ocean glittered just beyond the patio, endless and blue under the early afternoon sun, the waves lapping against the sand in lazy, rhythmic pulls that seemed to quiet the very air itself.
The driver unloaded their bags quickly, placing Da Bing's sleek carrier gently near the front steps before retreating, leaving them standing there, alone in the warm, salt-laced breeze.
Yao stood still for a long moment, her hand tightening around the strap of her bag, just... staring. She had seen oceans before. But not like this. Not like this. The beach was wide and pristine, the sand soft and impossibly white, the water stretching out like something endless, free. Unclaimed.
Sicheng stepped up behind her without a word, his hand brushing lightly against the small of her back, steady, grounding. "Come on," he said quietly, the low rumble of his voice blending seamlessly with the ocean's hum.
They crossed the patio together, Da Bing hopping free the moment Yao opened the carrier, immediately strutting across the stone with all the arrogant certainty of a tiny king surveying his domain. He sniffed once at the sand, sneezed disdainfully, and promptly planted himself in the shade under a wide lounge chair, blinking slowly at the ocean as if deciding whether or not to allow it to continue existing in his presence.
Yao laughed softly under her breath, the sound slipping out before she could stop it. She dropped her bag by the door and kicked off her sandals, the stone warm against her bare feet. Then drawn as if by something bigger than herself. She stepped down onto the sand. It gave under her toes, soft and cool just beneath the sun-warmed surface. She walked until the water lapped at her ankles, the ocean breeze lifting her hair in soft, lazy waves around her shoulders.
Sicheng watched her from the patio for a moment, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his heart pounding steady and slow. Then he moved. He crossed the sand in long strides, his shadow falling over her just as the breeze picked up again, carrying the faint scent of salt and sun and something sweeter. Yao turned slightly, opening her mouth to say something. But he didn't let her. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, solid and sure, pressing his chest against her back and resting his chin lightly atop her head. She went still against him, breathing in the steady beat of his presence, the heavy certainty of him wrapped around her.
They stood there like that for a long time, saying nothing.
The waves sighed against the shore.
Da Bing's soft purring drifted from somewhere behind them.
The sun stretched lazily across the sky.
And in the quiet between them, Sicheng finally murmured, his voice low and rough against her hair, "We have all the time in the world now."
Yao closed her eyes, her fingers threading lightly over his hands where they rested against her waist. "Good," she whispered. "Because I'm not going anywhere."
Sicheng tightened his arms around her slightly, his smile brushing against her hair. "Neither am I."