Summary: Tong Yao tries—and fails—to avoid Lu Sicheng after their infamous match fallout, her every escape attempt amusing the team and infuriating her Captain. But when avoidance no longer works, one hallway standoff turns into a flustered, chaotic reckoning, complete with a new nickname: Xiǎo Tùzǐ.
Chapter Ten
For the next two workdays, Yao completely and utterly avoided Sicheng. It wasn't subtle. Not even a little bit. Anytime he so much as entered a room, she would stiffen, her hazel eyes widening before she would make a swift and immediate escape.
If he walked into the common area?
She would squeak, her face turning bright red, and then—gone.
If he approached her during lunch?
She would suddenly remember she needed to answer an email, grab her things, and vanish before he could even sit down.
If he so much as looked in her direction during practice?
She would turn completely red, duck behind Rui or whoever was nearest, and disappear like a ghost.
The first time it happened, Sicheng had simply raised an eyebrow, watching as she practically bolted from the kitchen after making direct eye contact with him. The second time, when she physically turned on her heel and walked the other way when he entered, he knew it wasn't a coincidence.
The third time?
He sighed.
Because she wasn't just avoiding him.
She was running.
And the team?
Oh, the team noticed immediately.
Yue, watching the way Yao physically jumped when Sicheng had passed her desk, grinned wide. "Oh my god. She's terrified of you."
Lao K, observing the way she had just fled the training room, shook his head. "More like mortified."
Pang, thoroughly entertained, stretched his arms behind his head. "You broke her, man."
"More like she doesn't know how to handle what happened." Ming muttered as he tilted his head slightly.
Sicheng, arms crossed, exhaled deeply, his expression unreadable as he leaned back against the table. "She's being ridiculous."
Yue laughed outright. "Well, yeah. But it's hilarious, so we're letting it happen."
Sicheng shot him a look.
But it wasn't just Yue.
The entire team was watching this unfold with obvious amusement.
Lao Mao smirked. "So, what's the plan, Captain? You just gonna let her keep running?"
Sicheng, done with this nonsense, rolled his shoulders. "No." Because avoiding him? That wasn't going to work. And if Yao thought she could keep escaping? She was about to find out how wrong she was.
Sicheng had already decided. Yao wasn't going to be able to keep running from him. But before he dealt with that, he had another problem to handle.
His damn brother.
Because this?
This whole situation?
Was entirely Yue's fault.
Sicheng, done with watching Yao scramble away like a flustered rabbit every time she saw him, made his way toward the common area, where Yue was lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone with the relaxed energy of a man who had no idea his life was about to be made significantly worse. Without hesitation, without a word, Sicheng picked up the nearest pillow, and whacked him over the head with it.
"Ow—what the—!" Yue barely had time to react before another hit landed, this time harder.
"Lu Yue, you brought up that interview." Sicheng's voice was calm, too calm, his expression unreadable as he lifted the pillow again.
Yue, immediately realizing what this was about, let out a wheeze of laughter. "Oh, come on—"
Whack.
Yue flailed. "Okay, okay! It was funny!"
Sicheng did not care as he swung again.
Whack.
Pang, watching from across the room, leaned toward Lao K. "How long do you think this is gonna last?"
Lao K, sipping his drink, shrugged. "Depends on how much Yue keeps talking."
Whack.
Yue gasped dramatically, barely dodging the next hit as he scrambled off the couch. "Okay, okay! Look, I'm sorry! It's not my fault you basically proposed in an interview—"
Sicheng threw the pillow at his face.
It hit its mark.
Dead center.
"You—you're really gonna kill me over this—" Yue collapsed backward, wheezing with laughter.
Sicheng, deciding the pillow wasn't enough, picked up his slipper next.
Yue's eyes widened immediately. "Okay, wait—WAIT—"
Smack.
Lao Mao, watching this unfold, sighed. "Yep. He deserves it."
Ming, arms crossed, nodded thoughtfully. "Absolutely."
Meanwhile, Yao, who had been trying to avoid Sicheng, stood at the entrance of the room, frozen, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. Her brain barely registered what she was looking at.
Sicheng.
Beating his brother.
With a slipper.
And Yue?
Dying of laughter despite being actively attacked.
She had no idea what to do with this information. But as Sicheng turned, locking eyes with her for the first time in two days, her breath hitched. And her fight-or-flight response kicked in.
Sicheng saw it happen. The exact moment she decided she was going to run again. His amber eyes narrowed. "Don't even think about it."
Yao ran anyway.
The second Yao turned on her heel, intent on escaping once more, Sicheng moved. He didn't rush. Didn't chase her in a way that would make it obvious. But he was taller, faster, and far more determined than she was. By the time Yao made it down the hall, thinking she could disappear into the analyst room, she barely had time to reach for the door handle before a warm hand caught her wrist, stopping her instantly.
Her breath hitched.
Trapped.
She swallowed hard, her pulse jumping, as she turned slightly to find Sicheng standing behind her, close enough that she could feel the weight of his presence, close enough that she knew she wasn't going to be able to just slip away again. His grip on her wrist was firm but not forceful, keeping her in place without hurting her.
Yao didn't look at him at first. Her cheeks were already burning, and she knew—she knew—if she met his gaze, she would completely short-circuit. So she tried one last time. "I—I just remembered I have work to—"
"No, you don't." His voice was calm, smooth, unwavering.
Yao winced.
She had tried.
Really, she had.
But now?
Now she had nowhere to go.
Taking a deep breath, she slowly turned to look at him, her hazel eyes flickering up, meeting his directly. And immediately regretted it. Because he was staring right at her, his sharp amber gaze locked onto her like he was reading every single thought in her head.
He tilted his head slightly, his grip loosening just enough to let her move, but not enough to let her run again. "Avoiding me for two days, Tong Yao? That's a little dramatic." His voice was too smooth, carrying something undeniable beneath it.
Yao's face went up in flames as she sputtered, her words coming out all wrong. "I—I wasn't avoiding you! I was just—just—"
Sicheng lifted an eyebrow.
She deflated instantly. "…Avoiding you."
His lips curled slightly, something too knowing flickering in his expression. "Why?"
Yao panicked because how was she supposed to answer that? Because her brain had decided to replay Yue's words over and over again like a broken record. Because she had been thinking too much about that damn interview. Because she couldn't stop remembering the way Sicheng had looked at her after their match. "…No reason."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Try again."
Yao swallowed, her fingers fidgeting slightly against her sleeve, her entire body screaming at her to escape but there was nowhere to go.
And Sicheng knew it. So he waited. Calm. Patient. Unyielding.
Yao swallowed hard, her mind racing for an escape, for a way out of this conversation, but there was none. Sicheng was right there, standing too close, his steady amber eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her heartbeat stumble. He wasn't rushing her, wasn't pushing, but that was worse. Because he was waiting. And he wasn't going to let her go until she answered him. Yao exhaled slowly, her fingers tugging at the sleeves of her sweater. "I just… I didn't know how to act around you after that match," she muttered, voice small. "It just—felt weird."
Sicheng lifted a brow. "Weird?"
Yao winced, knowing that wasn't the right word, but what else could she say? That she had spent the last two days overthinking everything? That her brain refused to stop replaying that damn interview quote? That every time she looked at him now, she remembered that stupid, teasing smirk and the way he had told her, next time, I won't let you win…Her face burned hotter, and she knew Sicheng could see it. He didn't move, didn't react, but she could feel the shift in his focus, the way he had picked up on every single sign of her flustered state.
Damn it.
"It's just—" she started, then groaned, covering her face with her hands.
"Tong Yao." Sicheng huffed a small breath, something like amusement flickering in his gaze. She peeked through her fingers, eyes full of hesitation. His voice dropped lower, smoother, and just a little too knowing. "You're overthinking this."
Yao's lips pressed together, her hands lowering slightly as she muttered, "I am not overthinking this."
Sicheng didn't say anything. Just tilted his head slightly, waiting.
Yao scowled. "I'm not."
Still nothing.
Her scowl deepened. "…I—"
"You're ridiculous." Sicheng let out a soft exhale, shaking his head.
"You're annoying." Yao pouted, crossing her arms.
His lips twitched. "You still lost."
"I won!" Yao gasped riled up with an affronted look on her face.
Sicheng leaned in slightly, his voice dipping lower, smoother. "And now you're running from me. So did you really win?"
Yao's entire brain short-circuited. Her face burned, fully red now, and she took a sharp step back, escaping his space before she completely collapsed from sheer mortification. "I—I HAVE WORK TO DO—" she squeaked, spinning on her heel and fleeing down the hallway as fast as humanly possible.
Sicheng watched her go, not stopping her this time, just exhaling deeply before shaking his head. His amusement was clear. Because now? Now that he knew she was this flustered? He wasn't going to let her run for long.
Sicheng had already decided. Since Lao Mao had already taken every possible variation of cat or kitten as a nickname, he wasn't about to start calling Yao something that would cause unnecessary confusion. And besides, she wasn't a cat. No, she was something else entirely. Something smaller, more skittish, but just as stubborn. The way she bolted every time he got too close, the way her nose scrunched when she got frustrated, the way she puffed up when trying to assert authority…it was obvious. She was a rabbit.
A tiny, flustered, easily startled rabbit.
And so, the next time Yao was forced to interact with him—this time, while reviewing match data—he tested it.
"Xiǎo Tùzǐ, scroll back to the last five minutes."
Yao froze as her fingers halted over the keyboard, her head snapping up so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. "…What did you just call me?"
Sicheng, perfectly calm, didn't even look away from the screen. "Scroll back. Last five minutes."
Yao stared at him.
Then at the screen.
Then back at him.
"…No, no, no. Before that."
Sicheng finally glanced at her, utterly unfazed. "What?"
She narrowed her eyes. "You called me something."
A pause.
Then—
He smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Xiǎo Tùzǐ."
"Little Bunny?" Yao blinked rapidly, as if the words hadn't fully registered yet.
"Fits, doesn't it?" Sicheng hummed, completely casual.
Yao's brain short-circuited.
Pang, who had been listening in, immediately slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from howling with laughter.
Lao K nearly fell off his chair as Lao Mao was choking.
Ming, arms crossed, exhaled sharply and muttered, "That tracks."
Even Rui, who wasn't usually involved in their nonsense, raised an eyebrow, looking between them with genuine interest.
But the worst part?
The absolute worst part?
Yue, who immediately grinned so wide it was dangerous. "Oh my god, this is perfect."
Yao panicked instantly. "NO. IT IS NOT—"
"It is, though." Sicheng, ignoring the pure chaos he had just started, leaned back in his chair, stretching slightly. "Anyway, move the footage back."
Yao, still red as a tomato, grumbled the entire time as she did exactly as he asked.
And Sicheng?
Sicheng just smirked, watching as the name settled into place. Because whether she liked it or not? Xiǎo Tùzǐ was here to stay.
The day of the meeting arrived faster than Yao had expected. She had spent the entire morning overthinking everything, pacing around her apartment, second-guessing herself at every turn. It wasn't just anyone she was meeting. It was Lu Wang Lan, Sicheng's mother. A woman who had once been her mother's best friend. A woman who had searched for her, who had wanted to meet her for years. And the weight of that realization sat heavy in her chest. So, after cycling through four different outfits and still feeling completely lost, she grabbed her phone, hesitated for a full minute, and than she called Sicheng.
It rang twice before he picked up.
"What's wrong?" His voice was as smooth as ever, but there was a shift—an awareness in his tone, like he already sensed her nerves before she could even speak.
Yao swallowed hard, gripping the edge of her sleeve. "I—I was just wondering…" She trailed off, already regretting this, before forcing herself to continue. "…what should I wear?"
Silence.
For a moment, she panicked, thinking he was about to tease her, throw out some smug comment about how she was thinking too much, but—
He didn't.
Instead, when he spoke again, his voice was even, steady, and completely free of amusement. "Something comfortable. She's not expecting you to dress up."
Yao blinked. "She's not?"
"No."
"…But I don't want to look too casual, either." Yao bit her lip, her nerves still twisting in her stomach.
Sicheng exhaled slowly, and for a brief second, she could hear the faint rustling of fabric, like he was shifting in his chair. "Wear something you feel like yourself in," he said simply. "Not something you think she expects."
Yao stilled.
Because for some reason, that hit deeper than it should have. She had spent so much time worrying about what was right, what was proper, what was expected. She hadn't even thought about what she felt comfortable in. Her fingers relaxed slightly against the phone.
"…Okay."
Sicheng didn't push, didn't say anything unnecessary. He just let her process it, let the silence sit comfortably between them. Then, after a few seconds, his voice dropped just a little.
"I'll see you soon, Xiǎo Tùzǐ."
Yao's face heated instantly. She almost argued, almost told him not to call her that today of all days but instead, she just let out a small breath, nodded to herself, and whispered, "…See you soon."
When Sicheng pulled up in front of Yao's apartment, he barely had to wait before the door opened and she stepped out. The moment he saw her, he knew she had listened. She wasn't overdressed. Wasn't trying to force herself into something she thought was expected. Instead, she looked comfortable, a pair of fitted dark blue jeans, black sneakers, and a soft-looking black sweater layered with a casual jean jacket. She shifted slightly, adjusting the bag over her shoulder, her fingers lightly brushing against the strap in a subtle nervous habit. Her platinum silver hair was pulled neatly into a French braid, a practical but simple style that suited her.
Sicheng took it all in with a quick glance. Noticed the way she shifted her weight slightly, adjusting the hem of her sleeve. The way she inhaled slowly, as if steadying herself before stepping forward.
She was nervous.
But she wasn't hiding.
Good.
She met his gaze as she approached the car, her hazel eyes flickering with something hesitant, as if she was waiting for a reaction.
Sicheng didn't tease. Didn't smirk. Didn't say anything unnecessary. He just unlocked the door. "Get in."
Yao hesitated for a split second, then nodded and slipped into the passenger seat. As she settled in, pulling her seatbelt across her, Sicheng pulled away from the curb, his grip steady on the wheel. Neither of them spoke at first. Not because the silence was awkward. But because there was nothing that needed to be said yet. She had come ready and he was taking her there.
When they arrived, Yao felt the weight of anticipation settle deeper in her chest.
Sicheng had parked outside a quiet, high-end restaurant, the kind that exuded understated elegance rather than flashy opulence. It was private, calculated, exactly the kind of place that Lu Wang Lan would choose for something like this.
Yao swallowed hard as she stepped out of the car, her fingers instinctively fidgeting with the strap of her bag.
Sicheng, standing beside her, didn't rush her. Didn't push. He simply waited until she was ready. And when she inhaled deeply and finally nodded, he led her inside.
The moment they stepped into the private dining room, Yao barely had a second to process before warm arms wrapped around her.
She froze.
For a second, her brain didn't register what was happening.
Lu Wang Lan, a woman Yao had expected to be polite, composed, distant—had hugged her the second she saw her. It wasn't a brief, obligatory embrace. It was firm, warm, like she had waited years to do this.
Yao's breath hitched. She wasn't used to this. Wasn't used to being held like this. Her fingers twitched slightly before she hesitantly lifted them, pressing against Wang Lan's arms in uncertain hesitation. "…Mrs. Lu?" she stammered softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lu Wang Lan immediately pulled back just enough to look at her properly, her sharp eyes scanning Yao's face, taking her in fully for the first time. "No," she said smoothly, her voice carrying warmth but also certainty. "Not Mrs. Lu. Call me Auntie Lan."
Yao's lips parted slightly, her throat tightening. Auntie Lan. Like family. She swallowed, her fingers still gripping the strap of her bag as she whispered, "…Okay."
Lu Wang Lan studied her carefully, her eyes tracing over every small detail, her lips curving slightly as she nodded. "You've grown so much," she murmured, her hand gently brushing a stray strand of hair behind Yao's ear, the way someone who had known her forever would do. "You look just like your mother."
Yao swallowed hard, something deep in her chest twisting sharply.
But then—
Something flickered in Wang Lan's gaze.
Brief. Sharp. Aware.
Yao, still processing everything, didn't notice.
But Sicheng, standing behind them, did. His mother's hand lingered just slightly too long on Yao's back before she slowly pulled away, her expression never changing, but her eyes flickering once toward her son. A single glance. A single message. Sicheng's brows twitched slightly. He said nothing. Neither did his mother. But he knew that look. And he knew, the second Yao excused herself, the moment she stepped away, even for a minute. Lu Wang Lan was going to have questions.
For him.
Lunch passed in an oddly natural rhythm—considering everything.
At first, Yao had been unsure, hesitant to speak too much, still adjusting to the sheer presence of Lu Wang Lan. But the woman had a way of pulling conversation out of her effortlessly, guiding the discussion with a balance of interest and sharp observation.
And Sicheng, seated beside Yao, remained silent but watchful, letting them talk, letting his mother take in everything she needed to see for herself.
"You're working on your PhD?" Wang Lan had asked at one point, her brows raising slightly in genuine approval.
Yao, shifting slightly in her seat, nodded. "Yes, in Data Analysis and Technology… with an additional focus on Gaming Strategic Analysis for the OPL."
Wang Lan's lips curved slightly. "Impressive."
Yao flushed a little. "It's… a lot of work, but I enjoy it."
Wang Lan hummed, taking a slow sip of her tea, her sharp eyes never leaving Yao for even a second.
Sicheng, watching closely, recognized that look. His mother was memorizing everything. The way Yao spoke, the way she carried herself, the way she held back when it came to certain topics and spoke more freely when she was comfortable. And most of all? She was taking note of everything that needed to change. By the time the plates had been cleared, Sicheng could already see it. His mother had decided something.
And when Lu Wang Lan decided something? It was already set in motion. She wasn't just observing. She was calculating. Measuring. And now that she had Yao right in front of her, now that Yao was under her gaze, under her reach? There were things that were going to change.
"You're living alone, correct?" Wang Lan asked smoothly, setting her tea cup down, her tone still pleasant but carrying meaning.
Yao blinked, nodding. "Yes, I—I have my own place."
Wang Lan's expression didn't shift, but Sicheng felt it. She didn't like that answer. And she wasn't going to let it stay that way for long. Because as far as Lu Wang Lan was concerned? Yao was working for ZGDX. She was at the base constantly. And she was clearly not being taken care of properly.
That?
That was going to change.
The moment Yao excused herself to the bathroom, Lu Wang Lan didn't waste a single second. She didn't ask questions. Didn't ease into the topic. She simply placed her cup down, met Sicheng's gaze directly, and stated, "I'm ordering a mandatory health check-up for all ZGDX players."
Sicheng, who had been expecting something, just not this, raised a brow. "Why?" His voice was calm, measured, already knowing there was more to this than she was saying.
His mother exhaled slowly, fingers lacing together as she leaned slightly forward. "Because I don't want Yao to feel targeted."
Sicheng's jaw tightened slightly.
And just as he was about to ask why that would even be necessary, his mother spoke again, "She's not eating enough."
Sicheng's fingers tapped once against the table.
His mother's gaze didn't waver. "She looks healthy at first glance, but she isn't. She's underweight. Not dangerously so, but enough for it to be a concern. Enough that I can tell her diet is inconsistent at best."
Sicheng stayed quiet. Because he already knew she was right. The way Yao picked at her food, the way she rarely ate full meals around them, the way she often drank tea or coffee instead of eating something solid—he had noticed. He had thought it was just her preferences, something he hadn't looked too deeply into. But if his mother was saying this now, after only one meeting… It wasn't just a preference. It was a pattern. And she wasn't finished.
"There's something else."
Sicheng exhaled slowly. "What?"
His mother tilted her head slightly. "She's touch-starved."
Sicheng stilled. His fingers flexed slightly against the table, his gaze sharpening as he processed those words.
Wang Lan continued, her tone matter-of-fact, but not unkind. "When I hugged her, she froze. That was expected. She's not used to affection from people she doesn't know. But after that?" She lifted a brow, her meaning clear. "She leaned into it."
Sicheng's jaw locked.
His mother tapped her fingers lightly against the table, watching his reaction. "That's not something someone does unless they've been deprived of it for a long time." A pause, then, "She's clearly not used to people touching her."
Sicheng didn't respond immediately. Didn't deny it. Because now that she said it… It made too much sense. The way Yao startled every time someone made contact. The way she hesitated before letting people touch her. The way she had once flinched out of instinct before catching herself—before realizing that no one here would hurt her.
Sicheng exhaled deeply, his fingers tapping once more against the wood. "And?"
His mother gave him a knowing look. "And now that I know this, something will be done about it."
Sicheng didn't look away. "You're not going to push her."
Wang Lan smirked slightly. "I don't have to."
A pause.
Then, in a voice laced with unspoken meaning, she murmured, "She's already in the right hands."
Sicheng's gaze didn't waver. Because they both knew, she wasn't talking about herself. Sicheng knew his mother wasn't done. She never was when she had made up her mind about something.
And sure enough, after a brief pause, she picked up her teacup, took a measured sip, then—without even looking at him—stated smoothly, "I'm increasing her salary."
"You didn't even hire her." Sicheng exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple.
Lan gave him a look. "And yet, I'm still the one making sure she's properly compensated."
Sicheng's jaw tightened slightly. Because he knew what she was doing. "She's already being paid fairly."
"Not enough." Her tone was final, leaving no room for argument. She set her teacup down gently, her sharp gaze never leaving him as she continued. "She has two jobs right now. One as an analyst, one as a full-time PhD student. That alone deserves better pay. And now that I know she's not eating properly, this ensures she won't have any excuse not to."
"She's going to argue with you." Sicheng sighed, leaning back in his chair.
Lan's lips curved slightly. "She can try."
"You're impossible." Sicheng just shook his head.
She smirked. "That's why I get things done." Then, after a brief pause, she tapped her fingers lightly against the table and added, "And don't think I haven't noticed how you're looking at her, Sicheng."
Sicheng's gaze snapped back to her, his expression unreadable. But his mother just smiled knowingly. Because she knew. And she also knew— There was no point in saying it out loud. Not yet.
The moment Yao returned to the table, wiping her hands on a napkin as she settled back into her seat, Wang Lan's sharp gaze flickered toward her with calculated interest. "How are you paying for your schooling?" she asked smoothly.
Yao paused, her fingers gripping the edge of her sleeve as she blinked in mild surprise at the directness of the question. "O-Oh… um…" She hesitated for a second before shifting slightly in her seat. "I—I have scholarships."
Lan tilted her head slightly, waiting for her to continue.
Yao fidgeted, clearly nervous under the weight of attention, but after inhaling slowly, she continued, her voice soft but steady. "M-My… my aunt and uncle told me that if I—I came to China, they… um, wouldn't pay for anything."
Sicheng, who had been listening silently, tapped his fingers once against the table. His gaze flickered toward Yao, reading her carefully, noting the way she wasn't bitter, wasn't resentful—just quietly stating what had happened.
She swallowed, her fingers lightly curling into the fabric of her sweater. "S-So I… I made sure I didn't need their help."
Lan lifted a brow. "And how did you do that?"
Yao hesitated, tugging at her sleeve slightly before answering. "I—I applied for as many scholarships as I could. My tuition is… um, fully covered because of merit-based awards. A-And I also, um…" She swallowed, glancing down briefly before forcing herself to finish. "I—I won a housing scholarship, so my rent at my studio apartment is covered until I… u-until I graduate."
A brief silence filled the table.
Then—
Lan let out a soft hum, her sharp gaze flickering with something assessing. "So they left you to handle it yourself."
"Y-Yes." Yao nodded quickly, her fingers still twitching slightly against the napkin in her lap.
"Good." Lan exhaled, a look of quiet approval crossing her expression.
Yao blinked, her head lifting slightly. "G-Good?"
Sicheng, watching his mother closely, already knew what she was thinking. She wasn't just impressed. She was calculating. Because now that she knew how self-sufficient Yao had been forced to become. She also knew how much needed to change. Sicheng sighed internally, already bracing himself for whatever was coming next.
Lan exhaled slowly, setting her teacup down with deliberate care before meeting Yao's gaze directly. "There's another reason I was trying to find you."
Yao, who had just started to relax even slightly, immediately tensed again. Her fingers curled into her lap, her hazel eyes flickering with uncertainty. "A-Another reason?"
Sicheng, seated beside her, didn't move, didn't react outwardly, but his sharp gaze narrowed slightly, his focus locking onto his mother completely.
Lan studied Yao for a moment, as if deciding the best way to deliver this information, before she spoke smoothly but firmly. "Your mother left you a trust fund."
Yao's breath hitched as her fingers twitched against her sweater, her heart stumbling in her chest as she blinked rapidly, trying to process what she had just heard. "…She—what?"
Lan's lips pressed together slightly before continuing. "Xu Roulan didn't trust your aunt and uncle. She knew that if something happened to her, they would try to take whatever they could. So she left your trust fund in my hands."
Yao's stomach dropped. Her mind spun as she tried to grasp the weight of what was being said. A trust fund. Her mother had left her a trust fund. And instead of it ever reaching her, it had been kept from her all this time.
Sicheng's fingers tapped once against the table, a subtle movement, but one that carried undeniable tension. "They never told you." His voice was low, smooth, but carrying an edge that wasn't there before.
Yao swallowed hard, her throat tightening as she shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "I—I didn't even know it existed…"
Lan nodded as if she had expected that answer. "I'm not surprised. That's why I didn't give them control over it." Her sharp gaze hardened slightly, her voice firm. "It was always meant to be yours. And now that I've found you, it will be."
Yao felt overwhelmed, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Because this? This changed everything. All those years she had struggled, all those years she had forced herself to be completely independent, all those years she had thought she had nothing left but what she could earn for herself. And yet, all along…Her mother had left something for her. Something that had been kept away from her. She swallowed hard, gripping the fabric of her sweater as she whispered, "…Why didn't you find me sooner?"
A pause.
Then—
Lan's expression shifted, something unreadable flickering behind her sharp eyes before she sighed quietly. "Because I tried. But your aunt and uncle didn't want me to."
Yao's entire body stiffened.
And Sicheng?
His fingers curled slightly against the table, his jaw tensing as he immediately understood what that meant. They had kept her from knowing. Deliberately and neither he nor his mother were going to let that stand any longer.
Lan sighed, her sharp gaze never leaving Yao's face as she reached for her tea, taking a slow, measured sip before setting the cup down with deliberate care. Then, her voice softened, but it did not lose its weight. "From now on, I am not going anywhere."
Yao stilled as her fingers, which had been anxiously twisting against her sweater, froze mid-motion. Her hazel eyes flickered up, wide and hesitant, as if she hadn't heard her correctly.
But Lan's expression remained steady, unwavering as she continued. "I don't care how much time has been lost. I don't care what your aunt and uncle did to keep me away. I am here now, and I will be in your life for as long as you will let me be."
Yao's breath hitched. She wasn't used to hearing things like that. People didn't say things like that to her. Her chest tightened, something warm curling inside her, something that felt dangerously close to hope but she didn't know if she could let herself accept it yet.
Wang Lan saw it. Saw all of it. But she didn't push. Didn't demand that Yao believe her immediately. She simply let the words settle, let Yao process them, before adding in a voice that was almost gentle, "I hope that's something you can accept."
Yao swallowed hard, her lips parting slightly before pressing together again, uncertain, hesitant, but deeply affected. For a moment, she could only nod, her fingers gripping the napkin in her lap, trying to hold onto something solid as she whispered, "…Okay."
And that?
That was enough for now.
As dessert was served, Lan quietly observed Yao, her sharp eyes filled with a fondness she hadn't expected to feel so soon. She watched as Yao, much like her mother before her, wasn't drawn to the sweeter options on the menu. Instead of reaching for the rich cakes or delicate pastries, she chose the smallest option available—a simple fruit tart.
Lan smirked slightly, murmuring to herself, "Just like Roulan."
Sicheng, who had been watching as well, glanced at his mother but didn't comment. Instead, he leaned back slightly, sipping his tea as his mother shifted seamlessly into her next point of discussion—one that he had been expecting.
Her voice was smooth, measured, but carrying undeniable intent as she set down her fork and turned toward Yao. "Where are you living, exactly?"
Yao, midway through a bite of her tart, paused abruptly. She blinked, her hazel eyes flickering up as if she wasn't sure why that question was being asked. "Um… I have a studio apartment."
Lan hummed, her expression unreadable as she tilted her head slightly. "And why, exactly, are you choosing to live there instead of at the ZGDX base?"
Yao nearly choked on her tart. Her entire body tensed, her eyes darting quickly toward Sicheng—who looked utterly unfazed—before looking back at Wang Lan, her face heating slightly. "I—I mean, I just… I wasn't really thinking about moving in?"
Lan lifted a delicate brow. "Why not?"
Yao fumbled for an answer, her fingers twitching slightly against her napkin. "I—I have my own space, a-and I didn't want to be a bother, a-and—"
"Surely my son, the Captain and owner of ZGDX, can create a space for you."
Yao froze completely.
Sicheng sighed, rubbing his temple. "Ma."
She ignored him. Her attention remained fully on Yao, her voice smooth, almost casual, but carrying every ounce of intention behind it. "And surely there is enough space at the base to create an office for you, yes?" She lifted her teacup, sipping it calmly. "One where you could work on your PhD quietly, attend your classes, and even meet with your mentor in privacy."
Yao felt her soul leave her body. She wasn't sure what was happening. One second, she was having dessert, and the next? She was being offered an entire new living and working situation as if it was already decided. She whipped her head toward Sicheng, eyes wide, desperately searching for an escape.
But Sicheng?
He simply exhaled, his amber gaze flickering toward her with something annoyingly unreadable before he said, "She has a point."
Yao felt her soul leave her body as the weight of both Lu Wang Lan's suggestion and Lu Sicheng's agreement settled heavily on her shoulders. She stared at Sicheng in pure betrayal, her hazel eyes wide, practically pleading for him to save her from what was very clearly a planned attack from his mother. But he didn't save her. He just sipped his tea, completely unbothered, as if he hadn't just agreed to throw her into the lion's den. Yao's hands twitched against her napkin, her throat drying out instantly. "I—um—"
Lan set her teacup down, her gaze patient but unwavering. "It only makes sense, doesn't it?"
Yao swallowed hard. "I—I mean, I just—" She let out a nervous breath, her voice shrinking. "I—I've never lived with a team before, a-and I didn't want to intrude, a-and I have my own place, so I just—"
"That place isn't suitable for you."
Yao stilled.
Because the way Wang Lan had said it so easily, so simply, as if it was an absolute fact, as if it was already decided, made her panic slightly.
She blinked rapidly, feeling out of her depth. "I—It's a fine apartment."
Lan gave a knowing smile, one that made Yao's stomach twist. "I highly doubt that."
Yao tried to argue, really, she did—but she could already feel herself losing this battle before it even began. Lan didn't press any harder than necessary. She didn't demand. She didn't push aggressively. She simply let the weight of logic settle in—like she knew Yao would eventually see that there was no good reason to refuse. And then—just as she was about to scramble for another excuse—
Sicheng finally spoke again. "She won't move in unless she wants to."
Yao snapped her gaze toward him instantly, startled by the sudden shift.
Wang Lan, however, only hummed. "Of course."
A pause.
Then—
"But she will want to."
Yao wilted instantly.
Sicheng exhaled deeply, as if this was already giving him a headache, but he didn't argue. Because the truth was? His mother was probably right.
And Yao?
Yao felt it too. That quiet, sinking realization… That no matter how much she tried to avoid it, tried to deny it, tried to run from it— The idea wasn't bad. It wasn't impossible. And that? That was the most dangerous part.
Yao felt cornered. Not in an uncomfortable way—not like she was being forced—but in a way that made her deeply aware of just how much her life was shifting right in front of her. She wasn't opposed to the idea. But the problem was… She wasn't used to this. She wasn't used to having people make space for her. Wasn't used to people wanting her to be part of something bigger than herself. So, after a long pause, her fingers still tightly curled in her lap, she inhaled slowly, gathering herself before whispering, "…I'll think about it."
Lan smiled slightly, her expression unreadable but carrying a distinct knowing quality. "That's all I ask."
Yao, still feeling strangely overwhelmed, lowered her gaze to her plate. "I—I just… I've been on my own for a long time."
Sicheng, who had been mostly silent, finally spoke, his voice calm but pointed. "You have Jinyang and Ai Jia."
Yao hesitated, nodding slightly. "I do. But… I've still lived on my own since I was eighteen." She swallowed, her voice quieter now, but honest. "I've gotten used to it." A beat of silence passed. She wasn't saying no. She wasn't rejecting the idea completely. But she was setting a boundary, giving herself time—because this wasn't just about moving into the ZGDX base.
This was about changing her entire way of living.
And Lan, who had already decided she was going to be in Yao's life for as long as she allowed it, simply nodded. "Take your time, Yao."
A pause.
Then, smoothly, with that ever-calculating edge, she added, "But don't take too long."
"Ma." Sicheng sighed deeply, rubbing his temple.
Yao wilted instantly, knowing—just knowing—this wasn't over. Because now? Now, both Lu Wang Lan and Lu Sicheng were going to make sure she didn't have a way to avoid this forever.
The moment Ai Jia's name left Sicheng's mouth, Wang Lan's expression shifted subtly. Her sharp gaze flickered, her lips pressing together for a fraction of a second—a reaction so slight that most people wouldn't have noticed.
But Sicheng wasn't most people. He saw it immediately. A small, almost imperceptible darkening in her eyes, a flicker of something measuring, assessing, as if she had just filed that name away for later.
Yao, however, was still too caught up in her own nervousness to notice.
Lan didn't address it. Not yet. Instead, she exhaled lightly, smoothing out her expression as she settled her gaze back on Yao. Her tone, when she spoke, was calm, deliberate, but carrying an undeniable weight. "Before I forget."
Yao looked up, blinking in confusion. "H-Hm?"
Lan's gaze did not waver. "Thank you for saving Yue's ass."
Yao froze as her fingers twitched slightly against the napkin in her lap as she blinked rapidly. "O-Oh. I—I mean, I just—"
"No." Lan cut in smoothly, her voice firm but not unkind. "Don't brush it off."
Yao swallowed, her face heating slightly as she fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. "I-I just wanted to help…" she mumbled.
"And you did." There was a certainty in Lan's voice that left no room for argument.
Yao hesitated, clearly not used to such direct praise, her eyes flickering downward as she nodded slowly.
Sicheng, watching the exchange with his usual unreadable expression, leaned back slightly in his chair. Because he knew exactly what this meant. His mother wasn't just thanking Yao. She was making it clear, that Tong Yao had earned her respect.
And Lu Wang Lan didn't just give that away to anyone. With a casual flick of her fingers, her gaze shifted back to Sicheng, and her voice dropped just slightly, something cooler slipping into her tone. "Now, back to this Ai Jia."
Sicheng exhaled slowly, running a hand down his face. Here we go. Because if his mother had latched onto that name. She was not going to let it go.
Before Lan could push further, Sicheng cut in smoothly, his tone carrying an edge of finality.
"I already handled it."
His mother's gaze snapped to him immediately, sharp and assessing, as if determining whether or not she agreed with that statement.
Sicheng, unbothered, continued, "YQCB has their warning. Either they keep Ai Jia in check, or I'll take their entire team apart piece by piece."
The table went quiet for a moment.
"Y-You threatened them?" Yao's eyes widened slightly, her fingers tightening on her napkin.
Sicheng's amber gaze flickered to her briefly, then back to his mother as he exhaled. "It wasn't a threat. It was a guarantee."
Lan's lips curled slightly, though whether in amusement or approval was unclear. She studied her son for a moment before humming lightly, tapping a single manicured nail against her teacup. "I see."
Sicheng raised a brow. "You disapprove?"
Wang Lan let out a slow breath, shaking her head slightly. "No. You handled it correctly."
Yao, still reeling slightly from what she had just heard, swallowed hard.
Because that wasn't just a warning. That was Lu Sicheng making it clear that Ai Jia—and YQCB as a whole—were only standing because he allowed it. And Lan? She wasn't arguing. Which meant she fully supported that approach.
Sicheng, ignoring her reaction entirely, took another sip of his tea. "Then drop it."
"For now." Lan smiled, tilting her head slightly.
Sicheng exhaled sharply but didn't argue. Because they both knew. If Ai Jia ever stepped out of line again? Neither of them would need to handle it. Because YQCB would handle it for them. Or they wouldn't exist.
As lunch wrapped up and they all rose from their seats, Lan moved with purpose before Yao could even think to step away.
"Wait."
Yao, who had just reached for her bag, stilled, blinking up at her. "Huh?"
Before she could process it, Lan reached into her purse and pulled out a small, elegant box—thin, delicate, unmistakably a jewelry case. Yao's eyes widened slightly as Lan extended it toward her. "This belonged to your mother."
Yao's breath hitched. Her fingers hesitated before reaching out, carefully taking the box as if it might disappear the second she touched it. It was light in her hands, but the weight it carried settled deep in her chest. Her throat tightened, her fingers brushing over the surface before she swallowed hard. "This… was my mother's?"
"Yes. She left it with me for safekeeping. And now, it belongs to you." Lan nodded once, her voice smooth but carrying something softer beneath it.
Yao felt frozen, her heart pounding louder than it should be. Something from her mother. Something she had never even known existed. Slowly, she opened the box, her breath catching the second she saw it. Inside lay a thin, silver necklace, simple yet intricate, the chain holding a small, elegant charm—a delicate fox-shaped pendant, finely crafted, subtle but meaningful. It wasn't just jewelry. It was something her mother had chosen, worn, treasured—and now, it had made its way back to her. Her vision blurred slightly, her fingers trembling as she gently traced the pendant. "…She really left this for me?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Lan's gaze softened just slightly, the kind of rare warmth she only extended to those who mattered. "She did."
Yao swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as she clutched the box closer to her chest, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to even begin processing this moment.
Sicheng, watching silently from beside her, let out a slow breath. He didn't touch her. Didn't interrupt. Didn't push. Because he knew. This was something she needed time to take in.
And Yao, standing there with her mother's necklace in her hands, could only whisper, "…Thank you."
Because right now?
That was all she could manage.