Summary: What begins with a pout and a hoodie becomes something far bigger than a morning tantrum. Between teasing threats, sleepy sulking, and silent understanding, Yao's world shifts again—wrapped not in spectacle, but in the warmth of trust, chosen family, and the kind of quiet that only comes when you're finally allowed to be tired, and still completely safe.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
The clock read 5:04 a.m.
The hallway was still dim, the soft hush of pre-dawn pressing against the windows, and the rest of the base remained silent aside from the occasional creak of the walls settling or the low hum of distant appliances.
Sicheng stood at the edge of Yao's bed, already showered, dressed, and annoyingly put-together in his usual travel wear, dark slacks, plain tee, lightweight jacket. He leaned down slightly, one knee resting on the edge of the mattress as he reached out and gently brushed her shoulder. "Xiǎo tùzǐ," he said quietly. "Time to get up."
Nothing.
Just the soft rustling of blankets as she turned her head further into the pillow, platinum hair half-tangled, cheek pressed against the fabric, lips slightly parted.
He leaned closer. "Hey. Beautiful. It's five. We leave in two hours."
This time, she stirred. Just barely. Her brows furrowed. Her nose scrunched. Than, with a small groan muffled by the pillow, she mumbled, "Five more minutes…"
Sicheng blinked.
That voice.
Soft.
Petulant.
Downright pouty.
She shifted again, dragging the blanket tighter around her like a burrito wrap and curling her legs up defensively as if to shield herself from reality.
He blinked again. "…Yao?"
She peeked up at him with one eye. Sleep-glazed. Childishly disgruntled. And then, completely serious, she whispered with tragic exhaustion, "The bed is warm. Your voice is loud. I am sleepy. Go away."
Sicheng blinked a third time.
Then stared.
She blinked again.
Then let out the softest, most exaggerated sigh and rolled onto her back, flopping dramatically like a cat too exhausted to function. "Don't wanna."
"Excuse me?"
Her arms slowly lifted and flopped back down again. "I refuse."
Sicheng couldn't help it, he let out a quiet laugh, chest shaking slightly as he reached out and tugged the blanket back down enough to see her face more clearly. She looked up at him with the most tragically adorable expression he had ever seen, messy hair, pouty lips, and lashes blinking like she was struggling against the greatest injustice the universe had ever delivered: being woken up before dawn. "…Have you always been like this in the morning?" he asked, amused and vaguely horrified.
"Only when I trust someone not to throw water on me." she mumbled.
"Noted," he murmured. "Water's plan B."
Her eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't dare."
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Up, sleepyhead. You've got a Ph.D. to defend and a flight to catch."
She groaned again, arms flopping around his neck in protest. "Carry me."
He snorted. "You are not a blanket burrito I can throw over my shoulder."
"I am too."
But when he chuckled and shifted to tug the blankets fully down, she finally sat up, barely. Messy. Sleep-wrecked. And still pouting like the morning personally offended her.
And he?
Was never letting her live this down.
She sat on the edge of the bed, hair a rumpled silver curtain down her back, blanket draped dramatically over her shoulders like a cape of tragic betrayal. Her legs dangled for a moment before she slowly, and with excessive reluctance, slid off the mattress.
Sicheng crossed his arms, leaning casually against the doorway, smirking in full silent amusement as he watched his Intended become the slowest-moving human in all of China.
She shuffled toward the bathroom with the grace of a sulking kitten, socks sliding slightly on the hardwood floor, dragging the blanket behind her like a martyr off to her doom. Under her breath, the grumbles began. "Evil Captain…"
Sicheng blinked. "I heard that."
"…who bullies innocent people out of bed…"
"You're barely a person before coffee."
"…does not love his Intended." she finished with a dramatic little sniff, pausing in the doorway of the bathroom to glance over her shoulder, cheeks still puffed with sleep and indignation.
Sicheng raised a brow. "You're seriously questioning my love over a 5 a.m. wake-up?"
She nodded solemnly. "Love does not require me to suffer."
"You slept through three alarms."
"False. I ignored three alarms. On purpose."
He chuckled low, stepping forward until he stood behind her. His arms slipped around her blanket-swaddled waist, pulling her gently back against his chest. "You're ridiculous, Xiǎo tùzǐ." he murmured against her temple.
"You're mean." she countered, not quite able to hide the small smile tugging at her lips.
He kissed her cheek, then her neck, then whispered, "Brush your teeth, beautiful. You've got ten minutes before I'm back here with a toothbrush and a threat."
She gasped. "You wouldn't."
"Try me."
And with a final pout, she turned, shuffled into the bathroom like a defeated but still-righteous heroine in a morning drama and Sicheng, watching her go, knew he'd never seen anything more adorable in his entire life.
The bus rolled smoothly through the early morning haze, the windows slightly fogged, the streets still pale with that pre-dawn softness that hadn't quite decided if it wanted to commit to sunrise.
Da Bing's carrier sat buckled in securely with a quiet regal hum of judgment vibrating from within. Xiao Cong, who had tried to climb onto the dashboard earlier, was now trapped in his own carrier two seats back, periodically letting out chirps of betrayal and protest.
The rest of ZGDX was—surprisingly—awake.
Well, mostly.
Ming, ever unbothered, was reading something on his tablet with a thermos of green tea tucked into the crook of his arm.
Yue had his hood up and his feet on the seat in front of him, slouched low and glancing sideways every few seconds at the girl two rows up.
Lao Mao and Lao K were half-dozing, but one eye each was absolutely peeled in morbid fascination.
Pang was already opening his second breakfast bar and nudging Rui, who was silently jotting things into his itinerary binder with a scowl that said no one had a right to be this conscious before 7 a.m.
Coach Kwon had earbuds in, the faint sound of calm orchestral music barely bleeding through, because he was wise enough not to speak until necessary.
And all of them—every last one—kept sneaking glances at her.
Their Tiny Boss Bunny.
Normally put-together.
Usually precise.
Soft-spoken but surgical with her logic and game breakdowns.
Now?
Pouting.
Deeply.
Dramatically.
Gloriously.
She was curled into the window seat with her knees tucked under her, an oversized hoodie, Sicheng's, black with red lining and the faintest scent of his cologne, pulled over her head with the hood up, nearly half her face hidden in the thick folds of fabric. One earbud was in. The other dangled from her shoulder. Her arms were folded, her cheek pressed to the window, and she looked like the most adorable, miserable creature to ever be betrayed by the concept of waking up before noon.
"Is she… sulking?" Yue whispered.
Ming didn't look up. "Obviously."
"She's wearing his hoodie," Pang said, low and reverent.
Lao Mao blinked. "Did she steal it?"
"She always steals it," Lao K muttered. "But this is new. She's wearing it like armor."
"She's got pout cheeks," Yue said, his tone awed. "Our Tiny Boss Bunny has pout cheeks."
Sicheng, who had just returned from checking on their luggage and confirming the Lu Jet would be ready the moment they arrived at the terminal, stepped back onto the bus with two coffees and took his seat beside her like he belonged there. He handed her one silently. She didn't look at him. Just took the cup. Sipped it and shifted one inch closer without saying a word. He smiled faintly.
The others?
Watched it like it was a National Geographic documentary.
Rui finally snapped, "If any of you breathe wrong and wake her out of this adorable pout, I'm docking someone's stipend."
Yue raised his hands. "Swear to god, I won't move."
And as the bus pulled into the private terminal lot, where Jinyang and the YQCB boys were already waiting near the Lu Jet with both Lu Sheng and Lu Wang Lan standing nearby. No one dared speak above a whisper. Because their Tiny Boss Bunny was tired. Pouting. Wrapped in her Captain''s hoodie and currently more dangerous than any strat breakdown she'd ever delivered.
The bus hissed softly as it came to a stop at the edge of the private terminal, where the sleek form of the Lu Jet gleamed beneath the pale morning sky. The tarmac buzzed faintly in the background, quiet attendants, soft radio chatter, and the low hum of fuel checks being finished.
Jinyang stood with her arms folded, sunglasses perched atop her head, a travel duffel slung over one shoulder and nodded politely to Lu Wang Lan, bowed to Lu Sheng in greeting. But the second the bus door opened and the team started to unload. She froze. Completely. Her eyes locked on one person, and her body stiffened like she'd seen a ghost. Next to her, Ai Jia, who had been mid-conversation with Lee Kun Hyeok, blinked and turned. Then he saw her too. And immediately ducked behind Jinyang's shoulder like the sky had just cracked open. "…Oh no."
Yao emerged last. Still bundled in Sicheng's hoodie, her hood pulled low, her expression mostly hidden except for the visible pout in the curve of her mouth and the unmistakable sleep still clinging to her eyes. Her earbuds were still in. She hadn't even noticed them watching.
But Jinyang? She had absolutely noticed the state of her best friend. "…She's pouting," Jinyang whispered, horror-stricken. "She's actually pouting."
"She's sulking," Ai Jia hissed. "She never sulks. She evaluates. She corrects. She lectures.She gets flustered and tries to hide from the world. She doesn't—pout."
"This is bad." Jinyang muttered, stepping half a pace back as if bracing for a storm.
"It's worse than bad," Ai Jia whispered. "We've only seen this—what, three times? Since we met her?"
"Yup. Once after finals when she hadn't slept for forty-eight hours, once when she caught the flu and refused to admit it until she collapsed on the kitchen floor, and once when she thought her favorite bakery had shut down forever."
"She cried over that one."
"She almost cried," Jinyang corrected.
Ai Jia pointed sharply toward the ZGDX bus. "What the hell did they do to her?"
The rest of ZGDX began unloading with cautious silence—Da Bing's carrier first, then Xiao Cong, both felines growling in twin disapproval. Sicheng stepped out directly behind Yao, hand on her back, holding her travel tote and keeping her close without speaking.
None of the boys said a word.
They all looked… rattled.
Rui wore the haunted look of a man walking a tightrope.
Ming kept glancing at her like she might vanish.
Yue looked as if he wanted to make a joke and had to physically stop himself.
Ai Jia, sensing the tension, immediately narrowed his eyes and stepped forward. "What did you do to her?"
Pang blinked. "Nothing! We—she's just—"
"She's wearing his hoodie," Ai Jia said, pointing like he'd just solved a murder. "His hoodie. And she looks like someone told her she couldn't bring Da Bing."
"She did bring Da Bing," Lao K muttered. "We packed him ourselves."
"Then what the hell happened?!"
Sicheng, finally turning, gave Ai Jia a slow, narrowed glance. "She's tired."
Jinyang raised a hand. "Tired doesn't make her look like an adorable angry cloud wrapped in vengeance and cotton."
Sicheng just smirked faintly. "She didn't want to wake up," he said simply.
There was a pause.
A full beat of silence.
Then Jinyang slapped Ai Jia's chest with the back of her hand and hissed, "You wake her up, and she looks like that?"
Ai Jia looked personally offended. "I don't even wake her for her own birthday."
Sicheng just adjusted Yao's bag on his shoulder, glanced down at his sulking Intended—who was still blinking sleepily, unaware of the gathering storm—and said dryly, "She'll forgive me."
"Will she?" Jinyang asked flatly.
Yao finally glanced up at the group, blinked at the collective staring, and mumbled beneath her breath, "…Too loud."
Everyone froze.
Da Bing growled.
And Xiao Cong yowled for good measure.
Sicheng only chuckled, gently guiding her forward. "She'll forgive me." he repeated and no one dared argue.
Sheng spotted her first.
He blinked.
Paused.
Then frowned deeply.
Lan turned at his shift in posture, followed his gaze and her eyes narrowed like a storm cloud had just rolled in. "Oh no," she said, already striding forward, her heels clicking across the tarmac like approaching judgment. "Who did this? What happened to our Yao-Yao?"
Sheng followed behind her, jaw tight, muttering under his breath, "She looks like someone bullied her out of bed before the sun."
Yao hadn't even looked up yet. She was mid-yawn, head tilted toward Sicheng's arm, completely unaware that her unfiltered early-morning sulk had triggered a full-blown Lu Family Response.
Sicheng sighed as Lan arrived, already reaching out and gently tugging Yao's hood back to see her face.
Lan let out a gasp, cradling Yao's cheeks lightly. "She's pouting. She never pouts. She gets quiet. She thinks. She internalizes."
"I'm fine…" Yao mumbled softly, blinking up at her, dazed and a little overwhelmed.
"You don't look fine," Sheng said as he arrived beside them. "She looks like she lost an argument with her blanket."
Lan spun to face the boys of ZGDX. "Which one of you did this?"
Yue froze. "None of us touched her!"
"She was warm!" Pang blurted. "And then the Captain got her up!"
"Ah," Sheng said grimly, turning toward his eldest son. "So it was you."
Sicheng just lifted a brow. "She had to get on a jet."
"She's a tiny tired bunny," Lan snapped. "Not a marine!"
"I said 'please' —twice."
"She's only known us for barely almost a year," Lan continued, fixing Yao's hair gently, "and this is what you show her? She trusted us."
Yao blinked. "I do trust you…"
Lan looked deeply wounded. "I know, sweetheart. That's why this is such a tragedy."
Sheng grunted in agreement. "Could've at least let her keep the blanket."
"She stole my hoodie."
"That doesn't count." Lan said flatly.
Yao, utterly flustered and barely functioning, mumbled under her breath, "I just didn't want to get up…"
Sicheng chuckled softly and tucked her in closer to his side. "She'll be fine once she gets a nap in the air."
"She better be," Lan muttered. "Because if she stays pouty, you're flying coach."
Yao let out a soft, sleepy laugh against his arm and that sound? Made all the fuss feel like the softest kind of victory.
The hum of the Lu Jet filled the air, low and constant, as the team settled into the wide, open cabin. There were no suites. No divided spaces. Just a single, polished interior designed for capacity and quiet efficiency, leather seating along both sides, wide enough for comfort, with a central aisle clear for the flow of crew and passengers alike.
Da Bing's crate was secured at the far end beside the luggage compartments, already open just enough for the large white Siberian to stretch, settle, and judge everyone in dignified silence. Xiao Cong, however, had been glaring at his carrier door with rising outrage until Rui had bribed him with a treat.
The others had barely started sorting their gear, half sitting, half stretching, some grabbing drinks from the cooler.
And then—
Without warning—
Yao, still bundled in Sicheng's hoodie, climbed into one of the longer seating rows near the center, curled up like a drowsy cat, and promptly collapsed with her head right into Sicheng's lap. A soft little exhale escaped her. Then— A delicate, almost angelic snore.
The effect was instantaneous.
Jinyang, mid-laugh with Ai Jia and Kun Hyeok, turned and froze, her voice cutting off mid-sentence. Ai Jia, holding a can of juice, slowly lowered it like he'd just spotted a unicorn.
Yue, already lounging two seats back, blinked wide-eyed and whispered, "Did she just… shut down like a whole system reset?"
Pang leaned over the armrest, whispering to Ming, "Is this what hibernation looks like?"
Lee Kun Hyeok, who rarely looked phased by anything, blinked in stunned fascination as Yao let out another soft little snore, one hand curling around Sicheng's jacket hem, the other tucked beneath her cheek.
"She's actually clinging to him," Lao K murmured.
Sicheng didn't even flinch. He just adjusted his position so she was more comfortable and slipped a hand gently through her hair, brushing it back from her face without looking away from his phone.
When Lu Sheng looked up from his seat at the front and turned toward the group, his eyes fell on the sight of his son's Intended sleeping peacefully on his lap and he grinned. "I knew it," he said proudly. "All that fuss this morning and look at her now."
Lan didn't even lift her head from her book. "Because she finally feels safe enough to crash."
Yue whispered, "How is she this cute when asleep?"
Jinyang, eyes narrowed, murmured, "Because the universe is unfair."
And with that, no one dared breathe too loudly. Not because Sicheng would murder them. But because waking Tiny Boss Bunny out of her first real nap of the day was not a fate anyone wanted to test.
The jet had leveled off, and the cabin was finally settling into that quiet rhythm that only came once the crew stopped moving and everyone had found their place.
Yao, still curled up with her head on Sicheng's thigh, had barely stirred since they took off. The hoodie swallowed her petite frame, and one of her arms was now half-wrapped around his waist, fingers lazily gripping the hem of his shirt even in sleep. She looked peaceful. Adorably stubborn. Completely unaware of the way every man in the cabin had fallen silent the second her delicate snore filled the space.
At the far side of the cabin, the YQCB boys finally broke their stunned silence.
Liang Sheng was the first to speak, shifting slowly in his seat as he stared like he still wasn't sure he wasn't dreaming. "…Is she really passed out?" he whispered to Ai Jia.
Ai Jia gave a proud, exhausted nod. "Yup."
"She's, like… an angel. Wrapped in grump."
Rong, who had been halfway through peeling a fruit snack, just lowered his hands into his lap and muttered, "That hoodie looks like it's trying to eat her."
"Because it is." Jinyang whispered from behind them, barely containing a grin.
"Does she always do that?" Rong asked. "Like… curl up on him like a sleepy feral bunny?"
Ai Jia glanced over, then smirked faintly. "Only when she trusts someone. Or hasn't had a full REM cycle in forty-eight hours."
"She's literally clinging," Liang Sheng breathed. "That's not sleeping. That's imprinting."
X-Bang, who had been dead quiet the whole time, arms folded, expression unreadable. Grumbled darkly under his breath. "…It's not fair Chessman landed her."
The others turned.
Kun Hyeok let out a low snort and raised his can of juice like a toast to the tragedy.
"I mean seriously," X-Bang continued, sulking. "She's terrifying during match reviews, doesn't miss anything, and she still looks like that when she sleeps?"
"She's also loyal to a damn fault and will never look at anyone else, not now that she has decided he was it for her." Ai Jia offered, dry as hell. "So yeah, you and everyone else never stood a chance."
X-Bang rolled his eyes. "Could've let me dream for five seconds, man."
Jinyang grinned from across the aisle, arms crossed as she leaned back. "You dream about trying, she dreams about him. That's the difference."
And across the aisle, Sicheng just lifted his eyes slowly from his phone and met every one of their stares with the calm, bored expression of a man who already knew he'd won. He didn't smirk. He didn't gloat. But the way his hand slid just a little deeper into Yao's hair as she murmured something in her sleep? That was enough of an answer and none of them dared say another word.
From his seat near the forward bulkhead, Lu Sheng, still sipping his tea with absolute composure, slowly, deliberately cleared his throat.
Once.
Every man in the cabin tensed.
The shift in energy was subtle, but no less lethal than the click of a safety being disengaged.
Yue straightened in his seat.
Pang froze mid-bite of his breakfast bar.
Liang Sheng stiffened like he'd been caught talking in the middle of an elite briefing.
Even Kun Hyeok slowly turned his face toward the window, pretending to suddenly find clouds very interesting.
Jinyang didn't even look up from her phone, she just muttered, "Told you idiots to watch your mouths."
Sheng's gaze moved slowly from one young man to the next, stopping just long enough on X-Bang to make the boy visibly sink two inches into his seat. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. That stare alone said everything, "That is my future daughter-in-law. Choose your next words very carefully, boys."
X-Bang coughed. "I—I meant it respectfully."
"No, you didn't." murmured Rong without looking up.
"Shut up!" X-Bang hissed.
Lu Sheng finally turned back to his tea.
Silence fell like a guillotine.
Yao, oblivious to the entire cabin being paralyzed in fear, shifted in her sleep and let out a soft little snore, curling further into Sicheng's lap. Sicheng, still calm as ever, glanced once at his father. Who gave him a small nod of approval. And just like that, the matter was closed. No one dared say another word. Because if anyone so much as breathed wrong near their pouty, sleeping, hoodie-wrapped Tiny Boss Bunny again?
Papa Lu was going to start pulling ranks.
It started with a small stir.
Sicheng, who'd been scrolling idly through his phone with one arm still cradled around her, felt her shift before anyone else did.
Yao, still nestled half-curled on the long shared seat, let out a tiny, kitten-like yawn and slowly blinked herself awake. Her hand came up to rub her eyes in soft, sleepy circles, her fingers half-tugging at the sleeve of Sicheng's hoodie that still draped over her frame. As she sat up, slowly, bleary-eyed, limbs stretching just slightly, the hood slipped back, revealing a cascade of silver hair, tangled and charmingly messy from sleep. Her cheeks were warm with the leftover heat of her nap, and her lashes blinked heavily as she looked around the cabin… Right into a wall of frozen, very alert, absolutely guilty male stares.
It took her three seconds to register it.
And then—
"…Eep!"
Her hands flew up to her cheeks, eyes wide as she shrank slightly back into Sicheng's side, tugging the hoodie up like she could disappear inside it again. "Why are you all staring?!" she squeaked, voice still husky from sleep but unmistakably mortified.
Yue, immediately attempting damage control, blurted, "You were snoring! But like—politely! Like a princess! A bunny princess!"
Pang smacked his arm.
Lao Mao looked away, muttering, "We weren't staring. We were… um. Monitoring. For safety. Cabin safety."
"Idiots." muttered Lao K and Ming at the same time as one another.
X-Bang very wisely said nothing.
Rong coughed. "You just—uh, looked really peaceful."
Liang Sheng nodded rapidly. "Yeah. Peaceful. And comfortable. Like you slept really well. Definitely not like you were wrapped around Chessman like a sleepy dragon with a hoard."
Ai Jia didn't even try to lie. "You were clingy as hell. It was adorable. Jinyang almost cried."
"I did not cry," Jinyang muttered from across the aisle, though her voice was suspiciously soft. "I gently admired. There's a difference."
Yao made another tiny sound and buried her face in her hands.
Sicheng, completely unfazed, draped an arm around her shoulder and whispered near her ear, "You snuggled me in your sleep. Want me to show them the security footage next time?"
Yao let out a strangled noise, swatted his chest, and mumbled into her sleeve, "I'm never sleeping again."
"You say that every time."
"I mean it this time."
And as the jet sailed smoothly above the clouds, two hours from Beijing, the entire cabin of elite esports players sat in reverent, slightly stunned silence. Trying not to look at the impossibly flustered Tiny Boss Bunny hiding under a hoodie that still smelled like her Intended.
The teasing wouldn't stop. Even after she tried to hide behind the hoodie. Even after she buried her face in Sicheng's shoulder and whispered furiously that she hated him just a little right now.
It only made him smirk more. "Come on, Wǔ xiān," he murmured lazily, running a knuckle under her chin. "You drooled a little on my leg. Want me to wear the stain like a badge?"
That did it.
Yao sat bolt upright, her cheeks burning, hair half-fluffed from sleep, hoodie sleeves trailing past her hands.
The boys of YQCB, still sitting in full alert mode, blinked—then froze—because what they witnessed next was something no one had warned them about.
Tiny Boss Bunny fully activated. She stood up. Arms flailing to regain balance, hood flopping back, and then, she stomped her foot.
Hard.
The little thunk echoed across the cabin like a shockwave. Her finger jabbed forward, pointed directly at Sicheng's chest as her entire face turned a deep cherry red. "You—!" she sputtered. "Be nice! Or—or you're banned from our suite! I'll share with Da Bing and Xiao Cong! They don't mock me!"
The cabin went dead silent.
Xiao Cong meowed softly in his crate.
Da Bing gave a regal huff.
Sicheng, still seated, still entirely composed, blinked up at her. "…You're banning me from my own reservation?"
"Yes and it's your father's reservation!"
"And sleeping with a thirty-five-pound cat and a four-pound hellion?"
"They cuddle!"
His lips twitched. "Do I not cuddle?"
"Not when you're smirking at me!"
A beat passed.
Then—
From somewhere near the back—
Rong whispered, "She just foot-stomped."
Liang Sheng whispered back, "She pointed at Chessman's face."
X-Bang said nothing. He looked like he was questioning every decision he'd made in life.
Ai Jia chuckled behind his hand. "Boys, that right there is Tiny Boss Bunny. In the wild. Watch closely."
"I knew it would happen on this trip." Jinyang, smirking wide, pulled out her phone.
Sicheng, with all the calm in the world, reached up, curled his fingers gently around Yao's extended hand, and pulled her back down onto his lap with one smooth motion. She yelped. Then promptly squeaked again as he whispered into her ear, "You ban me from that room, and you'll be the one sulking by midnight." She flailed half-heartedly. He just tightened his hold, smug and satisfied.
The boys?
Stared like they'd just witnessed a historic event.
And Tiny Boss Bunny, still flushed and fuming, let out a little huff and buried her face in his chest again. "I hate you."
"No you don't."
"…Only a little."
And with that, the legend of Tiny Boss Bunny officially spread to YQCB—foot stomps, pointed threats, and all.
"Baobei," Yao muttered darkly from the safety of his chest, voice muffled, "you're being a complete hooligan."
Sicheng, entirely unbothered, gave her a slow, smug stroke down her spine. "Mm. Your hooligan."
Her fingers curled into his shirt. Her blush deepened. And then, She lifted her head just enough to hiss against his jaw, "If you don't stop teasing me, I'll tell your mother."
The cabin went still.
Sicheng's fingers paused mid-stroke.
From her seat near the front, Lu Wang Lan, who had been reading an economics journal with one leg crossed elegantly over the other, slowly—very slowly—lifted her gaze. Her head turned. And her sharp, no-nonsense gaze locked directly onto her son. A silence like a guillotine's pause stretched through the cabin. "…What," she asked calmly, "did you do?"
Yao's eyes widened.
"Yao-Yao," Lan said again, this time softer, but even more dangerous, "what did he do, now?"
Yao squirmed, then peeked out from beneath the hoodie's loose fabric, still in Sicheng's lap, her voice small. "He's been smirking at me since I woke up. Mocking me. For napping and cuddling."
Lan closed her journal. Folded it neatly. Then slowly rose from her seat. Sheng, next to her, took one look at her expression and quietly crossed his arms like a man preparing to enjoy the show. Lan moved down the aisle in elegant, pointed steps, each heel tap louder than the last.
Sicheng straightened ever so slightly, when his mother stopped beside them and arched a single brow, he said nothing.
Lan folded her arms. "You," she said to her eldest, "teased your exhausted Intended?"
"She was clingy."
"She was asleep."
"She curled around me in front of two professional teams and—"
Lan cut him off with a look. "You. Have ten seconds to apologize to her sincerely. Or I will begin explaining to everyone on this jet how you used to curl into my lap until you were nearly eight."
Sicheng's smirk vanished.
Yao gasped and immediately covered her mouth to hide the squeaky laugh that escaped.
"I'm sorry," he said instantly, looking down at her with a hand at her back. "Beautiful, I'm sorry."
"You're not sorry," she whispered, delighted.
"I'm terrified." he corrected, glancing up at his mother.
Lan gave a satisfied nod. "Good." She turned and walked back to her seat with the precision of a woman who had just restored order to her domain.
Rong whispered to Liang Sheng, "His own mother benched him in real time."
Pang nudged Yue. "You think she gives lessons?"
"She doesn't need to," Yue muttered. "That was alpha."
And back in Sicheng's lap, still flushed but victorious, Yao peeked up at him with a tiny smile. "You really were curled in her lap until eight?"
Sicheng muttered something low.
Yao beamed.
Victory was hers.
It started with a quiet comment from Rong, reclining slightly in his seat as the hum of the Lu Jet droned beneath them. "…Still can't believe Ai Jia got that Audi PB18 E-Tron."
Liang Sheng, thumbing through something on his phone, nodded. "And Jinyang? That 1957 Corvette SS Project XP-64. That car's insane. You can't even find parts for it anymore."
X-Bang, lifting his head from his folded arms, glanced over with a frown. "Yeah but... where'd she even get the money for those? I didn't think she came from money."
That was all it took.
The rest of YQCB's heads turned.
From her place beside Sicheng, Yao, still half-swallowed by his hoodie, blinked as the weight of those stares settled on her. She froze.
"Jinyang told us you gave them the cars," Rong added carefully. "We just… didn't ask how you could afford that."
Yao flinched and shifted, her hands tugging on her sleeves as she glanced downward. The hoodie pooled around her as if she could disappear inside it. "I—I didn't exactly buy them," she said softly, her voice shy and careful. "Not the way you think."
The Lu Jet quieted.
"It's part of the inheritance," she continued, fingers nervously brushing the fabric covering her knees. "From my grandfather and father. They… they restored and collected vehicles. All kinds. Classics. Concepts. Prototypes. And after everything—after Shanghai—I was given access." Her hazel eyes flicked up once, briefly. Then back down. "I found the records. The garage. It's more like a warehouse. And most of them had just… been sitting there. For years. Unused. Covered. Forgotten. But I remembered what Jinyang once said she loved. I remembered what Ai Jia kept looking at in that catalog two years ago when we were at a café. And I knew they'd take care of them." She paused. Then said even more quietly, "They weren't random gifts. They were... meant for them."
Silence.
No one mocked her.
No one teased.
Until, Yue, lounging in his seat across the aisle, propped his chin on his hand and said, deadpan, "And yet, you're acting like this is new information."
The YQCB boys looked over sharply.
Yue pointed a thumb at himself. "She gave me two cars."
Yao turned instantly red. "Yue!"
He grinned. "A silver Aston Martin, and the Crimson Feral—that blood-red Jaguar XKR-S I literally mourned when I thought I had to pick one. She let me think I was only getting one… then delivered both."
Rong's mouth parted. "You got two?"
Yue jerked a thumb toward Sicheng beside her. "And the Captain over there? He didn't just get the Ferrari 250 GT Lusso, he also got the Zhenxing V8 Carbon Shadow motorcycle, the one he's been drooling over since we came back from Shanghai."
X-Bang slowly dropped his forehead to his tray. "Okay. Okay, so this isn't a one-time fluke. This is who she is."
Rong exhaled. "You've got to be kidding me."
Liang Sheng turned to Yao. "You… you're just giving these away? Not to flex. Not to show off. Just… because you remembered?"
"I didn't want them locked away anymore. And they reminded me of people I trust." Yao nodded timidly, curling deeper into the hoodie.
Rong shook his head slowly. "Okay. No. I'm saying it. Kun Hyeok was right."
Kun Hyeok blinked. "About what?"
Rong pointed at Yao, who squeaked and shrunk even further. "She's the ideal. She's sweet. She's kind. She's low maintenance. She's gorgeous. She doesn't demand attention, understands match schedules, plays OPL, doesn't flinch at six-hour VOD reviews, and gives out dream cars without needing a thank you."
Liang Sheng nodded solemnly. "She's a weapon. In hoodie form."
"Softest war crime I've ever seen," X-Bang muttered and then he looked straight at Sicheng. "Seriously. What kind of cosmic cheat code did you use to land her?"
Sicheng, still completely composed, glanced lazily toward the others. "None of you are getting cars."
Yue leaned back with a smirk. "Too late. We've already seen her true form. Kindness incarnate."
Yao groaned and buried her face in her hands. "I hate all of you."
Kun Hyeok folded his arms. "Do I at least get on the list?"
"You're not helping," she muttered without looking up and yet…. Despite her flustered pout, her face nearly glowing red, and her repeated attempts to hide behind her sleeves…. She was smiling. Because she knew, even in their stunned chaos and playful teasing— They understood.
Yao, still half-tucked into Sicheng's hoodie, was pink to her ears, her hands completely swallowed by her sleeves as she tried—and failed—to disappear between the rows of jet seating. Around her, the boys were still reeling.
Rong was muttering about her being a once-in-a-generation miracle. X-Bang looked like he was considering rewriting his entire dating standards. Liang Sheng had his phone out, clearly trying to remember if he'd ever once said something about liking any specific classic car in front of her.
And then—
From the window seat, Kun Hyeok, who had been silent through it all, finally spoke. Voice low. Matter-of-fact. Not even looking at anyone. "…This is why I've been saying it." Everyone turned. He sighed once, resting his chin on his knuckles. "She's a little ball of damn Sunshine."
A pause.
Then Rong laughed aloud. "Wait—that's what you meant when you said she was terrifying in reviews but could probably end world hunger with one smile?"
"Yeah. Exactly that." Kun Hyeok nodded without hesitation.
"Sunshine wrapped in a hoodie," Yue grinned, "that stomps when mad and gives legacy cars like it's a sticker reward."
"She is sunshine," Liang Sheng added. "But like… the kind you get after a hurricane."
Yao, muffled behind her sleeve, whimpered, "Please stop talking."
Sicheng leaned closer to her, voice warm on her ear. "You're not getting out of this one, Wǔ xiān." Her only response was to bury her face in his chest with a mortified groan.
Kun Hyeok shrugged. "Told you," he murmured again and no one, not a single soul on that jet, disagreed.
Amid the stunned, disbelieving silence following Rong's declaration that Lu Sicheng must've bribed the universe to land Yao, another voice entered the conversation. Calm. Collected. But unmistakably smug.
"I would argue," Lu Sheng said from his seat across the aisle, "that I got the best one of all."
All heads turned.
Yao, still half-buried in Sicheng's hoodie, blinked wide-eyed. "Uncle—"
"I'm your future father-in-law," Sheng said smoothly, one hand resting on the arm of his seat as he looked around at the young men like he was presenting a lesson. "And your Tiny Boss Bunny gifted me one of the three Azure Frost BMS F97s ever made."
Mouths dropped.
"Wait what?" X-Bang sat up straighter. "One of the Azures?! Those are… those are like concept-tier… "
"They were," Sheng confirmed, his voice cool. "Now one of them is in my garage. Ceramic coated. Top to bottom. I keep the microfiber clothes in the trunk."
"Do you realize…." Rong gaped. "That car was only ever shown at the Monaco unveiling and never released to the public!"
"Three were made," Sheng replied, lifting a finger. "Yao inherited all of them." Then, with an expression that could only be described as triumphant paternal glory, he added, "And she decided I was worthy of one."
Yao squeaked softly into her hands.
"She just gave it to him?" Liang Sheng muttered, still struggling. "You mean the military commander got one before his own son?"
"I'm emotionally secure," Sheng said, stone-faced. "Unlike my eldest offspring."
Yue groaned. "Why does this feel like a flex war I wasn't invited to?"
"I won the war," Sheng said without even looking at him.
"Was there a war?" Jinyang asked.
"There is now." Yue muttered.
Yao, still trying to hide in the hoodie, peeked out between her hands and mumbled, "He was going to pout…"
"I did not pout." Sheng said, deeply offended.
"He paced the garage and whispered to the hood," Lan added dryly without looking up from her tablet.
"I panicked! He looked like he was going to cry." Yao flailed slightly in her seat, face burning.
Sicheng smirked. "And now you're the eternal favorite."
"Damn right she is." Sheng muttered with great satisfaction.
The boys of YQCB and ZGDX were now collectively broken, groaning softly as Liang Sheng slumped in his seat.
"She's not real," Rong whispered. "She's a folklore character someone accidentally manifested."
"She's the Sun in sneakers," X-Bang sighed.
"No," Kun Hyeok muttered from the window, "she's a damn miracle in a hoodie."
And right beside her, Sicheng said it with a shrug, calm and smug as ever. "And she is mine."
Yao groaned and buried her face again.
The hotel staff had been swift and quiet, ushering them all up from the private entrance and escorting each cluster to their designated rooms. Sheng and Lan had been given a sleek two-room corner suite, while Jinyang, Ai Jia, Kun Hyeok, and the YQCB boys were settled into the large group accommodations a floor down. ZGDX had their own shared suite a few doors over.
But Yao and Sicheng?
Their suite was at the far end.
Private.
Spacious.
And unmistakably prepped, with every detail already tailored.
The moment Yao stepped inside, she froze at the sight of two pristine feeding stations already set up by the wall, complete with filtered water bowls, cat beds plush enough for royalty, and even a multi-level perch positioned near the window that let in golden afternoon light. She blinked once. Twice. Then let out a small breath and turned toward the carriers beside the couch.
Sicheng, already setting their travel bags on the bench near the bed, watched as she moved across the room with a kind of quiet ritual, her expression soft, her movements gentle. She crouched beside the two carriers, fingers deft as she unlatched the front of the first. "Alright, my little menaces," she whispered. "You're free."
Xiao Cong shot out with dramatic flair, chirping in outrage as he bounced across the floor and launched himself directly onto the bed like he was claiming the suite by royal decree.
Sicheng huffed a laugh under his breath.
Then Yao turned to the larger carrier. "Come on, Da Bing. You're safe."
The door creaked open.
Da Bing, regal as ever, stepped out with a low, imperious grumble, tail sweeping behind him as he sauntered around the suite like a landlord inspecting new tenants. He sniffed the food, circled the bed, gave the cat tower a cursory nod, then leapt up onto the windowsill and planted himself with all the dignity of a king overseeing his land. Xiao Cong was purring audibly from the bed, flopped onto his side, kneading the comforter with dramatic flair like it owed him tribute.
Yao stayed crouched near the carriers, her hand resting lightly on the latch of Da Bing's as if grounding herself in the stillness. Behind her, Sicheng stepped forward and leaned down, brushing a soft kiss to the top of her head, one hand coming to rest gently at her waist.
"They'll act like they own the place within ten minutes," he murmured near her ear.
She gave a small, quiet laugh. "They already do."
His hand lingered against her side as he stood beside her, both of them watching their cats move through the space like they belonged to it. And for the first time all day, with travel behind them and everything ahead still waiting, Yao felt at ease. Her world was here. Her calm. Her two boys exploring their temporary kingdom and the one person she trusted more than anyone else standing right beside her. This was hers.
The suite had settled into quiet.
Yao's books, printed outlines, color-coded notes, and annotated printouts were stacked neatly beside her laptop, everything perfectly in place, down to the pen tucked across the topmost page. She had insisted on unpacking everything herself, quietly organizing every document, lining up the flash drives and the backup hard drive, and checking her reference citations twice. She'd told him, softly, as she fed Da Bing his second dinner dish—that she planned to spend all of Sunday reviewing, checking, and drilling herself for Monday morning's defense.
Sicheng, watching from the chair as she moved around the room, had simply nodded. No debate. No teasing. Just quiet, unwavering support.
Now—hours later—the preparations were finished. The suite had dimmed into something calm, almost tender.
Xiao Cong was curled up in the plush cat bed by the wall, fast asleep and softly twitching in the middle of a dream. Da Bing occupied the center of the window perch, his back to the room, facing the skyline like a furry guardian on silent night watch.
Yao was curled tightly into Sicheng's side on the bed, fast asleep. Her cheek was nestled against his chest, her breath warm and steady beneath the loose collar of his shirt, and one of her hands was tucked between them, her fingers lightly curled into the fabric like she'd latched onto him without even realizing it. He hadn't moved in nearly an hour. Didn't plan to. One hand rested on her back, slowly brushing the hem of her sleep shirt with a barely-there rhythm. The other held his phone, but he hadn't looked at it in minutes. His attention was on the rise and fall of her breath. The furrow in her brow that had finally faded. The way her entire body had gone soft and weightless once she'd let herself rest.
Earlier, before she'd nodded off, he'd made it very clear to both teams and to the hotel staff, that, tomorrow….Sunday was off-limits.
"Yao's studying," he'd said flatly in the corridor, addressing the group without raising his voice. "Unless it's life or death, leave her alone. You want to bother someone? Bother me."
Lu Sheng, standing at his side, nodded once. "If you ignore him, you'll deal with me next."
Lan, crossing her arms, had added coolly, "And if that doesn't stop you, I'll make sure you regret life personally."
No one had tested them.
Not even Yue.
Now, with Yao finally resting, safely wrapped in the quiet of her space and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, Sicheng simply stared at the ceiling, one arm around her shoulders, one leg tangled loosely with hers beneath the covers. Everything that mattered in the world. Was right here. Asleep against his chest. And he was going to make sure that no one. No one interrupted her peace.