Summary: They wanted the analyst who won them a championship. What they got was a strategist, a fox handler, and someone who doesn't ask twice.
One-Shot
Tong Yao had never asked for much. Certainly not for the chaotic spiral that led to her being thrown out by the very people who should have protected her. But the moment she ended her relationship with Jian Yang, the darling of CK and, more importantly, the son of a powerful Police Commissioner, her parents' ambitions had combusted into a fury she never could have anticipated. Words were hurled. Accusations sharper than knives. And in the end, her bags were thrown to the curb along with her.
Bao, her uncle and the CEO of ZGDX, had been the only one who answered her call that night. No questions. No judgment. Just a low sigh, a muttered curse about blood being thicker than water yet somehow more poisonous, and a simple command: "Come here. We'll figure it out."
Two weeks later, Tong Yao found herself tucked away in a windowless office buried deep within ZGDX's headquarters. Officially, she was brought on as a data analyst—a position Bao insisted was critical. Unofficially, her tiny, cluttered workspace quickly earned a nickname among the few who knew of her existence: The Cave. She kept to herself, emerging only when absolutely necessary to update her direct supervisor, a gruff, no-nonsense man named Zong, or on the rare occasion when Bao summoned her directly.
She didn't meet the players. She didn't dine in the common areas. She barely spoke to anyone at all outside the occasional grumbled exchange with Zong or clipped conversations with her uncle. And she liked it that way. People were complicated. Systems, stats, and algorithms made sense. It was her meticulous, brutally accurate data compilations and analyses that quietly changed everything. With her guidance behind the scenes, ZGDX secured the 2020 Championship in a decisive match against CK the very team led by her ex, Jian Yang. The irony was not lost on Bao. Nor was it lost on the players who two days later, swaggered into headquarters with a clear purpose: to meet the so-called 'ghost' who had armed them with flawless counter-strategies.
In the sleek, glass-walled conference room overlooking the central atrium, Lu Sicheng, their Captain and ADC, known throughout the league as 'Chessman', leaned back in his chair, dark eyes narrowing with curiosity as he drummed his fingers against the polished table. The others gathered around him, Ming, Lao K, Lao Mao, Pang, and Rui, with Yue lingering just behind, trading speculative glances.
Bao, already rubbing the bridge of his nose as if regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment, reached for the conference phone. His tone was one of weary surrender as he stabbed the intercom button and dialed the extension for her supervisor. "Zong," Bao drawled, deadpan, "is she in her Cave?"
There was a brief, almost comedic pause.
Then, Zong's voice came through the speaker, sounding uncharacteristically dry and edged with a wry note of suffering.
"Yes. And she's furious," he said bluntly. "The new IT tech—Baby Tech, as she's decided to call him—damn near crashed her system trying to 'optimize' her network. She's currently under her desk threatening to disembowel him with a motherboard fragment or unleash a virus that will brick his personal mainframe."
Dead silence greeted the announcement.
Then Lao Mao snorted. Lao K coughed to hide a laugh. Pang muttered something about wanting popcorn. Lu Yue was eyeing the phone with complete interest as Ming snorted. Even Sicheng's lips twitched in the ghost of a smirk, his interest piqued beyond recovery.
Bao sighed again, the sound deep and full of despair. "I'll...go get her." Before he could stand, however, the team was already moving, curiosity outweighing caution. They had won a Championship off the strategies of a woman who apparently considered bricking someone's computer a reasonable form of punishment. Clearly, they needed to meet her for themselves.
They moved in a loose pack, their sneakers soft against the polished floors as Bao followed behind with the slow, reluctant shuffle of a man walking toward his own execution. As they turned down a less-traveled hallway lined with frosted glass offices, the first thing they noticed wasn't the door. It was the noise.
A voice—sharp, furious, but disturbingly articulate—came muffled but clear through the walls.
"If you fry my RAM one more time, I swear to everything holy and unholy, I will rewire your personal laptop to only boot in Russian error screens and play Rick Astley at max volume until your eardrums bleed!"
There was a brief, terrified yelp from someone male and distinctly younger sounding.
"Fix it!" the voice snarled again, her tone vibrating with a lethal promise. "Or your next profile picture is going to be a smoking pile of scrap metal!"
Sicheng actually stopped walking for a moment, blinking slowly.
Ming coughed loudly to cover the laugh that burst out of Pang, while Rui pinched the bridge of his nose but his shoulders shook slightly. Even Lao K, known for his impassive sarcasm, looked vaguely impressed.
And then they saw the door.
A large, hand-painted wooden sign was bolted dead center, written in bold black ink that had unmistakably been done with a calligraphy brush:
"WELCOME TO THE CAVE — Abandon all hope, sanity, and stable Wi-Fi, ye who enter here. Also, knock. Or else."
Below it, taped with military precision, was a smaller white sheet:
"Unauthorized tech updates = WAR CRIMES."
For a few seconds, none of them could breathe for laughing.
Even Ming leaned one hand against the wall, shoulders shaking as he muttered, "I take back every time I questioned Bao's judgment. Whoever trained her deserves an award."
Bao, face somewhere between a grimace and resignation, simply crossed his arms. "Congratulations. This is what winning has cost us."
Inside, more creative curses were flying, each one more imaginative than the last.
"I hope your mouse cable tangles itself into a noose!" she bellowed. "I hope every one of your passwords gets autocorrected to your grandmother's name in Swahili!"
"Miss Tong, please—" the boy under the desk pleaded.
"Don't Miss Tong me, you pitiful excuse for a firewall! You breathe wrong on that hard drive and I will unleash a ransomware nightmare that will make Anonymous look like kindergarteners!"
Sicheng couldn't stop himself. His hand lifted, knuckles rapping against the door, grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.
There was a dangerous pause. A low, deadly pause.
Then, her voice, dripping icicles. "If you're not bringing me coffee or an apology wrapped in a formal signed confession, go away!"
Ming almost choked.
Bao, looking every inch the long-suffering uncle, growled toward the door, "Kid, open up. You're scaring the players."
Another beat. Then the door cracked open.
Tong Yao appeared in the narrow gap, a slight, petite woman with loose cargo pants, a black oversized ZGDX hoodie hanging off one shoulder, and an untamed bun of dark hair perched precariously atop her head. Her sharp eyes narrowed, clearly ready to tear into whoever dared interrupt her, until she saw Bao. Then the fire dimmed into a tight, scowling grimace. She shifted her glare to the unfamiliar faces behind him. For a split second, she registered them—tall, confident, all worn-in ease and lingering cockiness.
Sicheng, standing just slightly ahead of the others, arms crossed casually but with an unmistakable glint of sharp-eyed amusement. Pang grinning like he was about to witness a legendary explosion. Lao Mao observing her with guarded curiosity. Lao K, impassive but clearly taking stock. Rui, trying valiantly not to look horrified. Ming outright smirking like he'd just found his new favorite spectator sport. And Lu Yue in the back, blinking at her like he'd just discovered a feral cat that someone had taught to type.
Yao, unamused, crossed her arms. "I take it these are the idiots who want to know who saved their asses," she said coolly.
A moment of stunned silence.
Then Lao Mao let out a bark of laughter. Lao K smirked. Even Sicheng, the so-called cold prince of the league, huffed something suspiciously like an amused snort.
"Correct," Sicheng answered, his voice dripping easy arrogance. "Though I'm a little disappointed. Thought you'd be taller."
Yao didn't miss a beat. "And I thought professional players would have better win rates. Guess we're both disappointed."
Ming choked again.
Bao let his head fall back and groaned. "I'm too old for this."
Rui muttered under his breath, "No, no, let her cook."
Bao gave the manager and unimpressed glare and moved heading back towards his office muttering underneath his breath about clash of the Titans.
The air cracked with the sound of barely contained laughter, the heavy tension that usually filled these kinds of meet-and-greet moments utterly demolished.
Yao simply shifted her weight onto one foot, eyeing them like a pride of overgrown, oversized, useless lions that had wandered into her den. "Since you're all here," she said dryly, stepping aside, "You can help me uninstall the spyware this hell spawn installed before I beat his motherboard into confession."
Sicheng stepped through first, slow, deliberate, a grin playing at the edges of his mouth. "Lead the way, Little Cave Queen," he drawled.
And with the others following, curiosity and chaotic amusement thick in the air, Yao found herself—against all odds—about to meet the team she had unknowingly saved. Not as a stranger. But as something far, far more dangerous. As one of them.
Before any of them could get more than two steps into The Cave , a heavy tread echoed down the hallway behind them.
Zong appeared in the doorway, the man himself, broad-shouldered, grim-faced, and radiating the exhausted aura of someone who had once tried to care about things like peace and hope but had long since given up. In his hand, he carried a massive cup of black coffee, the steam curling upward like a final prayer. He took one look at the assembled players now standing awkwardly inside his domain and then shifted his gaze to Yao, currently half under her desk, tangled in a nest of wires, cursing fluently in three languages as she worked on reconnecting a loose mainline.
Zong inhaled deeply through his nose like a man trying to summon patience from the depths of the earth itself. His voice was flat, deadpan, utterly unimpressed. "Figures."
Before anyone could answer, the Baby Tech, looking about nineteen, cheeks still round with youth, practically vibrating with fear and excitement, scrambled out from the opposite side of the desk. "Omigod, it's really you guys!" he squeaked, almost dropping the handful of tangled cords he still carried. His gaze bounced wildly from Lu Sicheng to Ming to Pang and back again, pure fanboy hysteria bleeding from every pore. "I've watched every one of your matches! You guys are legends! You're, like, gods!"
Pang looked like he was two seconds from bursting into laughter. Lao Mao actually smiled, slow and lazy. Lao K just shook his head.
Rui muttered under his breath, "Should've let the Cave Queen kill him."
Yao, without pausing her work under the desk, said loudly, voice dripping with dry disdain, "And yet, with all that inspiration, you still managed to almost brick my entire system. Congratulations. I'll be sure to nominate you for the Darwin Awards."
The poor tech's face flushed scarlet. With a strangled yelp, he bolted for the door, clutching his cables like a shield. As he passed Zong, the supervisor merely lifted his coffee cup in silent salute, utterly unmoved, then sipped with the weariness of a man watching yet another casualty fall to the battlefield that was The Cave.
The door swung shut behind the fleeing tech with a soft click.
The room was silent for a moment except for the faint clink of metal tools and the muttered curses of Yao as she twisted and adjusted something beneath her desk.
Sicheng stepped further inside, arms crossed, surveying the organized chaos with a bemused expression.
Multiple monitors were crammed onto the desk, cables snaking across the walls like a living entity. Sticky notes in meticulous, small handwriting covered nearly every available surface. A giant corkboard loomed against one wall, pinned with match data, player profiles, system flowcharts—and, bizarrely, a small cartoon drawing of a dragon glaring at a miniature laptop with flames coming out of it.
Off to one side, a whiteboard bore the bold heading: "Ways to Brutally Outwit the League."
Underneath were bullet points, including such gems as:
"Exploit reaction time weaknesses"
"Punish predictable rotation patterns"
"Publicly humiliate in scrims for psychological advantage"
"Deploy distraction memes (if necessary)"
Ming, ever the former Midlaner and now coach, whistled low under his breath. "This," he said with real admiration, "is a work of art."
Zong gave a long-suffering grunt and plopped down in the visitor chair near the desk, stretching his legs out like a man preparing to witness a spectacle. He sipped his coffee, dead-eyed. "You wanted to meet her," he said without an ounce of sympathy. "Enjoy."
Sicheng, ignoring the others now poking around the room like curious toddlers, crouched beside the desk where only Yao's legs and the bottom of her hoodie were visible. He tapped lightly on the underside of the desk. "You always greet heroes by yelling at them and threatening to unleash hell on their IT department?"
From under the desk came a dry, unimpressed retort. "You planning to sprout wings and save me from melted wiring and corrupted backups? No? Then you're not a hero. You're just noise."
Lao Mao let out a low laugh. Pang slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his cackling. Even Lao K, who barely showed emotion off-stage, cracked a rare grin.
Sicheng leaned a little closer, voice dropping to something softer, something more edged with challenge. "Maybe," he murmured, "I'm the kind of noise worth listening to."
For the first time, Yao paused. A moment later, she scooted out from under the desk, a smudge of dust across one cheek, her hair falling loose from the bun in disarray. She blinked up at him, wary and unamused.
Lu Sicheng just smiled lazily.
Not cocky. Not mocking.
Just—interested.
Genuinely, dangerously interested.
Yao dusted off her hands, stood, and brushed past him without ceremony to retrieve a different cable from a high shelf, her chin tilted up in a silent, unimpressed challenge. "Congratulations," she said airily. "You're louder than the server alarms. Doesn't mean you're special."
Ming grinned into his hand.
Rui gave up entirely, muttering, "We're gonna have to hire a damn referee to keep the peace in this base."
And Zong, watching from his chair, sipped his coffee again and muttered lowly, "God help us all. The Cave Queen's found her match."
Most of the others had gradually drifted out, lured away by the promise of food or simply overwhelmed by the sheer force of chaos inside the small office. Only Sicheng remained, standing with his arms loosely crossed as he leaned a hip against the edge of her desk, watching her with a sharp, unreadable expression.
Yao ignored him at first, crawling back under her desk and muttering darkly about rewiring the firewall with actual barbed wire. She liked her cave. No— loved it. This was her space. Safe. Predictable. No public, no fake smiles, no navigating the exhausting minefield of human idiocy.
So when Sicheng finally spoke, his voice smooth and entirely too casual, it set her immediate defenses on high alert. "You should come live at the base," he said, tone almost lazy. "Be our full-time, live-in data analyst."
Yao's head cracked against the underside of her desk as she jerked upward in horror. A low hiss of pain escaped her before she dragged herself back out, glaring murderously up at him. "No," she said flatly, shoving a few scattered tools onto her desk with a pointed clatter. "Absolutely not. I hate people. I barely tolerate my uncle and Zong."
Pang, who had wandered back in to grab his forgotten hoodie, blinked, caught by surprise. "Wait, what uncle?" he blurted out.
Without missing a beat, Yao deadpanned, "Bao."
Pang promptly choked on air as Lao Mao, Lao K and Yue (whom popped their heads back in with an alarmed looks) looked shocked. Somewhere in the background, Ming snorted in amusement.
"And," she continued coolly, brushing dust off her sleeves with precise flicks of her fingers, "I tolerate Zong because the cranky-ass gets me. He leaves me alone, respects my silence, and brings me coffee when I'm plotting the murder of baby techs."
Sicheng simply hummed under his breath, utterly undeterred by her walls. "You wouldn't have to deal with the public," he said, voice low and even. "We handle the fangirls, the fanboys, the netizens. You'd never have to lift a finger."
Yao narrowed her eyes suspiciously but said nothing.
"You could choose two empty rooms," he continued smoothly. "One for your new Cave. One for your personal room. You could lock both doors if you want. No baby techs. No random idiots. No uncle breathing down your neck."
She slowly straightened to her full, unimpressive five-foot-three height, dust smudged across her cheek like a war paint stripe, studying him like he might be trying to sell her oceanfront property in the desert.
"And," Sicheng added with deliberate casualness, "very high salary. Think... bonus tier."
Yao tilted her head, her hazel eyes gleaming with sharp suspicion. "This," she said slowly, "is the deal breaker."
Ming, who had leaned against the door-frame to watch the impending negotiation with barely concealed glee, raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" he drawled.
Yao fixed Lu Sicheng with a stare so intense it could have melted steel. "Can the base have animals?"
Sicheng opened his mouth, then paused, glancing toward Ming for backup.
Ming lifted both hands. "Depends," he said. "What kind of animals?"
Yao, arms crossed, answered without hesitation. "A full-grown, solid white Arctic fox named Da Bing. About 35-40 pounds. Blue eyes. Judgmental stare so severe he will make you rethink every single life decision you've ever made. And," she added darkly, "a hell-spawn black fox with orange eyes named Xiao Cong. He has a personal vendetta against all slippers and will hoard them under couches and chairs like some kind of fluffy gremlin."
There was a beat of stunned silence.
Rui, the long-suffering manager, finally spoke, voice edged with deep, professional exhaustion. "Have they... bitten anyone?"
Yao twitched visibly. She opened her mouth, closed it, then sighed through her nose like a woman confessing a war crime. "No," she said carefully, "Xiao Cong hasn't bitten anyone. He's just a slipper thief. But Da Bing..." Everyone leaned in, instinctively sensing drama. "...bit my ex," Yao finished. "Right on the calf."
Pang let out a low whistle. Ming grinned like a shark. Even Rui's eyebrows shot up.
Sicheng's eyes glinted, sharp and cold with interest.
"And why," Rui asked with clinical curiosity, "did your fox bite him?"
Yao shrugged, utterly unapologetic. "Because," she said coolly, "after I caught him cheating on me, he thought it was a good idea to get rough with me. Da Bing was nearby. He... objected. Violently."
A slow, cold smile curved Sicheng's mouth.
"And how bad was it?" Pang asked, gleeful.
She lifted two fingers and slowly, calmly made a slicing motion across her own calf. "Fifty-two stitches," she said with grim satisfaction. "Last year. He still limps a little when it rains."
Dead silence.
Then, Ming broke into helpless laughter.
"I," Sicheng said, his voice low and edged with something darkly amused, "am beginning to think you're wasted in a Cave."
Yao smirked slightly, the first true flicker of a smile breaking through her usual guarded expression. "My Cave is perfect," she said primly. "It's quiet. It's mine. There are others like it, but this one," she touched the desk lovingly, "this one is mine. "
Sicheng pushed off the desk, stepping closer into her space with deliberate, measured ease. "You can build an even better one," he said quietly. "Bigger. Stronger. Unbreakable." He tilted his head, gaze piercing. "You helped us win the Championship. You belong with us. Not locked away like some secret."
Yao hesitated, her walls visibly wobbling.
Behind her, Zong, still camped in the chair, still drinking his coffee like a disillusioned war veteran, grunted. "For god's sake, kid," he muttered, "take the deal. Otherwise you're stuck listening to me yell at idiots for the next five years."
Yao's mouth twitched. She turned back to Lu Sicheng, eyes narrowing again. "Full creative control over my Cave and my room?"
"Complete."
"Raise starting tomorrow?"
"Already done."
"And I get to install a thumbprint scanner?"
Sicheng grinned slow and dangerous. "Install a retinal scanner if you want. Hell, install a laser moat."
Yao huffed out a reluctant, amused breath. "...Fine," she said, shoving her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. "But if anyone tries to touch my foxes or my computers, I will bury them alive in malware."
"You'll fit right in," Ming said, grinning like a man who had just won the lottery.
And as Yao finally, grudgingly agreed to come live at the ZGDX base, no one—not even her—realized that what had just been brokered in a battered little Cave wasn't just a contract. It was the start of a new kingdom and the Cave Queen was about to stake her claim.
Yao let out a long-suffering sigh, brushing dust off her sleeves once again before moving purposefully toward the door. Without glancing back, she called over her shoulder, "Come on, before I change my mind."
The others exchanged quick glances, then hurried after her, curiosity and adrenaline buzzing in the air like static.
She marched down the hallway at a clipped pace, her messy bun bobbing with every determined step, weaving through the sprawling HQ with sharp, decisive turns like someone who owned the damn place. And, in her own quiet way, she did.
Every employee who saw her coming—and the intimidating cluster of ZGDX players trailing behind her like an accidental royal entourage—immediately flattened themselves against walls or ducked into side offices. One poor intern took one look, dropped his files, and ran for the nearest stairwell.
Pang muttered under his breath, "Do they think we're raiding the building?"
"No," Rui said grimly. "They think she is."
Before they could question that, Yao reached the thick double doors leading to the executive suite. Without hesitation, she shoved them open and barged inside.
The sleek, modern office was dominated by a massive mahogany desk behind which sat Bao, CEO of ZGDX, looking every inch the powerful corporate shark he was rumored to be. Seated across from him were two figures—Director Wang, (His and Yue's Uncle) one of the league's top legal overseers, and a woman who made every hair on Lu Sicheng's arms stand on end just by existing.
Madam Lu.
His and Yue's mother.
A woman known for her terrifying combination of icy intellect and ruthlessly sharp tongue, whose reputation alone had been known to make fully grown men rethink their entire careers.
And Yao greeted them all with a quick, polite nod of her head and a tone so casual it bordered on audacious. "Hello, Director Wang. Hello, Madam Lu," she said neatly. "Have you cut down any idiots today? If not, I have a baby tech who desperately deserves it."
Behind her, Sicheng and Yue both stiffened instinctively, exchanging identical glances of pure disbelief.
Madam Lu—who had once, without raising her voice, verbally eviscerated a CEO into early retirement—simply tilted her head. And then, to the utter horror of everyone present, the unflinching steel of her mouth twitched. The ghost of a smile. Real. Amused. Directed at Tong Yao.
Pang, Lao K, Ming, and Lao Mao stared like they had just witnessed the eighth wonder of the world. Rui looked like he needed to sit down. Yue actually stumbled a step back in sheer shock.
Yao ignored all of it, turning her full attention onto her uncle with the unbothered sharpness of someone delivering a report. "Good news for you," she announced crisply. "I'm being relocated."
Bao narrowed his eyes suspiciously, sensing a trap before the full bomb had even been dropped.
"And the maybe bad news," Yao added, sliding her hands into the front pocket of her oversized hoodie, "is that Chessman has decided to steal me to live at the base."
For a second, silence reigned.
Only the soft hum of the office's climate control system filled the air.
Bao stared at her.
Director Wang coughed into his hand to hide a laugh.
Madam Lu sipped her tea with the slow, measured grace of a queen observing a particularly interesting court drama.
Finally, Bao leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a hand down his face like a man aging ten years in five seconds. "Why," he said with weary resignation, "do I have a feeling that ZGDX's training facility is about to become a classified war zone?"
Without waiting for permission, Yao moved to the side of his desk, reaching for one of the company forms with a blank signature line. "Because," she said sweetly, grabbing a pen, "it probably will be. But on the plus side, when we win the next Championship, you can tell the sponsors you innovated a new player classification: 'Wild Card Analyst.'" As she scribbled her name in quick, impatient strokes.
Sicheng stepped up behind her, his presence easy but unmistakably protective. "We'll handle it," he said simply, dark eyes locking onto Bao's with steady, unshakable certainty. "She's ZGDX now."
Madam Lu's lips curved even further—not a smile, not quite—but enough that Yue let out a noise somewhere between panic and resignation.
Bao muttered something darkly under his breath but finally, grudgingly, waved a hand in defeat. "Fine," he growled. "But if she unleashes the foxes on the league headquarters, you get to clean up the diplomatic incident."
Yao smiled sweetly, utterly unapologetic. "Deal."
Behind her, Pang elbowed Yue, whispering gleefully, "We're so screwed."
And as she tucked the signed form into her hoodie pocket and turned, that small, unstoppable smirk playing at the edge of her mouth, there was not a single doubt left in anyone's mind: Tong Yao—Cave Queen, fox mother, and newly minted chaos grenade—had officially been unleashed into their world. And absolutely no one was ready.
Yao, now fully aware that the silence stretching in the room was loaded with more than just professional consequences, hesitated. Her sharp eyes, always perceptive despite her preference for solitude, danced between the two Lu brothers—Lu Sicheng, standing behind her with his arms casually crossed and a faint, amused tilt to his mouth, and Lu Yue, hovering awkwardly near the door like he half-regretted every decision that led him here. Then she flicked her gaze to Madam Lu, serene as a glacier, her teacup poised delicately between her fingers, and finally to Director Wang, who wore the unmistakable long-suffering look of a man trapped between titans.
Yao tilted her head slightly, the gears visibly turning in her mind. "Uh," she said slowly, voice laced with cautious realization, "I guess... I'm not the only one with family here." She lifted a hand and pointed bluntly toward Madam Lu and Director Wang. "Mother," she said, nodding toward Madam Lu, "and Uncle," nodding at Director Wang.
Both nodded without a single word, as if such confirmations were utterly obvious to anyone with functional brain cells.
Yao wrinkled her nose slightly, visibly weighing her next move. Then, without a shred of artifice, she turned her full focus onto Madam Lu and asked with brutal, disarming bluntness, "Will you be upset if I terrorize your sons if they decide to be idiots and not listen to me?"
The room froze.
Yue made a noise suspiciously like a dying cat.
Sicheng's mouth twitched once, then settled into a slow, lazy grin, sharp as a blade yet filled with an undeniable glimmer of dark amusement.
Director Wang pressed two fingers to his temple like he could already feel the oncoming migraine.
Madam Lu, unhurried, set her teacup down with a soft clink. She regarded Tong Yao for a long moment, assessing her the way a queen might assess an uninvited knight who had nonetheless proven herself worthy. Then—and only then—her lips curved into something unmistakable. A real smile. Small. Sharp. Dangerous. "You have my full blessing," Madam Lu said smoothly, voice velvet wrapped around iron. "In fact, I encourage it."
Yao blinked, stunned for half a second by the sheer speed and force of the approval.
Sicheng snorted under his breath, muttering, "Traitor."
Madam Lu ignored her elder son entirely, instead giving Tong Yao a look that could have set empires ablaze. "If they become difficult," she added, calm and merciless, "you have my personal authorization to deploy whatever measures you deem necessary. Preferably something with long-term consequences."
Yao grinned then—small, wicked, and thoroughly pleased.
Pang, who had been lurking at the door pretending to be invisible, whispered in awe to Lao K, "She just got adopted by Satan herself."
Lao K shrugged, murmuring back, "Looks like Satan likes foxes."
Bao, thoroughly done with the lot of them, banged his head lightly against the back of his chair. "I should have stayed in bed," he muttered to no one in particular. But even he couldn't fully smother the grudging spark of pride in his gaze as Tong Yao tucked her hands back into her hoodie, straightened her spine, and nodded once, solemnly.
"Good to know," she said, tone deceptively cheerful. "Because if anyone here thinks I'm going easy on them because they have nice genetics or pretty win rates, they're going to learn a very painful lesson."
Sicheng's smile grew into something full of lazy, dangerous amusement. "Looking forward to it, Little Cave Queen," he drawled, voice smooth and rich with challenge.
Yao wrinkled her nose at him, unamused. "You should be scared, not smug."
Behind her, Yue let out a long-suffering groan and muttered under his breath, "We're so doomed."
And somewhere, quietly and inexorably, the balance of power inside ZGDX shifted. Not with fanfare. Not with declarations. But with one stubborn, sharp-eyed woman who wasn't afraid of dragons—or foxes—or kings. And who, for the first time in a long time, was beginning to carve a place where she truly belonged.
The next afternoon arrived faster than anyone expected.
The ZGDX base, usually a haven of organized chaos, was thrown into a whole new level of unrest as word spread that their new, live-in Data Analyst was moving in—along with her animals.
Everyone had been curious.
Everyone had been warned.
But none of them were prepared.
The front gates buzzed open with a soft mechanical whir, and a sleek black SUV rolled into the driveway. Yao emerged first, stepping down lightly from the passenger seat, her hoodie oversized enough that it nearly swallowed her small frame, her expression cool and detached as she surveyed the base like a queen inspecting a new castle. Then the rear door opened—and the real chaos began.
Da Bing hopped down with feline grace, a massive, solid white Arctic fox that looked more like a snowstorm given form. His fur gleamed in the sunlight, thick and pure, with ice-blue eyes that scanned the yard with withering, imperious disdain.
Every life choice every single ZGDX member had ever made was judged in one glance.
Yao simply reached down and clipped a custom silver leash to Da Bing's harness—more symbolic than necessary, given that the fox walked at her heel with the grave, lordly air of an emperor surveying his vassals.
But the horror didn't stop there.
A second creature launched itself from the backseat in a whirlwind of black fur and attitude.
Xiao Cong, smaller but no less fierce, his sleek obsidian coat rippling like liquid shadow, bolted straight for the porch with a slipper already clamped triumphantly between his tiny jaws.
Pang, standing by the front door with Rui, yelped. "MY SLIPPER!" he cried, hopping after the tiny menace.
Xiao Cong darted between his legs with the speed of a demon possessed, slipper firmly in tow, before vanishing under a wicker chair like a victorious gremlin king.
Yao, utterly unbothered, sauntered up the walkway with Da Bing at her side, casually adjusting her backpack with one hand.
Sicheng appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with the lazy, smug look of a man who knew exactly what kind of beautiful disaster he had unleashed. "You're late," he said mildly.
Yao raised a single unimpressed eyebrow. "Traffic." Behind her, Da Bing shot Lu Sicheng a long, slow, devastating once-over. The fox's blue eyes narrowed as if deciding whether this man was worthy of breathing near his human. After a full five seconds of silence, Da Bing huffed and turned his head away dismissively.
Approval granted. Barely.
Sicheng snorted under his breath, amused.
Yue, coming up behind him, eyed the Arctic fox warily. "That thing looks like it could kill me in my sleep."
"Only if you're stupid enough to try and touch my server," Yao said cheerfully.
From somewhere under the porch furniture, Xiao Cong let out a triumphant yip, followed by the sound of a second slipper being dragged into his growing hoard.
Pang groaned in agony, dropping to his knees. "He's hoarding them! He's building a nest!"
Ming, who had been watching the entire spectacle unfold from the second-floor balcony, called down, "That's what you get for wearing slippers with bunnies on them, idiot."
Rui sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. He tried. He really tried to be a responsible adult in this team. But sometimes the universe just hated him.
Yao, now standing directly in front of Lu Sicheng, tilted her chin up slightly to meet his gaze. "Two rooms," she reminded him firmly. "And no one touches my stuff without my permission. Or the foxes."
Sicheng's mouth curved lazily. "You're getting three," he said. "One for your room. One for your Cave. And one for the foxes."
For a second, she just stared at him, expression shuttered, guarded. Then, slowly, a small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Not bad," she said grudgingly.
"And your salary was deposited this morning," he added with a glint in his eye. "Higher than you asked."
Yao huffed, but the faint flicker of genuine appreciation crossed her face. Da Bing, sensing her relax slightly, leaned into her side like a living mountain of judgment and loyalty. At her feet, Xiao Cong darted out long enough to add another stolen slipper to his hoard before disappearing again like a shadow swallowed by the sun.
"You're all insane," Rui muttered under his breath, "and now there's a fox crime ring under my base."
Sicheng just smiled lazily and pushed off the door-frame, waving Tong Yao inside with a casual flick of his hand. "Welcome home, Little Cave Queen," he said, his voice low, smooth, and carrying just enough weight to make her steps falter for half a heartbeat before she recovered.
She didn't answer. She didn't need to. Her foxes trotted in like they owned the place. And Tong Yao—introverted, sharp-tongued, battle-scarred and brilliant—followed them inside without a single backward glance. Because for the first time in a long time, she wasn't running. She was choosing.
Later that night, the team gathered around the dining table in the large open kitchen, the air heavy with the mouthwatering scent of takeout containers scattered across every surface.
Ming, predictably, had ordered enough food to feed a small army, and Pang was already elbow-deep in three different dishes, alternating between stuffing his mouth and fighting off Xiao Cong, who had proven himself a tiny, relentless slipper thief—and now an opportunistic food bandit.
Da Bing sat perched like a regal mountain by Tong Yao's chair, watching the proceedings with the grave disapproval of a king observing the bumbling antics of his court. Every once in a while, he would narrow his ice-blue eyes at a particularly loud fork scrape or a suspicious food theft attempt, and the offending party would immediately correct their behavior under the crushing weight of his judgment.
Yao, nestled comfortably between Da Bing and a stack of tech manuals she refused to part with even at dinner, picked at her meal with the casual, distracted grace of someone used to chaos swirling around her.
Yue, ever the instigator, leaned forward over the table, his chopsticks dangling from his fingers, curiosity lighting up his face. "So," he said, drawing the word out mischievously, "earlier you mentioned something about an ex...?"
Everyone froze.
The room went dead silent except for the soft hum of the base's central air system.
Yao didn't even blink. She set her chopsticks down with slow, deliberate care, then lifted her gaze to pin Yue with a look so cold, so razor-sharp, that even Da Bing seemed to lean forward slightly as if preparing to back her up. "Jian Yang," she said, her voice icily calm.
The two words fell like a stone into the center of the table.
Lao Mao let out a low whistle, sitting back in his chair.
Pang gawked openly, a dumpling halfway to his mouth. Even Rui, who had been quietly sipping tea, nearly choked.
Sicheng, seated across from her, didn't react outwardly—but the way his dark eyes sharpened told another story entirely.
Yue, wide-eyed, leaned even closer like a man courting death. "Wait, the Jian Yang? CK's Captain? Sunflower Jian Yang?"
Yao didn't so much as flinch. "The very one," she said crisply. "The disappointment in human form."
Ming coughed loudly to cover the snort that escaped from somewhere down the table.
Rui, ever the responsible adult, cleared his throat awkwardly. "Maybe we shouldn't—"
"He cheated," Yao said flatly, cutting through the noise, her voice clear and without a hint of self-pity. "Got caught. Got stupid. Tried to get rough when he realized I wasn't taking him back."
Yue's face went from curious to thunderous in the span of a second.
Pang actually dropped his chopsticks.
Da Bing let out a low, warning growl from deep in his chest, his massive body tensing beside her.
"And that's when Da Bing bit him?" Lao Mao asked, voice almost gentle.
Yao nodded once. "Fifty-two stitches," she said simply. "Should've been more."
A heavy silence settled over the table, a different kind of weight now—one made of anger, protectiveness, and something darker that lingered just beneath the surface.
Sicheng's fingers tapped once against the side of his glass. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. The promise simmering behind his steady gaze was more than enough.
Pang broke the tension first, voice pitched high in half-hysterical disbelief. "You dated Jian Yang?"
Yao lifted a brow, unimpressed. "I had poor taste when I was young," she said blandly. "I got better."
Yue muttered something about needing a shotgun.
Ming just shook his head slowly, the beginnings of a plan already gleaming in his coach's eyes.
Rui looked down at his plate like he was praying silently for strength.
And Xiao Cong, tiny, deadly, and apparently perfectly attuned to his human's moods, darted out from under the table and stole a piece of pork right off Pang's plate, eliciting a startled yelp.
The chaos resumed.
But the air was different now.
Thicker. Sharper.
Yao, unaware or perhaps entirely aware, of the shift she had caused, simply picked up her chopsticks again and resumed eating, Da Bing resting his head heavily against her leg in silent solidarity. She belonged here now. And heaven help anyone who thought they could take that away from her.
As the chaos of stolen dumplings, outraged foxes, and stunned revelations slowly wound down, Yao set her chopsticks down once more with a soft, decisive click. She sat back in her chair, her small frame deceptively relaxed—but her eyes sharpened with the unmistakable edge of authority that even the most oblivious among them could not miss.
The room, sensing the shift, quieted.
Without preamble, without the slightest hesitation, Yao spoke. "I have a rule," she said, voice low and serious enough to cut straight through the lingering chatter like a knife. "And it is not up for debate."
Every player at the table straightened instinctively.
Even Da Bing lifted his head, his piercing blue gaze sweeping the group as if silently daring anyone to challenge her.
"You will follow the data I give to Ming," Tong Yao said, her tone steady, calm, absolute. "You will train according to the patterns, counters, and match strategies I map out." No one moved. She let her words settle, heavy and final. "Unless," she continued smoothly, "one of you can actually prove to me, with evidence, with logic, not some half-assed excuse, that a different strategy will work better." She leaned forward slightly, hands folded atop the table, her sharp eyes catching each of theirs in turn. "If you can prove it," she said, tilting her head in a small, almost imperceptible nod, "I'll listen. I'll adapt." The unspoken challenge gleamed beneath her calm delivery. "But if you can't..." she added with quiet, ruthless satisfaction, "I will personally march to Rui, and I will have your pay docked so fast your bank account will think it got hit by a hurricane."
A stunned beat of silence.
Then—slowly—Rui, sitting farther down the table, grinned. Wide. Bright. Terrifying. Like a man who had just been handed the master key to chaos. "Oh, I like her," he drawled, a wicked gleam lighting up his usually tired gaze. "I really, really like her."
Pang whimpered audibly.
Yue muttered something about workplace tyranny.
Ming laughed outright, sharp and delighted, leaning back in his chair with a clap of his hands. "Best. Decision. Ever."
Sicheng, lounging lazily in his seat, just smirked—sharp, slow, almost proud. He watched Yao with an expression that most of the others missed, something deeper and far more dangerous simmering just beneath the casual tilt of his mouth. Respect. Interest. Recognition. And something else entirely. Something that would only grow.
Yao, utterly unaffected by their reactions, reached for her tea, lifting the cup with elegant precision. "And," she added lightly, just before taking a sip, "I will not hesitate to tell Rui exactly who slacked off. By name. In detail."
Pang groaned and buried his face in his arms.
Lao Mao simply smiled faintly, the ghost of a grin tugging at his mouth.
Lao K, ever the reserved one, gave a single approving nod—acknowledging, in his own quiet way, the respect a real tactician deserved.
And Yue, wide-eyed, leaned over to Sicheng and whispered loudly, "We really are doomed."
Sicheng snorted softly, the sound half-amused, half-predatory. "Only if you're stupid," he muttered back.
Yao set her cup down and leaned back, satisfied, her foxes settling protectively on either side of her chair like sentinels. Her eyes gleamed with something dangerous and beautiful. She wasn't just surviving anymore. She was carving out her own kingdom. One rule at a time.
Later that night, after the laughter had faded, the food had been picked clean, and the others had scattered to their rooms or training setups, a soft stillness settled over the base. It wasn't uncomfortable. It was the kind of stillness that came after storms—the kind where the air felt heavier, where the world slowed enough for unspoken things to rise to the surface.
Sicheng pushed away from the arm of the couch where he had been quietly scrolling through a few final notes from Ming, his gaze drifting toward the terrace door.
Yao stood outside. Small, quiet, solitary. The moonlight caught in her messy hair, casting a halo around her head, making her look somehow more real and more unreachable all at once. Da Bing sat pressed against her side, a silent white mountain of loyalty. Xiao Cong curled at her feet, his tiny body twitching with dreams.
For a moment, Sicheng simply watched her through the glass, the way her posture carried the tension of a fighter who had not yet convinced herself it was safe to put down her sword. Then, without a sound, he moved. The door slid open with a muted hush, the night air brushing against his skin, cool and clean.
Yao didn't turn around. Not when he stepped onto the terrace. Not when the door whispered closed behind him. But she knew he was there. He joined her without a word, standing beside her, his hands buried loosely in his pockets, his presence steady and un-intrusive. For a long moment, they just breathed the same night air, the silence between them something almost sacred.
Finally, after what felt like hours but was only minutes.
Yao spoke. Her voice was soft. Tired. Not with exhaustion, but with something deeper. Something heavier. "I don't like crowds," she said quietly, almost as if confessing to the moon. "I don't like noise. I don't like people... pretending." She exhaled slowly, her breath a faint wisp in the cool air. "I hate it even more when they smile to your face and wait for the right moment to break you behind your back."
Sicheng's gaze shifted to her, sharp and heavy with something that had nothing to do with casual interest and everything to do with recognition. Understanding. Without moving closer, without reaching for her, he simply said, low and even, "You won't have to worry about that here."
Yao's shoulders stiffened faintly, as if the part of her that had been hurt was still too raw to fully believe it. She stayed silent, the weight of old scars pulling at her.
Sicheng didn't push. Didn't demand. He simply stood beside her, a steady, unyielding wall of presence. And then, softer, lower, threaded with something far more dangerous and personal, he added, "Anyone tries to hurt you again, they won't make it out the door."
Yao turned then, slow and deliberate, her face partially shadowed, her eyes unreadable. But there was something in them. Something flickering. Hope, maybe. Or disbelief. Or the tentative, fragile beginning of trust. "Big words," she said quietly, her voice almost mocking, but her fingers twitched slightly at her sides, betraying her.
Sicheng tilted his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in a slow, deadly smile. "Not words," he said. "A promise."
The night wrapped around them—cool, quiet, thick with unspoken things.
Yao didn't answer. She didn't need to. Instead, she turned her face back toward the stars, the slightest, smallest curve of a smile ghosting her mouth. And for the first time in a long time, she let herself believe—just a little—that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't alone anymore. Inside, Da Bing shifted closer to her, his massive body pressing lightly against her leg. And beside her, Sicheng stayed. Silent. Steady. Unmoving. Like a knight who knew better than to touch a wounded queen before she was ready but who was prepared to stand guard for as long as it took.
Two weeks later, just as the base was finally settling into a strange, chaotic new rhythm with their resident Cave Queen and her foxes ruling over them with quiet authority, disaster struck.
It came not in the form of a match loss.
Not even in the form of an internet scandal.
It came at precisely six-thirty in the morning with the shrill, gut-wrenching blare of a horn.
Followed immediately by a megaphone.
"RISE AND SHINE, ZGDX! LET'S MOVE, LADIES!"
The voice bellowed through the halls, rattling the windows, sending a murder of crows shrieking into the skies outside.
Doors slammed open down the hall.
Pang screamed bloody murder.
Lao Mao cursed in what sounded suspiciously like ancient dialect.
Lao K muttered something about committing homicide before breakfast.
Even Rui, who prided himself on patience forged by years of wrangling professional gamers, stumbled out of his room with his hair standing on end and murder in his normally mild eyes.
Ming tripped over one of Xiao Cong's hoarded slippers, cursing as he staggered into the wall.
At the far end of the hall, Sicheng stepped out of his room shirtless, loose sweatpants riding low on his hips, his face a thundercloud of icy fury as he stared murderously toward the source of the noise.
And in the midst of it all, from the farthest end of the second-floor corridor, Yao's door flew open with a slam so hard it bounced against the wall. She stood there, barefoot, dressed in loose black shorts and an oversized Tamamo-No-Mae hoodie that swallowed her small frame, her hair a wild, half-messy halo around her head, eyes blazing with cold, merciless rage. Her voice cracked like a whip through the chaos.
"GET. THE. DAMN. THINGS. FROM. HIM."
For a split second, there was silence.
Then—
A white blur exploded out from under her desk like a shot. Da Bing moved like a cannonball, thirty-five pounds of solid Arctic muscle and judgmental fury hurtling down the hallway at terrifying speed. A second later, a smaller black shadow, Xiao Cong, faster and infinitely more bloodthirsty, bolted after him with a furious, high-pitched yap.
The target of their combined assault, a fresh-faced, overly enthusiastic young fitness coach from HQ, still clutching the megaphone in one hand and the airhorn in the other, barely had time to turn around before a pillow flew with torpedo precision down the hall. It struck him square in the face with a satisfying THWAP , sending the airhorn spiraling out of his hand in a pathetic arc.
The megaphone dropped next, bouncing harmlessly across the floor as Da Bing lunged, snatching the offending device up in his massive jaws with grim determination. Xiao Cong yapped furiously, tearing after the airhorn like it had personally insulted his ancestors.
The coach stumbled backward, hands in the air, looking utterly bewildered and terrified as the two foxes systematically disarmed him and retreated down the hall with their trophies like seasoned warriors.
From her doorway, Yao crossed her arms and leaned casually against the frame, watching with thinly veiled satisfaction.
Across the hall, Sicheng leaned one broad shoulder against the wall, his dark eyes glinting with open amusement.
"You," Tong Yao said coldly, voice slicing through the coach's babbling apologies, "have exactly five minutes to explain why you thought it was a good idea to wake up a base full of tired gamers with an airhorn."
The coach, looking like he wanted to sink into the floor, stammered something about "building discipline" and "team cohesion."
Yao arched a brow. "Wrong building," she said dryly. "This isn't the military. It's ZGDX." Behind her, Da Bing returned, solemnly dropping the mangled remains of the megaphone at her feet like a trophy. She reached down, ruffling his thick fur in silent approval. "And here," she added, her voice turning dangerously sweet, "we value sleep, sanity, and not getting our eardrums ruptured at dawn."
The coach nodded frantically, eyes darting toward Rui like he expected rescue.
Rui just shook his head slowly, sipping his coffee like a man long past saving anyone from their own stupidity. "I suggest you run," he said helpfully. "Before she lets them keep you."
The coach wisely bolted, half-slipping in his hurry to flee the fox-guarded halls. As his footsteps faded, a soft chuckle rumbled low in Sicheng's chest.
Yao, still standing barefoot in the hallway, looked at him with an unimpressed arch of her brow. "You're welcome," she said crisply, before turning back into her room with Da Bing and Xiao Cong trotting loyally at her heels.
Sicheng watched her go, slow, easy amusement curling through him like smoke. "Welcome to ZGDX," he murmured under his breath. "Where even the foxes have higher standards than the league."
Later that afternoon, just as the team was finally beginning to recover from the morning's assault, the doorbell rang.
Everyone tensed instinctively.
Sicheng, lounging on the couch with one arm draped lazily across the backrest, barely lifted his head. "If it's the fitness coach," he drawled lazily, "someone better hold Da Bing back."
Pang, sprawled upside down in an armchair, muttered, "No promises."
Ming, half-dozing with a laptop balanced on his chest, cracked one eye open. "Let him suffer," he said cheerfully. "Call it basic training."
Rui, long resigned to the madness, just sighed and set his tablet down, motioning for Yue to open the door.
Yue obliged, swinging it wide and immediately stepping back to avoid getting trampled.
The same young fitness coach stood on the threshold, looking considerably worse for wear. Gone was the obnoxious megaphone and forced military enthusiasm. Instead, he held a peace offering: a large paper bag from the best bakery in town, filled with pastries and iced coffee.
Behind him, Da Bing loomed in the doorway, having materialized from the shadows like an avenging spirit.
The coach froze, sweat beading on his forehead as the massive white fox stared him down, eyes narrow, tail flicking once with glacial disdain. "Uh—hi," the coach stammered, holding out the bag like a sacrificial offering. "I—I just wanted to apologize properly. For...uh...earlier. I didn't mean to—"
Da Bing inched forward.
The coach went rigid, looking like he was about to faint.
Yao appeared then, stepping into view with the quiet, unbothered confidence of someone who commanded armies without needing to raise her voice. She arched a brow, crossing her arms loosely over her hoodie. "Name," she said crisply.
The coach jumped. "L-Liu Ze!"
"And why are you here, Liu Ze?" she asked, voice patient but carrying the unmistakable edge of a final exam he was about to fail.
He swallowed audibly. "Director Bao sent me!" Liu Ze blurted. "Said he wanted a little more discipline around the base before the next tournament! I swear, I was just following orders!"
The room went still.
Very still.
Yao's eyes narrowed into thin, glinting slits. "So," she said slowly, her tone almost musical with the promise of violence, "this was Bao's idea."
Liu Ze nodded frantically, thrusting the bag of pastries closer like it might ward off death.
For a moment, Yao just stood there, weighing her options. Then a slow, wicked smile curved her mouth. She turned to Da Bing and patted his massive head once. "Stand down, General," she murmured. Da Bing huffed but obeyed, retreating a few steps to sit regally by the doorway, still glaring daggers at the unfortunate coach. Without another word, Yao spun on her heel, pulled out her phone, and marched straight toward the far corner of the living room where she could make a private call.
The boys exchanged wide-eyed glances, inching closer, ears practically stretching toward her side of the room.
Yao hit speed dial. The line picked up after a single ring. "Auntie!" she chirped sweetly, her voice a sugar-coated dagger.
On the other end, Bao's wife, a woman known for her unshakable affection for Tong Yao and equally ruthless wrath toward anyone who dared cross her, greeted her warmly. "Yao-er! How are you, sweetheart?"
"I'm fine," Yao said innocently. "Although...uncle did something very interesting this morning."
There was a beat of silence.
A silence that promised bloodshed.
"What. Did. He. Do," Bao's wife said, her tone dropping faster than a guillotine.
Yao explained, voice syrupy sweet, every devastating detail—the megaphone, the airhorn, the traumatized team, Da Bing's and Xiao Cong's valiant defense. By the time she finished, even the foxes looked impressed. The team watched with horrified awe as Yao tucked the phone against her shoulder, sipping from an iced coffee like she hadn't just casually sicced a nuclear missile on Bao.
At the end of the call, her aunt's voice came through, cold and sharp enough to slice stone.
"Don't worry, sweetheart," she said smoothly. "I'll handle it."
The line went dead.
Yao turned back toward the others, looking thoroughly satisfied. "Problem solved," she said airily.
Liu Ze, still standing awkwardly in the foyer with his bag of pastries, looked like he had just witnessed a political assassination and wasn't sure whether to offer condolences or beg for asylum.
Pang leaned sideways toward Yue and whispered, "Remind me never to piss her off."
Yue nodded solemnly. "We're not even players anymore. We're hostages."
Sicheng, from his perch on the couch, just smirked lazily, his dark eyes gleaming with something bordering on actual delight. "You sure you're not an assassin?" he asked idly, voice carrying across the room.
Yao shrugged, unconcerned. "I just know how to use my resources," she said, sipping her coffee with regal grace.
Bao was having a wonderful morning. For the first time in what felt like months, ZGDX's headquarters was quiet. Peaceful. No crashing noises from the Cave. No baby techs weeping in the hallways. No urgent messages about system sabotage or missing monitors. The Cave Queen was gone, relocated to the team base where, frankly, he firmly believed she belonged. Somewhere out of his direct jurisdiction and, more importantly, out of the immediate blast radius of his personal sanity.
He even allowed himself a rare indulgence: a fresh, steaming cup of coffee, brewed exactly how he liked it. He settled into his chair, savoring the rich aroma, a slow smile spreading across his face as he leaned back and let himself believe—truly believe—that maybe, just maybe, things were finally turning around.
The door to his office opened.
Bao glanced up casually, ready to bark at whichever assistant dared to interrupt his moment of bliss. And then he froze. His wife stepped inside, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor, a vision of icy composure wrapped in designer silk and judgment sharpened to a fine, lethal point.
The door clicked shut behind her with a soft, final snick.
Bao immediately sat up straighter, setting his coffee down with the care of a man who understood that he might very well be drinking his last cup. "Good morning, dear," he said cautiously, his voice a touch too bright.
His wife smiled. It was not a kind smile. It was the kind of smile wolves gave before they tore out a throat. "Good morning," she said sweetly.
Bao swallowed hard.
She approached his desk with the slow, deliberate grace of a seasoned predator. "I heard," she said, still smiling, "that you thought it was a brilliant idea to traumatize our niece."
Bao opened his mouth.
No words came out.
"I heard," she continued, voice velvet-smooth but packed with the full force of judgment, "that you sent a fool armed with an airhorn and a megaphone to wake her up."
Bao raised a hand as if to defend himself, but she placed both hands flat on his desk and leaned in, her smile widening dangerously.
"I heard," she said, lower now, "that my darling Yao-er had to defend herself with foxes. And a pillow."
There was no salvation in sight.
No escape.
Only judgment.
"I—" Bao croaked finally. "I thought... fitness training... the league wanted stricter conditioning..."
His wife's eyes narrowed to lethal slits. "You thought wrong."
Bao winced.
"And now," she said, straightening with regal menace, "you're going to fix it."
He blinked. "What—?"
"You," she said sweetly, "are going to call Rui."
Bao paled visibly.
"You," she continued smoothly, "are going to ask— beg, if necessary—for forgiveness, from our beloved niece who is more like our daughter."
Bao opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again.
"And when you're done," she said, pulling her phone from her handbag with the grace of someone passing a death sentence, "you are going to tell Yao-er that she can name her price."
Bao made a faint strangled sound deep in his throat, reaching blindly for his phone with the clumsy urgency of a drowning man grabbing for a lifeline. Across the desk, his wife watched him like a hawk, perfectly composed, perfectly merciless. He fumbled, dialing Rui's number with trembling fingers.
It rang once.
Twice.
"ZGDX Base, Rui speaking," came the calm, cheerful voice.
Bao cleared his throat, voice cracking under the crushing weight of his imminent execution. "Put Yao-er on the phone," he rasped.
There was a pause.
Then a low chuckle.
And then, Yao's voice, sweet as poison, filled the line. "Good morning, Uncle," she chirped. "Did you sleep well?"
Bao's soul wept.
Her voice softened, still teasing, but unmistakably laced with lethal edge. "Ready to discuss my conditions for forgiveness?"
In the background, Sicheng could be heard snorting under his breath. Pang and Yue broke into barely muffled laughter.
Even Ming's low voice muttered something about "witnessing the fall of an empire."
Bao, sweating bullets, adjusted the phone against his ear, his wife watching him like a general surveying a defeated enemy. "Name them," Bao croaked.
Yao's smile was audible through the phone. "Oh, it's very simple, " she said sweetly. "You're going to pay for the construction of my new Cave at the base. Top of the line. Whatever I want. No budget cap."
Bao whimpered.
"And," she continued smoothly, "you're going to personally authorize monthly bonuses for Da Bing and Xiao Cong. In treats. In writing."
Bao buried his face in his free hand.
"And," Tong Yao added, almost as an afterthought, "I want lifetime veto power over any fitness programs you try to implement at the base."
Bao looked up helplessly at his wife. She just raised a single, elegantly arched eyebrow. Bao sagged in defeat. "Done," he said hoarsely.
There was a satisfied hum from the other end of the line.
"Pleasure doing business with you, Uncle," Tong Yao said brightly.
The call ended.
Bao set the phone down slowly, the weight of utter annihilation settling around his shoulders like a funeral shroud.
Across the desk, his wife picked up his abandoned coffee cup, took a delicate sip, and sighed happily. "Much better," she said.
And Bao, the once-proud CEO of ZGDX, knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would never— ever —win again. Not against his wife. Not against his niece. Not against ZGDX's new, undisputed Little Queen of War.
That evening, the base was unusually calm. No loud celebrations. No shouting. No dramatic decorations.
Just a quiet, almost thoughtful energy that lingered in the air like a soft current, subtle enough that Yao, curled up on the end of the main lounge couch with Da Bing sprawled beside her and Xiao Cong tucked under the table hoarding another stolen sock, barely noticed at first. Dinner was simple tonight—no big orders, no piles of extra food, just a handful of their favorites, quietly prepared and shared among the team. The atmosphere was peaceful, easy in a way that didn't make her feel watched or cornered. She liked it. Maybe that's why she was suspicious when Sicheng disappeared from the room for a few minutes, only to return carrying something carefully wrapped in a plain brown paper bag.
No flashy colors. No bright bows.
Just...quiet and deliberate.
He crossed the room with his usual slow, loose stride, the others glancing up with subtle, almost casual glances—not crowding her, not making a scene. When he stopped in front of her, he simply held the bag out, no fanfare, no smirk. "Here," Sicheng said, voice low and even. "From all of us."
Yao blinked up at him, suspicious and wary, but reached out cautiously. Inside, tucked carefully into the brown wrapping, was a small leather-bound notebook. Heavy, high-quality, clearly custom made. Embossed subtly into the corner in dark ink were the words:
Property of the Cave Queen.
Nothing flashy. Nothing bright.
Just simple, clean, and—most importantly—private.
Something that felt hers.
Yao ran her fingers over the smooth surface, silent for a moment. When she glanced up, everyone was pretending very hard to be doing something else.
Ming fiddled with his laptop. Rui checked a non-existent email. Pang dug into his food like he hadn't already eaten two helpings. Only Sicheng watched her openly, his gaze steady but calm, giving her space to react however she needed.
Yao swallowed once, her throat unexpectedly tight. "Thanks," she said softly, her voice barely carrying across the room. It was all she said. It was all she needed to say. Because when she turned back to her new notebook, carefully tracing the cover with the tip of one finger, Da Bing leaned into her side with a soft, heavy huff, Xiao Cong thumped his tail under the table, and the base—their base—settled back into an easy, comfortable silence.
Later, when they drifted to their separate corners, when the night stretched long and peaceful, Tong Yao stayed behind on the couch, curled up under a blanket Da Bing had half-stolen from one of the beds.
She opened the notebook to the first page and smiled, just a little. At the bottom, in small, sharp handwriting, one she recognized instantly as Lu Sicheng's, was a simple note:
"For the one who protects us all—even when we're too stupid to see it. Welcome home."
Yao closed the notebook carefully, holding it against her chest for a moment. And for the first time in a long, long time, She felt like she had finally found where she belonged.
The next morning broke quietly over the base. No alarms. No blaring horns. No frantic rush. Just the muted sounds of sunlight bleeding through the wide windows, the low hum of the coffee machine whirring in the kitchen, and the occasional soft shuffle of someone padding down the hallway.
Yao was already awake. She sat cross-legged in the center of her new Cave, a spacious, soundproofed room tucked just off the main hall, its windows shaded, its walls thick enough to muffle even the wildest scrim matches.
The room was empty except for a massive desk that had been delivered the day before, a few boxes she hadn't opened yet, and her foxes, Da Bing stretched out like a lazy cloud on the cool floor, Xiao Cong curled up beneath the desk, already hoarding two missing socks as trophies.
Yao tugged her hoodie sleeves over her hands and quietly surveyed the space, her mind already whirring through mental blueprints. This was hers now. A blank canvas. A kingdom of her own. She had just started unpacking a few essentials, cords, monitors, the beloved ergonomic chair she had stubbornly dragged from HQ, when a soft knock sounded at the door. She frowned slightly but called, "Come in."
The door creaked open, and Lao K stepped inside, holding a large box against his chest. He didn't say much—he rarely did—but he set the box down gently beside the desk and offered a simple nod. "Mini fridge," he said gruffly. "For snacks. Drinks. Whatever you need."
Yao blinked, surprised, but nodded back, her lips twitching faintly in what might have been a real smile. "Thanks," she said quietly. Before she could say more, Lao K had already retreated, his task complete, slipping out with the same silent efficiency he brought to every match.
A few minutes later, another knock.
This time it was Lao Mao, balancing two heavy-looking lamps awkwardly in his arms. "Better lighting," he said simply. "Not that garbage overhead stuff." He shuffled in, setting them carefully on the floor, adjusting them until the soft glow washed warmly over the space without being harsh.
Yao tilted her head, studying the subtle warmth it added to the room. "Good choice," she murmured. Lao Mao gave her a rare, pleased grin before ruffling Da Bing's fur affectionately and heading back out without fanfare.
Then came Pang, dragging a beanbag chair that looked like it had come straight out of some teenager's dream den—oversized, squashy, ridiculously comfortable. "Thought the foxes might want a crash spot," he said with a crooked grin, plopping it down near the corner.
Yao stared at it. Xiao Cong immediately abandoned his sock stash to investigate, pawing at the soft fabric and promptly claiming it as his new throne.
Pang shot her a quick wink before disappearing back toward the kitchen, leaving only the faint sound of a chair creaking as he flopped back into it.
Rui appeared not long after, carrying a sleek, high-end surge protector under one arm and a stack of sealed cable organizers in the other. "No one's frying your servers under my watch," he said dryly, setting them down beside her desk.
Then, with little fanfare, Yue bounced in—half-tripping over the threshold, a small, perfectly silent electric kettle tucked under one arm. "For tea!" he announced brightly, setting it down proudly on the edge of her desk. "Because coffee's disgusting and sometimes you need tea when you're plotting our deaths." He grinned at her, the same mischievous, boyish grin he always wore, but this time, there was a layer of genuine thoughtfulness underneath.
Yao blinked, stunned at how, in his chaotic way, he had actually gotten it exactly right. Before she could thank him, he darted back out, muttering something about not wanting Da Bing to bite him if he lingered too long.
Ming walked in. He carried a single object: a heavy, expensive-looking whiteboard tucked under one arm, and a set of fine-tipped color markers tucked under the other. "No analyst's worth anything without a battle board," he said simply, setting it against the far wall and anchoring it carefully. He didn't stay to explain, didn't hover—he just gave her a small, knowing look that spoke volumes.
You belong here.
You are needed here.
Then he turned and left, the door clicking softly behind him.
Yao sat still for a long moment, surrounded now by small, quiet gifts. The mini fridge. The warm lamps. The oversized beanbag. The careful cable setups. The electric kettle. The battle board. No banners. No shouting. No crowns. Just simple, real things. From people who had, without asking, started building a world for her inside their own. Slowly, she unfolded herself from the floor, brushing a hand over the desk, then over the beanbag where Xiao Cong had sprawled out like a victorious dragon. She turned to find Sicheng standing quietly in the doorway, hands in his pockets, leaning lazily against the frame. He lifted a small box from under his arm and tossed it gently toward her. Yao caught it on instinct, startled. It was a compact Bluetooth speaker—sleek, powerful, meant for clear, low background sound rather than overwhelming volume.
"You didn't ask for it," he said simply, "but it felt right."
She ran her fingers over the smooth surface, saying nothing for a long moment. Then she nodded once, firm and decisive. "Thanks," she said softly.
He inclined his head in response, almost like a soldier acknowledging a superior officer, before stepping aside and letting her return to her work. No crowd. No demands. No noise. Just quiet respect.
And as she clicked the speaker on, letting a soft thread of music drift through her new Cave, Yao realized. For the first time in longer than she could remember. She didn't have to fight for space anymore. She already had it and it was hers.