Part Two of Chapter One: The One He Wasn't Supposed to Meet
It was a slow afternoon at the base, the rare kind where the team lounged in hoodies instead of jerseys and scrim schedules had blessed them with a full block of freedom. Lao Mao was half-dozing on the couch, Pang was loudly recounting a food delivery mishap, and Rui sat at the kitchen table going through emails, glasses perched low on his nose.
Yue was seated at the coffee table, spinning a capped water bottle between his fingers, looking almost bored, until the doorbell chimed.
Rui glanced up. "Delivery?"
Yue pushed up without a word and disappeared down the hallway. A few minutes later, he returned holding a slim package wrapped in sleek black and gold. The team barely looked up at first. They'd seen Yue get everything from gaming gear to limited-edition sneakers delivered. But he was quiet as he sat. And that? Caught their attention. He peeled the ribbon away, opened the box slowly, and the moment the light hit what was inside—he smiled. Not his usual smirk. Not his smug, overconfident grin. A real smile. Soft. Warm. Sure. The kind of smile that only ever belonged to one person now. He held up the necklace between two fingers, letting it dangle in the light. Silver. Simple. And unmistakable. The Lu Intent Necklace—crafted with a minimalist dragon curled into the shape of a crescent moon, the back engraved in Yue's own handwriting with a single phrase, "Yao, you were always meant to be mine."
The pendant caught the room's attention instantly.
Pang choked. "Is that—?"
"That's the Intent Necklace," Lao K said, sitting bolt upright.
"Holy hell," Lao Mao muttered. "You actually had it commissioned?"
Sicheng, who had just stepped out of the hallway with a towel around his neck, stopped cold. His eyes dropped to the necklace, then rose to Yue. "Seriously?"
Yue didn't look at anyone. He just leaned back against the couch, still holding the necklace up, the smirk returning now, that smirk, laced with something bolder. "I told her I was going to make her mine."
Ming walked in from the back hallway then, pausing at the sight of everyone gathered, eyes narrowing slightly as he followed their stares and landed on the necklace. There was a beat of silence. Then he sighed. Long. Deep. "I suppose there's no getting rid of you now."
Yue grinned without a hint of shame. "Nope."
Ming looked skyward like he was praying for patience, muttering something about "losing a sister but gaining another problem."
The others continued to gape, Pang now stammering through about ten different reactions at once.
Yue just tucked the necklace back into its velvet box with care and stood, already planning when to give it to her. Because this wasn't a surprise. It wasn't a risk. It was a promise. And she already knew. He was never going to let her go.
It was an ordinary afternoon at the ZGDX base—scrims had ended, post-game reviews were underway, and most of the team was scattered throughout the lounge. Lao Mao and Pang were bickering over snacks, Rui was buried in emails, and Lao K was quietly reviewing stats at the end of the counter.
The door opened.
They barely noticed.
Until she stepped in.
Yu Yao.
Dressed in clean lines, dark jeans tucked into her usual black boots, a slate-gray knit sweater that hugged the elegant slope of her collarbone and resting against her skin, unmistakable in the sunlight slanting through the windows. The necklace. Silver. Smooth. The crescent-moon dragon glinting softly above her heart. Her hair was pulled half-up, just enough to keep it away from where the chain rested delicately at her neck, its presence calm but unignorable. She wasn't flaunting it. She didn't need to. She walked in like she had every right to be there—and she did.
The moment Yue looked up from the hallway—
He froze. The banter around him dimmed to a buzz, drowned beneath the roar of blood in his ears and the quiet thrill that settled in his chest like a flame reigniting. Because there it was. She was wearing it. His. She smiled softly when their eyes met. Not a word spoken. Not a dramatic gesture. Just a small, meaningful smile, like she'd been waiting for him to see it. And that was enough. Yue stepped forward. Not fast. Not loud. Just with purpose.
The others were already catching on, Pang's voice going high-pitched with a "Wait, is that the necklace?!" Rui letting out a stunned breath, Lao Mao doing a slow double-take that turned into open-mouthed awe.
But Yue said nothing. He stopped in front of her, gaze dropping for only a second to the piece now resting against her, before lifting again to meet her eyes. "You wore it."
Her voice was barely above a whisper. "It's yours."
He corrected her, voice low. Certain. "It's ours." And he reached out, one hand brushing lightly, reverently, along the edge of the chain where it dipped just over her sternum, then slid his palm around the back of her neck, drawing her forehead gently to his, holding her there in a silence that said everything.
And behind them, around the corner, just out of sight, Lu Sicheng watched. He said nothing. Did nothing. Just stood there in the quiet edge of the hallway, half-shadowed, arms folded, eyes locked on the girl who could've been his. Had he shown up. She hadn't even looked his way. She didn't need to. She wasn't hiding. And as Yue leaned in to press the softest kiss to her brow, Sicheng turned away. Not in bitterness. Not even in regret. But with the cold, sinking ache of a man who had once been offered a legend and never even thought to ask her name.
The hallway outside the lounge was empty. The echo of laughter from inside drifted faintly around the corner, Pang being dramatic as usual, Yue's low voice teasing Yao, the scrape of Lao Mao's chair.
Lu Sicheng didn't move. He stood there quietly, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, gaze fixed on a seam in the floor tile that he wasn't actually seeing. He hadn't said anything for the last few minutes, not since Yao walked in with that necklace glinting like a quiet, permanent promise resting above her heart. He had watched her. Watched her laugh with Yue. Watched her step into the space like she belonged there. And not once had she looked back. He didn't expect her to. He heard the approach behind him before he saw it, steady, measured steps that paused at his side.
Ming said nothing at first.
Neither did he.
The silence stretched between them—companionable, weighty.
Then Sicheng finally spoke. "I see it now." His voice was low, rougher than usual. No dramatic flourish. Just quiet resignation.
Ming didn't react.
Sicheng let the words hang, then added, "It wasn't just about her being brilliant. Or sharp. Or different. She was always more than that."
Ming exhaled, slow. "She always has been."
"I didn't show up," Sicheng murmured. "And Yue did."
Ming turned to glance at him.
Sicheng's jaw tightened. "I could've had a future with her."
"Yes." Ming said without flinching. There was no comfort in it. Only truth.
Sicheng swallowed hard, his arms falling loosely to his sides.
Ming was silent. Then, quietly, he said, "You might've missed out on her being your wife someday. But if you make the effort?" He looked over, meeting Sicheng's eyes with that calm, steady weight he was known for. "She could still become your best friend." A pause. "Your sister."
Sicheng didn't answer right away. He just looked ahead again, breathing in slowly, letting the weight of that possibility press against the ache of what had been lost. "She doesn't owe me that." he said eventually.
"No," Ming agreed, voice soft but firm. "But she might offer it anyway."
Sicheng gave a quiet, humorless chuckle. "And if she does, it won't be because I deserve it."
Ming sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose like the very thought was giving him a headache. "No," he muttered. "But at least then I won't have to kick your ass and explain to Yue why you're sulking in corners like a rejected antagonist."
Sicheng finally cracked a faint smile. Small. Dry. Real. "I'm still going to hate how smug he is."
Ming rolled his eyes. "He's always been smug. He just finally has a reason to be."
Sicheng didn't argue. Instead, he glanced back toward the doorway, where Yao's laughter spilled into the hallway again, light, easy, beautiful. And for the first time, it didn't hurt. Not the same way. Because now, he didn't see her as the girl who walked away. He saw her as the sister he might still earn.
Yue was in the media room, legs propped on the coffee table, headphones hanging around his neck, fingers tapping lazily across the controller as the glow from the TV flickered across his face. The game on the screen wasn't serious, just something light to wind down. He didn't even hear the door open behind him. Didn't sense the presence until a shadow fell across his shoulder.
"Yue."
Yue turned, mid-laugh, about to reply with something smart—until he saw him.
Lu Sicheng. Standing in the doorway. Not tense. Not angry. Just there.
Yue's brows lifted. "Wow. You're awake. What, couldn't sleep without thinking about how I locked that match down?"
Sicheng didn't react. Didn't smirk. Didn't play. He stepped into the room, the door clicking softly shut behind him, and crossed the space between them with slow, deliberate steps.
Yue's smirk faded, brow furrowing slightly. "...Cheng?"
Sicheng didn't sit. He stood right in front of him. Arms at his sides. Voice low. Measured. "I'm only going to say this once."
Yue blinked.
Sicheng's eyes—those sharp amber eyes—locked onto his, cold and still as stone. "If you ever hurt her," he said, voice quiet but soaked in steel, "it won't be Ming who kicks your ass." A pause. Then, lower still, "It'll be me."
Yue sat very still. Because there was no bluster in those words. No performative rage. Just the truth. Older brother. Protector. Captain. And beneath all of that, a man who knows exactly what kind of woman Yu Yao is. Yue let the silence settle before he nodded once."I won't."
Sicheng's gaze narrowed.
Yue didn't flinch. "I mean it," he said softly. "I won't hurt her. I couldn't even if I tried."
Sicheng studied him a moment longer. Then, with a slight shift of his jaw, he exhaled, just once and turned toward the door.
Yue leaned back, dragging a hand through his hair. "...You really fell in love with her, huh?"
Sicheng paused, one hand on the handle, his voice low. "No," he said. And then, "But I could've, if I had not been a damn idiot." And he left the room.
It was late afternoon when Lu Sicheng rounded the block near the back entrance of the venue, hoodie up and earbuds half in as he stepped away from the noise and press of the arena. The alleyway off to the side was quiet, dimmed with the slanting shadows of sunset, tucked between buildings that funneled the breeze like a narrow corridor. He hadn't expected to hear anything. Not here. But then a voice cut through the low hum of the street. Sharp. Angry. Familiar.
"You never even gave me a chance!"
Sicheng stopped. His eyes narrowed. He turned toward the alley. What he saw made the air in his lungs go cold. Yu Yao—calm, composed Yao—was standing with her back against the stone wall, eyes hard but her posture tense. Not fearful. But on edge.
And in front of her?
Jian Yang. His face twisted with frustration, one hand braced against the wall beside her shoulder as he leaned in just a little too close, his voice thick with bitterness. "You ignored every message, every invite—didn't even have the guts to block me properly. I told you I liked you and you ran. You didn't even look at me."
Yao didn't move. Didn't flinch. Her voice came steady, soft but edged like a scalpel. "I said no, Jian Yang. You chose not to hear it."
He scoffed, stepping in closer. "And now what?" he hissed. "You're walking around with that necklace like it means something? Wearing the Lu Crest like you've earned it? Who did you seduce, huh? You don't even—"
"Move."
The voice hit like a gunshot.
Jian Yang turned and froze.
Lu Sicheng stood at the mouth of the alley, hands at his sides, hoodie half-shadowing his face, but his eyes…those cold, amber eyes were locked on Jian Yang with the sharp-edged fury of a man who was not giving warnings. "Back away, now." Sicheng said again, voice low, calm, and absolutely final.
Jian Yang hesitated. "This has nothing to do with you."
Sicheng took a step forward.
Then another.
And that's when Jian Yang finally noticed the change in Yao's expression, the soft exhale of relief, the way her shoulders loosened not because she felt safe in general, but because he had arrived.
"This has everything to do with me," Sicheng said, now only a foot away. His eyes flicked once, deliberately, to the necklace around Yao's neck, the Lu Crest glinting softly in the fading light, unmistakable. He didn't say a word about it. He didn't need to.
But Jian Yang's eyes followed his and froze. His face paled. "You—you gave her the crest?"
Sicheng's voice was lower now, colder. "You need to walk away."
Jian Yang stammered. "You're with her?! You—?"
"I said walk away."
Jian Yang backed up. Fast. He didn't say another word. He disappeared into the street like a coward chased off by something primal. And once he was gone, Sicheng turned to Yao.
She hadn't moved. But her eyes—calm, steady—met his with something deeper.
He stepped in, gaze searching hers. "Are you okay?"
She nodded once. "I didn't need saving."
"I know," he said gently. "But I showed up anyway."
There was a beat of silence.
"He thought it was yours," she said, glancing briefly at the crest still resting just below her collarbone.
Sicheng smiled, faint but real. "He's not the only one who did."
She smiled back, softer. "I guess he still doesn't know it belongs to your brother."
Sicheng's eyes glinted sharply and with that, he stepped back, letting the quiet settle again between them, his presence no longer needed but never unwelcome. Because even if she wasn't his. She would always be protected like she was.
The front doors of the ZGDX base swung open with a familiar rhythm as Yue strolled in, earbuds in, humming low under his breath, still riding the high of another clean practice session at the satellite training venue. He kicked his sneakers off near the threshold, cracked open a sports drink, and started heading for the lounge when he caught the look—
Lu Sicheng. Waiting. Not lounging. Not slouched. Waiting. That was never good.
Yue slowed his steps. "Okay… what's with the murder face?"
Sicheng didn't answer. He just nodded once toward the hallway. "Walk with me."
Yue blinked but followed, the casual ease in his shoulders straightening just slightly. They passed the team lounge. Passed Rui's half-open office door. Stopped near the back stairwell—quiet, secluded.
Sicheng turned and the moment Yue met his eyes, he knew something had happened.
"What is it?" Yue asked, voice sharper now.
Sicheng folded his arms, jaw tight. "I found her today," he said. "Near the arena. Back alley."
Yue's blood ran cold. "Yao? What the hell was she doing back there—?"
"She wasn't alone."
That stopped Yue completely.
"Who?"
"Jian Yang."
The name hit like ice water.
Yue's fingers curled slowly around the bottle in his hand.
Sicheng's tone didn't rise, didn't need to. "He had her cornered. Not physically grabbing her, but he was close. Pressing her. Angry. Demanding why she never gave him a chance." A pause. "And why is she suddenly wearing our family's crest?"
Yue's jaw clenched.
"I stepped in before it got worse," Sicheng continued. "But I'm telling you now as your brother, you need to go public."
Yue stiffened. "You mean—?"
"Make it known that you're the one who gave her the crest. That you're the one she belongs to." His eyes sharpened. "Before he tries to twist the story. Before he decides to stir up something online and accuse her of sleeping her way into the Lu family."
Yue was silent. Furious. Focused. "I was trying to give her space," he said quietly. "I wanted her to choose when to go public."
"And she still can," Sicheng said. "But you need to make sure the story's anchored in truth before someone else gives it their version."
Yue breathed out slowly, the fury simmering beneath his skin now honed into something sharper. "I'll take care of it."
Sicheng nodded once. "Good." He paused again, then added softer, but edged with steel, "She wore the crest like it meant something."
"It does," Yue said, voice firm. "It means she's mine."
Sicheng studied him, eyes flickering over his brother's face, the weight of the day settling around them. "Then protect her like it."
"I will."
And as Yue turned to go, steps brisk and mind already moving toward how to tell the world without dragging her into chaos.
Sicheng's voice stopped him one last time. "Yue." He looked back. "She didn't ask for protection. But you're going to give it anyway."
Yue nodded once, dark eyes burning. "Every day for the rest of her life."
Yao's apartment was dim, calm, the light of her reading lamp casting a soft glow over the living room as she sat curled up on the edge of the couch, legs tucked beneath her, Da Bing snoring softly on the cushion beside her. Her phone buzzed once. She reached over, flipping it over from the coffee table, and the screen lit up with the message she knew would come sooner or later.
ZGDX_Lv: He found out.I'm guessing Jian Yang didn't recognize the crest as mine.Sicheng thinks I should make it public before rumors start.But I won't do anything unless you say yes.So... are you ready, Yao?
She stared at it for a moment. Not in hesitation. But in thought. A long, slow breath left her lips as she gently scratched behind Da Bing's ears. She hadn't expected it to come so soon. But it made sense. It had always been close—that moment they'd cross from shared privacy into something permanent. So she typed, thumbs steady.
Yu_Yao: Yes.Let them know who I belong to.
Not even three seconds passed before the response lit up her screen.
ZGDX_Lv: God, I love you.
She smiled. But then—she remembered something. Something critical. So she started typing again.
Yu_Yao: But you'd better let your mother announce it.
There was a pause.
Then another buzz.
ZGDX_Lv: Come on—
Yu_Yao: No.Do you really want to die taking this moment from your mother?
ZGDX_Lv: Yao—
Yu_Yao98: She's been dreaming about this since the womb.She will personally haunt your bloodline if you take away her one chance to debut her future daughter-in-law to the world.
ZGDX_Lv: She'll make it a press conference with an RSVP list.
Yu_Yao98: Exactly.And you'll sit there and smile, and not sigh once.Or I'll let her post the baby photos she keeps in her wallet.
ZGDX_Lv: ...I'm calling her now.
Yao chuckled softly, settling deeper into the cushions, Da Bing shifting in his sleep beside her. Because he was calling. Because she'd said yes. Because they weren't hiding anymore. And somewhere across the city, a very powerful, very dramatic Madam Lu was about to receive the phone call of a lifetime.
That Night – Lu Residence, Shenzhen
Madam Lu was halfway through organizing her invitation list for an exclusive women's charity luncheon—something elegant and quiet, which of course translated to a casually orchestrated networking event that would change lives and careers overnight. She was sipping wine. Reviewing names. Her phone rang. She glanced down.
Yue.
Madam Lu arched a perfectly shaped brow. She answered on the third ring. "If you're calling to get out of the family banquet next weekend, you—"
"Ma."
The voice was calm. But it was his voice. His serious one. She sat up straighter. "What is it?"
There was a pause.
Then—
"I'm going public about Yao."
Silence.
Her glass hit the table with a soft thud. Then came the inhale. Sharp. Precise. Followed by the gasp. The gasp.
"You—you're announcing?! Now?!" she shrieked, already standing. "Why wasn't I warned?! I don't have anything prepped! What's the photo situation? I don't even have a florist on call right now!"
Yue sighed. "Ma, it's not a wedding—"
"I'll be the judge of that."
"She agreed to let it go public—"
"Public? No. No. We're not just letting it leak. We're going to debut her properly. You're lucky I don't still own that studio I used to use for formal press portraits or I'd have the two of you styled and photographed by noon."
"Ma."
"I'll handle the wording. I already know which side of the Lu family crest her pendant faced in the last photo. I'll draft a formal statement and you'll post exactly what I send. Do not edit. Not even the punctuation."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yue rubbed his temple. "Do you want me to just send you the login at this point?"
"I already have it."
Yue paused. "What."
Madam Lu cleared her throat. "I said nothing." Then, "I'm so proud of you, baby."
Yue froze.
Because that—that—wasn't sarcasm.
"I mean it," she said, her voice softening. "You chose well. You took your time. And she... she's exactly who I'd hoped for."
He didn't speak for a moment. Then, "Thanks, Ma."
"I'm calling the media contacts now. Don't screw this up by trying to be subtle."
Click.
Yue stared at the phone. "She's already posted it, hasn't she?"
The Next Morning – Social Media, Nationwide
The post hit the top of trending before most people had finished their first cup of coffee.
A sleek, professionally edited photo—no doubt selected from some secret collection Madam Lu had prepared for just this moment.
Yao stood in profile, half-lit in warm light, the Lu Crest necklace clearly visible around her throat. Below it, Yue stood just behind her, chin resting near her temple, his eyes half-lidded in quiet affection as their hands entwined at her waist.
The caption read: "My son has chosen. And I am delighted to finally share her with the world." #LuFamilyAnnouncement #IntentConfirmed #SmilingRevealed #ZGDX_Lv
The internet detonated.
Fans screamed. Posts exploded. Edits and fancams flooded the tags.
And at the ZGDX base?
Yue walked into the lounge with the calm of a man who knew he had just set the world on fire.
Everyone was already staring at their phones.
Pang looked up, slack-jawed. "Bro."
Lao Mao stood up. "I thought it was just a post. This is a campaign."
Lao K smirked. "This is a royal engagement with weaponized lighting."
Even Rui looked faintly shaken. "There's press kits circulating. With branded headers."
Yue sat on the couch, legs crossed, and pulled his phone out again.
Sicheng passed behind him with a cup of coffee. "Mom did it?" he asked dryly.
Yue lifted his phone. "Full tactical rollout."
Sicheng gave a faint nod. "Good," he said, walking off. "At least this time the chaos is beautiful."
The doors to the ZGDX base swung open mid-afternoon, the team scattered between review screens, post-lunch recovery, and the kind of quiet scrolling that followed internet infamy. Most of them were still trying to pretend that Yue's relationship going public hadn't completely thrown them off balance.
The sound of heels clicking. Confident. Measured. And the unmistakable tone of a woman not talking on the phone. No. Snarking. "No, Ai Jia, I'm not going to apologize for 'breaking your expectations.' Maybe if you'd updated them from five years ago, you wouldn't be so scandalized."
Yao stepped into the lounge like a storm wrapped in elegance, black slacks hugging her hips, a soft olive-green top under her open cream coat, her silver necklace resting neatly at her collarbone, the Lu Crest glinting like a signature. She didn't look angry. She looked annoyed. "Why Yue?" she snapped into the phone, then snorted. "Because he's mine. Because he treats me like I'm made of fire and not something breakable. And because—brace yourself—he asked me first, and showed up. Wild concept, I know."
Every single ZGDX player froze.
Lao Mao's protein bar halfway to his mouth. Pang halfway into a mid-stretch collapse on the couch. Lao K blinked once and leaned back to enjoy the unfolding show.
Sicheng muttered under his breath, "She brought heat."
But she wasn't done.
"No, Ai Jia," Yao continued darkly, "you don't get to ask why it's serious now. He's my first boyfriend. I wear his crest. Which means I'm not just dating him. I'm his Intended. And it's going to stay that way until we tie the damn knot."
Yue stepped out from the hallway just in time to see the tail end of her entrance. His brows lifted. "She's already yelling at Ai Jia?"
Ming, walking behind him, muttered, "I give it thirty seconds before she brings up the date."
And right on cue, "I told you," Yao snapped into the phone, "Jinyang was going to dump you again if you ghosted that dinner. You swore you'd set a reminder." She paused. Then narrowed her eyes at nothing. "You forgot again?! Ai Jia!"
Even through the phone, his strangled protest was audible.
Yao rolled her eyes and ended the call mid-ramble, sliding her phone into her coat pocket before glancing around the now utterly frozen room. She raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Yue smiled. Soft. Dangerous. Proud. Then, without hesitation, he crossed the room, slid his arms around her waist, and pressed a slow kiss to her temple before murmuring against her ear, "You're home."
Yao rolled her eyes but smiled as her hands curled into his hoodie. "Tell your teammates to stop staring like I walked in with a bazooka."
Pang immediately scrambled. "I wasn't staring, I was breathing!"
Lao K smirked. "You're terrifying. I like it."
And from behind them, Rui muttered, "I need a vacation."
Yue just held her tighter, smiling like nothing in the world had ever been more perfectly his.
The room was still reeling from Yao's verbal takedown of Ai Jia and the revelation of her "Intended" status when Lao Mao, who had been quietly chewing the end of a protein bar, suddenly froze mid-bite. His eyes widened. His hand dropped slowly. He turned, staring at her like someone who had just realized gravity was optional. "Wait."
Everyone glanced at him.
Lao Mao pointed at Yao with the slow, trembling precision of a man attempting to confirm something incomprehensible. "Yue is… your first boyfriend?"
Yao, still tucked comfortably against Yue's side, blinked. Then shrugged. "Yes."
The room exploded.
Pang nearly fell off the couch. "WHAT?!"
Rui actually dropped his tablet. "First?!"
Sicheng's brow twitched, and even he looked mildly uncomposed.
Lao Mao just kept blinking. "You're telling me no one else ever even—like—not even a little—?"
Yao tilted her head, her tone calm and almost too casual. "I had no interest in guys before him." Yue's chest puffed a little—not that he'd admit it—but his smirk said everything. "And," Yao continued coolly, "even if I had..." She shifted her eyes toward Ming, who had just sat down at the corner of the room with his thermos, unbothered as always. "No one would survive Ming."
The entire base went silent.
Dead.
Silent.
Ming took a sip from his tea and glanced over without blinking. "I don't believe I've ever threatened anyone," he said mildly.
Yao arched an eyebrow. "You don't have to. You breathe near someone and their soul leaves their body in self-defense."
Ming said nothing but didn't deny it.
Lao Mao slumped onto the couch, muttering to himself. "She's gorgeous, brilliant, can eviscerate midlane rotations and rival top surgeons... and Yue was her first crush?! I feel like we just lost a national treasure."
"Correction," Yue said smoothly, pressing a kiss to the side of Yao's head. "She's not lost. She's mine."
And from where he stood in the doorway, Sicheng muttered under his breath: "He's never been more smug in his entire life."
The practice facility was buzzing, filled with the low thrum of keyboards, the occasional sharp call-out from scrim leads, and the occasional clatter of boba cups being set down too hard on tabletops. ZGDX and YQCB had been paired for a joint practice block—a full-day scrim session followed by tactical debriefs and group analysis. Which meant, inevitably, both teams were now sharing the lounge between rounds.
Yue, leaning back on the couch with his usual infuriating ease, scrolled casually through his phone while sipping his drink. He looked relaxed. But the Lu Crest necklace that matched the one Yao wore rested visibly around his throat, and everyone had seen the announcement. Everyone.
The YQCB team?
They couldn't stop staring.
Ai Jia, already roasted by Yao days ago and still recovering from his entire inbox being flamed by Jinyang, was the quietest he'd been in years. Liang Sheng said nothing. Just narrowed his eyes occasionally as though trying to solve some impossible riddle only Yue seemed to have cracked.
X-Bang, however?
X-Bang had no such filter. He leaned against the back of a chair, glancing toward Yue, eyes glittering with amusement—and maybe just enough recklessness to make the mistake. "So let me get this straight," he said, voice loud enough for both teams to hear. "You? You landed Yu Yao? Surgeon, Midlaner, Smiling herself, Ming's little sister?"
Yue didn't look up. "That's the gist."
"And Madam Lu likes her?"
Yue smirked faintly. "She's planning the wedding in her sleep."
X-Bang gave a long, low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Well damn," he said with a chuckle. "If it doesn't work out, maybe I should give it a try—"
The room froze. It didn't happen in stages. It stopped. Instantly. Because of the voice that cut across the room like a blade made of ice.
"If you finish that sentence," Sicheng said quietly, "you'll find out just how quickly you can lose teeth in front of a crowd."
Everyone turned.
Slowly.
Sicheng hadn't raised his voice. He hadn't even stood up from where he leaned, arms folded, against the far wall near the whiteboard. But his eyes… those amber eyes locked onto X-Bang with a weight that crushed the air flat.
X-Bang blinked. "Whoa, I was kidding, relax—"
Sicheng didn't blink. Didn't move. "Joke or not," he said, each word cold and clean, "you don't talk about her like that."
Liang Sheng sat up straighter.
Ai Jia slid slightly behind him like a man trying to avoid shrapnel.
X-Bang raised his hands. "Alright, alright. Message received."
Yue finally looked up from his phone, slow and dangerous. He didn't smile. He didn't need to. The room had already understood.
And Sicheng?
He pushed off the wall, stepped past X-Bang without even a glance, and said one last thing as he moved toward the exit, "She's not just Yue's Intended." A beat. "She's family." And the door closed softly behind him. No slam. No echo. Just finality.
The room remained uncharacteristically subdued. The second Sicheng walked out, so did most of the breath in the room. No one dared to speak, not immediately.
Yue stood, stretched with calculated calm, and casually walked over to the now-silent YQCB side like a man doing a routine checkup before an earthquake. He stopped right in front of X-Bang. Lifted his water bottle. Tilted it slowly. "You know," he said with a voice light as air but soaked in warning, "I usually don't care when people talk stupid."
X-Bang glanced up, visibly uncomfortable now. "Look, I said it was a joke—"
"And we let it be one," Yue replied easily. "Because he stepped in first." He nodded toward the door Sicheng had exited through. "But don't think for one second I wasn't right behind him." A long silence. Then Yue added with a small smile, not smug, just quiet and cutting, "She's my Intended. Not my possession. But I will defend what's mine." And with that, he turned on his heel and strolled back toward the ZGDX side, dropping onto the couch like nothing had happened.
But X-Bang didn't speak again. Not for the rest of the afternoon.
The air had settled again by the time the outer doors opened—and in walked her.
Yu Yao. Her hair was loosely braided, a comfortable sweater draped over slim black joggers, a med bag still slung over her shoulder from the hospital. She looked tired—but the kind of tired that didn't diminish her presence. If anything, it amplified it.
Yue was the first to spot her and stood instantly, reaching out for her hand like it was instinct. She took it without question, letting him tug her gently into his side. "Bad day?" he asked softly.
She nodded. "Two surgeries, back to back. Three hours of traffic. And Ai Jia left seven messages asking if you were going to kill X-Bang."
Yue smirked. "Tempting. But no."
She arched a brow. "Okay... what happened?"
Yue kissed the top of her head. "Nothing you need to worry about."
"Lu Yue—"
Before she could press, Lao K appeared from the side hallway, pausing with a water bottle in hand and his usual unreadable expression set firmly in place. "Yao."
She turned. "Hmm?"
"Don't let him kid you."
She blinked. "About?"
Lao K leaned casually against the counter and nodded toward Yue. "Your boyfriend didn't speak first."
Yao looked between them.
Lao K added, voice calm, almost quiet, "It was Sicheng."
Yao blinked. "Sicheng?"
"He was the one who stepped in," Lao K said. "X-Bang made a joke. Crossed a line. Yue didn't even need to move. Because Cheng made sure that whole room knew one thing before anyone else could breathe." A pause. "You're family."
Yao's breath caught, just slightly and she looked toward the door, where Sicheng had disappeared hours earlier.
Lu Sicheng sat alone in the kitchen, one hand lazily spinning a half-full glass of water on the counter, the other resting against his chin. The lights above were dim, casting long shadows across the empty table. His eyes were distant, fixed somewhere between memory and thought, like he hadn't quite come back down from the weight of the day. He didn't hear her approach. Not at first. But then, soft footsteps. Measured. Unrushed. Then the quiet click of the door frame as she leaned gently into it. He didn't look up immediately. He didn't need to.
"Lu Sicheng," Yao said softly. And that was what made him glance up, because she never used his full name unless she meant it. She stepped inside the kitchen, slow, quiet, her presence unobtrusive but undeniable. She wasn't dressed for attention. No jewelry, no dramatic color. Just a long, pale sweater that dipped slightly off one shoulder and black joggers cuffed neatly above her ankles. She looked comfortable. Soft. Real. He sat up a little straighter, but said nothing. Yao stopped a few feet away, her hands lightly folded in front of her. "I heard what you did today," she said quietly. "With X-Bang."
Sicheng's eyes flicked to her collar, where the Lu Crest glinted faintly beneath the neckline of her sweater. "And?" he asked, voice even, unreadable.
She looked at him than, not sharp, not tense. Just… open. "Thank you."
He exhaled slowly through his nose, leaning back in the chair like he wasn't sure how to sit still under the weight of it. "You didn't need to say that."
"I do." she said softly.
Sicheng watched her for a long time. No commentary. No teasing. No smirk. Just watching. And for the first time, really looking. Not at her stats. Not her gameplay. Her. The way she held herself without apology. The way she spoke softly but struck deeply. The way she managed to be the fiercest thing in any room without ever raising her voice. And the way his brother looked at her now made so much sense. Because she wasn't just brilliant. She was steady. Sharp. And utterly, irrevocably, his. "You love him?" he asked quietly.
There was no hesitation.
"Yes."
That single word wrapped around the room like a ribbon, sealed with something that didn't need proof.
Sicheng's fingers curled slightly against the glass. He nodded once. Then, in a voice lower than usual, more honest than anyone ever got from him, he murmured, "You're going to wreck him."
Yao tilted her head, confused for half a second.
But he smiled then. Barely. Tired. A little in awe. "And he'll never recover from it. Good."
She blinked and for the first time, a flush touched her cheeks.
"Don't let him take it for granted," Sicheng added. "Not even once."
"I won't let myself be taken for granted," she said softly.
That made him smirk, just a little. "Yeah," he said. "You wouldn't." He looked at her than, not like someone he'd lost. But like someone he respected and maybe, someday, could belong to as family. "You're everything he needed," he said quietly. "Even if none of us saw it coming."
Yao stepped closer, just enough to rest her hand on his forearm, light, but steady. "Neither did I," she said. And then, with a soft smile, she turned and walked away.
Leaving Sicheng alone in the quiet kitchen. Still staring at the door she'd just passed through and thinking, not for the last time, "My damn little brother is the luckiest man alive."
The emergency department of the hospital was, as expected, controlled chaos. The front desk was busy, the monitors were beeping, and the tension in the air came standard. But the ZGDX boys—Pang, Lao Mao, Lao K, and even Sicheng—had never actually seen Yao at work. Yue had stayed quiet when they'd asked about it, only saying, "She's different there."
They thought he meant serious. Professional. Not this. The double doors into the ER slid open just as they stepped inside. And the first thing they saw….
Was her.
Yu Yao.
Not in a lab coat. Not standing calmly with a chart. But moving like a force of nature. Her hair was pulled back in a high, tight ponytail, loose strands sticking slightly to her sweat-slicked neck, and her scrubs were partially unzipped at the collar where a faint red mark traced down the side of her neck. In the middle of the ER hallway, a man was screaming, wild, erratic, tearing at the sleeves of his shirt and thrashing with enough strength to shove two orderlies off him as he surged toward the nearest nurse.
Yao didn't hesitate. She moved. Fast. She stepped forward, pivoted, and flipped the man over her shoulder with a clean, practiced throw that slammed him hard to the ground. Before he could lurch again, another attending dropped beside her, grabbing for his legs as Yao dropped to one knee, hand pressed to his upper chest, knee driving into his sternum to pin him flat to the floor. "Nurse!" she barked, voice sharp and commanding. "Syringe, now! Knock him out!"
A nurse slid in from the side, injecting him in the neck with clean precision as Yao held the man immobile with the strength and focus of someone who'd done this before. The patient finally went limp. Breathing erratic.
Yao didn't move. She kept her hand steady on his chest until the nurse gave her the nod that vitals were stable. And then she looked up. Right into the stunned, slack-jawed faces of four grown men who'd just walked into a war zone and seen their friend, their teammate, their brother's Intended take someone twice her size to the floor without breaking a sweat. Pang's jaw dropped. Lao Mao blinked like he was watching a drama scene live. Lao K raised a single brow.
And Sicheng?
Sicheng just muttered, "Holy shit."
Yue, standing beside them with a cup of coffee, took one long, unbothered sip and said dryly, "Told you she was different here."
Yao finally stood, tugging down her sleeves and exhaling slowly as the man was rolled onto a gurney. Her eyes found them across the room. She tilted her head. "Hi," she said, like nothing had happened. "You're early."
Pang still hadn't found words.
Mao leaned toward Yue and whispered, "...Are you sure she's not in the military?"
Yue smiled. "Oh, I'm sure."
Yao pulled off her gloves and gestured toward the hallway. "Give me five minutes to wash up and sign the incident report. Then you can follow me upstairs, unless one of you needs the E.R."
"Mentally, yes," Pang muttered.
She was already gone.
And behind them, as they turned to each other, eyes wide and still stunned, Lao K exhaled the quiet truth none of them had voiced yet: "She doesn't need Yue to protect her."
Sicheng, lips twitching with something that almost looked like respect, added, "But God help anyone who ever thinks he doesn't need to protect her."
The elevator ride to the third floor was eerily quiet.
Pang still hadn't fully recovered. "She flipped him like a ragdoll."
"I'm still trying to figure out how she didn't dislocate his shoulder," Lao Mao muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
"She didn't because she was careful," Lao K replied, calm as ever. "She calculated the rotation before she even moved."
Yue, standing at the front with one hand tucked in his hoodie pocket, didn't say much.
He didn't need to.
He just looked satisfied.
The elevator doors slid open and the hallway they stepped into felt like an entirely different world from the emergency room below—clean, quiet, serene. The sign on the door ahead read:
Dr. Yu Yao, MD, Trauma Surgery & Emergency Medicine
The secretary at the front smiled at them and waved them through. "She's expecting you."
When they stepped into her office, it was like the static from the ER had never existed.
Yao was behind her desk, white coat now resting over the back of her chair, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her hair rebraided neatly, a fresh chart open in front of her. Her desk was orderly—no clutter, just one coffee mug, a glass of water, and a small framed photo of Da Bing wearing a surgical cap with extreme displeasure. She looked up as they entered and smiled. It wasn't performative. It was hers. "Come in. Door closes behind you, Pang."
Pang fumbled. "Y-Yeah. Got it."
They filed in awkwardly, standing at first, until Yao nodded toward the small couch across from her desk.
"You can sit. I'm not going to throw anyone. Unless you reach for the wrong drawer."
That earned a weak laugh from Pang. The others just sat, carefully.
Yao glanced down, signed one last note, and closed the chart with a soft click before folding her hands over it. "What you saw down there," she began, her voice calm, even, "wasn't special."
Lao Mao let out a strangled noise. "That was not normal."
Yao raised a brow. "It is here. People come in high, desperate, scared, drugged, bleeding, half-conscious. You don't always have the luxury of language." Her eyes dropped briefly to her hands, clean now, fingers relaxed, not shaking. "You learn to act before someone gets hurt. That's the adrenaline." She looked up again. "But I don't do it for the thrill. I do it because if I don't, someone dies. That man could've hurt a nurse. Could've run. Could've slammed headfirst into a wall and killed himself before we could stop him." She didn't flinch. "This isn't just medicine. It's triage. It's timing. You don't rise to the moment. You control it. Or you lose everything." A long, heavy pause. Then she leaned back slightly in her chair, softer now. "But it's not all like that. Sometimes it's just helping someone stand again. Sometimes it's holding the hand of someone who won't. It's not all blood and bruises." She looked at Yue then. "And it's not about being strong." She turned her gaze back to the others. "It's about not walking away."
No one spoke.
Until Pang let out a long, shaky breath. "I think I need to go lie down."
"Not in the O.R.." Yao said without missing a beat.
Even Yue laughed.
Yao gave them a small smile, still tired, still human, but herself in a way they were only just starting to understand.
And as they stood to leave, Lao K stayed behind a half-step, then said, voice quiet and sure, "You were born for this."
Yao nodded once. "Yeah," she said. "I was." And when she glanced over to Yue, who had said nothing the entire time but whose gaze never once left her, her expression softened again. "But I chose him."
Yao walked them back down through the halls after their visit, one hand tucked loosely into Yue's hoodie pocket, her posture easy but her eyes sharp—glancing over every nurse, intern, and doorway they passed. The team had mostly recovered from their shock, and Pang had regained the use of words, if not his full motor function. "I still think you used some judo demon magic down there," he muttered.
Yao didn't answer. Because she had just seen him. From halfway down the hall. And she groaned internally. Out loud? She said nothing. But her spine stiffened. And Yue felt it.
"Yao?"
"Don't react," she said flatly. "Just... try not to make a scene. And if someone does get hurt, let's all pretend it wasn't premeditated."
Lao Mao blinked. "Wait, what—?"
That's when he appeared. The Head of Neurosurgery. Dr. Li Wen Zhao. Late thirties—closer to forty now—dressed down in high-end casual slacks and a blazer with the smugness of someone who thought a Rolex and a specialty title gave him immunity from rejection. And he was heading straight for them.
Yao muttered under her breath, "God, please no."
"Yao," the man said smoothly, grinning far too wide for 3:00 in the afternoon, "what a surprise. I didn't expect to see you in the ER today. You're usually up in surgical recovery at this hour."
She offered a perfectly neutral smile, the kind that said leave, or I might accidentally commit a felony in front of my teammates. "Rotation coverage," she said. "Trauma overflow. Just wrapped up."
"Of course," he said, eyes raking too casually over the group. "And who do we have here?"
Yao didn't answer.
Yue did. "Her boyfriend."
Dr. Li blinked. "Boyfriend?"
Yue stepped forward. Didn't raise his voice. Didn't change his smile. But something in the air dropped a degree colder as he added, "Her Intended."
Li's smile faltered.
Just slightly.
And Yue, who had never met this arrogant, smooth-talking toerag in his life, tilted his head just a fraction to the side. "I've heard about you."
Yao sighed under her breath.
Here we go.
Dr. Li raised a brow. "Have you?"
Sicheng stepped forward next, crossing his arms. He wasn't smiling. And his voice was quiet when it came, but no less cutting. "Unfortunately."
Li glanced between them. "Didn't know she needed this much backup."
"She doesn't," Sicheng said flatly. "That's why we're here."
Li chuckled nervously and looked to Yao, who was giving him the dead-eyed expression of doom. "Well," he said, "I should let you all go then. Always nice to see you, Yao."
"You really should," Yue muttered.
And with one last half-hearted smile, Dr. Li walked off, shoulders a little tighter than when he came.
Yao turned slowly, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "I hate when he does that."
"How long has he been bothering you?" Yue asked, voice tight now.
"Two years," she said. "He's charming until you say no. Then he thinks being head of neuro entitles him to a second chance."
"You would have been 20 when he first started! He's in his late thirties, almost forties," Pang hissed. "He is almost 20 years older than you."
Sicheng's eyes were narrowed. "One more stunt like that, and I'll report him myself. I know the hospital chairwoman."
Yue said nothing. He didn't need to. He just took her hand again. Gripped it. And didn't let go until they were out the door. Because while Yao could handle herself? She shouldn't have to. Not when she had them.
Six months of calm, of fire and tenderness, of love that had been growing into something unshakable... and now, it's Yue's world that stops. The call isn't from her. It's not gentle. It's not planned. It's the kind that yanks the breath from your lungs before the words even finish landing.
It was a crisp, late morning.
Yue was at the base, stretched out across the team lounge couch in his usual loose hoodie, scrolling through a match replay while absently sipping lukewarm coffee. Around him, the others were in their usual rhythms—Pang arguing about snack rotations, Lao Mao working out quietly with resistance bands, Rui muttering about broken spreadsheets. The day was normal.
Until his phone rang. Not her ringtone. Not Yao. Just a number. Unknown.
Yue hesitated for a split second, then answered with his usual laziness half-loaded in his voice. "Yeah?"
"Is this Lu Yue?" The voice was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that's practiced, trained, clinical.
"Speaking." he said, sitting up straighter now.
"This is Dr. Jian from City General. You're listed as the emergency contact for Dr. Yu Yao."
His heart dropped. The silence in his chest was instant, deafening. "Yes," he said, voice already tightening. "I'm her Intended."
There was a pause.
"She's currently in surgery. She sustained a gunshot wound earlier this morning during a confrontation in the outpatient wing. She was assisting a discharge consult when a male patient—whose wife passed during surgery two days ago—returned with a firearm."
Yue's blood ran cold. "She what?"
"She intervened to protect a colleague. The bullet struck her in the abdomen. She lost a significant amount of blood on site but was stabilized quickly. She's in surgery now. We'll update you as soon as she's out of the OR."
The call disconnected.
Yue didn't move. Didn't speak. He stared at nothing. And than the coffee cup fell from his hand.
Shattered.
Pang flinched. "Dude—?"
Yue stood. The others looked up, startled by the sharpness in his movement, the silence wrapped around him like barbed wire. "Yao," he said hoarsely, "was shot."
The room went still.
Sicheng dropped the pen he'd been holding. "What?"
Yue's eyes were already rimmed with heat. But his face was stone. "She's in surgery now. She was protecting someone. Some bastard came back after his wife died on her table and shot her."
Lao Mao swore. Pang went pale.
Rui was already grabbing his keys. "I'll drive."
Yue didn't argue. He just moved. Out the door. Out of breath. Out of control. But the only thing in his mind, the only thing in his soul, was her.
City General Hospital – Emergency Surgery Floor
1:44 PM
The waiting room felt too small. Too quiet. Too sterile. The hum of the fluorescent lights above buzzed like static in Yue's skull. He sat in one of the worn, pale-blue chairs near the front window, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands. He hadn't moved in thirty minutes. Not since they'd arrived. Not since the nurse confirmed she was still in surgery. He was still wearing his base hoodie.
Around him, ZGDX occupied the room like soldiers waiting for a war they couldn't fight. Pang hadn't stopped pacing since they arrived. Lao Mao sat in a corner with his fists pressed to his forehead, muttering under his breath like prayer. Lao K stood, still and silent, by the window.
And Ming—
Ming hadn't said a word. He'd sat for the first five minutes, then stood. Then paced. Then vanished for ten. When he returned, he was pale with fury. And now? Now he stood by the door to the surgical wing, breathing slow and shallow like a man trying not to break.
Lao K followed him. Matched his pace. Grabbed his arm just as he turned, eyes sharp, jaw clenched. "Ming," he said low. "You can't."
"He shot her," Ming hissed, voice cold. Too cold. "My baby sister. The one I raised. The one I swore would never get hurt like this."
"I know."
"No, you don't," Ming snapped, turning on him. "You don't know what it's like to see her smiling last night and bleeding out this morning."
"I know what it's like to want to kill for someone you love."
Ming stilled.
Lao K stepped forward, lowering his voice further, grounding them both. "She's still in surgery. That's where you need to be. Not in some interrogation room getting arrested for doing what every one of us wants to do."
Ming's fists trembled. But he didn't move.
The doors burst open as Madam Lu entered the waiting room like a storm wrapped in silk. Dark red coat. Designer gloves. Face carved from polished stone and rage. Not the loud kind. The kind that could reorder the world. Her eyes swept the room. Landed on Yue. She crossed the space and dropped to her knees in front of him before anyone could stop her. He looked up. And she reached forward, cupped his face in her hands, and whispered, "She's stronger than this."
Yue broke. Not with noise. Just with the shaking inhale of a man trying so hard to hold the weight of the world together. "Ma," he whispered. "I couldn't stop it."
Madam Lu's eyes burned. "You will hold her when she wakes up. Do you hear me, my son? You will tell her she is still yours. Because if she wakes and you're not here—if you let grief chase you out—I will never forgive you."
Yue's hands gripped hers like a lifeline.
And from behind them, Ming's voice cracked out like a blade, "If she wakes up?"
Madam Lu rose slowly and turned. "No," she said. "When. Because Yu Yao doesn't die in surgery rooms." She looked at Ming. "Not unless the rest of the world wants to follow her."
And with that, the room stayed frozen in time. Waiting. Praying. Bleeding in silence. All for the girl who'd made herself everything and was now fighting to come back.
City General Hospital – Parking Garage, Sublevel B
2:02 PM
Sicheng hadn't said much since arriving. Not in the waiting room. Not in the car. But the moment Madam Lu arrived—wrapped in steel and grief—and Yue shattered like glass behind his eyes?
Something in him snapped and it didn't make noise. It didn't need to. He slipped away in the chaos, down to the cold belly of the hospital garage, the soft click of his shoes echoing against the concrete. He walked to the farthest corner, where cameras didn't reach and reception only cracked if you didn't know the right signal strength. He pulled out his phone. Dialed. No hesitation. No expression.
The call connected on the third ring. A deep voice answered. "Lu shàozǐ." The honorific hit like steel— Young Master Lu.
Sicheng didn't waste time. "Find the man who shot Yu Yao," he said, voice flat and quiet. The other end fell completely silent. "He's alive," Sicheng continued. "Fix that."
Still no reply. Just breath. Then: "Confirmed. Do you want noise or silence?"
"Silence," Sicheng said coldly. "Make sure it doesn't come back to me or my brother."
A pause.
Then: "Should it be painful?"
Sicheng didn't blink. "She was shot in the abdomen. Make it hurt." He hung up without waiting for a reply. Slipped the phone back into his pocket. And stood there for a moment, alone in the cold, dim-lit garage, his hands shaking from where they curled into fists at his sides. Not with fear. Not with helplessness. But with controlled rage. Because the man who pulled that trigger had not just hurt someone under the Lu family's protection. He had hurt her. And Lu Sicheng only offered mercy to those who hadn't made themselves a target. This man? Was already gone.
City General Hospital – Surgical Waiting Room
3:37 PM
The second hand on the wall clock ticked too loud. It had been ticking for three hours.
Pang had stopped pacing and was now sitting hunched forward, fingers laced in silent prayer. Lao Mao hadn't moved from his seat by the window, fists pressed against his knees so hard his knuckles had gone white. Lao K stood near the hallway, arms crossed, his eyes locked on the surgery wing's double doors with razor-edged stillness. Yue sat between them all. Unmoving. The Lu Crest around his neck hung low against his chest, warm from where he'd clutched it. His hands no longer shook. He wasn't breathing deeply. He was just there.
Waiting.
Beside him, Madam Lu sat with perfect posture, not a single thread of her coat out of place—but the tension in her jaw could have cracked marble.
Ming hadn't sat once. He stood with his arms folded near the edge of the corridor, his gaze burning a hole into the floor like he was holding the world back with sheer restraint.
The air had gone thick.
Deadly.
Until—
The double doors pushed open. And the surgeon walked through. Everyone stood. As one.
Yue's legs nearly gave out beneath him, but he didn't fall. His hand gripped the chair beside him, eyes locked on the tall, dark-haired man in surgical scrubs, mask hanging loose at his collarbone, eyes marked by exhaustion and something heavier. He stepped forward. No clipboard. No hesitation. Just words.
"She made it."
The room breathed.
Madam Lu gasped softly, her hand flying to her mouth, eyes snapping shut as she exhaled with a choked breath. Pang dropped into the nearest chair with a sound between sob and laughter. Lao Mao released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Lao K's head bowed slightly, silent gratitude etched across his features. Ming's hands unclenched.
Yue?
Yue didn't move. Not until the next words.
"The bullet passed low through her abdomen—clean entry, clean exit, but it nicked an artery. We controlled the bleed. She'll need rest. Time. She's not out of the woods, but she's awake."
"She's awake?" Yue whispered, the word breaking at the edge.
The doctor nodded. "She's asking for you."
He was gone before they could blink.
City General Hospital – ICU, Recovery Room 3
3:49 PM
The hallway outside her room felt like it stretched forever. Yue didn't remember how he got there. Only that his hand slammed the door open, breath catching in his chest so hard it almost dropped him. And there she was. Lying still. Hooked to monitors. IV in one arm. Bandages wrapped snug around her midsection. Her hair was mussed and dry against the pillow, and her lips were pale but her eyes were open.
Barely.
But open.
And they found him first.
Yue stumbled forward before he could even breathe her name, all the strength that had carried him through the waiting room now crumbling at the sight of her.
She smiled. Small. Weak. But real. "You're slow," she whispered, voice rough, raw. "I've been waiting."
He choked on a laugh that nearly broke into a sob, dropped into the chair beside her, then straight into her hand, clutching it like he'd spent years lost at sea. "I thought I lost you," he whispered, voice wrecked. "You can't—you can't do that to me—"
"You didn't." Her fingers, thin and trembling, curled tighter around his.
He pressed her hand to his mouth, eyes squeezed shut, tears streaking freely down his face. "You're here," he whispered. "God, you're here."
She blinked slowly. "Told you... you're stuck with me."
He laughed again, shaking, pressing a kiss to the back of her knuckles, then her wrist, then her hand again, over and over like maybe if he kissed her enough she wouldn't disappear. "You saved someone," he said, voice shaking.
She smiled faintly. "Of course I did."
He leaned closer, cupping the side of her face with shaking fingers."I'm going to marry you," he said quietly, urgently. "We're not waiting anymore. The second you're strong enough, we're doing it. No more steps."
Her eyes filled. "Promise?"
He bent his head to hers, forehead resting gently against hers as his tears landed in her hair. "Promise," he whispered.
The room was quiet now. The hum of monitors steady. The slow beep of her heart rhythm soft and sure. A pale glow spilled across the floor from a single corner lamp, dimmed low, casting soft shadows across pale walls and folded linens.
Yu Yao slept. Peacefully, this time. Her breaths even. Her bandaged side rising and falling in calm rhythm, IV lines flowing slowly into her arm. The machines near her bed blinked in silence. No alarms. No warnings. Beside her, Yue sat slumped in the cushioned visitor chair—still in the same clothes he'd worn when he arrived, his hoodie wrinkled and pushed up to his elbows, his head tilted forward slightly, chin to his chest. His fingers were still curled around hers. Even in sleep, he wouldn't let go. One foot still half-braced against the edge of the bed like it tethered him there. The other hand rested over her wrist as if to remind himself—she's here.
Across the room, near the small window that overlooked the quiet city, sat Lu Sicheng. Still dressed in black. Still composed. But not cold. Not anymore. His eyes had never left them. He sat with one ankle crossed over the other, elbows resting on the arms of the chair, hands lightly folded, silent as stone, but very much present.
And in the doorway behind him, soft footsteps approached.
Lu Wang Lan. Wrapped in a dark silk shawl, her heels silent on the tile. She didn't knock. Didn't speak. She simply stepped inside and stood by the door, watching. Her gaze landed first on Yao. Then on Yue. Then, finally, on her eldest.
Sicheng didn't look up. But he felt her.
She walked further in, slow, deliberate, and came to stand beside him, arms crossing as she watched her youngest son sleeping with his fingers laced so tightly around the girl he nearly lost. "He's not going to leave her," she said softly.
"No," Sicheng replied, voice just above a whisper. "He never would've."
"And you?"
Sicheng's eyes didn't move from the bed. "I'm not leaving either."
Her gaze flicked down to him. "To watch her?"
He shook his head once, finally turning to meet her eyes. "To watch them."
Something flickered in Madam Lu's expression then—pride, grief, awe. "He's not a child anymore," she murmured.
Sicheng's voice stayed low. "No. But when he almost lost her… he became a man."
Lan looked back at her youngest. Then at the girl he held onto like she was his last breath. "She's stronger than she looks," she whispered.
Sicheng nodded. "Stronger than anyone I've ever met."
There was a pause.
Madam Lu didn't sit. She stood near the edge of the room, her arms loosely folded across her chest, her gaze still fixed on Yue—on the way his head remained bowed, fingers never once letting go of the hand resting so still in his.
Yao slept soundly. Her face was calm, her body finally at rest, the pain managed. But it was the scene itself that Lan saw most clearly: the boy she'd raised grown into something whole, something fierce, something completely devoted. And sitting in the shadow just beyond them? Her eldest. The silent one. The colder one. The one she trusted when things had to get done. She turned her head slowly toward him.
Sicheng was still watching them. He hadn't blinked in minutes.
Lan studied him for a long moment. Then murmured, almost casually: "I assume... it's been handled."
His response was slow. Measured. But immediate. "Yes." No elaboration. No detail. Just a single word soaked in certainty.
Lan nodded once. "Good." She didn't ask for more. Because she didn't need to know how. Only that it was done. But as her gaze lingered on her eldest son a moment longer, her lips parted like she might say something else. Something quieter. And then she saw it. That subtle flicker in his eyes. The faint shift of his expression when his gaze dropped back to Yao. It wasn't envy. It wasn't longing. It was fondness. Adoration. The kind that had crept in over time, quiet and unspoken, without ever challenging what was already there between Yao and Yue—but deeply felt all the same. And Lan, sharp-eyed as ever, noticed it instantly. She said nothing. Because she didn't need to. Not to him. Not tonight. But she let her hand rest lightly on his shoulder as she passed, fingers brushing over his jacket with the weight of something gentle. Something rare. "You're still watching over them," she said quietly.
"I always will," he murmured.
And she paused just long enough to murmur back, "I know." Then she stepped toward the window, letting the quiet wrap back around them all like a blanket, as Yue remained sleeping with his hand in Yao's, and Sicheng kept his silent, steady vigil from the shadows. Watching. Guarding. Feeling. Because not all love is loud. Some is made of stone and silence. And some—like his—never needs to be named to be known.
Lu Manor – Early Winter Afternoon, Years Later
The sun poured golden light through the tall windows of the Lu family estate, filtering through sheer curtains that fluttered slightly in the breeze. The scent of spiced tea and warm pastries drifted through the air, layered beneath the deeper aroma of red braised pork coming from the kitchen. The living room was full. Not with guests. But with family.
Yue sat cross-legged on the carpet, a tiny girl with a waterfall of glossy black hair in his lap, her fingers tugging at the ends of his hoodie. Five years old and already sharp-eyed, Yue's daughter—Yue Zhen—tilted her head up with that look that only her mother wore better. "Bàba," she said seriously, "Uncle Pang said he's better at puzzles than you."
From the couch, Pang yelped through a mouthful of sesame buns. "I did not!"
"Yes, you did," Zhen said with the perfect calm of her mother. "You said you finished one in less time."
"Traitor," Pang muttered.
On the nearby chaise, three-year-old Lu Zhihao—messy-haired, half-asleep, and clutching a bunny plush—had draped himself across Yao's lap like he owned the world. His chubby arms curled tightly around her waist as she leaned over, brushing his hair back with one hand while sipping tea with the other.
Yao laughed softly. "That puzzle was ten pieces, Pang. Zhen's was seventy."
Yue beamed. "I make exceptional children."
"Correction," Yao murmured. "I made exceptional children. You just provided the very smug genes."
Across the room, Madam Lu sat in her favorite chair, arms folded, expression proud. She didn't interrupt. She didn't need to. Watching was enough. Lao Mao and his wife sat near the fireplace, quietly trading conversation about weekend plans. Lao K was bouncing his infant son in one arm while his husband passed him a bottle. Pang and Rui had staked out half the coffee table with snacks they claimed were for "the children," but had very little evidence to support that claim.
And in the chair beside the large window, where the sun warmed the dark hardwood floor in quiet golden streaks, Sicheng sat. A hardcover book lay across one knee, untouched. His eyes, as always, were not on the page. But on them. On Yue and Yao. On Zhen, now curled up between her parents, giggling softly. On Zhihao, who had kicked off a sock in his sleep and was drooling on his mother's lap. And he didn't smile.
But his hand—resting on the arm of the chair—lifted slightly when Zhen turned, reached for him, and called softly, "Gōnggōng, can you help me with my new storybook later?" It wasn't just a nickname. It was hers for him. No one else's. Because she had only one godfather. And she had chosen it the moment she could speak.
Yao's voice followed gently as she looked across the room. "You're the only one she trusts to read the long ones. I think that means you're stuck for life."
Sicheng met her eyes. There was no heat there. No ache. Just warmth. Depth. A friendship so fierce and iron-bound that Yue never questioned it. Never doubted it. Because his brother didn't need a ring to love her like family. And he didn't need a title to protect her like blood. "I'll read it." Sicheng said simply. And when Zhen smiled and buried her face into her Godfather's hoodie, Yao looked away—but not before he saw it. That tiny flicker in her eyes. The same one she'd worn back then—when she first chose him not as a lover, but as her guardian. Her shield. Her best friend. Sicheng looked down at the untouched book in his lap. Then to the children. To the life they'd built. To everything she had become. And for the first time in hours, maybe days… He smiled. Softly. To himself. Because he'd never wanted anything else. He never needed more than this. And in this room…. This house of laughter, protection, and names that meant something. He belonged. Always would. Even without love. Because he had something rarer. He had them and they were enough.
And in the end, it wasn't who held her heart that mattered most—
but who never once let it fall.