Summary: A quiet coffee shop, once Tong Yao's refuge from the chaos of ZGDX, becomes the stage for a confrontation she never expected. When a stranger's unwanted attention pushes her into discomfort, it is Lu Sicheng—sharp, cold, and unapologetically territorial—who appears like a blade drawn. With a single sentence, he cuts through the situation, placing himself firmly between her and any threat. What follows is more than just a rescue.
Chapter Seven
A week later, Yao found herself at the same quiet coffee shop where she had first been found by Sicheng. The familiar hum of soft chatter and the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as she sat near the back, tucked away in her usual secluded corner, her laptop open as she focused on her dissertation.
Da Bing was not with her this time, and without his usual looming presence, she felt smaller, more vulnerable. But she had work to do, and this was her space—one of the few places where she could breathe without the noise of the team, the teasing of Yue, or the ever-present intensity of Sicheng's gaze.
At least, that's what she thought.
Because outside, walking past the shop like he had no intention of stopping, Lu Sicheng glanced in through the glass. And stopped dead in his tracks. Because there she was—again—working, her platinum-silver hair falling slightly over her shoulder, her brows furrowed in deep concentration. But this time, she wasn't alone.
Sicheng's sharp amber gaze flickered, his entire body going still as he caught sight of something that made his patience snap like a frayed wire. Some idiot—some random man—was standing beside Yao's table, leaning slightly too close, talking to her.
Yao looked flustered. Not the type of flustered that came from interest. The type that came from not knowing how to remove herself from the situation. She wasn't engaging. Wasn't laughing, wasn't encouraging anything. She was stiff. Uncomfortable. Her fingers tightened slightly around her laptop, and even from the outside, Sicheng could see the subtle way she leaned away from the man, her posture screaming that she did not want this.
And yet, the guy wasn't leaving.
Sicheng's jaw ticked. His fingers curled slightly at his sides before he exhaled slowly, his gaze sharpening. Then—without hesitation—he walked in. The bell above the door chimed softly as he stepped inside, the scent of coffee and warm pastries wrapping around him. But he didn't register any of it. Because his focus was already locked on the scene unfolding in front of him. The guy—some average-looking man, dressed in casual business wear, a typical type Yao would never even glance at—was still talking.
"…You're here all the time," the man was saying, his voice smooth, rehearsed, as he leaned just slightly too close. "I've noticed you working so hard. Thought maybe you could use a little break, huh?"
Yao, clearly flustered, swallowed hard and shifted back, her fingers pressing into the edge of her laptop. "I—I'm really busy, I—"
"Oh, come on. Just one drink? No harm in that, right?" the guy chuckled, brushing off her clear discomfort as if it was nothing.
Sicheng's patience?
Gone.
Before Yao could even attempt another excuse, a new presence loomed. The shadow of a much taller, much more commanding figure suddenly cast itself over the table, blocking out everything else. And than a smooth, deep, completely unbothered voice cut through the air.
"She already has plans."
The man froze.
Yao's breath hitched.
Because standing right beside her now, his towering frame effortlessly dwarfing the other man, was Lu Sicheng. Hands casually in his pockets. Expression unreadable. Amber eyes cold and sharp as a blade. And when he looked at the man. It wasn't a look. It was a warning.
The air in the coffee shop shifted.
The once casual hum of conversation faded into the background as Lu Sicheng's presence filled the space, effortlessly overshadowing everything else. He stood tall, unbothered yet imposing, his posture relaxed, but his eyes—those sharp, cold amber eyes—locked onto the man beside Yao with an unmistakable warning.
"She already has plans." he said, his voice smooth, even, but carrying an edge that left no room for negotiation.
The man stiffened, his smile faltering for the first time, as if only now realizing that someone else had entered the equation. His gaze flickered upward, taking in the broad shoulders, the casual dominance with which Sicheng stood, and the way his presence alone had immediately made him irrelevant. "I—" the man started, but hesitated, clearing his throat. "I didn't mean to—"
Sicheng tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable, but his silence demanded an answer.
A flicker of uncertainty crossed the man's face. He turned back to Yao, as if expecting her to correct whatever had just happened. But Yao, still slightly stunned, wasn't looking at him anymore. She was looking at Sicheng. And that? That was everything. The man exhaled sharply, stepping back with an awkward chuckle. "Didn't realize you were meeting someone. Sorry about that." he muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Without another word, he turned and left, his steps brisk, his shoulders stiff.
The door chimed softly behind him.
Silence lingered in his absence.
Yao, finally releasing the tension in her shoulders, exhaled quietly. Her fingers, still gripping the edge of her laptop, twitched slightly before she forced herself to relax.
Sicheng didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stood there, hands in his pockets, gaze still watching her, as if waiting for her to say something first.
Yao swallowed, her voice softer than usual when she finally murmured, "…You didn't have to do that."
Sicheng exhaled through his nose, his gaze flickering toward the door before settling back on her. "You weren't going to get rid of him on your own."
Yao's face warmed. She wanted to argue, wanted to say that she would have handled it eventually, but the truth was… she wouldn't have. She would have sat there, uncomfortable, trying to find a way to make the man leave without being rude, without causing a scene, without drawing attention to herself. And Sicheng had known that. The realization made her throat go dry. "…Thank you." she muttered, her fingers fidgeting slightly with the sleeve of her sweater.
Sicheng didn't acknowledge the thanks, and didn't need to. Instead, he glanced at her laptop, then at the empty seat across from her. Without a word, he pulled the chair back and sat down.
Yao blinked rapidly. "What are you—"
"You owe me coffee." he said smoothly, leaning back in his chair.
Yao stared at him. "I… what?"
Sicheng arched a brow. "I just saved you. Buy me coffee."
Her face heated. She had been about to get another drink, but now… now he was just inviting himself to stay? Still, she hesitated for only a second before sighing and standing up, shaking her head. "…Fine."
Sicheng watched her go, exhaling slowly, his fingers tapping once against the table before settling. Because for all of Yao's shyness, for all of her innocence, for all of her hesitation. She had let him stay. And that? That was progress.
When Yao returned, balancing two cups of coffee in her hands, she felt the weight of Sicheng's gaze on her before she even set them down. She didn't say anything as she placed his cup in front of him, keeping her focus on her own as she settled back into her seat. The warmth of the drink seeped into her palms, grounding her as she let out a slow breath before shifting her attention back to her laptop.
Sicheng, on the other hand, took his time. He leaned back in his chair, one hand casually resting on the table, fingers drumming against the surface in a slow, measured rhythm. His other hand wrapped around the coffee cup, but he didn't drink from it immediately. Instead, he watched her. Watched the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the way her brows furrowed slightly as she read through her notes, the way her fingers moved steadily across the keyboard. She had slipped back into work mode so easily, as if he wasn't even sitting there. That, for some reason, amused him. A lesser man would have taken offense, would have expected her attention after stepping in the way he had, but Sicheng? He thrived in moments like this. Where Yao—shy, quiet, awkward Yao—felt comfortable enough to simply be, without the need to force a conversation. He finally took a sip of his coffee, exhaling as the warmth settled, and glanced at her screen. "What are you working on?"
"Huh?" Yao blinked, as if she had forgotten he was still sitting there.
Sicheng's lips twitched. "Your dissertation. What part?"
"Oh." She hesitated for only a second before tilting her screen slightly so he could see. "I'm refining the statistical models I built for analyzing adaptive gameplay strategies. It's mostly fine-tuning now, making sure the data sets are balanced properly."
Sicheng scanned the screen, his sharp eyes flickering over the numbers and graphs, the clean organization of her data. "Your calculations are aggressive."
Yao blinked. "What?"
He gestured toward the screen. "You're modeling for optimal play, but you're leaving out player instincts. You're assuming every adaptation is conscious, but most high-level players make decisions automatically—without stopping to think about them. That's why some reactions seem unpredictable in traditional analysis."
Yao stared at him. Not because what he was saying was wrong—because it wasn't—but because he had picked up on that immediately.
And worse?
He was right.
Her statistical model didn't account for the way instinct shaped split-second decisions, especially among top-tier players. "…I need to adjust the weight of instinct-based responses." she murmured, more to herself than to him.
"Obviously." Sicheng took another sip of his coffee.
Yao's lips parted, but then she closed them, her mind already racing as she opened a new window and started recalibrating her approach.
Sicheng smirked slightly. And just like that, he was no longer an observer. He was part of her work now and she hadn't even realized it yet.
Sicheng, watching the way Yao's fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard, the quiet focus in her expression, the sharp way her mind worked through data, felt something shift in his own thoughts—something more like curiosity. Because for all the brilliance she displayed, all the understanding she had of the game, she had never once spoken about playing herself. So, in his usual smooth, controlled way, he asked, "Do you ever play?"
Yao's hands paused over the keyboard.
It was so brief, so subtle, that most people wouldn't have caught it.
But Sicheng did.
She swallowed, her fingers twitching slightly before she shifted in her seat, her posture suddenly a little less relaxed. Her hazel eyes flickered downward, a flicker of something uncertain flashing across them. "…Sometimes. Not as much as I used to." she muttered finally, her voice quieter than before.
"Why?" Sicheng arched a brow, tilting his head slightly.
Yao sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as she reached for her coffee. She wrapped her hands around the cup but didn't drink, just stared at the liquid inside for a moment before murmuring, "Since Jinyang is my only girlfriend, she doesn't like talking about OPL… so I don't talk about it either." Sicheng remained silent, letting her continue. Her fingers tightened slightly around her cup, her voice dropping lower. "And when I played a few times with Ai Jia… I beat him."
"So?" Sicheng's lips twitched, the smallest flicker of amusement threatening to show.
"He refused to speak to me for a week." Yao let out a small, bitter laugh, shaking her head.
Sicheng's amusement vanished. His eyes sharpened, his body going still. "…Because you won?"
"He didn't like getting beaten by someone who wasn't just a girl… but someone who wasn't even a professional." Yao nodded, still staring at her coffee.
Sicheng exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening slightly. Pathetic.
But Yao wasn't done. Her voice softened, the words slower now, heavier. "And Jian Yang…" She swallowed, her fingers clenching once before she forced them to relax. "The one time I played with him?"
A pause.
Then—
"He got nasty when I won."
Sicheng's expression didn't change. But something cold and dangerous flickered behind his amber gaze.
Yao, still avoiding his eyes, took a slow breath before offering a small, tired smile. "So, I stopped playing. It was just easier that way."
A beat of silence stretched between them.
Sicheng, his voice smooth but carrying something deeper, something that settled low in his tone, murmured, "That's a stupid reason to stop."
Yao finally glanced up, blinking at him. "Huh?"
Sicheng leaned back slightly in his chair, one hand lazily curling around his cup. "If they were weak enough to lose, that's their problem. Not yours."
Yao hesitated, shifting again. "I—I know that. It's just… easier."
Sicheng's gaze stayed on her, unwavering, the weight of his silence pressing against her. And for the first time, Yao had the distinct feeling that this wasn't the last time they were going to have this conversation.
Sicheng studied her carefully, his fingers tapping lightly against his coffee cup, his expression unreadable. Then, casually—too casually—he asked, "What's your Gamer ID?"
Yao hesitated. Not out of secrecy, not because she didn't want to tell him, but because it had been so long since anyone had asked. Still, she bit her lip, glanced down at her coffee, and finally murmured, "I have two."
Sicheng arched a brow. "Two?"
Yao nodded. "One is Smiling." The second she said it, something flickered behind his eyes. But before she could read into it, she continued, hesitating just slightly before adding, "And the other is Yuki."
Silence.
A long, heavy silence.
Yao shifted uncomfortably, watching as Sicheng's fingers stilled against the cup, his expression remaining neutral—too neutral. "…What?" she asked cautiously.
Sicheng didn't respond immediately.
Because his mind?
Was already spinning.
Smiling. Yuki.
Two names that he knew. Not from public rankings. Not from professional e-sports databases. But from his own past games. Because those names? He had played against them. Not just once, not just twice but multiple times, in various ranked matches, scrims, and alternate ID training sessions where no one knew who they really were.
And three times, three separate occasions, he had been beaten.
By her.
By her.
Yao, oblivious to the realization sinking into him, continued quietly, "I haven't used them in a while. After everything with Ai Jia and Jian Yang, I just… kind of stopped."
"You disappeared." Sicheng leaned back slightly, his amber gaze narrowing just a fraction.
Yao blinked. "Huh?"
He didn't clarify.
Didn't need to.
Because now, as he stared at the quiet, innocent-looking girl sitting across from him, all he could hear was the echo of past frustrations, the way he had racked his brain trying to figure out who the hell had outplayed him in those matches, who had been that good while remaining a complete mystery.
And now?
Now she was sitting in front of him, completely unaware of what she had done.
"Lu Sicheng?" Yao, still confused, tilted her head slightly.
His fingers flexed against the cup before he finally exhaled, low and even, masking the sharp amusement curling beneath his calm exterior. "So, you really didn't think I'd figure this out?" he murmured, voice smooth, slow, measured.
Yao froze.
The air around them shifted.
"…Figure what out?" she asked, her voice suddenly much softer.
"That you've beaten me before." Sicheng let his smirk curl, the weight of his attention pressing into her like a trap closing shut.
Yao froze as her fingers twitched slightly against her coffee cup as she stared at Sicheng, completely confused. "…What?" she asked hesitantly.
Sicheng didn't answer right away. Instead, he studied her—really looked at her—searching for any flicker of recognition in her expression, any sign that she knew what he was talking about. But there was nothing. Only pure, genuine confusion.
"What do you mean I've beaten you before?" Yao blinked, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.
Sicheng exhaled through his nose, his fingers tapping once against the side of his cup before stilling. His sharp amber eyes stayed locked onto her, assessing, calculating. "You don't remember." he murmured, more of a statement than a question.
"I—I don't even know what you're talking about." Yao's brows furrowed, her hands tightening slightly around the edges of her laptop.
"You played ranked matches under Yuki." Sicheng tilted his head slightly.
Yao nodded slowly. "Y-Yeah…?"
"You also played under Smiling," he continued smoothly.
"…Yes?" she said, still completely lost.
Sicheng leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping into something low, something purposeful. "You beat me."
Yao stared at him.
Then—
She blinked rapidly.
And then—
She shook her head. "No. That can't be right." she said immediately, waving her hands slightly.
"You think I'd make that up?" Sicheng arched a brow, entirely unimpressed by her reaction.
Yao's face burned. "N-No, but—but I would've remembered that! I would've noticed if I had played against you—"
"Would you?" Sicheng's lips curled slightly, the amusement clear in his gaze now.
Yao opened her mouth, then froze again. Because… She hadn't known. She hadn't known who she was playing against half the time, because in high-level ranked and alternate ID scrims, no one used their real accounts. And if Sicheng was saying that he had played against her before, that he had lost to her before. Her heart stuttered. "…You're serious?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
"Very." Sicheng tilted his head, his smirk deepening.
Yao gawked at him as her entire world had just shifted sideways. Her fingers tightened around her coffee cup as her mind raced, scrambling through every past match she could remember, every notable opponent she had faced under Yuki and Smiling but none of them had ever stood out to her as Lu Sicheng. And yet he was sitting there, completely sure, watching her with that damn unreadable smirk, waiting for her to process what he had just told her. "…I—" she started, then stopped, because she genuinely had no idea what to say.
Sicheng leaned back slightly, one arm resting over the chair, his long fingers tapping once against the coffee cup. "You disappeared. Just… vanished off the servers. No more ranked games. No more scrims. One day, Yuki and Smiling were everywhere, and the next? Gone." he remarked, as if he wasn't already blowing her mind.
Yao swallowed, her throat dry. Because he was right. She had stopped playing. She had walked away from ranked, walked away from competitive scrims, walked away from everything after what had happened with Ai Jia and Jian Yang. And he had noticed. The realization sent a sharp pulse through her chest.
"Why?" Sicheng tilted his head slightly, his sharp amber gaze unwavering.
Yao inhaled shakily, her fingers twitching slightly against the edges of her laptop. "I already told you," she murmured. "It was… just easier to stop." Sicheng didn't react, didn't shift or press further. He just watched her, the weight of his attention making her want to look away but she forced herself not to. She didn't know why, but she needed him to know that she wasn't lying. Even if she hated the answer herself. "…I didn't think anyone noticed." she admitted softly.
"I did." Sicheng exhaled through his nose, his lips twitching slightly as he took a slow sip of his coffee before setting it down again.
Yao's breath caught. She had no idea what to do with those two simple words. Had no idea how to process the fact that Lu Sicheng, ZGDX's captain, one of the best players in the league, the person she now worked under, had been aware of her existence before she had even met him. For a moment, she couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Because she had spent years watching him. And now? Now she was realizing that he had been watching her too.
Sicheng sat back, his coffee untouched now, fingers lightly tapping against the table as he watched her.
Yao, clearly overwhelmed, had quickly ducked her head back down, her fingers flying across her keyboard as if desperately trying to refocus on her work. But no matter how hard she tried, there was one thing she couldn't control. Her cheeks were still red. The blush spread from the tips of her ears down to her neck, soft and warm against her otherwise pale complexion. The way she refused to look at him now, the way her posture curled slightly inward as if trying to disappear, the way she kept typing faster than necessary. She was flustered and it wasn't because she had lost a match.
It wasn't because she had messed up or was frustrated by something in her analysis.
No.
It was because of him. Because of what he had just told her. Because now, for the first time, she knew the truth. That he had noticed her before she had even stepped foot into ZGDX. That he had played against her. That she had beaten him.
Sicheng's jaw tightened slightly at the thought, at the quiet sting of remembering those matches, the clean, efficient way she had dismantled his plays, the way she had adjusted mid-game in ways only a true competitor would. At the time, he had thought he was up against another professional hiding behind an alternate ID.
But no.
It had been her.
This shy, over-apologetic, soft-spoken girl who was hiding a sharp mind under all that hesitation. The fact that no one else had figured it out? That no one had known what she was capable of? That made something in his chest tighten. She wasn't just good. She was unnaturally good and she had walked away from it. Not because she had plateaued. Not because she had lost interest. But because of men. Because of their fragile egos.
Sicheng's fingers twitched slightly against the table, his grip flexing once before relaxing again. He had played against her. She had disappeared. And now? Now she was sitting right in front of him, completely unaware of the weight of what she had just admitted. That she had been in his world this whole time. That she had challenged him before they had even met. That she had already belonged here, she just didn't know it yet.
Sicheng exhaled slowly, tilting his head slightly as he watched her fingers move over the keyboard, her brows furrowing in that soft, intensely focused way of hers. She wasn't looking at him. Didn't want to look at him right now. Because she knew. She felt it. Even if she didn't fully understand it yet, she felt the shift. He could be patient. He could wait. But now that he knew? Now that he had confirmed it? He was never letting her disappear again.