Summary: When something breaks down and a call has to be made, revealing family never before met, the lives of the ZGDX boys' are change forever.
⚠️Author's Note: The Muse as done it again people!
Disclaimer: The Muse would like to remind everyone we do not own FIYS nor the beloved characters nor any dialogue from either the show nor the book, even though they are constantly pouting at this reminder themselves.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
One-Shot
The night after the game was meant to end in nothing but laughter and hotpot, but instead the ZGDX team bus was pulled to the side of a dark stretch of highway, the engine coughing out a final growl before dying completely. The members sat scattered in their seats, tired, hungry, and mildly annoyed. Lao K was the first to stand, stretching his arms as he fished his phone from his pocket.
Ming, their coach, leaned against the driver's seat with a sigh. "Please tell me you know what's wrong with it."
"Not a damn clue," Lao K replied, already scrolling through his contacts. "But I know someone who will."
The others perked up at that, curious.
Yue, the team's Midlaner, raised an eyebrow. "You got a mechanic on speed dial now?"
"Sort of," Lao K answered vaguely as the phone started ringing. "My cousin."
The others exchanged confused looks.
Pang leaned forward, half-grinning. "Since when do you have a cousin we don't know about?"
Lao K ignored him as the call picked up. "Hey, Yao-er, you busy? Yeah, the bus broke down, probably the alternator again. We're stuck on the highway just before the turnoff to the city. You still in the area? Good. Bring your gear, we'll feed you as payment. Hotpot and crayfish, my treat." He paused, listening to the response, then laughed. "No, you're not getting extra dessert, greedy brat. Just get here." When he hung up, everyone was staring at him expectantly. He shrugged with an easy smile. "What? My younger cousin. She's twenty-two, owns her own shop. Usually works on vintage cars or racing bikes, but she'll take a look at the bus for us. Payment is food."
There was a collective pause before Yue leaned forward again, skeptical. "Wait, your cousin's a mechanic? At twenty-two?"
"Yep," Lao K said with a grin. "She's damn good too."
Sicheng, lounging against the window with his arms crossed, gave a low hum that sounded half-dubious, half-intrigued. "We'll see."
Before anyone could say more, the low rumble of an engine cut through the night air, growing louder until a sleek black racing bike appeared at the curve of the road. Its headlights cut through the darkness like blades. The rider slowed, stopped right in front of the disabled bus, and swung one long leg over the side before pulling off their helmet. A cascade of caramel-colored hair braided down the back caught in the faint glow of the streetlight, her eyes an unusual mix of gold and forest green as they lifted toward the team. The faintest smudge of grease was on her cheekbone, and the confidence in her posture drew every gaze toward her instantly.
"Yao-er!" Lao K called out, grinning broadly as he stepped down from the bus.
She glanced up and smirked faintly. "You really know how to pick the worst times to call, Ge."
"I told you, it's dinner payment," he said as the driver hurried to set down the ladder for her. "Bus died right after the match."
Yao rolled her shoulders, pulling her gloves tighter before stepping up to the front. "Pop the hood." Her voice held no hesitation, no trace of shyness. The driver obeyed immediately, and Yao leaned over the open hood, flashlight between her teeth as she worked. The others, now standing outside, found themselves watching in silence. She ignored all of them completely, her focus absolute.
Pang nudged Yue. "She's pretty, huh?"
Yue elbowed him hard in the ribs. "Shut up, she'll hear you."
Ming chuckled under his breath, his amusement quiet but evident. "Didn't think Lao K's family tree had surprises like this."
Lao K crossed his arms with mock pride. "She's the family genius. Used to take apart engines when she was thirteen."
Sicheng, still standing a little apart from the group, watched her with a faintly unreadable expression. There was something in the deliberate precision of her movements that caught his attention, the calm focus, the quiet authority she carried without trying. It was rare to see someone command a scene like that without even speaking to anyone else.
When she finally looked up, brushing a strand of hair from her face, her gaze met his for the briefest second. The golden-green of her eyes reflected the bus's headlights, sharp and bright against the dark. Sicheng's lips twitched faintly, not a smile, but something close to curiosity. She clicked her tongue and looked back at Lao K. "It's the alternator, like you said. You owe me dessert."
"I said dinner, not dessert," Lao K replied, though his grin was already conceding defeat.
She arched a brow. "You want your bus fixed or not?"
The others couldn't help but laugh. Even Sicheng's shoulders seemed to relax, the faintest glimmer of amusement breaking through his usual reserve.
Yao tilted her head toward the group, eyes sharp. "You all standing there for decoration, or does someone want to hand me the socket wrench?"
There was a brief, awkward pause before Yue scrambled to the toolbox under the seat and passed it to her, cheeks slightly flushed. "Here."
"Thanks," she said shortly before crouching again to work.
Ming glanced toward Lao K. "She's got the same attitude as you."
"Runs in the family," Lao K said proudly.
By the time the engine sputtered back to life, the group was watching her like she'd performed magic. Yao straightened, wiped her hands on a rag, and turned back toward them. "All right. Bus is fine now. Let's go eat before I change my mind."
Sicheng finally spoke, his voice low and even. "You ride that?" He nodded toward the sleek racing bike parked behind her.
"Yeah," Yao answered simply, meeting his gaze again. "Problem?"
He held her stare a moment longer before shaking his head. "None at all."
Her lips curved, just a little. "Good."
As she slipped her helmet back on and gestured toward the bus, the rest followed her lead, but Lao K caught the flicker of interest in Sicheng's eyes. The Dark King of ZGDX, the man known for his sharp tongue and colder demeanor, had actually looked intrigued.
Ming smirked knowingly as they all climbed back onto the bus. "Well, Lao K, looks like your cousin just managed to impress the unshakable Lu Sicheng."
Lao K only laughed. "About time someone did."
The restaurant Lao K had chosen was a twenty–minute drive away, a quiet late-night place that stayed open for the post-game crowd, all glowing red signs and the warm hiss of steam escaping from the kitchen vents. The bus rattled gently back onto the highway, its engine humming smoothly now that Yao's hands had worked their magic. She rode ahead of them on her bike, the tail light flashing occasionally in the darkness, a steady pulse of red leading them forward. Inside the bus the air was no longer tense, though curiosity replaced the earlier frustration. Every few minutes someone would glance out the window toward the bike before turning back toward Lao K, unable to contain the questions any longer.
Pang was the first to speak, leaning forward over the back of his seat. "Okay, you gotta tell us more. How come you never mentioned you had a cousin like her? You act like she just popped out of thin air."
Lao K groaned softly and rubbed his face. "Because she doesn't like people knowing we're related, that's why. She likes her privacy and I like living."
That only encouraged the others.
Yue twisted around in his seat, eyes bright with mischief. "So she's your only cousin or what?"
"Nope," Lao K replied, stretching his legs. "She's the only one worth talking about."
Ming, seated across the aisle, gave him a long look. "Come on, we all know your parents and your brother. Are her parents like that too?"
At that the bus fell quiet, even Sicheng glanced up from where he sat near the window, his head tilted slightly as if waiting for the answer.
Lao K's expression changed; the teasing edge dropped away and something sharper flickered behind his eyes. He gave a short, humorless laugh. "Worse."
"Worse?" Pang repeated incredulously. "How's that even possible?"
"They tried to sell her," Lao K said flatly, his voice low but clear enough for everyone to hear. "When she was eighteen. To Jian Yang's family."
Every head turned toward him at once. Ming straightened. "Wait, Jian Yang, as in the same Jian Yang who plays for CK?"
"The one and only," Lao K answered, his jaw tightening. "That bastard's family wanted a pretty little wife from a 'respectable background.' Her father figured he could make some cash and get into the Yangs' good graces at the same time. Yao took exception to that." The tone in his voice softened slightly, edged with fierce pride. "She's smart as hell, too smart to play along with their games. The night she found out what they were planning, she went into their garage, took apart both their cars, and put them back together again using mismatched parts she'd been collecting for months. The engines wouldn't even turn over. She wiped every trace of evidence; even the security footage went missing. No one could prove a thing."
Pang's eyes widened. "She did all that at eighteen?"
"She was already fixing bikes when she was thirteen," Lao K said with a shrug. "She doesn't forgive easily, either. I helped with the rest. Used my cybersecurity degree to make sure the old man's embezzling came to light. A few anonymous leaks to the right people, and suddenly he had bigger problems than an arranged marriage gone wrong."
Ming gave a low whistle. "You really went for the jugular."
Lao K's grin returned, sharp and cold. "You bet I did. No one touches my baby cousin. Especially not Jian Yang. That prick has been obsessed with her ever since she accidentally bumped into him at an expo. Thought she was just another pretty fan. Next thing she knew, he was showing up everywhere, sending her flowers, calling her, even trying to corner her at events. She called me, told me she thought he was stalking her."
Yue frowned. "And they weren't dating?"
"Never even met before that day," Lao K said firmly. "But you'd think from the way he acted that she'd broken his heart. He started pulling the jealous ex routine, trying to make her look bad. I dug up dirt on him too, enough that he realized crossing her meant crossing me. He's kept his distance since."
The bus was silent again, the weight of his words hanging thick in the air. Outside the window, Yao's bike light still blinked in a rhythmic pulse, steady and unbothered.
Finally, Pang let out a low chuckle. "She's terrifying."
"She's brilliant," Lao K corrected, though his grin softened this time. "And loyal. She doesn't let anyone push her around anymore."
Sicheng's gaze followed the faint glow of the bike ahead of them, his expression unreadable. "She doesn't seem like the type who'd need anyone to protect her," he murmured quietly.
"No," Lao K agreed, leaning back in his seat. "She doesn't. But family sticks together. Always."
The hum of the engine filled the space between them again, and no one spoke after that. The only sound was the road beneath the wheels and the faint glimmer of the racing bike leading them toward the lights of the city, the crimson glow flickering like a heartbeat against the night.
The bus rolled steadily down the highway, the steady hum of the newly fixed engine almost soothing now, though no one could bring themselves to relax completely. The glow from the city ahead began to stain the sky a soft amber, and through the front window, the small, sleek figure on the racing bike could still be seen cutting through the dark like a single spark refusing to die out. The air inside the bus was thick with that familiar curiosity again, the kind that refused to settle, and eventually it was Pang who cracked first, as usual.
"So wait," he said, leaning forward between the seats with wide eyes, "you're telling us she took down her dad, outsmarted Jian Yang, and dismantled two cars just because she was pissed off? That's not normal anger, man, that's vengeance."
Lao K smirked faintly, his arms folded across his chest, the faint reflection of streetlights passing across his face. "You think that's bad? You should've seen what she did to my parents."
That caught everyone's attention at once. Ming looked up from his phone, Yue twisted around in his seat, and even Lu Sicheng finally looked away from the window, his dark eyes fixed on Lao K.
"What did she do?" Yue asked, his voice a mix of hesitation and intrigue.
Lao K's smirk grew into something sharper, almost proud. "Well, for starters, she nearly broke my brother's arm when he punched me in front of her. I had just told my family I was gay. My father went silent, my mother threw a fit, and my brother, being the useless idiot that he is, decided to 'teach me a lesson' by throwing a punch. Yao didn't even hesitate. She stepped between us, caught his wrist mid-swing, and twisted it so fast I swear I heard bone pop."
There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Pang whispered, "She's five foot what?"
"Five-three," Lao K said proudly. "Little, yeah. But she's a pit viper. Doesn't matter how big you are, if you cross her, she'll make you regret it."
Ming laughed softly, shaking his head. "That's some family loyalty right there."
"Always has been," Lao K said with a faint smile that held real warmth this time. "Her and I, we've had each other's backs since we were kids. She's the only one who stood by me when I decided to go into E-Sports. Everyone else called it a phase, said I was wasting my time, that no one made a living sitting in front of a screen. Yao didn't say a damn word against it. She just handed me her spare key and said I could stay with her until I made it."
"You lived with her?" Yue asked, his curiosity genuine now rather than teasing.
"Yeah," Lao K said, leaning back against the seat. "Studio apartment, barely enough room to walk around, smelled like motor oil and instant noodles. She worked nights at her shop, studied during the day, and still made sure I had food on the table when I was too broke to buy my own. When I finally got into ZGDX, she just grinned and told me I'd better not screw it up because she'd kick my ass if I did."
That drew laughter from the others, even Sicheng's lips twitching slightly at the image.
But Lao K wasn't finished. He glanced out toward the bike again, the faint gleam of red lights in the distance. "She's the only one who accepted me completely," he said quietly. "Didn't care who I loved, didn't care that I chose gaming over some corporate job. And I'm the only one who accepted that she's a grease monkey through and through." He chuckled softly. "Got herself dual master's degrees, auto mechanics and engineering. You'd think she'd slow down after one, but not her. She said she needed both if she was going to run her shop and design her own custom engines."
Ming whistled low, shaking his head. "Dual masters? At twenty-two?"
"Yeah," Lao K said, his tone full of pride. "She doesn't stop for anyone. She's always been like that, head down, hands working, eyes fixed on what's next."
Pang leaned back with a grin. "Sounds like she's got more fire than half the players in the league."
Lao K gave a small, knowing smile. "You'd be right about that."
From the back of the bus, Sicheng's voice came, deep and quiet, the kind of tone that cut easily through noise. "So she's the reason you don't take crap from anyone."
Lao K turned his head slightly, meeting his gaze. "She taught me how not to. The world hits hard, but Yao? She hits harder."
The bus fell into silence again after that, the kind that wasn't awkward but full of something heavier, respect, maybe, or curiosity that had turned into something close to admiration. Outside, the racing bike glided effortlessly through the night ahead of them, its red tail light flashing like a heartbeat in the dark, and for a brief moment, every one of them seemed to understand why Lao K spoke of his cousin with the kind of pride that could only come from surviving the same storm.
The city lights were clearer now, spilling in amber and gold through the bus windows, painting the interior in soft flickers that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the hum of the engine. The air was quieter, filled with the faint buzz of street noise from outside and the low laughter that still lingered after Lao K's story. They had stopped asking questions for a while, each of them lost in their own thoughts about the fiery mechanic on the bike leading the way ahead of them. But then Yue, never one to leave curiosity unsatisfied, leaned forward again with a look that suggested he wasn't done pulling threads.
"Okay, so let me get this straight," Yue began, resting his chin on the back of the seat in front of him. "Your cousin's a prodigy mechanic, has two master's degrees, almost broke your brother's arm, and single-handedly took apart her parents' vehicles. You telling us that's all she does?"
Lao K grinned wide, the kind of grin that was all teeth and mischief, as if he had been waiting for someone to ask that very question. "Oh, she does more than that."
Ming turned his head toward him, curious. "What, like racing? She looked like she could handle that bike like a pro."
"Oh, she can race," Lao K said with a chuckle. "But that's not what I meant."
The others looked at him expectantly, and he let the silence hang for a beat longer, drawing it out until Pang huffed impatiently. "Spit it out already."
"Alright, alright," Lao K said, his grin stretching even wider. "Casually, you know, when she's got time between tearing apart engines and being terrifying, she plays OPL."
Ming blinked. "She plays OPL?"
Lao K nodded with a smirk. "For fun."
"For fun?" Pang repeated incredulously. "Nobody plays OPL for fun, that's a full-time grind! You're saying your cousin just logs in and, what, stomps people?"
"Pretty much," Lao K said, almost smug now. "You might have heard of her gamer ID."
Sicheng, who had been silent for most of the ride, finally lifted his gaze again, one dark brow raising slightly. "What's her ID?"
The way Lao K's grin sharpened made every single person on that bus straighten instinctively. "Smiling."
For a heartbeat, there was absolute stillness. Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, every head on the bus whipped toward him at once.
Ming's mouth fell open. Pang made a sound that was somewhere between a cough and a shout.
Yue nearly tripped over his own words. "Wait, what? That Smiling? The number one Tamamo-No-Mae on the national server Smiling?"
Lao K tilted his head, feigning innocence. "The very same."
Yue stared at him as though he'd grown two heads. "You're joking. You have to be joking. Smiling's been sitting just under Kyoto Overlord for months! Nobody's been able to knock them down. People thought she was some veteran from a retired pro team!"
"Not a joke," Lao K said, his tone so calm that it only made the chaos around him louder. "She plays under a different tag most of the time, but yeah—Smiling's her. She plays Tamamo better than anyone I've ever seen."
Pang slapped a hand against his forehead. "This can't be real. You're saying the woman who fixed our bus in ten minutes is that Smiling? The same one who made it to rank one twice in a row and disappeared every season after?"
"Yep," Lao K replied, clearly enjoying the disbelief. "She doesn't like attention, so she plays on throwaway accounts most of the year. But every now and then she'll climb the ladder just to remind people she's still out there."
Lao Mao let out a low laugh of disbelief. "That explains the precision. The way she worked under the hood, it's the same kind of focus you see in top players. Calculated, fast, exact. She's got that same instinct."
Lao K nodded. "That's Yao. Doesn't matter what she's doing—mechanics, coding, gaming—she gives it everything."
From the back of the bus, Sicheng's voice came again, deep and measured. "Smiling's playstyle is unpredictable. Aggressive, but clean. Never wastes a move."
"That's her in real life too," Lao K said, glancing toward him with a knowing grin. "Always three steps ahead of everyone else. You'll see when you talk to her properly. Though, fair warning, she doesn't take kindly to arrogance."
Yue snorted. "Then she and Sicheng are going to get along great."
That earned a ripple of laughter across the bus, even as Sicheng gave a small, unbothered smirk, eyes still following the faint red taillight of the bike in front of them. He didn't respond, but the faint glimmer in his eyes betrayed that something about all of this had caught his interest more than he would admit aloud.
Lao K leaned back in his seat, hands folded behind his head as the bus rolled into the edge of the city. "So yeah," he said casually, as if he hadn't just detonated a bomb in the middle of the team. "My cousin's Smiling. Mechanic by day, gamer by night, and a pit viper if you piss her off. Now you know."
The others could only stare at him, still stunned, as the faint hum of laughter followed the bus down the highway, and ahead of them, Smiling's bike sliced cleanly through the city lights, leading them toward the restaurant with that same effortless, dangerous grace.
The restaurant's door chimed as they filed in, carrying with them the cool night air and the faint scent of engine cleaner from Yao's gloves. The place glowed with soft amber lights and polished wood, steam curling from copper pots set into the tables while servers ferried towers of plates piled with sliced beef, lotus root, mushroom caps, and the glossy scarlet of crayfish swirled in chili and ginger. The owner recognized Ming at once and waved the group toward a long corner table where two bubbling broths were already rolling, one a fierce red and the other a gentle milky white.
Yao removed her helmet and slid the gloves into it before setting both on an empty chair. The braided fall of caramel hair brushed her waist as she shrugged out of her jacket, revealing a black off shoulder knit with ash gray trim that hugged her frame, the strap details crossing at her collarbones like neat harness lines. The sweater's asymmetric gray hem rested over fitted black pants paneled with matte and leather textures, silver zips and buckles catching the light whenever she moved. For a breath the team took her in with the same collective focus they brought to a draft room, not with gawking but with that startled recognition that style could be its own kind of armor.
Rui directed the seating with the calm of a practiced field marshal and then wisely surrendered control as the group ignored him entirely and drifted toward instinct. Lao K hooked a chair for Yao, tapped the spot beside him, and in the same motion Sicheng stepped in on her other side as if it were the most natural choice. Yue landed across from them with a grin that promised questions. Pang and Lao Mao took the end near the spice pots where the heat was strongest. Ming claimed the angle with a good view of the entire table and an even better view of the exits, which always amused Rui.
The first wave of plates arrived and everyone began to move, the table waking with the familiar choreography of chopsticks, ladles, and the hiss of raw slices meeting boiling broth. Yao reached for a plate of beef and the long elegant motion of her wrist carried the faint machine oil scent that had lived in the lines of her hands for years. Sicheng watched her for a heartbeat that could have been curiosity or calculation and then offered the sesame sauce as if they had been doing this for seasons.
Lao Mao broke the silence first with the smooth rumble of a man who preferred action to commentary but who enjoyed a bit of both when the food was good. He leaned in with a smile that showed the dimple near his cheekbone. "Mechanic, rider, and now our savior of the highway. Do you also carve noodles and juggle knives, or should we be grateful you stopped at engines."
Yao's eyes warmed with amusement. "I leave the juggling to fate and my cousin's impulse control. Engines behave if you speak their language. People are much louder."
Pang laughed and tipped a basket of enoki into the mild broth. "That is the most accurate thing anyone has said about this team. We are a chorus and half of us do not know the tune."
Yue angled his chopsticks like a conductor's baton. "I always know the tune. The rest of you are percussion and chaos."
"Percussion wins games," Lao K said, nudging Yao's shoulder with familiar affection. "Chaos keeps you honest."
Ming poured tea for Yao and then for himself. "On behalf of ZGDX and my exhausted staff, thank you for getting our wheels back under us. Dinner is ours. Dessert too, before negotiations begin."
Yao accepted the cup with a small bow that managed to be respectful and teasing at once. "Then I will make this easy. One order of black sesame tangyuan and a plate of candied hawthorn. The alternator appreciates your generosity."
Pang set down his chopsticks with a light clatter. "She named the part. She is definitely Smiling."
The table shifted in a ripple, glances meeting and darting away and returning again as if each man was checking whether the others had truly heard what Lao K had dropped on the bus.
Yue leaned forward with elbows braced and an expression that hovered between awe and mischief. "Number one Tamamo on the server, the ghost of climbing season, the one who pops up, sweeps the ladder clean, then vanishes behind smurf accounts until the next storm. That Smiling."
Yao's gaze slid to Lao K in a way that said the bill for that reveal had arrived. "Someone has been talking more than he should."
Lao K lifted his hands with a grin that did not apologize. "They asked and I like to live dangerously when there is food to soften the blow."
Sicheng shifted a plate of crayfish toward her, fingers relaxed and voice even. "The legend says Smiling always chooses the aggressive path only when the map feels cold enough to hold it, and otherwise makes the cut that leaves no scar. That is not a casual hand on the mouse."
Yao cracked a crayfish with neat precision, steam wreathing her knuckles. "Legends like to forget the games that were messy and the hands that shook with too much coffee. It is a ladder, not a shrine."
Lao Mao rested his chin on his knuckles, watching her with frank interest. "I like the way you deflate myths. Players need meals more than murals. What do you think of our drafts lately."
"Your top side opens lanes with clean timing," Yao said without hesitation, eyes flicking to him in quick acknowledgment. "But you telegraph resets when you are ahead because you love perfect waves more than you love imperfect pressure. That gives patient teams a heartbeat to breathe and some of them can turn a breath into a sprint."
Pang made a wounded sound that fooled no one. "She came for my soul and she brought a wrench."
"You will be fine if you ward like you mean it," Yao replied, dipping a slice of beef and counting the seconds silently. "And if your first instinct on dragon contest is not to joke with your jungler."
Lao K choked on a laugh. "We are never living down one conversation about sauce preferences before smite."
Ming's mouth curved, pleased by how quickly she stepped into real talk. "If you ever feel like scrimming for us as a guest of the house, our doors are open. You play for fun, yes, but sometimes fun sharpens steel better than drills."
Yao considered that with the same focus she had given the bus, then nodded once. "If I have time and if your captain keeps his ego on a leash during feedback, I am happy to play. I am busy but not joyless."
Sicheng's reply came as naturally as a last-hit. "I do not leash ego. I trade it for results."
Yao looked at him fully then, the strange gold and green of her irises catching the pendant light above the table. "A fair exchange if you are honest about the cost."
Steam rose between them and curled away, and for a breath the whole table felt the tautness of a lane where neither player wanted to blink first.
Yue broke the spell with a grin and a grab for the lotus root. "So that is a yes from both of you. Excellent. I want front row seats when our dragon calls turn into essays."
Rui cleared his throat like a man pretending to manage what could not be managed. "Before essays, eat. The owner says the beef tongue is perfect tonight and the crayfish came in fresh at dusk."
Plates traveled clockwise. Chopsticks clicked and ladles murmured and the table relaxed into that comfortable rhythm that comes when a new person has been weighed, measured, and found entirely capable of her own gravity. Lao Mao told a quiet story about a scrim where he had fallen asleep sitting up between maps and woken on a camera feed two minutes before draft. Pang confessed to once ordering a hundred skewers by accident because his app defaulted to times ten and he refused to cancel out of pride. Yue launched into an argument about rune choices that earned him three sauces to the wrist, two from Pang out of friendship and one from Lao K out of principle.
Yao listened, laughed when laughter earned itself, and answered questions with the clean brevity of someone who preferred engines to interviews. She described the way a carburetor's patience taught her to time ganks, how a racing line through a corner felt like a perfect flank when a team forgot to check fog, how the quiet of a workshop at three in the morning could smooth out the rough edge of a ranked climb better than any playlist. She asked Lao Mao what weight training he used to keep his posture steady late game, and he lit with that rare pleasure of being noticed for the work only other professionals see. She asked Pang what phrase he used to quiet his nerves in the long seconds before a crucial engage, and he answered with a sheepish little mantra that made the whole table smile and repeat it until it became a joke on its way to being a ritual.
Near the end, when the broth had turned rich and dark and the last crayfish shells sat glistening in a neat crown on a platter, the dessert she had claimed arrived. Black sesame tangyuan floated like small moons, the hawthorn gleamed with sugar glass, and the owner set a small dish of candied walnuts beside Yao with the kind of generosity that recognizes both gratitude and rumor. Lao K made a show of sliding the bowls toward her as if presenting tribute to a monarch who preferred torque specs to tiaras. She split the tangyuan evenly without being asked and set one extra into Sicheng's bowl as if that were the simplest arithmetic in the world.
Sicheng lifted his gaze in quiet acknowledgment. "Payment accepted."
"Good," Yao said, spoon tapping once against porcelain. "Because next time the alternator dies I am charging at market rate and two plates of dessert."
Lao K pressed a hand to his heart. "We will put it in the team budget under essential services."
Ming finished his tea and set the cup down with the contented sigh of a coach whose night had tried to derail itself and instead discovered a new lever for the season. "Tonight began with smoke on the shoulder and ends with sesame and strategy. That is a win. Welcome to our table, Yao."
She held his gaze for a moment and then nodded, a small smile ghosting across her mouth, quick and bright and hard won. "Thank you for the seat. It fits."
The room hummed around them, warm with steam and spice and the easy cadence of voices that had found a new rhythm. Between Lao K's familiar presence and Sicheng's steady gravity, Yao sat with her shoulders unbowed and her eyes amused, a mechanic with hands that shook oil into elegance and a player whose instincts carved space where none seemed to exist, and the team understood without having to say it aloud that some nights shift the map of a season by a few degrees and those degrees are everything.
Notes:
Author's Note: The Muse would like to say that all comments, even small ones, are very much welcomed and they very much enjoy reading them! 🥰🥰🥰🥰