Summary: With match prep in full swing, the ZGDX base is a sharp contrast of strategic focus and feline drama. While Yao keeps the team steady behind the scenes, one vet visit—and one careless comment—shifts the balance of power entirely. Respect must be earned, peace delicately negotiated, and above all… no one insults Da Bing and walks away unscathed.
Chapter Fifty-Five
By Tuesday morning, the ZGDX base had fully shifted into match prep mode.
Gone were the luxury car deliveries and post-chaos lounging. Now, everything felt clipped and razor-focused. The only sounds were the rhythmic clack of keys, quiet bursts of communication, and the occasional sharp instruction from Kwon, who stood near the whiteboard, one hand planted on the marker tray, the other holding a laser pointer aimed squarely at LAN's typical jungle spread.
LAN was written in bold across the top of the board, underlined in red.
"Stick to lane timers," Kwon instructed. "They like disarray. Don't let them pull you out of your line. You're tighter than they are—use that."
Off to the side, Yue sat cross-legged on the bench, a notebook open on his lap and a stylus tapping rhythmically against his palm. As the designated substitute Midlaner, he wasn't just present, he was shadowing every moment of Ming's prep. Every rotation. Every angle just encase he had to step in for the man.
And just behind him, at her own narrow desk off to the side, Yao sat cross-legged in her chair with her laptop perched on a low riser, multiple tabs open, LAN's draft history, support rotations, and Yao's own color-coded breakdown of their Mid-Jungle timings during Phase Two scrim setups. Her hair was loosely braided, her sweatshirt slightly oversized, and her fingers moved with soft certainty as she typed quietly, adding time markers and counter-trigger patterns.
Da Bing sprawled on the floor beneath her chair, paws crossed and tail flicking whenever someone walked too close—silent, watchful, ever vigilant.
But up high atop the top shelf above the wall-mounted game storage rack, draped elegantly like a tiny furry prince surveying his dominion, was Xiao Cong. His gray striped coat practically shimmered under the glow of the soft LED strip above him, and his eyes, those dramatic gray eyes, watched the room like a hawk. He blinked slowly at Pang when the support player yawned too loudly, then gave an offended twitch of his tail when Yue dropped his stylus. He was clearly taking mental notes.
Kwon moved through the center aisle of the room, eyes sweeping over screens. "Ming, don't push until Pang rotates. That Mid's entire setup relies on punishing isolation."
"Copy." Ming replied.
"Keep jungle side vision thin. They over-rotate if they think you're blind." Sicheng gave a nod, hands relaxed on his mouse and keyboard.
Pang added, "Lan bot's been getting too cocky about delayed tower pulls. We fake pressure at minute six, force them to burn flash, then reset on a kill window."
Yue, watching from his seat, murmured quietly as he reviewed notes, "LAN's Mid loves baiting out second skill use. He'll hover wide just to trigger instinctive response."
Kwon turned toward him. "Shadow for Ming this match. Record each lane phase rotation. I want a three-match review before Thursday."
Yue nodded quickly. "Understood."
Yao's fingers moved fluidly across her keyboard, adjusting timestamps and attaching brief notes to review later. She spoke softly. "Their Jungler breaks brush priority on second clear. It's an early flag. If you force him to top by three minutes, their mid will have to overstep for control."
Kwon's head inclined faintly. "Mark it. We'll test it in round two."
Da Bing huffed softly under the desk. Xiao Cong stretched—back legs extended, one paw dangling elegantly off the edge of the shelf—and let out a princely little chirp as if to say, Proceed, mortals. I approve. Training resumed. No distractions. No downtime. This wasn't the team's flashy form. This was the grind. And behind every movement, every sharp play call, every adjustment. Was a team sharpening itself together. And Yao, sitting just off to the side, taking it all in, quietly supporting. Watching her boys grow sharper by the hour.
Wednesday. The day before the match against LAN.
Yao sat at her desk, not even two meters from them. Close enough to see each frame. Close enough to hear every in-game adjustment, every timing cue. Her screen was split between rotation tracking, cooldown sync data, and a set of cleanly color-coded timestamps that outlined LAN's aggression zones across six scrims. She didn't interrupt. She didn't micromanage. But when she did speak, it was brief. Surgical. Behind her chair, Da Bing lay sprawled on his side like the emperor of the floor, his tail flicking in time with the keystrokes as if silently judging how clean each command was. His presence alone seemed to impose silence on the room when someone started getting too loud. Perched across the top of the side equipment rack near her desk, Xiao Cong sat like a tiny, gray-striped monarch, his gray eyes narrowed as he surveyed the room with all the judgment and none of the subtlety. Occasionally, he chirped at the players when their rotations were late, or tapped at a cord with one paw in silent protest of being ignored.
Kwon stood near the board, arms crossed, one foot planted forward as he ran the team through final prep. "Ming. Hold second cooldowns unless you're at outer edge. He likes to pull aggression to bait your mobility, then crash support in after you respond."
"Understood," Ming replied calmly, his posture straight and voice clear.
"Lao K, you stick to your own timer unless she"—he jerked his head toward Yao without looking—"tells you otherwise."
Lao K gave a simple grunt of confirmation.
"Bot lane," Kwon continued, "you'll see pressure collapse at 4:10. LAN's Support rotates blind if they see jungle pressure. Pang, you rotate only if ADC follows you. You don't go in blind. Let them walk into you."
Pang smirked faintly. "I don't go blind, coach. I bait leashes."
Sicheng didn't look up. "Bait them harder. Make them commit before you give them vision."
Yue, seated just beside Yao with a notebook and his headset around his neck, muttered, "And then collapse with timing punish. He always resets wide when he thinks we've committed."
Yao, eyes still on her screen, spoke softly. "LAN's midlane has a half-second lag on cast bait during jungle hover. If Ming doesn't shift in the first cycle, the support panics and overcommits. You can draw him into terrain if you delay movement by a half-beat."
"Mark it." Kwon said.
Yao was already highlighting the pattern and logging the timestamp.
Rui, stood at the base kitchen counter with a tablet in hand, reviewing confirmation protocols. "Team bus leaves tomorrow at 8:00 a.m. sharp," he said evenly. "No delays, no caffeine excuses."
Yue raised a hand without looking up. "If I sleep in, Da Bing will suffocate me, so we're good."
Da Bing didn't even lift his head, just issued a low, unimpressed huff. Xiao Cong leapt down from the rack with a delicate chirp, landed with feline grace, and slinked toward Yao's chair, curling up beside Da Bing like a little prince returning to his rightful throne.
Practice resumed.
Ming's hands moved faster now. Lao K's timing snapped tighter. Sicheng, unflinching, issued a call across comms as though he had already read LAN's script.
Later that afternoon, the training zone had gone quiet. The team had been dismissed for a short break before dinner, and Coach Kwon had retreated upstairs for a call. The hum of the base softened, fading into the background.
Yao stood barefoot in the lounge, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back in a loose braid as she crouched low to the floor with the calm patience of someone preparing to negotiate with royalty. "Xiao Cong, come out, little one…" she coaxed gently, her voice soft and pleading.
Under the couch, two bright gray eyes glinted back at her. The small, striped Maine Coon kitten pressed himself further against the back wall, his ears flattened slightly, his tail thumping in slow, deliberate defiance.
He had heard the word.
Vet.
And unlike his older brother, who was already lounging, completely indifferent, inside his open carrier near the door, Xiao Cong had not accepted his fate.
Yao reached in just a little further and a paw smacked her fingertips in protest. "Xiao Cong!" she gasped, more betrayed than scolding.
From his carrier, Da Bing gave a low, grumbling purr, not out of sympathy, but out of regal superiority. His massive white frame was already settled inside the lined travel crate, chin resting on his crossed paws like a noble warrior awaiting battle. He had long accepted the price of being beautiful. Grooming was his arena. The vet was beneath his notice.
His little brother, however?
An embarrassment.
"Xiao Cong, it's just a check-up and your next round of shots. Then treats. I have tuna. The good kind. Not the store-brand one." Yao tried again, flattening her palms to the floor as she peeked under the couch.
Silence.
Then a soft chirp of defiance. Followed by a very deliberate shuffle as the kitten wedged himself even deeper, tail flicking with the kind of theatrical misery that only a spoiled, dramatic little prince could manage.
Yao sighed and leaned her forehead against the couch cushion. "This is your own doing," she mumbled into the fabric. "You're going to make me call Cheng-ge for backup, aren't you…"
From his seat in the gaming area, Yue peeked around the corner, half a protein bar in his hand. "What's going on—oh." He grinned. "You need a broom?"
"I need a miracle," Yao muttered.
Yue chuckled. "You're being outmaneuvered by a kitten."
Yao glared at him.
Yue took a step back with both hands up. "I'm just saying. I would help you, but that's between you and His Royal Highness under the couch. I don't mess with court politics."
Da Bing let out another rumbling sigh as if to say, He's your problem. I've done my part.
Yao sat back on her heels, narrowed her eyes at the gap under the couch, and steeled herself. "All right," she whispered. "You want to play it like this, fine. I didn't want to do this…" She reached behind her and unzipped the small pouch she'd brought with the carriers. From it, she pulled out the soft crinkle of a foil pouch. And then she opened a packet of freeze-dried chicken.
There was a beat of silence.
A moment of stillness.
Then—
Shuffle.
A paw.
Another.
Tiny ears peeking out.
And Xiao Cong emerged, cautiously, eyes suspicious, nose twitching as he stepped into the light like a fugitive caught by his one true weakness.
Yao moved fast, gentle, practiced, and without sudden motion. She scooped him up, cradling him against her chest. He let out a pitiful, betrayed mrrp, his tiny tail curling into her forearm. "I told you it wasn't going to be bad." she whispered, kissing the top of his head.
Yao had just managed to zip the carrier shut, her fingers tugging the last edge of the mesh into place as Xiao Cong let out a long, pitiful mrrrow of betrayal, flattened against the bottom like the world had ended. The small pouch of freeze-dried chicken lay just out of reach inside the crate, and the kitten stared at it with a deep, mournful glare, as if it had lured him into captivity under false promises. "Drama king. You're going to survive a check-up and one little shot." she whispered under her breath, gently pressing a hand to the top of the carrier to keep it steady.
From the other side of the room, Da Bing accepted a treat like the regal beast he was, crunching it with calculated calm before letting Yao zip his carrier shut without the slightest protest. She had just stood up, brushing her hair back with one hand and sighing softly, when the hallway door opened with that unmistakable creak.
Sicheng stepped out. He already had his leather jacket on, zipped halfway. His keys and phone tucked into one pocket, wallet in the other. His hair was slightly tousled, like he'd raked his fingers through it in thought. And the look on his face as his eyes found Yao's? Pure, quiet amusement. His gaze moved from her flushed cheeks to the sulking kitten inside the soft-sided carrier at her feet. Then up to her again. "Got him, huh?" he said, the smirk pulling at the edge of his mouth.
"With bribery and desperation." Yao huffed softly, brushing a stray hair from her cheek.
"I see." He stepped fully into the room, the soft tread of his boots nearly silent on the floor. His eyes drifted to the other carrier, Da Bing sitting inside like a king in a throne, utterly unbothered. "Let me guess. He walked in by himself."
Yao nodded once. "He even glared at his brother on the way."
"Sounds about right." Sicheng moved toward her, reaching down and wrapping one hand around Da Bing's carrier handle with practiced ease. The weight didn't faze him in the slightest. He lifted it smoothly, his other hand resting briefly on the curve of Yao's lower back as he passed her, the touch light but unmistakable.
Da Bing gave a quiet chuff from inside, his gaze locking on Sicheng's face in a slow blink, clearly satisfied with the escort.
Sicheng leaned down a fraction, eyes narrowing slightly with a look that fell somewhere between amused and conspiratorial. "You ready, Wǔ xiān?" he asked softly, his voice warm but teasing.
"Just need to grab the file folder for their visit." Yao nodded, adjusting the strap of Xiao Cong's carrier over her shoulder.
Sicheng turned, lifting Da Bing's carrier effortlessly in one hand as he glanced down at the white 35 pound Siberian. "You behave." he said to the cat, his tone smooth and just barely dry.
Da Bing blinked slowly and then yawned.
Massively.
With visible teeth and zero apology.
Yao nearly laughed at her eldest's dramatics.
Sicheng looked back at her and shrugged lightly. "That's a yes."
The hum of the car filled the late afternoon quiet as Sicheng turned onto a side street, the familiar route toward their vet clinic stretching ahead beneath golden light and soft city haze. Yao sat in the passenger seat beside him, turned slightly in her seat, one hand braced on the edge of the headrest, the other reaching over the seat back, fingers threaded gently through the mesh of a soft-sided carrier in the back.
Inside it, Xiao Cong was lying dramatically on his side like he'd been wronged by fate itself. He chirped. Then again. Louder.
"I know. I told you earlier this week. You're due. It's just shots." Yao murmured softly, brushing his head with slow, careful strokes. Another pitiful mrrrrowww answered her, thin and accusing, as if she'd committed the greatest betrayal in feline history.
Sitting beside his younger brother in the second carrier, Da Bing was entirely silent, sprawled with one paw curled over his nose, radiating the composure of a cat who had long since resigned himself to the burdens of beauty and royalty. His tail flicked once, but he didn't open his eyes.
Sicheng glanced at Yao from the corner of his eye, one hand steady on the wheel, the other draped over the top of the steering column in relaxed confidence. "He's been fake crying for ten minutes straight."
"He's a little dramatic." Yao sighed, glancing at the carrier before gently withdrawing her hand.
"A little?"
She smiled faintly, her fingers curling in her lap as she turned back around in her seat. "He sulked under the bed for four hours."
"He gets that from you." Sicheng snorted under his breath.
Yao's mouth parted in a quiet gasp. "He does not!"
"He retreats. Pouts. Gets quiet and refuses snacks."
"…Okay, maybe a little."
Sicheng smirked, eyes still on the road, and adjusted the volume on the dashboard, turning down the soft instrumental track playing in the background. The light through the windshield painted soft gold across Yao's knees, the shadows of passing buildings slipping over her as she tucked her hands under the cuffs of her sleeves. The car slowed as they neared a turn. Behind them, Xiao Cong gave another miserable mewl . This time quieter, more defeated.
Yao peeked over her shoulder. "That means he knows what's coming."
Da Bing let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh from his carrier.
"Da Bing's already plotting what flavor he wants after grooming." Sicheng murmured.
"I brought his tuna mousse." Yao said.
"Then he's already forgiven you."
The air in the car was quiet again. Not silence out of distance but ease. The kind that came from doing something domestic, something simple. Driving through city streets, checking off real-life errands, with her beside him and both of their cats in tow. He didn't say it aloud but he liked the quiet of this. He liked her in this and when he pulled into the vet's private parking lot, he glanced at her again as he shifted the car into park.
"Ready?"
Yao exhaled. "He's not."
"Good thing I didn't ask him."
The soft chime of the bell above the door barely finished ringing before one of the vet techs behind the counter looked up and smiled. "Ah—Da Bing and Xiao Cong are back," she said, her voice warm and knowing. "Right on time. Room Two is ready for you."
Sicheng nodded once in acknowledgment, shifting the weight of Da Bing's carrier with practiced ease as he held the door open for Yao to step in first.
Yao, hands cradling the more delicate of the two carriers like it housed glass or a small furious cloud of judgment, smiled softly at the tech and offered a polite nod as she passed the front desk. "He's been very vocal." she murmured, not needing to specify which he.
Da Bing remained silent in his crate, eyes half-lidded, tail flicking with slow, practiced boredom. He might've been heading into battle or being chauffeured to a palace suite—his posture was the same.
Xiao Cong, however?
The second Yao paused to check in, the small gray-striped kitten let out a long, heart-wrenching wail from inside his carrier. Not loud. Just high and sad enough to sound like he was being personally escorted to the gallows.
The receptionist covered her mouth to hide her laugh. "Oh no. He remembers."
"I think he held a meeting about it last night." Yao whispered, walking gently toward the hallway that led to the exam rooms.
Room Two was already prepped, soft blanket over the metal table, a scale off to the side, clean instruments laid out in trays near the wall. Everything smelled faintly of antiseptic and something floral.
Sicheng set Da Bing's carrier down on the bench seat against the wall. The white Siberian blinked slowly, unimpressed, and didn't move an inch.
Yao set Xiao Cong's carrier down more carefully, crouching beside it as she unzipped the front. He didn't come out. He didn't even move. He stared at her with the full weight of his wounded pride. "Oh, come on," she whispered gently. "You're going to get your treats after this. I promise."
Sicheng's voice came low and smooth. "Try the other flap."
Yao looked up. Sicheng had one hand resting on the back of her chair now, watching both cats with calm, observant ease, like nothing in the world could surprise him anymore. She unzipped the side flap.
That did it.
Xiao Cong slowly slinked out of the carrier, his little paws stiff with protest. He didn't hiss. He didn't bolt. He simply moved like someone carrying the weight of having been deeply wronged by someone he trusted.
Dr. Li Mei stepped in a moment later, clipboard in hand. She greeted them with an easy nod. "Da Bing first?"
"Let's get His Highness out of the way." Sicheng nodded, already lifting the carrier with the practiced efficiency of someone who'd done this before. The carrier opened, Da Bing stepped out on his own—tail lifted, stride unhurried, like he was there on a royal inspection, not a wellness exam.
Dr. Li Mei smiled. "Same as last time?"
"Grooming. Teeth, nails, hydration. Full check-up." Yao said, reaching to scratch under Da Bing's chin before the exam began.
"And shots for the Dramatic Prince?"
"Yes," Yao said softly, casting a side glance toward where Xiao Cong had now curled dramatically into the crook of the bench seat, his back to all of them. "He's pretending we don't exist."
"He'll forgive you," Dr. Li Mei murmured.
Sicheng, voice dry, added, "Eventually."
Da Bing's exam had gone exactly as expected. He had tolerated the brushing. The nail trim. The teeth check. All with the resigned patience of a king dealing with commoners. He didn't swat. He didn't hiss. He simply existed, eyes heavy-lidded as if none of it was quite worth his attention, but he would allow it for the sake of decorum. Now, Da Bing rested again in his open carrier, settled on the towel like he was awaiting the return of his servants.
Then came Xiao Cong's turn.
And the moment Dr. Li Mei turned to him with the needle tray, the kitten—who had previously been pretending to nap—sprang to life.
"Nope." Sicheng said under his breath from where he stood beside Yao, arms folded.
The kitten scrambled onto the edge of the bench, all fluff and dramatics, ears flat, tail puffed twice its usual size.
Dr. Li Mei just blinked once, entirely unbothered. "Still dramatic I see." she muttered, mildly entertained as she slowly set the tray aside for safety.
Xiao Cong darted for the far corner of the room.
Yao caught him mid-step with both hands, gently bringing him back into her arms. "You knew this was coming." she murmured, holding him close. Merp , he answered pitifully, squirming like he'd just been sentenced to exile.
"You'd think we were declawing him instead of giving him, his second set of vaccinations." Li Mei snorted as she returned with a small towel and the syringe.
"He's very dramatic." Yao crouched slightly, one hand soothing behind Xiao Cong's ears as she braced him.
"He's got stage presence." Li Mei said with a laugh.
Xiao Cong responded by flopping backward in Yao's arms like he had fainted.
Sicheng blinked once. "He just fake passed out."
"He learned from you," Yao muttered under her breath.
Sicheng raised an eyebrow. "You sulked for two days after your last blood draw."
"That's different." she said quickly with a flustered look, clutching the kitten tighter.
Dr. Li Mei moved with steady hands. "All right, hold him there—one, two—"
Xiao Cong squeaked… a tiny, high-pitched sound, more offended than hurt.
The injection was done in less than a second.
"There we go. All that fuss for one little poke." Li Mei said as she pressed the cotton gently against his fur.
Xiao Cong squirmed back into Yao's arms, wide-eyed and utterly betrayed. He refused to look at anyone. Even Da Bing, watching from his carrier, lifted his head with a long sigh like he couldn't believe his younger brother's theatrics.
"He'll forgive you," Li Mei said gently, straightening up and noting the final chart entry. "Eventually."
"I'm not holding my breath," Yao whispered, stroking his back with slow, guilty fingers.
Sicheng reached out, resting one hand against her shoulder. "He'll pout the whole way home. Maybe all night." Xiao Cong gave a tiny, mournful chirp. "Definitely all night," Sicheng confirmed.
Xiao Cong, tucked indignantly in Yao's arms, like he had just endured the absolute tragedy of a follow-up shot, and was now glaring at the world like he'd been sentenced for crimes he didn't commit. The gray-striped fluffball let out one more pitiful, high-pitched meow, half-wounded, half-wrathful.
Dr. Li Mei finished logging the details with a calm hand, her mother already reaching for the vitamin supplement. Then she paused, tilted her head slightly, and side-eyed the regal white fluff lounging in the nearby carrier like royalty.
Da Bing, as always, looked like he owned the place.
"He might be dramatic," Li Mei muttered, gesturing toward the sulking kitten in Yao's arms, "but at least he's never drawn blood."
Yao blinked. "You mean…"
Li Mei didn't look away from Da Bing. "Oh, we're not pretending anymore."
"Still bringing that up?" Sicheng snorted from where he stood leaning near the exam counter, arms folded.
She turned slightly to shoot him a dry look. "He bit me. Full bite. Four perfect punctures. Didn't hiss, didn't growl—just looked me dead in the eye and bit."
Da Bing blinked from inside his carrier.
Slow.
Unrepentant.
"I—I thought you were joking before—" Yao flushed faintly, mouth parting.
"She thought I was kidding too," Li Mei added flatly, glancing at the kitten sulking in Yao's arms. "But His Majesty in there? He's a little prince. He talks a big game but hasn't used claws or teeth once." Xiao Cong let out a soft chirp of indignation at being called little and curled tighter against Yao's chest, dramatically burrowing his head beneath her sleeve.
Sicheng's lips curved into a smirk. "So you're saying the heir's better behaved."
"Still mouthy," Li Mei muttered. "But yes. Less homicidal."
Da Bing gave an audible huff from the carrier like he was offended by the implication.
"I swear I didn't raise them to be like this…" Yao buried her face slightly into the top of Xiao Cong's fur.
Sicheng didn't look away from Da Bing. "No. You just attract chaos with fur."
"At least this one's not trying to challenge me to a duel during nail trims." Li Mei chuckled as she finished up her notes and handed Yao the schedule card for their next check-in.
Yao muttered softly, "Yet."
By the time they returned to the base, the sun had dipped low behind the skyline, casting long golden shadows across the front walk as Sicheng parked the car.
Yao unbuckled her seatbelt with a soft, barely audible exhale, brushing a hand over her braid as she turned to check on the carriers.
Da Bing was still lounging, silent and still, eyes narrowed into icy slits of feline disdain. His posture was unbothered but the subtle shift of his tail, the downward flick of his ears? He was not pleased. Not with the vet. Not with being referred to as "homicidal." And especially not with being compared to his little brother in behavior.
Xiao Cong, meanwhile, had sat in near silence since they left the clinic but the moment the base door opened and familiar voices echoed down the hallway, his energy returned like a drama actor stepping onto stage.
Sicheng held both carriers easily, Da Bing's in his right hand, Xiao Cong's in his left, while Yao hurried ahead to unlock the door and prop it open.
As soon as they stepped inside, Yao crouched and carefully unzipped Da Bing's carrier. "Okay," she whispered softly, "you're home. I'm sorry they said that. You know you're perfect."
Da Bing stalked out slowly, his steps regal and heavy with purpose. He did not glance at her. He did not glance at Sicheng. He walked past them both like they didn't exist, tail flicking high and proud, as he made his way to his usual perch on the armrest of the lounge couch and settled there, back to the room, ears tilted just enough to show he was listening.
Yao winced. "He's mad."
Sicheng set the other carrier down and smirked faintly. "You think?"
Yao unzipped Xiao Cong's side flap.
The moment the opening was wide enough… the kitten exploded out, a blur of gray stripes and fluffy tail. He darted through the hallway like he was fleeing a crime scene, his high-pitched cries echoing ahead of him in scandalized bursts.
"Mrrrp!"
"Mew!"
"Mrrraaaa—!"
By the time Yao stood, flushed and flustered, dusting her hands on her sweatshirt, Xiao Cong had already reached the kitchen threshold.
Lao K, who had just come down the stairs with a water bottle in hand, blinked as a dramatic puff of fluff crashed into his ankle, pawing frantically at his sneakers. The kitten looked up at him with stormy gray eyes, pawing and crying like he'd survived a horror film and this was the final act confession. Lao K just blinked again. "…Did someone try to murder him?"
"Vet day." Yue poked his head out of the lounge.
Lao K bent down and picked Xiao Cong up by the scruff, cradling him awkwardly against his chest as the kitten sprawled limp, still letting out soft, wounded whines like he needed therapy.
Yao finally caught up, red-faced, brushing her hair behind her ear. "He, um… he got his shots."
"He's acting like you stabbed him yourself," Lao K said flatly.
"I held him." she whispered, guilt-ridden.
Yue cackled from the side. "You traitor!"
Yao buried her face in her hands.
From the couch, Da Bing huffed. Loudly. Disapprovingly.
Sicheng, leaning against the doorframe, looked down at her, one brow raised as he deadpanned, "Your boys are so emotionally stable."
Yao groaned softly. "I just wanted them to be healthy…"
Yao was still trying to soothe the dramatically betrayed Xiao Cong, who had now collapsed in Lao K's arms with a final mrrp of wounded exhaustion, when Yue stepped fully into the room, tossing himself lazily into the nearest beanbag with a half-eaten protein bar in hand. He looked toward the couch, then blinked. Then blinked again. Because Da Bing was perched there in full, unrepentant glory—curled but upright, his tail flicking slowly, his blue eyes locked in a silent glare that carried the weight of empires lost and lines crossed. His ears were forward, but his expression?
Pure murder.
"…Why does Da Bing look homicidal?" Yue asked around a mouthful of healthy protein bar.
Sicheng, still leaning in the doorway, didn't move.
Yao opened her mouth, half-formed words of apology or explanation on her tongue—
And then Da Bing let out a deep, low growl.
Not a hiss.
Not a warning.
But the kind of low, vibrating rumble that came from the chest of a predator fully aware of his size, his pride, and the sheer audacity of being spoken about so casually after everything he'd endured.
Yue froze.
Very slowly, he turned his head toward the couch.
Da Bing stared back.
Unblinking.
Unforgiving.
Unmoved.
The tension in the room shifted as if even the air had been told to sit down and shut up.
"…Okay," Yue said, quietly now. "I've made mistakes."
Yao flailed from the other side of the room. "Don't antagonize him! He was already upset, Dr. Li Mei compared him to Xiao Cong!"
"Wait, that's what this is about?" Yue choked, now actively trying not to laugh. "He's jealous of the kitten?"
Another growl.
Lower this time.
Yao shot across the room, nearly tripping over her own slipper as she scrambled to get between Yue and Da Bing's line of fire. "He is not jealous! He is offended."
Da Bing's tail thumped once against the cushion.
Sicheng, amused but measured, finally stepped in and gently wrapped a hand around Yao's arm, guiding her back with a quiet look. "He's fine," he said dryly, glancing toward Yue. "Just give him three feet of emotional space and don't mention his medical record for the next forty-eight hours."
"Noted." Yue held up both hands like he was being arrested.
"I'll get his favorite treat and maybe the brush…" Yao mumbled as she hurried toward the cabinet. Behind her, Da Bing settled a little lower into the couch cushion. Still watching. Still growling. But slightly less ready to issue a royal execution.
An hour later, the team was gathered in the lounge, casually stretched across the couches and floor cushions while waiting on dinner. The scent of takeout from a healthy restaurant was already wafting in from the kitchen—hot, spiced, and unmistakably something Yue and Pang had begged for.
Yao sat on the floor near the coffee table across from her, Da Bing remained on the armrest of the main couch, still stretched like a monument to silent fury, his tail flicking every few seconds in subtle, simmering rage.
The room had mostly calmed.
Until Pang opened his mouth.
"So, let me get this straight," he said, gesturing with his chopsticks. "Xiao Cong squeaked, flopped, and wailed for his life and everyone felt bad. But Da Bing bit the vet once and we're all just pretending that's fine?"
Yue coughed into his drink.
Lao Mao froze mid-scroll on his phone.
Lao K slowly turned his head to look at Pang with an expression that could only be described as: You absolute idiot.
"Pang—don't—" Yao's eyes widened in horror.
"No, no, I'm just saying," Pang continued, warming to the topic, utterly unaware of the silence forming like a thundercloud. "Dr. Li Mei had a point. Da Bing's a little homicidal. I mean, compared to Xiao Cong? That fluffy little guy? He's all drama, no teeth."
The room went still.
Then—
A sound.
Low.
Rumbling.
Every head turned.
Da Bing was no longer lounging.
He was crouched.
Low.
Muscles coiled.
Eyes locked onto Pang with a level of pure feline fury that chilled the blood.
Yue hissed, "You woke the beast."
Pang blinked, confused. "Wait. What? He's not actually—"
Growl, a sharp, guttural one, vibrating out of Da Bing's chest like a car engine shifting into third.
Sicheng, casually leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, didn't move. "You might want to apologize."
Pang looked around. "Apologize? He's a cat. He's not going to—"
Yao scrambled to her knees. "Da Bing, no!"
Too late.
In one fluid, deadly movement, Da Bing launched.
Off the couch.
Across the coffee table.
Straight for Pang.
The Support of ZGDX let out a shriek and dove sideways, barely avoiding a face full of claws as the thirty-five pound white blur sailed over him and landed with perfect grace on the other side of the couch.
"I TAKE IT BACK!" Pang shouted, now half under the table. "I WAS WRONG! YOU'RE A GENTLE, PERFECT BEAST—"
Da Bing growled again, prowling forward like a lion deciding whether to show mercy or finish what he started.
Yao rushed over, arms out. "Da Bing—Da Bing, please, he didn't mean it—"
Sicheng finally pushed off the wall, his tone lazy but edged with amusement. "You compared him to a kitten and called him unhinged. I'd say you earned that."
"He's going to maul our Support! This is how our team falls apart—death by cat." Yue wheezed from the floor, tears in his eyes.
"I warned you." Lao K sighed and looked at the ceiling.
Pang, still flat against the ground, peeked up. "Yao! Help me!"
Da Bing paused, tail lashing.
Yao scooped him up—barely—arms full of fur and fury, pressing him close, whispering, "He didn't mean it, Da Bing. He's sorry. You're not homicidal. You're majestic. You're unmatched. Please don't hurt him." Da Bing gave one final snort, then allowed himself to be carried away but only because she asked.
Pang remained on the floor, visibly shaken. "...I can't believe I just got threatened by a snowball," he muttered.
Yue leaned over him. "Snowball with teeth, Pang. Know the difference."
Dinner had finally settled into some semblance of normal rhythm.
Or at least, it would have, if not for the thirty-five-pound Siberian guarding Yao like a personal honor guard, refusing to budge from her side. Da Bing's white frame was curled firmly against her hip, tail draped over her leg like a velvet sash of disapproval. His head rested just slightly off her lap, his eyes trained—not idly, but pointedly—on Pang. Who sat an extra cushion away from the table and hadn't looked up from his plate since Da Bing last blinked.
"I said I was sorry, I was just agreeing with the vet…" Pang mumbled, poking through his vegetables like they might protect him.
Yao, flushed but trying to stay neutral, gently scratched behind Da Bing's ears. "He's eating now. That's a good sign."
"He hasn't blinked in six minutes," Yue whispered, "and I think he's debating if soy sauce is poison so he can pretend Pang tried to kill you."
"I wasn't trying to offend him." Pang groaned.
"You called him homicidal," Lao K said dryly.
"He bit a vet!"
Da Bing growled. Low.
"Okay!" Pang raised his hands in surrender. "He was provoked! I retract my statement. Full royal pardon requested."
Da Bing slowly turned his head away but only by a few degrees.
"You're the most handsome. The bravest. The smartest. I promise, everyone knows." Yao sighed softly and fed him a small strip of chicken from her own plate.
Sicheng, seated beside her with one arm resting behind her on the back of the couch, smirked as he leaned slightly closer. "You do realize you're encouraging this behavior."
"I'm trying to prevent bloodshed." she muttered back at the man as she knew her precious baby had pride… and his pride had been wounded.
Xiao Cong, now recovered from his earlier drama, sat curled up in Lao K's lap with a full belly and zero shame, occasionally chirping when someone passed him food from their plate. He was very clearly the prince in this house, loved, dramatic, fed, and utterly unbothered by the tension across the room.
Yao reached down to stroke Da Bing's fur again, her fingers moving gently through the thick white coat. "You know you're not like other cats," she whispered. "You don't have to prove anything to them."
Across the table, Lao Mao set down his chopsticks with the tired grace of a man who had seen too many battles already. "You've been playing with fire all week, Pang." he muttered. "But this? You poured gasoline on yourself and lit the match."
Yue, still eating like nothing was wrong, leaned toward Pang and whispered, "You insulted the Tiny Boss Bunny's favorite child. There is no diplomatic recovery from that."
Pang groaned and pressed both palms to his eyes. "He's a cat."
A low rumble cut across the room.
Not from the walls.
Not from the table.
From Da Bing.
Still pressed against Yao, still lounging but now very clearly listening.
Ming, seated nearest the hallway, calmly reached for his water without a glance up. "You've got maybe ten seconds before he lunges again."
"I apologized!" Pang hissed.
"You apologized like a man trying not to get benched," Ming replied mildly.
Rui, who had finally wandered in with his plate five minutes late after fielding an email from a sponsor, stopped dead in his tracks as he took in the seating arrangement. He looked at Da Bing. Then at Pang. Then at Yao's flustered expression as she gently scratched behind Da Bing's ear with all the devotion of someone trying to keep a small war from reigniting. "…What did you do?" he asked Pang flatly, setting his food down and adjusting his glasses with his usual manager-grade disappointment.
"I compared him to Xiao Cong and agreed with the vet that he's kind of… you know… bitey."
Rui's head tilted, unamused. "You insulted Da Bing to his face?"
"It wasn't—"
"He understands Mandarin," Rui said, completely serious. "You've met him. You know that. And you said it anyway."
Da Bing huffed dramatically, turning his head away from the table as if he had no interest in being here anymore, but also wanted everyone to know whose fault that was.
Yao, cheeks still red, leaned down to murmur, "You know he didn't mean it, Da Bing. You're the only one who took your exam like a gentleman. You didn't cry, you didn't squirm—"
Da Bing flicked his tail once.
Yao immediately offered another piece of steamed chicken from her plate.
He accepted it.
Slowly.
As if granting her a mercy.
Rui watched this entire exchange with the blank look of a man recalculating the team's public image budget if Da Bing ever gained media presence.
"This is why I don't get involved." Ming said under his breath.
"I want it on record that I've always respected the cat." Lao Mao nudged a dumpling across his plate with his chopsticks.
Yue was still laughing, nearly choking on his drink. "Someone get Pang a helmet," he wheezed. "He's not surviving this week."
"I hate all of you," Pang muttered.
"You insulted Da Bing." Yao murmured, trying not to laugh as Da Bing re-positioned himself against her thigh and let out a low, self-satisfied exhale.
Dinner resumed.
Da Bing had stopped growling… but he hadn't forgiven and everyone in that room knew? The Support of ZGDX was on probation. Because forgiveness? Was earned and the Support of ZGDX? Had a long way to go.