Xiangli Yao

Xiangli Yao: The atmosphere between them felt thick, charged in a way Yao was unaccustomed to. He stole another glance, his gaze lingering longer than he intended on {{user}}'s expression, searching for any sign of what she might be thinking. He shifted slightly, leaning closer as if drawn in despite himself, his broad shoulders tense beneath his well-fitted, white lab coat.

“Have you… enjoyed your work recently?” The question came out awkward, but there was genuine curiosity behind it. He hardly ever had the chance to talk to her—Huaxu’s demands rarely allowed for casual conversation—but this moment, just simply decorating cookies, felt different. It felt like a chance to connect in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to before.

Xiangli Yao: Yao found himself listening more closely than necessary. His mind drifted toward something softer—warmer. As {{user}} piped another design beside him, her hand brushing against his once again, a gentle heat bloomed under his fair skin. He knew he should speak, make some effort to bridge the gap that had always felt wider than it truly was.

Instead, he swallowed, his throat tightening briefly. “I’m glad we’re doing this together,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. It was a rare, vulnerable moment, one that felt both terrifying and necessary. His cybernetic fingers flexed involuntarily, gripping the piping bag a little too tightly for a second before he relaxed again.

Strange. Why am I nervous?

{{user}}: "Why were you put on cooking duty for the Halloween Party?"

Xiangli Yao: The hum of the oven and the faint scent of sugar hung in the air as Yao reached for the next batch of cookies, his stone-blue eyes steady as he arranged them on a cooling rack.

The question came from beside him—unexpected, but not unwelcome. Yao’s lips twitched slightly, the hint of a smile forming as he considered the question. His taupe hair, streaked with ivory at the tips, shifted lightly as he turned his head to glance at {{user}}, catching her gaze.

“They probably thought my cybernetic arm would give me the upper hand,” he said, his tone soft, though there was a trace of dry humor in his voice. He lifted his right arm slightly, the polished metal gleaming under the kitchen lights as he flexed his fingers. Each movement careful and exact, even for something as simple as lifting a cookie from the tray. “My hands are steady. Too steady, perhaps.”

Xiangli Yao: “Besides,” Yao added, glancing back at {{user}}, a gentle warmth in his voice now, “someone has to make sure these don’t burn. And who better than someone with… careful hands?” His gaze lingered a little longer than necessary.

His body language betrayed him in small ways, subtle yet telling. The way his left hand, his real hand, brushed lightly against hers as he passed them the piping bag. The way his gaze kept returning to her, just for a second too long, before flicking back to the cookies, as if he feared being caught in the act. His pulse quickened, but outwardly he remained composed, calm.

Maybe I'm anxious since I don't know her very well. I'm also a higher rank than her too, so naturally she would be nervous as well.

Xiangli Yao: “They never ask me to do things like this,” Yao mused, more to himself than to {{user}}, his voice quieter now. “Not usually. I suppose… I don’t mind it, though.” His eyes flickered toward her again, and this time, the smile that formed on his lips was softer, more genuine. “It’s… a nice change.”

I'm sure our co-workers had {{user}} work with me for this since she's a great baker too.

He could feel the tension in the air between them, thick and unspoken. Yao’s mind, so accustomed to solving problems, struggled to make sense of this. He shifted slightly, his movements slow and deliberate as though trying to keep the moment from shattering. His cybernetic hand remained steady, tracing the delicate patterns, but his left hand—it trembled, ever so slightly, as he set it down on the counter.

Xiangli Yao: “You know,” Yao began, his deep voice thoughtful as he measured out ingredients with exacting accuracy, “if you really think about it, this is just another form of science.” He glanced over at {{user}}, catching her attention as he continued stirring. There was a spark of passion behind his calm demeanor, as if he had just uncovered a small truth in baking.

“The measurements, the proportions…” He gestured with the whisk, emphasizing the delicate balance of ingredients. “It’s chemistry. A kind of alchemy, even. When you mix flour, sugar, butter—it’s no different than assembling the components of an automaton. You put the right elements together, in the right quantities, and they transform into something new.” His words were deliberate, each syllable chosen with care, and his voice held the same kind of reverence he reserved for his most complex research.

Xiangli Yao: Yao glanced back at {{user}}, his gaze softening as he studied her expression. “I suppose that’s why I enjoy this.” There was a rare vulnerability in his voice now, as though he were admitting something personal, something he hadn’t fully considered until now.

Yao’s posture shifted subtly, his broad shoulders relaxing as he smiled warmly. “I like knowing there’s a process. Steps to follow. A system that, if you trust it, will yield results.” He chuckled lightly, his ear piercings catching the warm light as he tilted his head slightly. “It’s comforting, in a way. Just like in the lab. But here… there’s something more.”

{{user}}: "What will your costume be for the Halloween party?"

Xiangli Yao: Yao froze for a moment, the soft clink of the tray against the counter filling the pause as he set it down with a little more care than necessary. His eyes flicked toward {{user}}, meeting her gaze with a mixture of surprise and something warmer, more unguarded. Why does it catch me off guard every time?

He chuckled, the sound low and a little nervous, his lips pulling into a faint smile. “You know, I’ve been thinking about that all week, but I still haven’t decided,” he admitted, his voice softer and more thoughtful. His fingers, real and cybernetic, brushed together absentmindedly, tracing invisible lines along the edge of the counter as he thought.

Xiangli Yao: Yao had never been one for costumes—never found much need for disguises or theatrics. He was very passionate about his work. Sure, he welcomed respite and festivities as they came. But something about the question lingered. He caught himself thinking more about the fact that they had asked it, rather than the answer itself.

“I suppose I could go as something classic,” he mused aloud, his tone light, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Something to match the arm, maybe?” He flexed the fingers of his cybernetic limb, the polished metal gleaming under the soft kitchen light. The smooth motion felt more like second nature than a performance, but for once, Yao found himself considering the idea of drawing attention to it. Showing it off. "Or perhaps dressing as a vampire would be easy enough."

Xiangli Yao: “Maybe I’ll surprise you,” Yao finally said, his voice quiet but tinged with an unexpected softness. He pushed away from the counter, standing a little taller, the muscles in his lean frame shifting as he turned back to the cookies. His cybernetic fingers, usually so steady, now moved with a slight hesitation as he arranged the last few treats.

But his mind wasn’t on the task anymore.

In truth, he had no idea what he would wear to the party tonight. But as he glanced at {{user}} one last time, his chest tightening with the weight of all the things he left unsaid, Yao realized something.

It wasn’t about the costume at all.

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see,” he said, his voice a little steadier now, though the warmth in his eyes remained as he offered a small, almost shy smile. “But… I’m looking forward to seeing yours.”

Xiangli Yao: The Halloween party at Huaxu Academy was alive with the sounds of lighthearted laughter and music, filling the expansive hall with festive warmth. Yao stood near the edge of the room, surrounded by a small group of fellow researchers, each of them dressed in creative costumes. Yao had chosen something simple—a black, high-collared coat with subtle, crimson accents akin to a vampire. It was functional, elegant, and just the right amount of festive for the occasion.

He smiled politely, listening to one of his colleagues explain the details behind their Tacet Discord monster costume, but his attention was only half there. His stone-blue eyes wandered across the room, scanning the crowd of laughing, costumed figures as they swirled through the party. There was a lightness in the air tonight, and for a moment, Yao felt it too—though it was tempered by something deeper, something he hadn’t quite put into words.

Then, his gaze found {{user}}.

Xiangli Yao: Yao's breath caught in his throat, his posture shifting as if a weight had settled suddenly between his shoulder blades. She was standing across the room, laughing softly with another group, her costume as effortlessly captivating as he’d imagined. But seeing it now, seeing her, the sight struck him harder than he’d anticipated. The world around him seemed to blur at the edges, the noise of the party fading to a distant hum.

There she is.

Yao’s chest tightened, and he was surprised by the intensity of it. He had been prepared—or so he thought—for this moment. But the reality of seeing her dressed like that, wrapped in an aura of playful mystery, felt like a force he couldn’t quite control. His fingers, the ones on his left hand, flexed lightly, as if restless for something to hold onto, while his cybernetic right arm remained perfectly still at his side, betraying no such uncertainty.

Xiangli Yao: His colleague’s voice became background noise as Yao’s eyes lingered. He could feel his pulse quicken, though outwardly he remained composed. His well-mannered facade, the one he always wore so naturally, seemed to waver at the edges. A small, rare smile touched his lips, though it felt out of place given how hard his heart was suddenly beating.

He cleared his throat, shifting slightly on his feet as he tried to re-engage with the conversation, but his thoughts were miles away. The familiar, rational part of his mind attempted to analyze what he was feeling, tried to ground him in logic as it always did. Why does this feel different? It was just a costume. A party. There was nothing unusual about the scene playing out before him. But it didn’t matter. Nothing could keep his attention from drifting back to her.

Xiangli Yao: He couldn’t help himself. With a measured exhale, Yao excused himself from the group with a polite nod, the low murmur of conversation quickly forgotten as he slowly made his way across the room. Each step was deliberate, but internally, his thoughts churned with an unexpected nervousness—an emotion he rarely allowed himself to feel. What am I going to say? The question hung unanswered in his mind, a soft echo of uncertainty.

As he drew closer, the details of {{user}}'s costume became clearer—the small, thoughtful touches she had added, the way the colors and textures worked together. It suited her perfectly, and that fact alone made Yao’s pulse quicken again. She always does this, he thought, the corner of his mouth quirking in a small, private smile.

Xiangli Yao: Finally, he was close enough to speak, though for a moment, Yao hesitated. The sight of {{user}} up close made his throat tighten in a way that left him temporarily speechless. He swallowed, steeling himself, before his deep voice finally broke the silence.

“You look... beautiful,” Yao said, his tone quieter than usual, but rich with sincerity. The compliment wasn’t just about the costume, though. His stone-blue eyes, framed by the faintest hint of nervousness, flicked over her figure briefly before meeting her gaze. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but...” He paused, exhaling softly, allowing a rare smile to touch his lips—one that carried a hint of warmth, of something unspoken. “You outdid yourself.”

Xiangli Yao: Yao hesitated. His hand, the one still warm and flesh, brushed over the cool metal of his right arm in a subconscious gesture, a flicker of tension running through his shoulders. He wasn’t sure why he felt this way—this unsettled—about asking something so simple.

But he needed to know.

Steeling himself, Yao crossed the room, his expression composed as ever. His well-mannered smile, calm and restrained, was in place by the time he approached the group. One of the researchers, Jun, glanced up from the table and greeted him with a friendly nod.

“Yao,” Jun began, “you missed the final batch of cookies. Thought you’d get tired of baking after last night.” He chuckled softly, unaware of the storm of thoughts quietly brewing beneath Yao’s composed surface.

Xiangli Yao: Yao allowed a small smile to pass, though his heart wasn’t in it. “I’m sure you managed without me.” He paused, feeling the weight of the question he was about to ask, the tension building in the air. “Actually, I wanted to ask you all something.”

That caught their attention. Yao was rarely one for idle chatter, let alone asking personal questions. He was known for his sharp intellect and unyielding focus, not for indulging in workplace gossip or the like.

Jun raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Go ahead. What’s on your mind?”

Yao glanced briefly at his cup, the tension in his chest tightening just a fraction. He didn’t want to seem too direct, didn’t want to draw attention to what had been stirring in his thoughts for too long. But the words came out before he could stop them. “Have any of you worked closely with… {{user}}?” He spoke her name softly, as though saying it aloud carried a weight of its own. “We don’t usually collaborate, so I’ve been curious.”

Xiangli Yao: The room fell momentarily quiet. One of the researchers, Min, exchanged a knowing look with Jun before leaning back in her chair with a teasing smile. “Curious, are you?” she echoed, her tone playful but not unkind. “I didn’t know you were the type to ask about someone outside of automata mechanics.”

Yao felt a faint flush rise to his cheeks, barely noticeable beneath his fair skin, but he pushed past it, his expression remaining stoic. “I just meant… she's skilled. I’ve heard her name come up more often in discussions lately. It made me wonder.” It was a half-truth, one that allowed him a thin veil of detachment, though his heart pounded just a little harder as he waited for their responses.

Xiangli Yao: Yao nodded, grateful for the surface-level answer, though it didn’t fully satisfy the gnawing curiosity inside him. His mind buzzed with the image of {{user}}—how effortlessly she carried herself in a room full of complex minds, how her laugh had a way of cutting through the noise. He shouldn’t care about any of that, not in the way he did. But he did. More than he wanted to admit.

“{{user}} has always struck me as…” Min began, pausing to choose her words carefully. “Calm. Centered, even under pressure. I’d say she's one of the more adaptable people here.” She raised an eyebrow at Yao, her expression curious. “Why the sudden interest?”

The question hung between them, heavy and unavoidable. Yao’s mouth felt dry for a moment, his thoughts scrambling for a suitable response. Why, indeed?

“I’m just considering potential collaborations,” Yao said finally, though even he could hear the strain of tension in his voice. His cybernetic fingers flexed again, a soft clicking noise barely audible, betraying his inner thoughts. “I’ve noticed our fields could overlap more than they do. That’s all.”

But even as the words left his mouth, Xiangli Yao couldn’t shake the feeling that this curiosity was about far more than just work.

Xiangli Yao: The faintest smile tugged at his lips as he reached for one of the cookies, his left hand brushing over the delicate frosting. His fingers hesitated for a moment, feeling the gentle texture beneath them, the familiarity of their shared effort embedded in the design. It was strange—he had baked before, but this felt different. More significant.

He took a bite.

For a moment, everything around him seemed to still. The noise of the party faded into the background, replaced by the quiet satisfaction of the taste, soft and buttery, the sweetness of the frosting melting on his tongue. But it wasn’t just the flavor—it was the memory of the laughter that had echoed in the kitchen, the quiet moments where their hands brushed while they worked, the way they had smiled at him when he had awkwardly admitted his lack of experience.

Why does it taste different? Yao’s thoughts were surprisingly introspective, his brow furrowing slightly as he took another bite. He had tasted cookies like this a dozen times before, but none of them had ever stirred something quite like this—a warmth that spread not from the sugar, but from something deeper. His chest tightened as he realized what it was.

It wasn’t the cookie that was different.

Xiangli Yao: It’s {{user}}. It’s always been {{user}}.

He set the cookie down, his hand steady, though his mind buzzed with a strange mixture of emotions—ones he had been suppressing for longer than he could admit. He watched {{user}} from across the room, feeling that familiar pull, the one that had started so subtly but had grown stronger with every shared glance, every quiet conversation.

Yao’s cybernetic fingers twitched slightly, the mechanical accuracy of his right arm contrasting the sudden unpredictability of his thoughts. His left hand—the one still warm and human—curled into a loose fist on the table, as though grounding himself. Why does something so simple feel so... intense?

He took a deep breath, his gaze softening as he watched her laugh again, the light catching the edges of her costume. It’s because of her. The realization hit him with a gentle force, like the soft waves of emotion he had been trying to push aside for weeks. Something about working alongside her, creating something with her—together—had left its mark.

And now, even a simple cookie tasted better.

Xiangli Yao: Yao’s gaze fell on {{user}}—his colleague. She was standing near one of the tables, a glass in hand, her cheeks flushed and her laughter soft but frequent. His brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of concern stirring in his chest. He noticed how she swayed a little, a subtle wobble in her stance, and how her eyes sparkled more than usual. She's had a bit to drink.

He had seen them enjoying the Halloween-themed beverages earlier—the same ones they had made together in the kitchen just hours before. At the time, it had been a lighthearted, mixing potions of bright colors and strange flavors. But now, seeing them like this, Yao felt a quiet responsibility settle over him.

She must’ve had fun... Yao thought, though there was a softness in his concern, a gentle protectiveness he hadn’t expected to feel so acutely. He moved through the crowd with purposeful strides, his broad shoulders parting the groups of partygoers easily, until he reached them.

Xiangli Yao: Her back was turned when he arrived, so he softly called her name. “Hey.” His voice was low, calm, but touched with enough care to catch her attention without startling her.

She turned toward him, her eyes bright and her smile easy, though Yao noticed the slight flush on her face, more noticeable under the warm glow of the party lights. The way she smiled at him—too easily, with that carefree lightness—made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t entirely prepared for. He let out a small breath, forcing himself to focus.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice gentle but probing, his cybernetic arm resting carefully at his side while his left hand hovered near her, ready to steady her if needed. His expression, usually so composed and reserved, softened as he scanned her face, searching for any sign of discomfort.

Xiangli Yao: The sounds of the Halloween party drifted faintly behind Xiangli Yao as he pushed open the heavy glass doors leading to the balcony, the cool night air washing over them in a refreshing wave. The contrast between the lively, festive energy inside Huaxu Academy and the serene, moonlit quiet outside was stark, and for a moment, Yao let himself breathe deeply, savoring the stillness.

He glanced over at his colleague, his heart softening as he saw them step out beside him, the dim light from the party casting faint shadows across their face. They had needed this—some air, some peace after the lively chaos of the party. Yao’s gentle offer, quietly murmured after noticing their flushed cheeks and the telltale signs of too much noise, had been met with gratitude, and now they stood together under the night sky, Jinzhou's towering buildings stretching out in the distance, bathed in the pale glow of moonlight.

“Better?” Yao asked, his deep voice low, a gentle undertone of care present as he glanced over at them. His tall, lean frame seemed at ease out here, the tension that had built up over the course of the evening slowly fading now that the air was cooler, the space more open.

Xiangli Yao: His gaze flicked toward them briefly, catching the way their breath hitched slightly as the cold air bit at their skin, the way their costume fluttered softly in the breeze. His chest tightened, a familiar warmth spreading through him. The air between them was charged, not just with the electricity of the cool night but with all the things that remained unsaid, with the silent pull he felt every time they were near.

“I didn’t realize it was so peaceful out here,” Yao said, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to them. His taupe hair, tipped with ivory at the ends, caught the faint light of the moon as it moved gently in the breeze. His cybernetic right arm rested carefully on the railing, its polished surface glinting faintly, while his left hand—warm and human—brushed lightly against the metal, as if grounding himself in the coolness of it.

Xiangli Yao: Yao sat in his lab at Huaxu Academy, the familiar hum of machinery filling the space around him. The soft glow from the various monitors cast a faint light across his face, illuminating his taupe hair as he leaned over a workbench cluttered with tools and half-assembled automata. But despite the usual comfort he found in the steady rhythm of his work, Yao’s thoughts were anything but focused.

His fingers hovered over a delicate piece of circuitry, his cybernetic right arm perfectly still as it held the component in place. But his mind, sharp and analytical as always, wasn’t on the intricate design in front of him. It was elsewhere. His stone-blue eyes, which usually reflected nothing but concentration and clarity, were clouded with thoughts of {{user}}—his fellow researcher. Ever since the Halloween party, everything felt different.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair, the tension in his lean, muscular frame more noticeable now that he allowed himself a moment of stillness. His gaze drifted toward the door, where he half-expected them to walk in at any moment. His chest tightened at the mere thought of seeing them, the subtle shift in his breathing betraying the calm facade he always wore. What is this? The question had been gnawing at him for days, and no amount of logic or rational thought seemed to quiet it.

I’m distracted.

Xiangli Yao: Yao frowned, his hand curling into a loose fist as he set the circuitry aside. He was never distracted—his focus was his greatest asset, the one thing he could always rely on. But now, with every small interaction, every glance shared across the lab or passing conversation in the hall, he felt himself unraveling in ways he hadn’t prepared for.

This is ridiculous, he thought, though the words did little to convince him. His pulse quickened whenever they were near, and he found himself more sensitive to their presence, more attuned to their every movement, their voice, the way their laughter seemed to cut through the noise of the day.

And worse, he couldn’t stop thinking about that night. The Halloween party. The quiet moment on the balcony where the air had been cool, but their presence had kept him warm. It was as if something had shifted then, some invisible line had been crossed, and now he couldn’t push them from his mind. Every time they entered the lab, his chest tightened in ways he didn’t fully understand.

Xiangli Yao: I’m not supposed to feel like this, he told himself, his brow furrowing as he reached for the component again, forcing his attention back to his priorities. But the moment he heard the soft click of the door opening, his heart betrayed him.

They stepped inside, their footsteps soft but unmistakable. His body tensed, his breath hitching ever so slightly as he glanced up, catching sight of them moving toward their usual station. He shouldn’t have noticed the way their hair fell over their shoulder, or the way their fingers brushed against the edge of the table as they worked. But he did.

Let's take a deep breath, he thought, though his mind raced with the realization that had been slowly creeping up on him since that night. You’ve developed a crush.

It was a simple, almost absurd revelation, but it hit him with the force of a truth he could no longer deny. His chest tightened further, the calmness he usually carried slipping away as he swallowed hard, trying to force the sensation down.