After the Heartthrob Took the Cannon Fodder Script [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 11

After Jiang Henian finished his work, Juezhou felt too embarrassed to keep hogging his bed. He tried to stretch his hand out from under the soft, fluffy quilt.

Ugh, I’ve been sealed by the blankets. Getting up is too hard.

Jiang Henian saw through his “salted fish” laziness and said, “Just stay and sleep here tonight.”

Since he said so, Juezhou settled back down contentedly.

Come to think of it, the first time the two of them slept in the same bed was when Juezhou was eight years old.

At that time, Jiang Henian had just arrived at the Gu household. After his parents passed away, none of his grandparents or other relatives were willing to take in this “burden.” Mother Gu’s heart softened, and she volunteered to help raise him for a while.

That “while” turned into fourteen years.

Back then, Juezhou thought Jiang Henian was quite pitiful—all alone at such a young age. Furthermore, having learned the plot and knowing he would later use Jiang Henian’s influence to act like a tyrant, he treated Jiang Henian even better.

Before going to bed one night, he clutched his plushie and went to Mother Gu, requesting to sleep with Jiang Henian. “I’m afraid Brother Henian will be scared sleeping alone.”

The eight-year-old Juezhou was a soft, milky little ball. When he said those words with such a serious face, it was clear to everyone that he was actually the one afraid of sleeping alone.

Mother Gu’s heart nearly melted. She scooped him up, calling him a “good, sweet baby” several times. After his bath, she led him to Jiang Henian’s bed. She stroked Jiang Henian’s head, just as she did for Juezhou, and said, “Let Zhouzhou sleep with you tonight.”

The eleven-year-old Jiang Henian, wearing bear-patterned pajamas, pursed his lips.

Most villains have a tragic childhood, and Jiang Henian was no exception. His parents hadn’t treated him well either, viewing him only as a tool to gain praise. They forced him to study but never taught him what love was.

He nodded silently, only to see the little “milky ball” known as Zhouzhou give a cheer, hop onto his bed, and burrow into the quilt.

“Brother Henian smells so good,” Juezhou said, hugging Jiang Henian’s waist. When he smiled, his eyes curved into crescents.

He still had a bit of baby fat, and his little face was fair and tender. On the hood of his rabbit pajamas were long pink ears. He tilted his head up, his eyes sparkling as he stared at the future villain.

The future villain had been handsome since childhood, with black hair and brown eyes that seemed to hold a glimmer of starlight.

Jiang Henian had no experience dealing with children. He tucked the quilt around Juezhou and, after a few seconds of silence, asked, “Zhouzhou, do you want to watch cartoons?”

Juezhou, who was actually a twenty-year-old adult before transmigrating, had zero interest in cartoons. But then he thought—maybe the young Jiang Henian wanted to watch them himself but was too shy and used him as an excuse.

“Okay, okay!” Juezhou smiled, eyes crinkling. Although he called him “Brother,” in his heart, he viewed Jiang Henian as a younger brother who needed his care. Coaxing a child is easier than pleasing an adult; he had to make the future Great Villain like him while they were young.

Jiang Henian brought out his electronic device. The screen was filled with programming code—alphanumeric characters that were obscure and difficult to understand. Jiang Henian skillfully tapped a few times and switched to a cartoon page.

Juezhou: Smile gradually stiffens.gif

The educational cartoons meant for kids were a bit boring. Juezhou grew sleepy as he watched. He was extremely clingy; as his consciousness blurred, he started rubbing against Jiang Henian, seeking a hug. The weather was dry, and the little boy’s body was warm. Jiang Henian frowned and tried to dodge to the side.

Having reached a state of low intelligence due to sleepiness, Juezhou spoke in a tiny, milky voice: “Mmm… Brother, huggy.”

Jiang Henian froze for a moment. He slowly opened his arms and embraced the milky, round Juezhou.

As a cub, Juezhou was even softer than he was as an adult. His eyelashes were very long, and he squirmed around, but once embraced, he became obedient. Jiang Henian lowered his head and caught a faint scent of milk at the crook of Juezhou’s neck.

How is he soft everywhere? Jiang Henian thought.

He was even better at acting spoiled than the stray cats Jiang Henian had encountered before.

In the middle of the night, the young Juezhou was woken up by the heat. He discovered that the young Jiang Henian was hugging him so tightly that Juezhou had a bit of trouble breathing, and he couldn’t pull away no matter how hard he tried.

[See?] Juezhou said proudly to the System. [I’m still very good at coaxing kids.]

Although the System didn’t quite understand how he had coaxed Jiang Henian, it still cooperated by clapping its hands.

Seeing that the two got along well, Mother Gu simply let them sleep together until Jiang Henian turned sixteen.

The ceiling lights remained off; only the desk lamp and the bedside lamp were still lit.

Jiang Henian turned off the desk lamp and moved his hand toward the bedside lamp, asking Juezhou, “Is the light too bright for your eyes?”

Juezhou was the type of person who could fall asleep even with a teacher shouting a passionate lecture right in front of him. He poked his head out of the quilt and shook it.

Jiang Henian nodded and went to shower first.

Having slept dizzily for a few hours, Juezhou was now full of energy. He logged onto his “sockpuppet” account to surf the web and found that Zhou Chenyu was ranked first on the trending searches.

#Zhou Chenyu Suspected Relationship#

Clicking in revealed a livestream recording. Zhou Chenyu was currently live, and a staff member asked how he planned to spend Valentine’s Day.

Juezhou paused the video and checked the calendar, finding that the school anniversary fell exactly on Valentine’s Day.

“Rounding it up, I’ll be spending Valentine’s with the cat-ear junior schoolmate,” Juezhou comforted himself.

He remembered that every Valentine’s Day, Father and Mother Gu would go on vacation together, leaving Juezhou to sit lonely across from Jiang Henian all day. If Jiang Henian was in a good mood, he would bring home a few small cakes for Juezhou.

In the real world, he could only spend it with a bunch of “bad” friends.

Juezhou continued watching the gossip video of Zhou Chenyu.

Zhou Chenyu’s eyes were filled with a smile: “I might find someone to spend it with.”

Juezhou quickly asked the System: [Is Zhou Chenyu already set on Xie Wenchen this early?]

The System opened the plot summary and shook its head: [No, right now they are just casual acquaintances.]

Being an actor was hard work. Juezhou checked the time and saw it was already 11:00 PM, yet Zhou Chenyu was still livestreaming.

The platform he was using happened to be Juezhou’s most-used: Jinjiang Livestream.

Juezhou had a small hobby: he loved watching game streams in his spare time. Since starting university, the money he earned from selling his paintings was enough to cover his living expenses. His usual pastime was donating to streamers. He was generous and loved “supporting” small-time streamers, making him a legendary “God-tier Whale” on the platform.

Anyone who hung out in the gaming section knew him. The official staff at Jinjiang Livestream had even designed custom special effects for him. Every time Juezhou entered a room, a shimmering golden banner and rainbow confetti would rain down.

Jue·Chunibyo·Zhou loved these flashy, colorful effects and kept them equipped at all times.

Consequently, the moment Juezhou entered the room, everyone watching online received a notification:

[The God of a Generation, “Yi Zhou,” has landed in the livestream room.]

Zhou Chenyu’s interview was being held in his private residence. The thick, dark curtains were drawn tight. He sat casually on the sofa, with several staff members nearby.

This interview was co-hosted by Jinjiang Livestream and the mecha drama Soul Guard, which Zhou Chenyu was starring in. The staff from Jinjiang were the ones asking the questions.

Perhaps because the Jinjiang staff had asked about his love life, causing him to trend, Zhou Chenyu’s own staff had rather sour expressions. Zhou Chenyu himself, however, smiled and said, “Next segment.”

Perhaps because they had been high school roommates for three years, Juezhou found it hard to map him onto the original novel’s elegant, black-bellied, and charming “Protagonist Top” (Gong). It wasn’t until seeing him through the livestream lens now that Juezhou truly felt a sense of distance.

Zhou Chenyu’s smile looked cold on screen. His facial contours were exceptionally superior, and his hair was slightly long and wavy for a role. He had a powerful aura and was the center of everyone’s attention.

The bullet screen suddenly accelerated as Juezhou arrived:

[Eh? So Boss Yi Zhou is a fan too?]

[Boss Yi Zhou usually only likes gaming and art streams; he probably clicked in by accident.]

[Sucking up some of Boss’s wealth energy.]

The Jinjiang staff member cleared their throat and said, “The next segment is the ‘Fan Call.’ A lucky fan currently watching will have a chance to call in and talk with you for five minutes.”

Zhou Chenyu nodded.

The “lucky viewers” for the call segment were, of course, pre-selected by the platform. However, once the Jinjiang staff saw “Yi Zhou” enter the room, their hearts skipped a beat. They quickly whispered to Zhou Chenyu’s assistant.

The ID “Yi Zhou” was quite famous in the gaming circle; he had spent enough money to make several small streamers famous. If they actually collaborated, the hype would hit the trending searches.

Zhou Chenyu’s staff also felt that picking “Yi Zhou” for the call was a good way to suppress the “suspected relationship” rumors. However, they respected Zhou Chenyu’s opinion and messaged him first to ask for consent.

Zhou Chenyu picked up his phone, silently staring at the two characters “Yi Zhou” on the screen. He suddenly chuckled. “Sure.”

Zhou Chenyu didn’t look as good under the “beauty filter” as he did in person. Juezhou was propping up his chin, staring at the screen, when he was startled by the microphone icon suddenly lighting up on his phone.

How could I be this unlucky? I just randomly clicked in and got picked for the call?!

Fortunately, Jiang Henian was a slow showerer; he wouldn’t be out within five minutes.

Zhou Chenyu looked at the camera, his peach-blossom eyes exceptionally captivating as he smiled. He drawled, “Hello there.”

Juezhou cleared his throat and replied with a hint of weakness: “…Hello.”

Zhou Chenyu knew the ID “Yi Zhou.” Juezhou had used his own account to play games with him before. However, right now, he had to pretend they didn’t know each other.

After he spoke, the speed of the bullet screen increased significantly:

[Holy crap, Boss Yi Zhou’s voice is actually so soft and nice to hear? I always thought he was some middle-aged uncle.]

[Wow, hearing Zhou Chenyu and Boss Yi Zhou’s voices at the same time… my voice-fetish nosebleed is starting!]

[Is it just me? I feel like Zhou-ge’s aura changed instantly…]

[Me too… He went from a cold male celebrity to a seductive ‘evil consort’ trying to lure a tycoon in a split second.]

Zhou Chenyu couldn’t see the bullet screen, but Juezhou saw it clearly.

He silently complained in his heart: Seductive ‘consort’ tops aren’t even trendy on Jinjiang anymore.

Zhou Chenyu was still smiling, and his smile looked much more genuine than before. The light fell on his cold, pale skin as he leaned back on the sofa. His voice traveled through the headphones into Juezhou’s ears:

“I heard you’ve supported many small streamers—want to try supporting me?”