I Transmigrated as Cannon Fodder, Only to be Desired by the Dragon King - Chapter 12

Chapter 12: I Am Your Future Husband — Forget it, why am I arguing with a drunkard…

As soon as Wen Shubai’s silhouette vanished at the end of the corridor, the white shadow in the pond instantly transformed into a streak of flowing light. It passed soundlessly through Shen Youqing’s door and landed inside the room.

Feng Xiuyan revealed his true form, clad in deep blue robes that trailed on the floor. His ink-black hair was partially held back by a simple dark jade hairpin, while the rest draped casually over his back.

He walked slowly to the daybed. Shen Youqing was tossing and turning restlessly on the narrow mattress, half his body nearly sliding off the edge. Thanks to the stool Wen Shubai had placed there earlier, he hadn’t fallen straight to the floor.

“Ugh… so uncomfortable…”

Shen Youqing couldn’t find a cozy position. He flipped toward the outer edge again, swinging an arm out; he was about to tumble. Feng Xiuyan reacted instantly, reaching out to catch him by the waist.

The youth’s waist was slender; even through the thin quilt, Feng Xiuyan could feel the warmth. With his well-defined fingers, he easily lifted and repositioned the boy into the center of the bed, his movements unconsciously softening.

This movement roused Shen Youqing slightly. He slowly opened his eyes, his vision blurry. After a moment, he processed a strange man standing before him. The man had deep-set eyes, a high bridge to his nose, and pale lips. He carried a crisp, cool scent of water, looking as if he had stepped right out of a painting.

Shen Youqing knitted his brows, his gaze dazed. He muttered inwardly: This guy… is actually really good-looking…

Feng Xiuyan looked down at the boy. There was a misty layer of moisture over the youth’s eyes, and his soft eyelashes trembled. Even his confused scowl looked adorable. Feng Xiuyan felt his heart being brushed by a feather; the corners of his mouth twitched, wanting to curve upward.

But a second later, a memory flashed in his mind: Wen Shubai leaving this room with a food box, his collar stained with a drop of wine. He sensed the lingering aura of the two people in the room and remembered the boy’s silly, drunken rambling while clinging to Wen Shubai.

The tenderness was instantly quelled by a surge of jealousy.

Two men alone in a room, drinking until they’re dead drunk!

Feng Xiuyan’s expression darkened. His fingers curled instinctively, and his irritation swelled like a soaking bean. As if seeking a small revenge, he reached out and pinched the boy’s flushed cheek, deliberately giving it a tiny squeeze with his thumb.

“Now you know what ‘uncomfortable’ feels like?” His voice was cold, though he didn’t actually apply much pressure. “You deserve it.”

“Ow… hurts!” Shen Youqing winced, his muddy consciousness clearing a bit. He tried to push the man away but lacked the strength, only managed a muffled protest: “Who… who are you? Why are you pinchin’ my face?”

Seeing him pouting with zero actual threat, Feng Xiuyan’s anger subsided significantly. However, his words came out with a hint of spite: “I am your future husband.”

The moment the words left his lips, he himself was stunned. The statement was not only absurd but carried an urgency he hadn’t even recognized. He must have been provoked by the sight of Shen Youqing being so intimate with another man.

But since the words were out, he stared at Shen Youqing’s face, waiting for a reaction. Surely the boy would be flattered? Perhaps he’d even jump up and hug him joyfully?

Instead, Shen Youqing blinked his misty eyes and stared at him for a long time. Suddenly, he frowned and asked slurringly, “Hus-bund? What kind of ‘bund’ is that? Is it… edible?”

Feng Xiuyan: “…” His brow jumped. He swallowed the rest of his words. Looking at the boy’s pure confusion, his jealousy and anger deflated like a popped bubble.

Finally, he sighed helplessly and released the boy’s cheek. Forget it, why am I arguing with a drunkard?

As Feng Xiuyan was about to withdraw his hand, his wrist was suddenly snatched by a warm palm. Shen Youqing had reached out, his hand carrying the heat of the wine, gripping Feng Xiuyan’s wrist with a stubborn strength.

“You… you look so familiar…” Shen Youqing’s head wobbled, his eyes still clouded. He struggled to focus on Feng Xiuyan and let out a wine-scented hiccup. “Have we… have we met… somewhere before?”

Feng Xiuyan, held by the wrist, took a step forward. He used his other hand to support the boy’s back, steadying his swaying body. The youth was so drunk that without support, he would have collapsed.

Seeing the boy thinking so hard yet coming up with nothing, the last of Feng Xiuyan’s annoyance faded into a silent sigh. “We meet every day. You simply haven’t recognized me.”

“Hmm?” Shen Youqing’s eyes brightened. He leaned closer until his nose almost brushed Feng Xiuyan’s sleeve, his voice turning into a pampered plea. “Then… tell me… I’ll definitely, definitely remember next time!”

He tightened his grip on Feng Xiuyan’s wrist, his thumb unconsciously rubbing against the cool skin in a child-like display of dependence.

Feng Xiuyan looked at the expectation in his eyes. The truth was on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to say, “I am Little White,” or “I was the one who helped you carry water,” or even “I am the Dragon King.”

But just as the words reached his lips, they were cut off by a long, steady breath. He looked down and saw Shen Youqing’s eyes had closed. His long lashes cast soft shadows, and his lips were pursed as if he were having a sweet dream.

Feng Xiuyan shook his head. He tried to move the boy back to the center of the bed, but his wrist was still being held tightly. He tried to pull away gently, but the movement disturbed the sleeper. Shen Youqing frowned and mumbled an incoherent dream-word. Instead of letting go, he pulled the hand closer to his chest and rubbed his cheek against Feng Xiuyan’s knuckles.

The warmth from the boy’s cheek, mixed with the scent of sweet pastries and wine, caused Feng Xiuyan to freeze. Looking at the sleeping youth, the desire to pull his hand away vanished.

Shen Youqing’s sleep was heavy. When he finally opened his eyes, it was pitch black outside. No lamps were lit; only shards of silver moonlight filtered through the window lattice. The air still carried the faint scent of pear blossom wine mixed with a trace of cool, watery mist.

He had been woken by a parched throat. His tongue felt sticky against the roof of his mouth. Still dazed, he reached out toward the side table for the glass of water he usually left there. His fingers swept across the cold wood, finding nothing.

“Weird… where’s the water?” he croaked. He reached further. His fingertips hit something hard, and with a “clatter,” the object slid toward the edge of the table.

Shen Youqing panicked, reaching out to save it, when a deep voice—cold as spring water—rang out near him: “Don’t move recklessly.”

The voice was both strange and familiar, carrying an intimidating weight. Shen Youqing froze, his sleepiness instantly replaced by terror. He looked toward the source of the sound. Sitting in the chair by the daybed was a man!

“Who are you!?” Shen Youqing gasped, scrambling backward. He forgot he was on a narrow bed; his back hit the cold window frame with a thud, his shoulder blades aching.

“Careful!”

Seeing the boy’s head about to hit the frame, Feng Xiuyan’s pupils contracted. He stood up and grabbed Shen Youqing’s wrist. Because he was too hurried, his strength was uncoordinated. Shen Youqing, already off-balance, stumbled forward and crashed right into the man’s embrace.

Thud. Shen Youqing’s forehead hit Feng Xiuyan’s chest. He let out a soft groan. His nose was filled with the scent of cool water and a hint of ambergris. The steady, powerful heartbeat beneath the fine fabric vibrated against his ear, making his skin feel hot.

Feng Xiuyan froze as well. The boy in his arms was warm and soft, like a small animal crashing into him. He could feel the youth trembling. Realizing he had truly terrified him, he loosened his grip on the boy’s wrist but didn’t let go entirely.

Feng Xiuyan regained his composure and gently guided the boy away to create some space, fearing that holding him longer would only increase his panic. But as he let go and looked down, he stopped.

Shen Youqing’s eyes were red. Crystalline tears hung from his long lashes, and a moment later, one rolled down his cheek, leaving a damp mark on his collar.

“What is it? Did I hit you too hard? Does it hurt?”

Feng Xiuyan felt as if his heart had been violently wrenched. His previous composure vanished, replaced by a clumsy panic. He instinctively reached out to wipe the tears but stopped mid-air, his voice softening into an apologetic plea: “…I’m sorry. I didn’t control my strength well.”

In his thousand years of existence, he had never been this flustered. Facing the boy’s tears, he had no idea how to comfort him.

Shen Youqing actually hadn’t expected to cry. He didn’t feel much when his forehead hit, but his nose had taken a direct blow, and the dull ache forced physiological tears from his eyes. Seeing the man’s frantic worry, he wiped his nose. It felt warm. Did I get a nosebleed? He checked his fingers—they were clean.

Relieved, he looked at the stranger who was apologizing so sincerely. Wait, what’s going on? Why is he apologizing? Is he someone the ‘original owner’ knew?

Now that the initial fright was passing, that voice… it sounded so familiar. Where had he heard it?

Feng Xiuyan leaned in closer, his eyes full of concern, wanting to see if the boy’s nose was injured. Shen Youqing shrunk back against the window frame, raising a hand to shield himself. His voice was muffled: “I’m fine. No need to look.”

Seeing the boy’s wariness, Feng Xiuyan let out a quiet sigh. Deep down, he felt a bit relieved—at least the kid had some survival instincts and didn’t drop his guard around strangers.

Shen Youqing’s shoulders relaxed slightly when the man stayed back, but his confusion remained. He blinked his watery eyes and asked again, “Seriously… who are you? Why are you in my room in the middle of the night?”

He paused, then added, “And… do we know each other?”

Feng Xiuyan realized then: the kid truly still hadn’t recognized him.