I Transmigrated as Cannon Fodder, Only to be Desired by the Dragon King - Chapter 18

Chapter 18: The Dragon King Loves Praise — The corners of Feng Xiuyan’s lips curled almost imperceptibly…

Shen Youqing had just left the manor with his bamboo basket, heading toward the back mountain, when he saw two familiar figures walking ahead.

“Sister Yajun, Sister Su Yao! What a coincidence!” Shen Youqing called out loudly, quickening his pace to catch up. His gaze landed on the bamboo baskets they were carrying. “Where are you two headed?”

Yuan Yajun greeted him with a smile: “Morning, Little Youqing. We’re going up the mountain to pick some wildflowers to decorate our windowsills.”

“Wildflowers?”

“Yes! A few days ago when we were fetching spring water, we found a patch of wild chrysanthemums halfway up the mountain. They’re bright yellow and absolutely beautiful,” Su Yao added, her tone filled with excitement.

“That’s perfect!” Shen Youqing clapped his hands. “I’m heading to the back mountain too. Let’s walk together; we can chat on the way.”

Yuan Yajun finally noticed the polished machete in his hand and the basket on his back. She asked curiously, “Little Youqing, why are you going up the mountain with a machete?”

“You saw that little yellow duckling in my yard yesterday, right? It wandered in from somewhere and looked so pitiful, so I decided to raise it. I’m going to cut some bamboo to build a duck pen so it doesn’t freeze at night.”

“We?” Yuan Yajun caught the keyword, her expression flickering with uncertainty.

“Yeah! That guy you saw in the pavilion yesterday.” Shen Youqing scratched his head sheepishly. “Don’t take what happened yesterday to heart. He’s just blunt and a bit cold, but he’s actually a good guy. Since we’re all going up together, I can re-introduce you properly.”

Yuan Yajun suppressed her internal shock. She glanced at Su Yao and saw the same alarm reflected in her eyes. Steadying herself, she asked carefully, “You mean… That One is waiting for you on the mountain?”

“Exactly!” Shen Youqing nodded naturally. “He said his courtyard is closer to the back mountain and he didn’t want to walk all the way around, so we agreed to meet there.”

Yuan Yajun was stunned. It seemed the Dragon King had yet to reveal his identity to Shen Youqing. Looking at the boy’s completely oblivious face, she didn’t know what to say. She grabbed Su Yao’s arm and made an excuse: “Oh dear, I think I forgot my flower shears! Why don’t you go ahead? We’ll head back to get them and catch up.”

Shen Youqing waved them off. “Sure, go grab them. I won’t wait up then!”

He turned and headed toward the mountain with a light step. He knew Yuan Yajun was making an excuse—it seemed Feng Xiuyan had left a terrible impression on the girls yesterday.

Tsk. Shen Youqing couldn’t help but roast his new “brother” internally. Who cares if he’s handsome? With that icy personality, finding a wife is going to be a real struggle…

Watching him walk away, Su Yao couldn’t hold back anymore. She grabbed Yuan Yajun’s arm, her voice full of confusion and frustration. “Sister Yajun, why did you lie? That was a rare chance to interact with the Dragon King! If we followed, we might have left a good impression…”

Yuan Yajun sighed softly, a look of realization in her eyes. “Don’t you see? The Dragon King has already chosen his person.”

“What?” Su Yao froze. Then, as the thought clicked, her eyes widened. “You mean… it’s Shen Youqing?”

“Yes.” Yuan Yajun nodded, watching the retreating figure. “We should have seen it sooner. From the moment he ordered us to fetch water for him, to the moment he forbade us from getting too close… we should have understood. The Dragon King doesn’t want a ‘noble consort.’ He just wants someone who can make him step down from his pedestal—someone he’s willing to play with.”

…

Near the foot of the mountain, Shen Youqing saw a black silhouette standing by the stone steps.

Feng Xiuyan stood with his hands behind his back, his black robes fluttering in the mountain breeze. His jawline was sharp, but he didn’t radiate his usual chill. Instead, he looked like he had been waiting specifically for this moment.

Shen Youqing’s eyes curved into crescents. “Sorry, sorry! I ran into Sister Yajun and the others on the way and got held up for a bit.”

“Mm.” Feng Xiuyan responded, his brow arching almost imperceptibly as he scanned behind Shen Youqing. Seeing the boy was alone, he relaxed slightly. “What did you say to them?”

“What else? We talked about you!” Shen Youqing sighed and patted Feng Xiuyan’s arm. He summarized the encounter and the rejection, adding a roast: “Look at that! You scared the girls away. You really need to fix that ‘cold face’ personality of yours!”

“It doesn’t matter to me what they think,” Feng Xiuyan replied. His tone was still calm, but the aloofness was gone. He didn’t want those people near Shen Youqing anyway; this saved him the trouble.

“Tsk.” Shen Youqing shook his head, thinking his “brother” was a lost cause when it came to romance. “Forget it, I can’t talk sense into you. Let’s go cut bamboo!” He led the way up the steps, his pace as light as the wind.

Feng Xiuyan followed, a trace of confusion in his eyes. Why was the kid looking at me with that ‘disappointed in a lost cause’ expression? He didn’t dwell on it and kept up.

They soon reached the bamboo grove halfway up the mountain. The air was moist and smelled of fresh bamboo; sunlight filtered through the leaves, weaving a dappled net on the ground.

Shen Youqing wandered around before stopping in front of a sturdy, old stalk as thick as a bowl. He patted it. “This one! This will make a solid duck pen!”

He pulled the machete from his basket, lined it up, and swung with all his might.

Clang!

The bamboo was much harder than expected. The vibration traveled up his arm, numbing his wrist and nearly making him drop the knife.

“Hey! It’s actually tough!” Instead of being discouraged, Shen Youqing grinned. He gripped the handle, widened his stance, and swung again, shouting a rhythmic “Eighty! Eighty! Eighty!” (A reference to a famous Chinese comedy sketch about the cost of labor).

Feng Xiuyan watched as the kid’s arm swung high, his face turning red as he shouted weird numbers. His brow twitched, and a corner of his mouth spasmed. How does he manage to make even cutting bamboo look like a performance?

After dozens of “Eighties,” Shen Youqing shook his numbed hand. Looking at the bamboo, he saw he had only managed to shave off a layer of skin—there wasn’t even a deep notch.

He instinctively glanced at Feng Xiuyan. The man was looking down at him, expressionless, which made Shen Youqing feel strangely embarrassed. He scratched the back of his head. “Man… is this bamboo a spirit or something? I can’t even dent it!”

Feng Xiuyan didn’t expose him. He stepped forward, his fingers briefly brushing the warm back of Shen Youqing’s hand before he took the machete. “Give it to me. Wait over there.”

“You got it!” Shen Youqing scurried to the side, his eyes full of expectation.

Feng Xiuyan weighed the blade, applied a bit of force, and swung.

Thud— A dull sound. The bamboo remained standing, unaffected.

The air went dead silent.

Shen Youqing’s shoulders began to shake. He covered his mouth to stifle a laugh, but the mirth in his eyes was impossible to hide.

Feng Xiuyan’s ear tips turned red. His jaw tightened.

“Hey! This bamboo is so ungrateful!” Shen Youqing jumped up and started pointing at the stalk, giving Feng Xiuyan an “out.” “Two handsome guys are trying to chop you, and you won’t even move? Talk about stubborn!”

Feng Xiuyan: “…”

He didn’t say a word. He took a deep breath, gripped the machete properly, and struck again with a more precise angle.

Crack. The blade sank half an inch into the stalk.

“Wow! You’re so amazing!” Shen Youqing immediately started clapping in an exaggerated performance.

The corners of Feng Xiuyan’s lips curled almost imperceptibly before he pressed them back down, pretending to be calm as he pulled the blade out.

The second strike landed in the same notch. The bamboo groaned and a long crack appeared.

“Whoa! Incredible!” Shen Youqing’s praise followed immediately. He leaned in as if studying it. “Look at that angle! You hit the joint perfectly!”

Feng Xiuyan didn’t answer, but his movements became even steadier. On the third strike, the bowl-thick bamboo snapped with a loud CRACK and fell over, kicking up a few leaves.

“Holy cow! You’re too good!” Shen Youqing patted Feng Xiuyan’s arm, his voice full of “worship.” “Only two real hits and it’s down! I was hacking at it forever. You’re really something else!”

He thought to himself: Turns out everyone loves a good ego boost. My ‘corporate brown-nosing’ skills haven’t gone to waste. Look at him; he’s clearly in a much better mood.

Feng Xiuyan’s ears were now bright red. He put the machete away and dusted his robes, though he didn’t push away the hand on his arm. He murmured, “Why are you still standing there? Drag the bamboo to the clearing.”

“Yes, sir!” Shen Youqing ran off to drag the bamboo with high spirits.

Under Shen Youqing’s “direction” and Feng Xiuyan’s tireless labor, the long bamboo was soon split into arm-length sections. As the last piece went into the basket, Shen Youqing stood up and dusted his hands. “This should be enough.”

He noticed a thin sheen of sweat on Feng Xiuyan’s forehead and looked at the heavy basket. He stepped forward. “You did all the hard work. Let me carry the basket down. I can’t let you do everything.”

He squatted down, looped the straps over his shoulders, took a deep breath, and tried to stand…

He didn’t budge.

The basket didn’t even leave the ground. Instead, the weight pulled him backward, and he nearly sat on the floor.

Shen Youqing: “…”

He tried again, face turning red, knees straining. The basket remained as solid as a mountain.

Feng Xiuyan watched him and let out a soft sigh. He stepped forward, grabbed Shen Youqing’s arm, and pulled him up. “Don’t overdo it.”

With one hand, Feng Xiuyan grabbed the straps and hoisted the heavy basket onto his own shoulder without the slightest effort. “Follow me.”

“Oh.” Shen Youqing’s eyes went wide. The basket was packed with hard bamboo; it had to be incredibly heavy, yet Feng Xiuyan carried it like it was nothing.

He immediately followed, his chatter starting up again. “You’re so strong! Last time with the water buckets it was the same. Do you work out every day?”

He circled around Feng Xiuyan, looking at his waist curiously. “Do you have abs? You know, the six-pack kind? Do you have ‘corn-cob’ abs?”

Seeing Feng Xiuyan remain silent, he leaned closer, tone full of hope: “Can you take me with you next time you work out? I want to get some muscle too!”

The veins on Feng Xiuyan’s temple throbbed. The kid is acting up again. He endured it for a moment before snapping: “Be quiet.”

Shen Youqing immediately covered his mouth and followed obediently. But his eyes and body couldn’t stay still. One moment he was poking a mushroom on the side of the road, the next he was picking a wildflower to hold in his mouth. He kicked a pebble, then blew on a dandelion.

Feng Xiuyan walked ahead with the basket on his shoulder, but his eyes kept drifting toward the boy in his peripheral vision, and his steps unconsciously slowed down.