I Transmigrated as Cannon Fodder, Only to be Desired by the Dragon King - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Playing Nanny to a Fish

Shen Youqing waited for a long while…

Shen Youqing waited for a long while, and seeing that the little fish was dead-set on not showing its face, he finally leaned back against the trunk of a willow tree behind him, looking as though he had admitted defeat.

Gazing at the clouds drifting lazily across the sky, he continued to mutter under his breath, “Fine, fine. Ignore me then. See if I care… once I find something else to do, who’s going to waste time on a heartless little thing like you?”

The words were bold, but his eyes couldn’t help but steal glances back toward the pond.

Shen Youqing had been here for barely three days. To say he was “unfamiliar with the place” was an understatement; to be precise, he hadn’t even fully coordinated his own limbs in this new body yet.

Over the past few days, the phrase “the more you say, the more you err” was practically branded on his forehead. Whenever anyone was around, he had to maintain the original owner’s cold, noble posture. Even his smiles had to be restrained, for fear that a single wrong look would give him away.

Now, although he had been dispatched to the suburban villa by the Old Master and no longer had to live in constant fear of his large family, the rules felt as if they were etched into his very bones.

His body belonged to the most pampered young master of the Shen family, raised with “gold and jade.” If he were to start chatting and joking around with the villa servants, it would be a total collapse of his character persona. If word got back to the main estate through some gossiping servant, he might be treated as if he were possessed by a demon. Forget a “vacation”—he’d be lucky to keep his life.

Furthermore, the fish hiding in the weeds was no ordinary creature.

Thinking back to the scene when he left this morning, Shen Youqing glanced at the pond again, his lips curving into a helpless arc.

At the time, he thought the whole family had come out to see him off because they couldn’t bear to part with the young master who had just recovered from an illness. He was just about to squeeze out a few tears for the occasion when the Old Master stroked his beard and said out of the blue: “Once you arrive at the villa, stay in the main courtyard. There is a Fengling in that pond; look after it well, and do not let anything go wrong.”

At the time, he was too busy nodding in agreement to think much about what a “Fengling” was, assuming it was just a fancy ornamental fish. It was only after interacting with the little fish for a while just now that the truth finally dawned on him. So, he had been sent here to be a fish nanny?

“Tsk, quite high-maintenance, aren’t you?”

Shen Youqing let out a soft snort toward the water. Recalling the fish’s arrogant flick of its tail before disappearing into the weeds, he couldn’t resist poking the moss at the pond’s edge.

“Just a fish, yet I have to personally look after it… If it gets skinny from hunger later, will the Old Master put that on my tab too?”

Despite his grumbling, his eyes involuntarily searched the depths of the weeds, calculating when he should feed it so as not to seem too eager, while still fulfilling the Old Master’s orders. After all, in this unfamiliar dynasty, the number one rule for survival was not to offend his “cheap” grandfather—even if it was over a fish.

Shen Youqing rose slowly and looked toward the horizon.

The sun had mostly sunk into the mountain valley, setting the sky ablaze in orange-red. The scenery in this ancient world was truly magnificent; without skyscrapers blocking the view, one could see right to the horizon. Whether sunrise or sunset, the view hit your eyes without any obstruction.

He stood there watching the afterglow for a while until the last bit of light faded, then slowly turned to walk back inside.

The moment he stepped into the corridor, the Old Master’s instructions from this morning bounced around his head like a curse, making his temples throb.

Before leaving, the old man had pulled him aside and nagged him endlessly—from how to soak the fish food to what kind of vessel to use for changing the water. He spared no detail. Finally, he had gripped Shen Youqing’s wrist and asked three times with a sharp gaze: “Do you remember?”

How could Shen Youqing dare say he didn’t? He had been hauled out of bed before dawn, his stomach growling with hunger, forced to endure the old man’s lecture for half an hour. He could only nod like a chick pecking at grain, thumping his chest and promising, “Your grandson has committed it all to memory.”

Only then did the old man let go, looking at him as if he were a personal valet meant only to serve a fish.

As he walked, he filtered through the nagging instructions and summarized them into these points:

1. Feed it once every day at the hour of the Chen (about 8:00 AM); the food must be softened with warm water.
2. Clean the fallen leaves and impurities from the bottom of the pond daily, and use a fine silk net to filter dust from the surface.
3. Change the water every three days, and it must be spring water from the back mountain—well water or river water will not do.
4. The most ridiculous one: stay quiet after dark and try not to go outside, as it might “disturb the fish’s rest.”

The first two were fine—feeding and cleaning just took a bit of effort. But the water-changing rule was a headache. He had seen that mountain during the day; though not far from the villa, the mountain path was winding. The spring was halfway up the mountain. With his “modern corporate slave” physique, he’d probably need three breaks just to carry one bucket of water back, let alone doing it regularly.

As for the fourth rule, it was a challenge to his very biological limits.

“Not allowed out at night?” Shen Youqing muttered a curse at the thought. “Then what if I drink too much water in the middle of the night and need to pee?”

He suddenly remembered the commode he had glimpsed in his room—lacquered black with gold painting. It looked exquisite, but the thought of handling “biological business” inside the living quarters… The goosebumps rose instantly.

“Tsk, forget about it.”

He stopped abruptly and curled his lip. “I’m not missing any limbs. Why would I stay inside smelling that when there’s a perfectly good outhouse outside?”

The night wind drifted over the courtyard walls, making the lanterns under the eaves sway gently.

Shen Youqing stood with his arms crossed for a moment. The more he thought about it, the more unreasonable the rules seemed. “At night, whatever happens, happens. The fish sleeps its sleep, and I walk my path. We won’t bother each other. If it really gets disturbed, then it just has a weak heart. I’m not catering to these ‘ancestor’ rules!”

After finishing the dinner brought by the servants, Shen Youqing washed up early and went to bed.

It wasn’t because he was health-conscious, but because nights in this ancient world were incredibly dull. No phone, no computer, no TV shows, and not even anyone to chat with. After dinner, he had thought about taking a walk to aid digestion, but looking out the window, the courtyard was pitch black except for a few dim lanterns in the corridor. Even the moonlight was mostly hidden by clouds, so he gave up on the idea.

Better to lie down in comfort than to stare at the empty ceiling beams. Or so he thought. But after staring at the carvings on the bed canopy for a while, he found himself completely wide awake.

Less than forty-five minutes later, Shen Youqing sat up abruptly, his hair a mess from tossing and turning. “I can’t sleep at all!” he snapped in frustration.

He climbed out of bed in the dark and felt his way to the desk. By the sliver of light filtering through the window, he saw a few thread-bound books stacked on the table. The characters on the covers looked somewhat familiar. He pulled one out and squinted at it in the dim light.

Strange—he recognized the characters individually, but when put together, it was like reading a divine script; he couldn’t make sense of a single sentence.

“Damn it, seriously?” Shen Youqing cursed under his breath and tossed the book back onto the table. Back in the modern world, he might not have been a top-tier scholar, but he was a graduate of a prestigious university. How did he become semi-illiterate here?

He stared at the book for a long time, and having no other options, he grabbed his outer robe from the back of the chair, threw it over his shoulders, and pushed the door open to walk into the yard.

To hell with the rule about disturbing the fish’s rest; it was better than going crazy inside.

The night wind felt cool against his face. The lanterns swayed, casting flickering shadows on the ground. Shen Youqing walked slowly along the corridor, his soft footsteps making a light tap-tap sound that felt exceptionally clear in the silent night.

He looked up at the sky. The clouds had scattered a bit, revealing a crescent moon. Its silver glow brightened the courtyard. When he reached the pond, he instinctively stopped and glanced at the water.

The moonlight fell on the surface, creating a faint silver shimmer. The little fish was hidden in some corner, nowhere to be seen.

Shen Youqing sat down on a stone, took off his shoes, and pressed his bare feet against the cool bluestone. He curled his toes, finding it much more comfortable than wearing shoes.

Gazing at the moonlight shattered on the pond’s surface, he started talking just for the sake of it. “Do people in ancient times not sleep? That Old Master was as energetic as if he’d been injected with chicken blood before dawn, lecturing people non-stop.”

He flicked a small pebble with his toe. It hit the water with a don sound, creating a small splash.

“If it were me, three all-nighters would send me to see the King of Hell. Oh, wait—I’ve already seen him once, otherwise I wouldn’t have met you.”

The wind rustled the leaves. He tilted his ear to listen, then chuckled to himself.

“You’re a strange fish too. Named Fengling—sounds like some immortal being, but in the end, you’re just like any other fish, playing dead in the weeds.”

He paused, then suddenly lowered his voice as if sharing a secret: “Actually, I suspect… are you some kind of monster in disguise? Like those in the novels—the kind that can transform into a handsome guy?”

The pond was silent; only his own echo drifted through the courtyard. Shen Youqing didn’t expect the fish to answer, so he began counting the stars instead.

“One, two… Tsk, modern light pollution was better; at least I didn’t have to strain my eyes counting stars for entertainment. Imagine if I had a bag of potato chips and an ice-cold Coke right now… how sweet would that be?”

He rubbed his stomach, recalling the bland dishes from dinner. “Does the chef here have a grudge against salt? Frying greens as if they were just blanched in water. I’ll have to see if I can set up a small private kitchen later…”

“Hey, if I fed you potato chips, would you eat them?”

As he spoke, he suddenly sighed, his voice softening. “Actually, staying here isn’t so bad. No projects to rush, no proposals to fix. It’s just… too quiet.”

He traced circles on the stone with his finger. “I used to complain about the office being noisy, but now I actually want someone to argue with me.”

The night wind lifted his robes. He looked at the moon and suddenly waved his hand at the water.

“Forget it, you wouldn’t understand. I’m going to sleep. I have to be your nanny tomorrow, so I hope you’ll be well-behaved and stop hiding from me.”

With that, he slipped into his shoes and walked back toward the corridor, looking back every few steps. “Remember! Don’t run when you see me tomorrow, or… or I’ll tempt you with breadcrumbs.”

Meanwhile, the little white fish had emerged from the depths of the weeds unnoticed. It hovered below the surface, its bead-like eyes quietly watching the boy’s retreating back. It faintly furrowed a non-existent brow, as if letting out a silent sigh.

A child of the Shen family? That little mouth is certainly talkative.

Noisy during the day, and at night, he actually dared to defy instructions, wandering around the courtyard so boldly. That footsteps, that self-muttering—it could hear everything clearly through the water.

It swished its silk-like tail, its silver scales gleaming coldly in the moonlight as if weighing something. After a moment, it flicked its tail gently and swam under the largest bluestone in the center of the pond, hiding itself in the deeper shadows.