I Transmigrated as Cannon Fodder, Only to be Desired by the Dragon King - Chapter 40

Chapter 40: Little Black is Gone — A second before he lost consciousness…

Early the next morning, the aroma of rice porridge drifted from the Shen residence’s kitchen.

Little Black woke up early, clutching his precious wooden tiger while squatting in the corner of the courtyard to tease the thrush bird in its cage. Little Duckling followed obediently behind Shen Mother, watching as the maids packed away the warmed pear soup and snack boxes one by one.

After breakfast, Shen Mother took Little Duckling’s hand and had the butler carry an empty bamboo basket, leading Little Black toward the carriage waiting at the estate gates.

The driver was already waiting. The carriage was lined with soft silk cushions, and there were even two pillows embroidered with little carp that Shen Mother had commissioned a few days ago.

“Get in quickly, don’t catch a chill.” Shen Mother lifted Little Duckling into the carriage first, then took the hand of the hopping Little Black before sitting down herself. The butler placed the basket on the small table by the door.

As the carriage rumbled out of the alley, Little Black leaned against the window, holding up his wooden tiger to wave at a tail-wagging dog by the roadside. Little Duckling leaned against Shen Mother, his head nodding with the carriage’s sway, his eyes curiously scanning the sugar-painting stalls and flower baskets passing by. “Grandma, will there be colorful shells at the stall?”

“I don’t know, Grandma hasn’t seen colorful shells before,” Shen Mother said softly, stroking his hair.

“The Dragon Palace has colorful shells! They’re super pretty!” Little Duckling piped up.

“Is that so? Then we’ll ask the owner if he has any later, okay?”

“Okay!” Little Duckling nodded vigorously.

…

The Market

Before long, the carriage stopped under the old willow tree at the market entrance.

The driver lowered the steps. As Shen Mother helped Little Duckling down, Little Black had already jumped out impatiently. The moment he found his footing, he scanned the market. His eyes lit up, and he tugged at Shen Mother’s hand. “Grandma! I see the shell stall! It’s right up ahead!”

Sure enough, there was a stall filled with shells. Bamboo baskets were piled with shells of all colors—some with a pearly luster, some carved with delicate patterns, and some shaped like small trumpets that whistled when blown.

Little Duckling grew excited too. He let go of Shen Mother’s hand and trotted to the stall, carefully picking up a pink shell and pressing it to his ear. “Grandma, there’s a sound inside! It sounds like the sea wind blowing!”

When Mother walked over and smiled. “That’s a conch; it holds the sound of the ocean. Let’s pick a few more to make a wind chime for your window.”

Little Black joined them, picking up a spiral shell the size of a palm. “This looks like the conch horn from the Dragon Palace!” He brought it to his lips, mimicking the guards at the palace by making a “woo-woo” sound. Though it didn’t make much noise, he laughed until his eyes curved into crescents.

While he was playing with the shell, a burst of children’s laughter erupted nearby, mixed with the cry of a sugar-painter: “Turning sugar figurines! Come get your sugar people!”

Little Black’s eyes sparkled. He shoved the shell into Shen Mother’s hand and tugged her sleeve. “Grandma, I’m going to look over there!”

Before she could tell him to slow down, he had already scampered off toward the sugar-painting stall. Shen Mother watched his small figure vanish into the crowd and laughed helplessly, continuing to help Little Duckling place pink and white shells into the bamboo basket.

The butler stood to the side, his gaze instinctively following Little Black. However, he failed to notice two men in coarse short tunics lurking in the shadows of the alleyway at the edge of the crowd. They had already fixed their sights on the solitary Little Black and were slowly closing in, using the moving pedestrians as cover.

Little Black squeezed to the front of the sugar stall, staring wide-eyed at a lifelike dragon design on the spinner. Just as he stood on tiptoe to tell the master he wanted a dragon, his collar was suddenly yanked from behind. A rough hand clamped over his mouth, and a pungent, medicinal smell flooded his nose, making his head spin.

“Mmph!” Little Black stiffened in shock. He instinctively kicked and flailed his small hands, trying to grab anyone nearby, but another man pinned his arms down firmly.

The two men moved with terrifying speed. One muffled his cries, the other grabbed his waist. Taking advantage of the noisy crowd, they dragged him into a secluded side alley in a half-carry, half-drag.

Little Black struggled with all his might, trying to scream, but no sound came out. His vision blurred, and the strength to resist drained from his body.

In the final second before he blacked out, he caught a glimpse of a familiar green hem flashing past the alley entrance. Then, the world went dark.

…

The Disappearance

When Mother finished placing the last shell in the basket. She turned to call Little Black over, but the spot where he had run off was empty.

“Eh? Where’s Xiao Yuan?” Her heart skipped a beat. The smile faded instantly, replaced by a growing panic as she scanned the crowd. She called out to the butler, her voice trembling. “Weren’t you watching him? Where is he?”

The butler’s heart tightened as cold sweat broke out on his brow. He had been watching, but the market was a sea of people. He thought the young master was just waiting in line.

“Don’t worry yet, Madam!” the butler said, waving his hands to calm her. “I’ll go find him! He’s probably just buried in the crowd!”

He pushed through the shoppers, rushing toward the sugar stall. He scanned every small head he could see, from left to right, inside and out. But Little Black was nowhere to be found.

Panic set in. The butler grabbed a nearby child. “The little boy in the blue vest who was looking at the sugar paintings—did you see where he went?”

The child, startled by the urgent tone, pointed timidly toward a side alley. “Just… just now, he was pulled away by two big uncles… they went that way!”

The butler’s blood ran cold. He looked at the alley, but there was no sign of Little Black or the men. He sprinted back to Shen Mother, his face as white as a sheet. “Madam! It’s bad! Master Xiao Yuan… he’s been snatched by kidnappers!”

“What?” Shen Mother felt a roar in her ears. The strength left her body, and the bamboo basket hit the ground with a clatter, spilling the shells everywhere. She collapsed, only stayed upright by the butler’s quick reflexes. “Madam! Please, pull yourself together!”

“Grandma! Grandma, what’s wrong?” Little Duckling was terrified by the sudden change. He clung to her skirt, his large eyes filling with tears as he began to sob.

“Madam, we can’t stay here!” the butler said decisively. “We must go back and tell the Master and the Young Master, then report to the authorities immediately!”

…

Back at the Shen Residence

Within half an hour, the carriage screeched to a halt at the gates.

In the study, Shen Youqing was sitting alone, holding a brush dipped in fresh ink. The house was unusually quiet. He had been bored and decided to try and draw a small dragon. Just as the brush was about to touch the paper, a frantic cry pierced the silence.

Shen Youqing’s hand shook. A drop of dark ink fell from the brush, blooming into a jagged black stain on the pristine paper—like an omen.

He dropped the brush and sprinted to the door. When he opened it, he found his mother looking like a ghost, her hair disheveled and her eyes swollen from crying.

“Mother, what happened?” he asked, a cold dread creeping up his spine.

Behind her, the butler was covered in sweat, his usual composure gone. Little Duckling was being held by a maid, crying so hard his face was like a red apple. The moment he saw Shen Youqing, he reached out his tiny hands for a hug.

“Qingqing!” Shen Mother’s voice shook uncontrollably. “Xiao Yuan… Xiao Yuan is gone! He was taken to the market!”

“What?!” The world seemed to spin.

Seeing his mother on the verge of collapsing, Shen Youqing knew he couldn’t panic. He forced himself to stay calm, supporting her shaking frame. “Mother, don’t rush. Let’s go inside. Tell me everything slowly.”

In the study, the ink stain continued to spread on the paper, the peaceful morning officially shattered.