I Transmigrated as Cannon Fodder, Only to be Desired by the Dragon King - Chapter 45

Chapter 45: The Awkward Chu Heng — He shouldn’t have been so soft-hearted! This mortal…

The icy pool water was like a thousand bone-chilling needles, instantly wrapping around Shen Youqing’s limbs.

The impact of the fall forced a large gulp of brackish, freezing liquid down his throat. He coughed violently, a crushing sense of suffocation overwhelming him. He flailed his arms and legs instinctively, trying to surface, but the current was too swift. Combined with days of hunger and terror, his strength was spent. After a few desperate struggles, he began to sink.

Through the blur, he felt a cool hand grab his collar and drag him toward the surface.

Shen Youqing struggled to lift his head. By the sparse moonlight from the cliff top, he saw Chu Heng’s pale profile. The wound on the man’s back had bloomed into a startling cloud of red in the water. Chu Heng gritted his teeth, pulling Shen Youqing with one hand while treading water with the other. Every movement made his brow furrow deeper; clearly, the exertion was agonizing.

“Do you… not know how to swim?” Chu Heng’s voice was ragged, his cold tone carrying a hint of suppressed exasperation.

Shen Youqing tried to speak, but another mouthful of water forced its way in. He could only clutch Chu Heng’s sleeve tightly, letting the other man pull him through the turbulent current. As the freezing water numbed his limbs, his consciousness began to fade. His eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds.

Just as he was about to lose consciousness completely, he felt the water around him churn violently. A powerful force enveloped him, halting his descent. He touched something—cold, hard scales. They had a rough texture but a familiar, sleek feel, much like the dragon scales he had touched when Feng Xiuyan transformed.

Is it Feng Xiuyan? Has he come?

Before joy could even register, Shen Youqing’s mind fractured. He used the last of his strength to reach for the scales, a weak call escaping his lips: “Feng Xiuyan…”

The words had barely left him before the world went black. He collapsed against the cool scales, letting the powerful force carry him away from the rapids.

…

The Hidden Cave

The scene in the pool had completely changed.

A massive creature, its body shimmering with a dark cyan luster, broke through the water. It was a giant jiao (flood dragon), its thick frame covered in fine scales that glinted silver at the edges—though they lacked the brilliance of a pure-blooded dragon’s scales. The head was ferocious, and its slit pupils were as cold as ice. This was Chu Heng in his original form.

The pain in his back flared as the wound soaked in the water, the blood fanning out into a dark crimson. Chu Heng’s vertical pupils fixed on Shen Youqing, who was slumped against his neck. Hearing that clear, desperate call before the mortal fainted, a flash of malice crossed his eyes.

Feng Xiuyan again.

Even at a time like this, this mortal only thought of that favored, blessed brother of his. He, Chu Heng, was the one risking his life to save him, enduring the agony of transformation to pull him from danger, and yet the mortal couldn’t even tell who was who!

An indescribable wave of irritation surged within him. His tail lashed against the water, sending up a massive spray. He considered letting go, allowing this ungrateful human to sink to the bottom to feed the fish. After all, his original goal was merely to obtain the Sea-Quelling Pearl. He had only started this “hero” act out of a mix of curiosity and a desire to spite Feng Xiuyan. Snatching the person his brother held dearest seemed like an amusing game.

But his gaze drifted to the bone-deep gash on his own back. The burning pain pulsated through his scales. He had taken that blade specifically to protect this mortal. If he let him go now, wouldn’t his suffering be for nothing?

Furthermore, he was genuinely curious. What was so special about this mortal that his aloof, high-and-mighty brother would guard him so fiercely?

Chu Heng suppressed his frustration. He adjusted his position, using a scaled foreclaw to gently curl around Shen Youqing’s waist. He controlled his strength perfectly—tight enough to hold him, yet soft enough not to bruise. He turned and swam toward a hidden reef deep within the pool.

Behind the reef lay a secluded cavern he had discovered long ago. He carried Shen Youqing through a narrow underwater passage and emerged onto the dry floor of a rocky cave.

…

The Fever

Faint bioluminescent moss on the walls cast a dim, greenish glow. Shen Youqing lay on a pile of dry grass, his face flushed red with fever. His breath was hot and shallow, and he occasionally let out small, fragmented whimpers, curling up like a wounded animal.

Chu Heng leaned against the cave wall, his own back still throbbing. He glanced at the unconscious Shen Youqing and let out a scoff of disdain. “Mortals are such a hassle. A fall into the water and he catches a fever. So fragile… What does Feng Xiuyan see in him?”

Despite the biting words, his actions were different. He searched the depths of the cave and found several stalks of cool-scented herbs—plants he knew had miraculous cooling and anti-inflammatory properties. He clumsily crushed the herbs, mixed them with a little water from a flask into a paste, and, after a moment’s hesitation, leaned over to apply it to Shen Youqing’s forehead.

The cool sensation made Shen Youqing hum softly. Within moments, his furrowed brow relaxed slightly.

Chu Heng looked at the boy’s flushed cheeks, his fingers pausing. He felt a strange, inexplicable restlessness. “So delicate,” he muttered. He took off Shen Youqing’s soaked outer robe and hung it on a rock near the fire he had managed to light, then sat by the flames with his back to the boy, though he couldn’t help but watch him out of the corner of his eye.

The fire crackled, casting a warm yellow light on Shen Youqing’s face. Even pale and dry-lipped, his soft features and long, fluttering eyelashes made it impossible to feel truly annoyed by him.

Chu Heng stared at those eyelashes, his thoughts drifting. At first, he was just curious. But after this ordeal, he felt he was beginning to understand. This mortal was cowardly—he panicked and cried when in danger—yet he possessed a strange resilience. He talked so much it gave Chu Heng a headache, chirping like a sparrow, but he carried a pure, vivid vitality. He wasn’t like Chu Heng, and he wasn’t like Feng Xiuyan; he didn’t live a life of calculation and restraint.

“He looks… passable. Talks too much, though,” Chu Heng thought, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the fabric of his knees. He added silently: Noisy as hell.

He couldn’t fathom how his cold, silent brother could stand this mortal’s non-stop chatter. Perhaps it was this very vitality that lit up Feng Xiuyan’s lonely existence?

The thought was quickly suppressed. He cursed himself for meddling, yet his eyes wouldn’t leave the boy.

…

“Don’t Go”

After a while, Shen Youqing’s mumbling became clearer. He shifted restlessly and suddenly reached out, accurately grasping Chu Heng’s fingers resting by his side. The boy’s hand was burning with fever, but his grip was unexpectedly tight, as if he were clutching a life-saving straw.

“Don’t… don’t go…” Shen Youqing’s voice was thick and dependent.

Chu Heng stiffened. He instinctively wanted to pull away, but seeing the boy’s helpless expression, he—for some reason—didn’t move. Instead, he heard himself say in a voice quieter and gentler than he had ever used: “I’m not going.”

Chu Heng froze at his own words. Since when had he become so soft-hearted?

But in the next second, Shen Youqing’s next mutter reached his ears, dripping with longing: “Feng Xiuyan…”

“Heh.” The warmth in Chu Heng’s eyes vanished, replaced by sharp irritation.

He shouldn’t have been so soft! This mortal, even when delirious with fever, only thought of Feng Xiuyan!

In a fit of pique, he yanked his hand away. The force caused Shen Youqing to tilt, nearly falling off the straw pile. Chu Heng’s pupils contracted, and he instinctively reached out to steady the boy’s back. He then took the now-dry robe from the fireside and awkwardly draped it over him, his movements far gentler than the scowl on his face.

Once finished, Chu Heng huffed and returned to the fire, but he could no longer find peace. He stared at Shen Youqing for a long time, until the flames grew low. Suddenly realizing he had been staring at a mortal for so long, his cheeks flushed. “Insane. I’ve gone insane,” he cursed under his breath.

He stood up abruptly and walked toward the cave entrance. The cold wind blowing in dispersed some of the heat in his chest. Looking out at the dark water, his mind was a mess of jealousy, curiosity, frustration, and a strange, unacknowledged concern. He tried to calm himself, but he couldn’t shake the warmth of Shen Youqing’s fingers or that dependent plea of “don’t go.”