I Transmigrated as Cannon Fodder, Only to be Desired by the Dragon King - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Late Feeding

For the first time, the Dragon King began to doubt his own…

In fifteen minutes, the slanting shadows under the corridor had shrunk into tiny patches. It was also long enough for the dragon jade pendant between Feng Xiuyan’s fingers to take on a warm, burnished glow from being rubbed so much.

He stood still, the swirling irritation in his mist-blue eyes gradually settling into a nearly inaudible sigh.

Fine. Who told this child to be so perfectly tailored to his aesthetic?

“He’s just a child, after all. I shouldn’t be too harsh,” he whispered to himself, as if seeking an excuse. His fingertips finally let go of the jade and curled slightly at his side.

The Dragon King, whose word was usually law, had ultimately made an exception for himself.

As soon as he spoke, his body emitted a soft blue light. He transformed into a slender streak of radiance, shooting toward the closed door like a bolt of lightning. Strangely, as the light passed through the door panels, it made no sound; not even the hinges creaked.

Inside the room, the bed curtains hung halfway down. The gauze, embroidered with lotus patterns, swayed gently in the breeze, obscuring the figure on the bed. The boy’s breathing was long and even, carrying the steady rhythm of deep sleep.

The light stopped by the bedside and dissipated, and Feng Xiuyan’s tall figure reappeared. He stood by the bed, his gaze landing on Shen Youqing’s face. The boy was sleeping soundly; his long lashes cast small shadows on his lids, his nose twitched slightly, and his mouth held a trace of innocent sleepiness.

Feng Xiuyan stared for a moment, his eyes softening. Finally, he sighed, “Never mind.”

The next instant, his figure turned back into light and vanished silently.

However, the plate of pastries on the table—once piled high—was now missing two of its most exquisite lotus crisps. The cloth bundle on the floor was also slightly deflated; the two plumpest peaches were gone.

In the pond, a small white fish swam happily, its belly quite round.

…

By the time Shen Youqing woke up, it was nearly the end of the Si hour (late morning). In another half hour, it would be time for lunch.

He had truly slept until he woke up naturally. Stretching his limbs, he felt a wave of lazy comfort deep in his bones.

“Mmm, so good.”

He let out a satisfied sigh, reaching his arms high above his head. The movement pulled his collar open, revealing a glimpse of his fair collarbones. The feeling of being fully rested was so glorious that the fog in his brain cleared completely.

Still half-dazed, he climbed out of bed. His foot hit the cold floor, and he flinched back before remembering he needed to put on his shoes. He grabbed his outer robe from the end of the bed and threw it on haphazardly—the collar was crooked, the belt was loosely tied, and his hem swayed as he walked.

Since he had found it too troublesome to untie his hairband before bed, he had just slept with it in. Now, the top of his head looked like a mess of exploded dry grass.

Shuffling to the washbasin, he scooped up water and rubbed his face. The icy touch made him shiver, instantly sharpening his senses. He grabbed the cotton towel hanging nearby and dried off with movements as brisk as a breeze.

There was a bronze mirror standing by the basin. Shen Youqing leaned in, frowned, and dipped his fingers in the leftover water to smooth down his hair. The tangles improved slightly.

“Perfect.”

He raised an eyebrow at his reflection, flashed what he thought was a dashing smile, and turned toward the door.

The moment he pushed it open, the scent of grass and trees rushed in, fluttering the stray hairs on his forehead. He planned to go to the dining hall. Although the servants had said they could deliver food to his room, his modern mindset made him reluctant to be so pampered. He had hands and feet; why trouble others for something as simple as eating?

Besides, this villa was huge and he hadn’t explored it yet. Lunch was a perfect excuse to look around.

Shen Youqing was in a fantastic mood, walking with a light, bouncy step as he hummed a cheerful tune: “You are my electricity, you are my light, you are the only myth, I only love you, you are my super star…”

Passing a birdcage in the corridor, he stopped to wave at the thrush inside. “Hi, Bird Bro! Had breakfast? I’m off to eat now. Bye-bye!”

He even whistled a birdcall imitation, making the thrush flutter its wings.

All of this was witnessed clearly by Feng Xiuyan in the pond. Having reverted to his fish form, his tiny bead-like eyes stared dead-on at the hopping figure.

“…”

The boy’s clothes were askew, his sleeves were uneven, and his hair looked like a street beggar’s, with several stubborn strands sticking up defiantly. He didn’t walk with any dignity either, hopping twice to the left and once to the right, looking like he might trip at any second.

Worst of all were the strange melodies coming out of those cherry-red lips.

For the first time, the Dragon King began to doubt if there was something wrong with his own aesthetic taste.

Before, he thought this child was exactly his type—at most a bit talkative—but after waking up, how could he be so… disheveled?

As Shen Youqing passed the pond, he spotted the little white fish staring at him with its round eyes. Excitedly, he ran to the edge and squatted down, waving. “Hi, Little White! You’re finally willing to come out? I have to go eat first, though. I’ll come play with you in a bit!”

Little White / Feng Xiuyan / Dragon King: “…”

With that, he resumed his cheerful pace toward the exit, humming another tune. But after a few steps, his smile froze. He stopped dead, looking like someone had hit the pause button.

Wait. Did I… forget something?

“Crap! I forgot to feed Little White!!”

Watching his delayed realization, Feng Xiuyan felt the doubt in his heart soften slightly, replaced by amusement at this vivid silliness.

Shen Youqing smacked his own forehead, the force making his messy hair wobble. “I knew I felt like I was forgetting something. It was this!”

He backtracked sheepishly to the pond. Looking at the fish swimming back and forth, he felt a twinge of guilt. This little guy must be starving, why else would it swim so fast?

He didn’t dare be negligent. If he actually starved the fish his “cheap” grandfather specifically told him to protect, the old man would definitely whack him with a cane.

“Starving, Little White?” He squatted by the pond and poked the surface, sending out ripples. “Hold on, Daddy’s getting you food right now.”

Before the words fully landed, he had already run back into the house like a gust of wind, his crooked hem fluttering frantically behind him.

In the pond, Feng Xiuyan swished his tail in a circle, his eyes full of confusion. When he had been in human form earlier, he couldn’t resist eating two lotus crisps, and now he was swimming leisurely to aid digestion.

He never expected this disheveled child to come back and call himself… Baba (Daddy)?

“…”

Feng Xiuyan’s tail froze mid-water. Even the splash he made seemed stiff.

Baba? To humans, wasn’t that the word for… poop? (Note: “Baba” in Mandarin can mean “Dad” or “Poop” depending on context/characters, though here MC clearly means Dad).

Is this child so sleepy he’s gone mad?

Before he could process the absurd title, Shen Youqing ran back clutching a celadon jar covered with a plain cloth. A faint scent of grain wafted from it.

“I have to say, the fish food the old man prepared for you smells pretty good.” Shen Youqing squatted down and sniffed the jar. His eyes lit up. “Tsk, smells like freshly ground rice cakes. It’s making me hungry.”

Right on cue, his stomach let out two loud growls that could be heard clearly in the quiet courtyard.

Shen Youqing wasn’t embarrassed; he just scratched his head and gave the fish a cheeky grin. “See? It smells so good it made me hungry.” He looked like he was acting spoiled toward an old friend.

Feng Xiuyan, hiding under the weeds: “…”

In his thousand years of life, he had seen all kinds of people, but never one who acted so silly and vivid toward a fish. Not to mention the bizarre nickname and the fact that he was jealous of fish food…

Feng Xiuyan silently flicked his tail and swam deeper. Perhaps he should reconsider—good looks weren’t everything. Maybe a smarter partner would be better.

On the surface, Shen Youqing had uncovered the jar. The food had been soaked in warm water as instructed and was now a soggy clump. He scooped a bit out and scattered it in the water, muttering, “Eat up, eat up. Don’t starve yourself…”

So I can go eat too. I’m dying over here.

Shen Youqing squatted there, his fingers trembling slightly from low blood sugar. Seeing no movement in the water, he tapped the spoon against the jar with a sharp clink.

“Don’t be like this. Daddy knows he was wrong.” He leaned over the water, frowning. “Come out and at least pretend to eat? Just a tiny bite, okay?”

“Little White? Little White?” He called several times, but there were only ripples from the wind. The white shadow remained hidden.

Shen Youqing grew anxious. His gaze fell on the fish food in the jar, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. What is this made of? It smelled incredibly savory, making his stomach feel like it was devouring itself.

He stared at the plump grains of fish food.

“Can humans eat this…” he whispered unconsciously, his fingers brushing the edge of the jar. His eyes were full of genuine craving.

The voice was soft as a breeze through willow leaves, but to Feng Xiuyan at the bottom of the pond, it was as clear as a thunderclap.

Feng Xiuyan: “…”