No Pampering the Vicious Cannon Fodder! [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 9

Xin Rong: “!!!”

He hadn’t expected that a small gesture like treating a wound could cause such a massive fluctuation in Jing Yue’s emotions, bringing in 500 gold coins all at once.

It seemed that Jing Yue truly hated others touching his injuries.

Thinking about it carefully, it made sense. For people like them who fought on the arena stage, who didn’t value their dignity more than their lives?

Didn’t this play right into Xin Rong’s hands? He loved treating wounds more than anything!

In the following days, Xin Rong continued to explore through trial and error, almost fully mapping out every move Jing Yue made.

He discovered that compared to those childish little tricks—like deliberately cooking supplements until they were unpalatable, squeezing mustard into the toothpaste, or sprinkling salt in the coffee—Xin Rong’s mere presence was what ignited Jing Yue’s fury the most.

In the early morning, regardless of Jing Yue’s cold glares and resistance, he would stick to him like a piece of tacky candy, greeting him cloyingly in front of everyone—Gold coins: +50!

Before a match, he would shamelessly pester Jing Yue, insisting on helping him put on his combat suit, pulling and tugging until Jing Yue’s face was flushed red—Gold coins: +100!

As for when he treated Jing Yue’s wounds after a match, Xin Rong felt like he had fallen into a pile of gold coins. From the moment he stepped into the lounge until the bandaging was finished, the sound of gold coins being credited in his mind rang continuously, never stopping!

After shearing the wool like this for a while, even he started to feel a bit embarrassed.

To appease his conscience, he went to the item mall and exchanged for a small sapling, planting it in the courtyard of the arena.

Xin Rong named the sapling “Xiao Yue” and set a rule: whenever he sheared more than a thousand gold coins from Jing Yue, he would go fertilize Xiao Yue once.

“This is my merit tree!” Xin Rong told 050.

050 endured for a long time before barely managing to keep its mouth shut. From the moment he voluntarily bound himself to the Vicious Cannon Fodder System… he didn’t have much merit to speak of.

In the process of taking care of Xiao Yue, Xin Rong unexpectedly discovered he possessed a unique ability.

Other gardeners judged a tree’s growth based on vision and experience, but Xin Rong was different—he relied on taste.

He could determine the health status of a tree from the taste of a single leaf, as if it were an instinct he was born with.

Under his careful nurturing, Xiao Yue grew exceptionally sturdy. The leaves possessed a satisfying chewiness, crisp and fresh, emitting a vibrant fragrance.

Everything was great.

Except for the unlucky guy being sheared, who wasn’t doing so great.

Actually, he was doing very poorly.

Leaving aside those unpalatable supplements, the overly enthusiastic “good mornings,” and the absurd behavior of lunging to strip his clothes off regardless of his protests…

What gave Jing Yue the biggest headache was that he was originally used to training against a sandbag alone, but now a shamelessly persistent sparring partner had appeared in the area.

Whenever he got close, this sparring partner would look at him with those wet eyes, like a startled little animal.

His fist would hang in mid-air, unable to strike down.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Jing Yue stormed over to Kahn.

After listening to his exasperated venting, Kahn slowly took a drag of his cigarette: “Is it really that exaggerated?”

“I can’t train normally at all.” Jing Yue grit his teeth, his white knuckles gripping the edge of the desk. “Fine, if my ranking drops next season, it’s your loss too.”

Kahn chuckled and flicked away the ash.

“Listen, the reason I took him in is the same reason I took you in,” he paused. “Because he also had nowhere else to go.”

“Nowhere else to go?” Jing Yue’s eyes widened in shock. “Him?”

“He said he’s bankrupt.” Kahn exhaled a smoke ring. “To be precise, his original words were that he can never afford to eat his fill again.”

Jing Yue squinted: “And you believed him?”

Kahn shrugged, his tone carrying the shrewdness typical of a businessman: “I don’t care if what he said is true or false. He’s willing to do odd jobs, and his salary requirements are low. There’s no downside for me, is there?”

Once it involved profit, Kahn’s abacus always clicked more clearly than anyone else’s. Jing Yue didn’t bother wasting any more words with him.

Not to mention, at this moment, his thoughts were entangled by another matter.

—Xin Rong said he couldn’t eat his fill.

That day, before Xin Rong threw the invitation into his arms and ran away, that was exactly what he had muttered.

At the time, he hadn’t taken it to heart at all. After all, with Xin Rong’s refined and spoiled appearance, he didn’t look like someone who would worry about money. Five hundred thousand was nothing more than a casual flick of the wrist to him.

But looking at it now…

Could it be that he really… went bankrupt?

Jing Yue still didn’t want to believe it.

That afternoon, he had no matches, so he wandered aimlessly around the arena. Passing by the courtyard, he caught sight of a familiar figure.

It was Xin Rong.

He was crouching next to a small sapling, his head tilted up slightly, whispering something to himself.

Jing Yue instinctively lightened his steps, approaching quietly.

The wind brushed past, carrying the youth’s low, soft voice.

“Xiao Yue, Xiao Yue, you have to grow tall quickly!”

Jing Yue’s heart skipped a beat.

Xiao… Yue?

Was it… his name?

A sudden tingle surged through his chest, as if a dense array of emotions were spreading along his blood vessels.

But before he had time to digest it, what happened next was like a heavy hammer, leaving him dumbstruck—

He saw Xin Rong reach out, pluck a leaf from the sapling, and put it directly into his mouth.

Then he started chewing, munch, munch, munch.

The movement was so natural it was as if he had done it countless times.

The expression on his face was quite satisfied, as if he were tasting some rare delicacy.

Jing Yue was too shocked for words.

He was… eating leaves?

Could it be that when he said he couldn’t eat his fill… it was true?

Since Jing Yue had no matches today, Xin Rong, as his apprentice, had nothing to do, so he took the initiative to tidy up the lounge for him.

While wiping the table, he looked around, and a trace of doubt gradually grew in his heart.

This lounge… was simply too empty.

Aside from a table and a few chairs, there was nothing else in the entire space.

Just as he was thinking, the door was suddenly pushed open, and Jing Yue walked in.

Xin Rong was startled, he didn’t expect him to return so early.

“What are you dazed for?” Jing Yue glanced at him.

Xin Rong simply voiced the doubt in his heart: “Why isn’t there a bed in your lounge?”

Jing Yue walked nonchalantly to the table and placed the item in his hand down: “What do I need that for?”

Xin Rong frowned.

Every day after work, he would return to his own residence to rest, but in his impression, Jing Yue stayed at the arena from morning till night and didn’t seem to have another place to live.

If there was no bed in the lounge…

He couldn’t help but press further: “Then where do you usually sleep?”

Jing Yue lifted his eyelids, his tone still flat: “Can’t sleep without a bed?”

Xin Rong was left speechless by his retort.

Fine, since he’s the protagonist, whatever makes him happy.

“Hey,” Jing Yue suddenly spoke, his eyes gesturing toward the item on the table. “I accidentally bought an extra portion. Do you want it?”

As he spoke, he opened the bag, revealing a bento box.

He quickly added a sentence: “…If you don’t want it, I’ll throw it away.”

Xin Rong’s eyes lit up for a moment, but they soon dimmed. His brows knit into a small knot, looking somewhat troubled.

Jing Yue stood to the side with his hands on his hips, yet his gaze unconsciously observed his reaction.

His heart tightened inexplicably.

This guy…

Could he be so moved he’s about to cry?

If he cried right in front of him, it would definitely… be very troublesome.

“Thank you.” Xin Rong bit his lip, his voice low and raspy.

Jing Yue’s heart sank. He cleared his throat and said quickly, “I’m warning you, if you dare to cry—”

“But I don’t eat cured meat.” Xin Rong looked up and interrupted.

Jing Yue froze: “What?”

“Cured meat is unhealthy, too salty, and it has a plastic taste. I’m not used to eating these artificial additives.” Xin Rong explained softly, his brows still slightly furrowed.

Jing Yue: “…”

What was wrong with this guy?

He’s so poor he’s eating leaves, yet he’s still a picky eater?

When he replied, his tone was full of mockery: “Then should I have asked you beforehand what you wanted to eat?”

Unexpectedly, Xin Rong tilted his head and seriously thought about it: “If you absolutely must ask, I want to eat strawberries.”

Jing Yue almost laughed from anger: “Do you know how expensive strawberries are? You expect me to buy them for you?”

Xin Rong wrinkled his nose and shook his head in disgust: “No, I don’t like the strawberries sold in shops.”

He remembered buying strawberries in the Upper District once before and complaining to 050 about it for a long time.

“Those strawberries are soaked in syrup, they’re too big, clearly full of ripening agents, and the taste is wrong.”

Xin Rong paused, his eyes suddenly softening as if he had fallen into some beautiful memory: “I like those small wild strawberries that grow on high mountains with a sour taste. They must be picked in the early morning, the kind with dew on them…”

“Why so fastidious?” Jing Yue couldn’t listen anymore. “You can actually taste what time they were picked?”

“I just can.” Xin Rong looked up, his eyes stubborn yet somewhat aggrieved.

Jing Yue felt agitated by that gaze and looked away.

“Stop daydreaming,” he gave a light sneer and said stiffly, “who would ever spoil you like that?”

Hearing this, Xin Rong looked up sharply, a nameless fire suddenly surging in his heart.

He stared at Jing Yue’s back, his voice unconsciously rising.

“There is someone who would spoil me like that!”

Jing Yue was startled by his sudden outburst of emotion. His jaw tightened, his Adam’s apple bobbed once, and he barely squeezed out: “…What does it have to do with me? Anyway, I won’t.”

Xin Rong bit his lip, his voice trembling slightly from grief and anger: “Yeah, what does it have to do with you? It’s not like I asked for your spoiling!”

Jing Yue felt so angry his chest was stifled.

He had kindly bought him a bento, but not only was the guy ungrateful, he even complained that the food was unhealthy and inexplicably blew up at him.

“If you won’t eat it, then forget it,” he picked up the bento with a black face and dropped a cold sentence, “you deserve to starve to death.”

After saying that, he turned and left, slamming the door so hard it shook the heavens.

The echo of the door frame’s vibration lingered in the corridor, but the room was so quiet it was unsettling.

Xin Rong stared at that door for a long time. Finally, he sat down in the chair crossly and, after a while, whispered: “Little Coal Ball, I hate him.”

050 comforted him warmly: “Don’t be angry, Host. A lot of gold coins were just credited.”

Xin Rong sighed, but his heart still felt blocked.

That Jing Yue was truly too annoying!

If it weren’t for the mission, he really wanted to stay far away from him and never see that punchable face again for the rest of his life!

When Jing Yue came down from the mountain, the horizon was already showing the white of dawn.

After being busy all night without closing his eyes once, he felt dizzy and his stomach was hollow with hunger.

Walking to the entrance of the arena, he looked down at the basket in his hand.

He couldn’t help but wonder: what exactly do these high-mountain strawberries with dew on them taste like?

Are they really that good?

After hesitating repeatedly, he picked the smallest one and popped it into his mouth.

The moment he bit down, the sourness made his face pucker up instantly.

What kind of taste did this guy have?

He can actually eat this?

Just as he was grumbling internally, he suddenly saw that familiar figure flash past.

Jing Yue’s heartbeat inexplicably skipped a beat, and he instinctively tucked the strawberry basket closer to his chest.

As soon as that guy sees him, he’ll definitely stick to him like tacky candy.

What if the commotion is too big and the strawberries fall on the ground?

He picked these out specially, every single one had dew on it. If they fell and the dew was gone, that guy would probably find something to criticize again.

…Truly a hassle.

Xin Rong hadn’t slept well last night either.

He had dreamed all night.

In the dream, someone would go and pick dew-kissed strawberries for him, spoiling him unconditionally and satisfying all his unreasonable whims.

But he could never see the person’s face clearly. Even in the dream, he wasn’t sure if that person really existed.

When he woke up, his heart hurt, as if a piece had been hollowed out and could never be filled.

That pain was exactly the same as when he saw the name “Fu Sang” on the contract.

But he couldn’t figure it out.

If Fu Sang made his heart ache because of hate, then someone spoiling him should clearly be a good thing. Why did he still feel pain?

His brain was a mess, and he had no interest in doing the mission.

So, when he saw Jing Yue at the entrance of the arena, he didn’t rush in front of him shamelessly to be annoying and shear a few gold coins like he used to.

He didn’t even bother to give him a proper look. His gaze swept over him coldly as he turned and walked away.

Jing Yue was stunned on the spot, still holding that basket of strawberries. He watched that figure walk away, yet his feet were pinned to the spot, unmoving.

As if he were absolutely certain that in a moment, the youth would turn back, run over with a grin, and beg him for food.

It wasn’t until that figure disappeared around the corner that he seemed to be slapped awake by someone, instinctively chasing after him for two steps.

But in his line of sight, there was no longer a trace of the person.