The Beautiful Cannon Fodder Coveted by the Protagonist - Chapter 9

Droplets fell from the tree branches, creating ripples in puddles that were quickly snuffed out by footprints, reflecting the flickering image of a man’s bare back.

Shanda pulled off his soaked shirt and shook his head to rid his hair of the dampness. Zhou Zhou, drying himself after a warm shower, emerged from the bathroom. “I’m done.”

As he pressed the button on the hair dryer, he spoke to the system in his mind: “Why do I have to keep bullying and suppressing the male lead? Look, I didn’t say a single mean word just now, and the mission still counted as completed.”

Zhou Zhou, you only need to complete the tasks according to my instructions.

“But…” Before Zhou Zhou could ask more, the dormitory door swung open.

His two roommates from the Art Academy were back.

“You got caught in the rain?” Chen Yuqi stopped in his tracks.

Zhou Zhou nodded. “A bit, but Shanda got it much worse.”

Zuo Zhu pulled out a chair and signaled for Chen Yuqi to sit. “You both got soaked? I knew it. I told Shanda that tiny umbrella wouldn’t do him any favors this morning, but he wouldn’t listen. I even offered him my giant one, but he just bolted. Look at mine—this thing can fit four or five people without anyone getting a drop on them. Look at me and Chen Yuqi; dry as a bone. I’ll send you the link if you want one.”

To prove his point, he decided to demonstrate the scale of his massive umbrella. Pop—!

Water droplets sprayed everywhere as the umbrella expanded, drenching the nearby Chen Yuqi instantly.

The sound of a chair screeching against the floor echoed through the room.

“…Zuo Zhu!”

Zhou Zhou glanced at the messy scene and turned away.

Thanks, but that thing is a lethal weapon.

As Chen Yuqi pinched Zuo Zhu until he wailed, the bathroom door opened again.

Chen Yuqi grabbed a change of clothes from his locker and headed into the shower. Shanda didn’t ask any questions; he simply walked back to his desk and picked up a bottle of milk.

Zhou Zhou watched his every move out of the corner of his eye. A moment later, Shanda caught his gaze and walked over.

Before Zhou Zhou could react, something icy touched his face, making him hiss in pain.

“Sss—so cold!”

Shanda muttered, “I bought it for you.”

With that, he returned to his seat.

Staring at the ice-cold milk on his desk, Zhou Zhou blankly shifted his gaze. Shanda was leaning back in his chair, his sharp brow bone defining his handsome profile. A stray droplet of water hung from his prominent Adam’s apple, yet to be wiped away.

Zhou Zhou felt his throat go dry for no reason.

The condensation on the milk bottle gradually formed large droplets that slid down, soaking into the wooden desk and reflecting Zhou Zhou’s tightly pursed lips.

System, should I remind him to dry his hair? He’ll get sick easily like that.

That might cause you to go OOC. I don’t recommend it.

OOC? What’s that?

Out of Character.’ As someone who is supposed to be bullying the male lead, suddenly showing concern for him is OOC.

Tsk.

Zhou Zhou picked up his phone and scrolled aimlessly, but he couldn’t hold it in.

Bright White Zhou: Dry your hair. It’s dripping all over the floor. It makes things difficult for whoever has to do the cleaning chores. It’s annoying.

The second he hit send, the system issued a warning.

Zhou Zhou, what are you doing! Didn’t I tell you that doesn’t fit your persona?

I’m telling him to dry his hair, what else? Is there something wrong with that? I’m not worried about his health; I’m worried about the roommates doing the cleaning.

Even as he argued, Zhou Zhou felt guilty. The truth was, the dorm hadn’t even set up a cleaning schedule yet. He didn’t even know who the dorm monitor was.

After bickering with the system, the phone on the opposite desk vibrated.

Shanda lifted his eyelids, straightened up, and reached for his phone.

The screen’s light illuminated his striking face. A moment later, he looked toward Zhou Zhou.

Zhou Zhou rubbed his nose and randomly opened a video app to pretend to be busy, but he kept his chat window open in a small background window.

The other party is typing…

He’s so slow.

Zhou Zhou watched the top of the chat window flicker back and forth between “Shanda” and “Typing…”

His eyes were almost closing when, finally.

Shanda: Sorry, I can’t find my hair dryer, and my head feels really dizzy. I’m slow at typing; you don’t mind, do you?

Zhou Zhou snapped awake. Just as he was about to type “I don’t mind at all,” a spark of electricity surged through his fingertips.

If you don’t listen, you get shocked.

Bright White Zhou: Come get it.

Zhou Zhou felt disgusted by his own text. Who am I even pretending to be?

But in Shanda’s eyes, it was a completely different story. He imagined the little rabbit in Zhou Zhou’s profile picture enthusiastically handing him a hair dryer. His heart practically melted.

Sensing a tall figure beside him, Zhou Zhou leaned down, rummaged through his drawer, and handed over the hair dryer.

“Thanks.” A burning-hot palm brushed against the back of the hand holding the dryer. Zhou Zhou flinched at the heat. Realizing the truth, he blurted out, “Do you have a fever?”

The moment he said it, Zuo Zhu let out a howl. “Who? Shanda, you have a fever? Let me see!”

A thermometer was shoved under the man’s arm. The warm air from the dryer blew through Zhou Zhou’s fingers, carrying the faint scent of Shanda’s shampoo.

Zhou Zhou had already justified his behavior to the system. System, let me ask you: in public, I’m his good roommate, but if I bully him in private, won’t he hate me more? Won’t the ‘face-slapping’ moment later be even more satisfying?

The system had no rebuttal.

“There. Done.” Warmth remained in every strand of Shanda’s hair.

Zuo Zhu pulled out the thermometer and squinted at it in the light. “38.1°C. Buddy, you definitely caught something from that rain. I have some fever reducers; want to take some?”

But Shanda seemed like he couldn’t hear him. Once the hair dryer was unplugged, his gaze followed Zhou Zhou’s hand as the boy packed up and returned to his seat. “Thanks, Zhou Zhou.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks Zhou Zhou~” Zuo Zhu mimicked in a mocking, high-pitched voice, scurrying away before Shanda could shoot him a death glare.

The entrance evaluation proceeded as scheduled. Zhou Zhou thought about Shanda’s face as he had poked his head out of his bunk before Zhou Zhou left. Those beautiful blue eyes had been watery and soft, like a puppy watching its owner leave the house. Zhou Zhou shook his head. They’re the same color as my father’s eyes, so why do they feel so different?

“Zhou Zhouo?” Pei Jue was lying on a piano bench looking at his phone. He tilted his head back to call out, but the silhouette in front of him didn’t move. He sat up immediately. “Zhou Zhouo!”

Zhou Zhou’s shoulders jumped. He turned around. “What is it?”

Pei Jue said, “Check the group messages. For the Western Music section, I saw your ID is the last one. Do you want me to be your piano accompanist? I’ve looked over the pieces; I can jump right in.”

Zhou Zhou nodded. “Thanks, Pei Jue. I’ll buy you dinner tonight.”

“No, no, no,” Pei Jue waved him off, sounding a bit guilty. “Maybe next time. There’s… stuff going on in my dorm.”

Pei Jue turned back and pressed the keys. Zhou Zhou felt like he had something on his mind but didn’t feel right asking. “Okay. Let me know when you’re free and I’ll treat you.”

The only response was the flowing sound of a piano.

As the improvisational intro began, Zhou Zhou tucked the violin under his chin. His long eyelashes lowered, casting dense shadows over his cheeks. He looked incredibly fragile in that moment, but the notes under his fingers were filled with power and precision.

The professors in the audience, who had been looking down, all snapped their heads up simultaneously. They put away their phones and watched the violinist in the center of the small room with burning intensity.

Zhou Zhou’s body swayed with the music. A slight smile even touched his lips as he submerged himself in the melody. He sank deeper and deeper, finally breaking the surface like a whale leaping from the ocean, the spray of notes crystal clear as he landed.

The crisp ring of the piano and the unique timbre of the violin intertwined, creating a perfect, mysterious harmony. It was like forest spirits dancing in the night, or the flickering of an eerie campfire, eventually converging into a dream for those listening.

The magnificent piece ended with a sharp, decisive staccato.

It was hard to tell who started clapping first, but soon the room was filled with applause. The professors were beaming, especially the one in the center seat. The surrounding teachers offered their congratulations. “Professor Jiao, you’ve struck gold.”

Professor Jiao took a deep breath, unable to hide her smile. “I wouldn’t go that far. Talented students always have their own ideas.”

She then looked at Zhou Zhou. “Zhou Zhouo, come here for a second.”

Zhou Zhou bowed, licked his lips, and stepped forward nervously. To his ears, several notes hadn’t been perfect. To a layman, it might have sounded “heavenly,” but to an expert… it was hard to say.

Jiao Yang smiled. “Hello, Zhou Zhouo. Let me introduce myself. I’m Jiao Yang.”

“Hello, Professor Jiao.” Zhou Zhou bowed quickly. This woman was a legend. He had been hearing Jiao Yang’s works since he was a child; she was an internationally renowned violinist who had performed Paganini’s notoriously difficult pieces at the age of ten. He had just performed one of those very pieces. Standing before a master of her caliber made him feel a bit out of place.

“That was a good performance. When does military training end?”

She clearly wasn’t asking him directly.

A female student nearby piped up: “Professor, we have two weeks of training. It should end around mid-September!”

“Good. Once training is over, if it’s not a weekend, come find me in my practice room. Tsk, I’m busy later and don’t have time now—add me on WeChat.” Professor Jiao ruffled her hair. Despite her simple short haircut, she radiated the aura of a master.

There weren’t many people in the Western Music section. After the professors left, Zhou Zhou stared at his phone, a bit dazed by the new contact: “Professor Jiao.”

A weight hit his shoulder. Pei Jue said happily, “Nice one, bro! Professor Jiao has so many resources. If I follow you as your accompanist, I’ll get to go to so many competitions. Hehe, I can finally skip classes.”

Zhou Zhou was still staring at his phone. Pei Jue leaned in. “Whoa, who’s this ‘Shanda’? He’s sent you over a dozen messages.”

The screen went black. “My roommate.”

Pei Jue pulled his hand away. “The one from earlier?”

“Yeah.”

Zhou Zhou noticed a complicated look in Pei Jue’s eyes. Pei Jue rubbed his nose and clutched his music folder. “I’m heading out first. It’s my turn for the piano evaluation soon.”

“Good luck.”

Leaving the chaotic sounds of the practice rooms behind, Zhou Zhou wandered outside until the streetlights flickered on.

Zhou Zhou, didn’t you already eat? Why did you buy a container of porridge? For a midnight snack?

Zhou Zhou carried the plain porridge he’d bought off-campus and didn’t answer.

He inserted his key; the room was pitch black.

Is no one here? Didn’t he send me a bunch of messages?

Just as he reached for the light switch, his wrist was grabbed by something dark and burning hot. The plastic bag dropped to the floor.

The lights flickered on. Shanda’s face was flushed a deep red as he stared at him blankly. His breath was hot, and his voice was raspy, like sandpaper rubbing together.

“You’re back.”

At that exact moment, the mechanical voice in his head chimed in.

Mission Triggered: The weather is getting cold. Force the male lead to warm your bed. Failure will result in electrocution.

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