The Cannon Fodder Top is Still Raising His Husband Today [Transmigration] - Chapter 1

Before Song Bo could clarify the current situation, he felt a source of heat beneath his hand. The temperature was several degrees higher than his own, and the texture was smooth to the touch. As he brushed against it, he heard a suppressed moan.

A moan?

Song Bo’s dazed mind was instantly doused with cold water, snapping him awake. He opened his eyes to see a patch of ivory skin. As his gaze drifted downward, he was drawn to a cinnabar mole on the waist of the person beneath him. The mole was bright red and vivid. Song Bo’s hand reached forward uncontrollably, but just as his fingertips were about to touch it, a piece of cloth covered the mole from view.

Song Bo snapped out of his trance. Realizing what he had been about to do, he rose in shame and scrambled off the other person. Although he had never been in a relationship, even if he hadn’t eaten pork, he had seen a pig run; the situation was clearly the prelude to “that sort of business.”

Now that he was standing, his perspective shifted, and the scene before him became much clearer.

A beauty lay on the bed. His willow-leaf brows were tightly knit, and the deer-like eyes beneath them shimmered with tears. the corners of his eyes were slightly flushed, his nose was delicate, and his rosy lips were gagged by an unseemly piece of rag. The beauty’s hands and feet were bound with hemp rope. The rope was tied so tightly that the lack of circulation had turned his fingertips slightly purple. In this state, the beauty possessed a fragile, ravaged aesthetic that was more likely to incite a man’s animal instincts.

The wind whistled outside, rattling a window frame that was already hanging by a thread. With a loud thud, the frame finally gave way and hit the floor.

As the wind rushed in, Song Bo shuddered. He hurried to lean over, intending to pull the beauty’s open clothes together. He didn’t know what season it was, but regardless of the time of year, leaving one’s chest exposed to the wind for too long was bound to cause trouble.

However, the beauty was clearly on guard. Seeing Song Bo approach again, he wriggled backward twice, desperate to distance himself from this out-of-control beast.

But the bed was only so big and tucked into a corner. No matter how much the beauty squirmed, there was nowhere to run.

Seeing a flash of “shattering like jade rather than remaining whole as a tile” defiance in the beauty’s blinking eyes, Song Bo quickly removed the rag from his mouth.

“If you come any closer, I will kill myself and let your two taels of silver go to waste!” The beauty’s voice wasn’t loud, and because his mouth had been stuffed for so long, it carried a hint of hoarseness.

Setting aside the matter of two taels of silver, this was a living human life. Song Bo could not stand by and watch someone commit suicide. He held both hands up in front of his chest and retreated repeatedly, terrified that a loud noise might snap the beauty’s strained nerves.

“Ah…”

Suddenly, the beauty moaned again. The flush on his cheeks deepened. Between gasps, he pressed his legs together, causing his clothes to slip down even further.

Song Bo liked men, and he was a healthy, functional man. He took a deep breath to dispel his stray thoughts. He grabbed a bedsheet, braced his arms, and snapped it open with a vigorous swing, letting it settle gently over the beauty.

Then, Song Bo scooped the beauty up through the sheet and carried him out of the room. Guided by the original body’s memories, he carried him straight to the water storage vat in the kitchen and dropped him in.

The person was clearly drugged. At this moment, he couldn’t worry about whether the man would catch a cold; the priority was to douse that internal fire.

The beauty couldn’t swim and his limbs were tied, but fortunately, the vat wasn’t deep, reaching only to his chest.

The beauty’s state fluctuated, oscillating between clarity and the depths of desire. Song Bo stayed by the vat, using this time to sort through his chaotic thoughts.

After performing a heroic deed in the 21st century, he had transmigrated into a BL “Abuse the Bottom” novel. The protagonist was Jiang Jinxi, the son of a high-ranking official in the capital. Because of his father’s power and his own exceptional beauty, he was targeted by villains, framed, and sent to a remote village. To force the issue and ruin Jiang Jinxi’s body and soul, the villains even drugged him and sold him to the cannon fodder Top for a measly two taels of silver.

The cannon fodder Top was a gambling addict. After his parents died and he was abandoned by his relatives, he used his remaining money to buy Jiang Jinxi. After one night of “fun,” Jiang Jinxi developed a high fever, but the cannon fodder ignored him and left the village to continue gambling. Jiang Jinxi took the opportunity to escape, only to fall from the tiger’s den into a wolf’s lair: he was tricked by a villager and suffered further humiliation. Upon returning, the cannon fodder saw a business opportunity and sold Jiang Jinxi’s body for money.

A year later, after enduring countless humiliations and sending out secret letters at every opportunity, Jiang Jinxi finally saw his childhood sweetheart, the protagonist Top, arrive. The protagonist Top was a general. His first act upon finding Jiang Jinxi was to behead the cannon fodder and hang his head at the village entrance as a warning. Jiang Jinxi was taken back to the capital, where he and the general grew closer. However, because of Jiang Jinxi’s past, the general was only willing to take him as a concubine. Not long after the marriage, the general continuously took more people into his manor. Eventually, Jiang Jinxi lost all hope and spent the rest of his life hiding in a secluded courtyard of the General’s Manor until he died.

Song Bo had transmigrated as the cannon fodder Top who was destined to be hung at the village entrance.

Having figured out the plot, Song Bo looked at Jiang Jinxi. If he wanted to avoid losing his head, he had to protect Jiang Jinxi and help him get through this year. Perhaps then, Jiang Jinxi would remember his kindness and spare him. Then, he could disappear into the mountains, far away from the protagonists, and enjoy a second life.

“Mm…” After a soft moan, Jiang Jinxi’s body began to slide into the water.

Song Bo’s eyes were sharp and his hands were quick. He stood up from his wooden stool and caught Jiang Jinxi.

Jiang Jinxi’s head rested weakly on Song Bo’s forearm. He was as limp as a pile of cotton; he had likely fainted.

Fainting was for the best; it saved him from suffering through the torment.

Song Bo took the sheet he had used earlier. Turning his head to the side, he blindly scooped up the soaking wet Jiang Jinxi. Jiang Jinxi shifted in the vat, causing his clothes to pull open. Adhering to the principle of “see no evil,” Song Bo relied on touch to pull Jiang Jinxi back into his arms. The man was as light as a feather; Song Bo worried that walking outside like this might result in the man being blown away by a strong wind.

Back in the bedroom, Song Bo first cut the ropes on Jiang Jinxi’s wrists and ankles. Then, he grabbed a tattered garment. Though it was torn, it was enough to block his view. He tied the cloth around his head, letting the fabric cover his eyes. In this blind state, he wiped the water off Jiang Jinxi and put him into a loose, clean set of clothes.

To minimize the amount of contact, Song Bo specifically chose a set of the original body’s clothes. The original host had a large frame, so the clothes were broad and easy to put on. After all that exertion, he didn’t know how Jiang Jinxi was doing, but he himself was covered in sweat.

Removing the cloth from his head, Song Bo looked at the human-shaped wet spot on the bed. It seemed he would have to make do on the nearby table for the night.

In the middle of the night, Song Bo woke up at the wooden table. His arm was numb from being used as a pillow. Using the moonlight, he went to the latrine. As he prepared to lie back down on the table, he heard a murmur from the bed. He stepped lightly and approached, finally hearing Jiang Jinxi whisper the word: “Cold.”

Who says they are cold? Only someone who is sick.

Song Bo reached out and pressed his palm to Jiang Jinxi’s forehead. It felt like a freshly roasted sweet potato, frighteningly hot.

The cold water soak must have caused him to catch a chill, leading to this fever.

Ancient times weren’t like the modern era. Medical conditions were poor, and even a minor cold could claim a life. In the original novel, Jiang Jinxi had been tortured by the cannon fodder all night and also developed a fever, but he had survived it through sheer endurance. This showed that Jiang Jinxi had a “protagonist halo” and wouldn’t die so easily.

However, Song Bo was an upright youth. He couldn’t be like the original host and leave a patient to fend for himself.

It was quiet outside, without even the sound of birds. This was the middle of the night, a time for deep sleep. Where could he find a doctor?

Suddenly, a name surfaced in his mind.

The original host’s eldest aunt, Song Chazai.

Song Chazai was a well-known doctor in the village. Although she couldn’t compare to city doctors, she could handle common illnesses and fevers. Consequently, she was the first person villagers sought when they felt unwell.

Logically, since the original host and Song Chazai were relatives, it was appropriate to seek her help. But Song Bo was troubled.

The trouble was that the original host’s relationship with this aunt was terrible. Song Bo reasonably suspected that if he went there now, he would simply be kicked out.

When the original host’s parents were alive, the aunt’s family and his family were very close. They visited each other three or four times a week, eating at one house one day and the other the next. But since the original host became addicted to gambling and ruined his family, the relationship had soured. She had tried to persuade him to quit and even paid off his debts a few times, only to overhear him calling her his “money tree.” From then on, whenever Song Chazai saw him, she would drive him away with a dark expression.

The original host really was a piece of work.

Song Bo sighed. Even if he were to be kicked out, he had to try, or Jiang Jinxi might burn his brain out.

Because of the original host’s heavy gambling addiction, he had sold off almost everything in the house except for the essentials. Song Bo wanted to bring a gift, but there was nothing to take.

After rummaging through the kitchen for a while, he finally found two eggs and a piece of cured meat no larger than his palm.

Bringing such items was truly embarrassing, but it was the best Song Bo could offer.

Treating a dead horse as if it were alive, Song Bo felt he had to try. He put the items in a wooden basket and headed to Song Chazai’s house.

Because the original host’s father and Song Chazai had been close, their houses were built fairly near each other.

Song Bo shivered. It wasn’t fear; it was just cold. Once the sun went down, the temperature plummeted, reaching its lowest point in the early hours of the morning.

After walking about a kilometer, Song Bo saw a small courtyard with a fence. The fence was neat and dense, clearly the result of hard work. He stopped at the entrance. The gate was made of wood, and the sound of knocking was distinct.

After two “thuds,” there was no response from inside.

Song Bo looked down at his palm, clenched his fist, and then released it.

Next, two thunderous knocks finally woke the inhabitants.

Song Bo sighed. Fortunately, Song Chazai’s house was some distance from the others, or his late-night noise would have left him feeling guilty.

“Who is it?” A middle-aged woman’s voice came from inside, and then the wooden door creaked open.

Song Chazai was yawning, but as soon as she saw the uninvited guest at the door, her yawn stopped halfway. Her mouth turned down, and she moved to shut the door immediately.

Song Bo was quick and stuck his hand into the gap. Song Chazai’s strength was considerable, and the door panels squeezed his hand so hard he couldn’t help but hiss in pain.

Song Chazai gasped and quickly pulled the door back open. “What do you think you’re doing?”