The Little Crybaby Continues to Court Death as a Cannon Fodder - Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The moment his finger was enveloped by that moist, heat-laden atmosphere, Yu Qing tried to pull back in alarm, but it was already too late.

An unprecedented numbness churned through his very marrow. Unable to stand steady, he leaned backward, using Shang Ling’s body as a support. The chandelier illuminated his slightly upturned face—lost, a bit dazed, his lips parted as hot breaths flowed through the gaps.

His other hand reached up, wanting to grasp something, but only managed to weakly scratch the back of Shang Ling’s hand, leaving behind a touch as light as a dragonfly skimming the water.

The wet sounds in the air continued. Shang Ling’s Adam’s apple bobbed repeatedly; his hand, which had been hanging at his side, gradually tightened until it finally clamped onto Yu Qing’s lower abdomen.

Yu Qing was very thin. Because of his poor health since childhood, he wasn’t as robust as others his age. Combined with his small frame, he didn’t look like he had much meat on his bones despite being raised on every delicacy imaginable. Yet, to the touch, the sensation was exquisite—the flesh was soft and cottony; a slight pressure was enough to make it ripple.

Shang Ling, who should have put a stop to this immediately, fell into a state of shocked emptiness. His lifelong composure was shattered into dust. He stared almost blankly at Yu Qing’s face—still cold and elegant, but now, more than anything, it was vivid.

It was a strange feeling. This arrogant, pampered young master who looked down on the world was actually showing such a vulnerable, out-of-control, and helpless expression.

“Don’t…”

Whatever Yu Qing said, no one heard it clearly. Under these circumstances, a sticky voice like that—words that sounded like a plea—would only cause misunderstanding and invite even more excessive treatment.

Xi Yue’s movements paused for a heartbeat. However, he merely looked up with a nonchalant glance, and under Shang Ling’s horrified, dilated pupils, he became even more aggressive.

Shang Ling finally reacted to what Xi Yue was doing. He pulled Yu Qing toward him and kicked Xi Yue away.

As the pink-tinged finger was pulled from between Xi Yue’s lips and teeth, it trailed a silver thread of moisture that shimmered under the lights.

“What do you think you’re doing!”

Shang Ling roared, his sharp gaze piercing Xi Yue like a lion facing an intruder—full of vigilance, hostility, and fury.

Xi Yue didn’t seem to care as he brushed the dust off his shoulder. Having been knocked to the ground, he propped himself up with one hand and met Shang Ling’s gaze calmly.

“Why are you shouting?”

Yu Qing, held in Shang Ling’s arms, pushed against the man’s chest to create distance. Even though he could barely stand, he questioned with a flushed, cold face, “What right do you have to shout at him? He’s my person.”

“But he just—”

“And what about you?” The young master sneered, exposing him. “Weren’t you enjoying the show just fine?”

Shang Ling: “…” He had no rebuttal. He had been mesmerized.

Though Yu Qing still lacked strength, he knew who was on his side. Xi Yue’s humble display of “care” might have been on Grandpa’s orders; he would settle the score with Xi Yue later. But what right did Shang Ling have to make a scene and lecture his person? He hadn’t even spoken yet.

Shang Ling’s fingers tightened.

The old Yu Qing would never have bickered with him for someone else’s sake. No matter how willful he was, he would always listen. He wasn’t a fool; he could see the repulsion in Yu Qing’s eyes.

The sharp contrast ignited a nameless fire in Shang Ling’s chest. He couldn’t explain his own frustration, so he struggled to calm himself: “My house isn’t a place for you to do these things with your lover. Whatever you were like before, you’re with me now. I have a duty to Grandpa to help you fix these rotten habits.”

His words were forceful and resonant, but if one listened closely, his tone had softened—clearly offering a way out for both of them.

However, his method was exactly what Yu Qing hated most.

Yu Qing steadied himself and said coldly, “Get this straight: if you hadn’t given Grandpa the green light, I wouldn’t have come to your house. It’s actually quite strange—don’t you look down on me the most?”

Unable to answer, Shang Ling remained silent. His handsome face was awkward to the extreme, his jawline taut. He moved his lips to explain, but found there was nothing to explain. Yu Qing was telling the truth; he did look down on him. A willful dandy like Yu Qing was exactly the type he detested most. He couldn’t even understand himself anymore; his actions and thoughts were so contradictory they had lost all logic.

To Yu Qing, his silence was a confession.

“I’m telling you, you aren’t even qualified to be my dog.” Yu Qing brushed him aside. “The one who looks down on you… is me.”

Yu Qing leaned in close, his soft fingers brushing against Shang Ling’s Adam’s apple, sending an electric shiver through him. The warmth Yu Qing brought was hot, but his words were ice.

While Shang Ling was dazed, Yu Qing let out a cold huff, grabbed Xi Yue’s arm, and started walking toward the door, looking like someone running away after a fight. He didn’t stop him, but Yu Qing turned back halfway and stood before him.

Yu Qing reached into Shang Ling’s pocket. His movements were rough, and Shang Ling felt the soft pressure against his thigh. The warmth of another person seeped through the thin pocket fabric; Shang Ling’s muscles went rigid, his fingers curled unnaturally, and his mind went blank.

Shang Ling looked down and could see the exquisite swirl of hair at the crown of Yu Qing’s head and the tip of his petite nose. When their eyes met again, Yu Qing’s gaze was beautiful and icy.

Yu Qing held a bank card between his index and middle fingers, waved it provocatively, raised his chin, and walked away without looking back.

…

It took a lot of effort for Yu Qing to leave Shang Ling’s neighborhood. His sense of direction was terrible; to put it simply, he was a lost cause. He stood on the sidewalk, looking confused at the endless stream of cars.

Beside him, Xi Yue was acting like a mute, not saying a word. He was obedient, sure, but completely lacking in initiative. Couldn’t Xi Yue just ask where he wanted to go?! And he had taken it upon himself to lick his finger earlier—Yu Qing’s hand still felt uncomfortable.

Shang Ling bullied him, and Xi Yue bullied him too. None of them were well-behaved.

The fuming young master suddenly stopped under a streetlight and scolded him fiercely: “Who told you that you could lick me!”

The night breeze blew through his hair, blurring his brilliant, cold face. Xi Yue reached out to smooth his hair but missed as Yu Qing pulled away.

The more Yu Qing thought about it, the angrier he got. He glared with his snowy-white face: “My hand is still sticky. It’s all your saliva.” Seeing Xi Yue try to pull him along, he pushed him away in disgust. “Filthy!”

Shop windows lined the street, and the orange glow of the streetlights illuminated them. The commotion attracted several passersby. Good-looking people are always focal points, especially two with such striking auras.

Pedestrians stopped nearby to peek. They saw a tall young man reach out with a long arm, pulling the throwing-a-fit beautiful boy into his arms, leaning down to whisper something softly, as if coaxing a child.

Yu Qing struggled but couldn’t break free. He looked up grumpily at Xi Yue, who was a head taller than him. His looks were high-impact—vivid features but an overly pale complexion. Now, with his cheeks flushed from anger, he looked more alive than ever.

Xi Yue could feel the softness of his waist through the fabric. His large hand pressed against the small of Yu Qing’s back, his thumb rubbing slowly, generating sparks of heat.

“Young Master, your hair is messy,” Xi Yue said softly.

His words were respectful and his attitude was upright. The young master’s bad mood was slightly soothed. He stabilized his stance and ordered petulantly, “Then fix it for me.”

Yu Qing was still being held by the waist, but he didn’t even realize he was being taken advantage of. Instead, he tilted his chin up, leaning closer. Xi Yue brushed his temple, tucking the stray hairs behind his ear. His movements were gentle and slow, his fingers unintentionally grazing the tender earlobe several times.

Yu Qing let out a soft whimper from the itchiness and tried to pull away, but was held tighter. He looked up in confusion, only for Xi Yue to whisper, “There’s some here, too.”

Cool, rough fingertips tapped lightly on the side of his neck, then began to wander slowly. When Xi Yue’s movements were slightly larger, a small patch of snowy shoulder would leap into view. His thumb pressed lightly on the skin, leaving a pink mark when he moved away.

Yu Qing’s hands instinctively grabbed Xi Yue’s waist. The continuous itch at his neck made his breathing shallow; that small patch of skin felt completely numb and tingly. It felt strange, but he couldn’t put it into words. He just bit his lip and turned his head, revealing pink cheeks framed by damp hair.

Once Xi Yue finished fixing his hair, the young master scolded him: “Clumsy.”

Under the streetlight, his cheeks were pink, his lips red, and his eyes were misty. Xi Yue watched him for a moment before asking softly, “Young Master, where are we going now?”

It was still early, only past nine, but the priority was finding a place to stay. Money solved everything, but Yu Qing didn’t want to stay in a hotel. His eyes darted around and landed back on Xi Yue. He tilted his eyes, testing him with uncertainty: “Don’t you have a dorm?”

“…” After a moment of silence, Xi Yue replied, “Yes. But the environment isn’t very good.” The dorms at T-University’s Fine Arts College were famously bad.

Yu Qing didn’t care. His cold, beautiful eyes brightened visibly. He asked expectantly, “Can I bring someone back?”

“No.”

The watery eyes, brilliant as gemstones, dimmed instantly. Xi Yue’s lips moved, and he suddenly changed his mind: “But if we aren’t caught… It’s fine.”

…

This was Yu Qing’s second time at T-University. At night, it was a completely different world. Along the winding streets, various stalls snaked through the crowds. The air was thick with fragrance, and electric scooters zoomed through the throngs of people, drawing curses from many.

A sudden gust of wind from a passing bike startled Yu Qing, making him freeze. Luckily, Xi Yue pulled him into his arms to avoid a collision. Yu Qing was still in shock, his eyes darting around. His cold face was filled with novelty and surprise; he was so preoccupied he even forgot to get angry.

“Young Master, are you alright?” Xi Yue leaned down, whispering in his ear.

It was a hot summer night, and the night market was billowing with smoke. It felt like being in a steamer. With Xi Yue speaking so close, Yu Qing’s ear was enveloped in heat. He pushed Xi Yue’s chin away. “Don’t get so close, it’s hot.”

But his eyes stayed glued to the street stalls. As they walked out of the alley, Yu Qing looked like he wanted more. The smell was spicy and pungent—piles of seasoning and sauces were tossed on everything. It should have been disgusting, but it looked surprisingly good. He licked his lips.

The young master poked Xi Yue’s arm again. “Take me to eat that tomorrow.”

In the dark, Xi Yue’s eyebrows twitched in surprise. Yu Qing didn’t see it, and when he didn’t get an immediate response, he poked Xi Yue’s waist discontentedly. “Did you hear me? Take me tomorrow.”

Xi Yue hesitated. According to the contract, he shouldn’t be taking Yu Qing to eat at street stalls. But Yu Qing’s expression was so serious and focused, with a hint of a threat—the mix of expressions made him look almost cute.

“Yes, I understand,” Xi Yue said. “But you can’t eat too much.”

Yu Qing let out a light huff. Whether I eat a lot or a little is up to me.

The pampered young master walked ahead without looking back, only to realize after a while that he didn’t know the way. He awkwardly returned to Xi Yue’s side. He tugged at Xi Yue’s shirt, his voice tinged with embarrassment and annoyance: “Why is your dorm so far? I’m tired of walking!”

It was hot, and even Yu Qing, who rarely sweats, was damp. Xi Yue instinctively bent over, and Yu Qing hopped onto his back, finding a comfortable position to rest his head.

After a few steps, he reminded him cautiously, “Remember to put me down when we get to where the people are.”

“Okay.” Knowing the young master valued his pride above all else, Xi Yue readily agreed.

The Fine Arts dorms were quite remote. Most of the people in Xi Yue’s building were seniors, many of whom had already moved out, so it was quiet. When he put Yu Qing back on the ground, the boy looked around, a bit nervous and excited.

“Senior Xi Yue?”

A shout from behind scared Yu Qing, who immediately jumped behind Xi Yue, grabbing his shirt with both hands. The shirt was pulled tight, outlining the clear muscle definition on Xi Yue’s back. He glanced back slightly, taking in Yu Qing’s posture.

The small face was cautious and alert, like a little thief caught in the act.

The person behind ran over, panting with hands on his thighs. Once he caught his breath, he saw a pair of tender white legs between Xi Yue’s dark trousers. The knees were pressed together and tinged with pink; the calves were shapely and smooth, with small beads of sweat trickling down the skin.

Yan Duyun stared for a moment before Xi Yue’s voice snapped him back to reality. He scratched his head awkwardly. “I saw you from a distance and wanted to come say hello.”

His eyes strayed back to those white legs. “Senior, are you in a relationship? Is this your girlfriend?”

Before Xi Yue could answer, slender white fingers gripped his arm, and a small head peeked out from behind.

“No.”

The person’s voice was as cold as his looks. His snowy skin was like a begonia washed in moonlight—extraordinarily exquisite. Perhaps because he had been misunderstood, his fair brows were slightly furrowed like shattered crystals from a snow mountain—beautiful and icy.

Yan Duyun was also an art student. No art student could dislike beautiful things, especially beauty with such visual impact and no buffer. Yan Duyun felt a bit lightheaded and blushed when their eyes met.

His heart began to race as he asked stutteringly, “Then, what about you?”

“Are you in a relationship?”