The Little Crybaby Continues to Court Death as a Cannon Fodder - Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The Encounter at the Hot Spring

Yu Qing’s tone was peculiar, carrying a sense of high-handedness mixed with a touch of charity and pity. Even that utterly haughty expression of his felt like an act of grace.

He was truly a walking contradiction. What should have been an irritating, malicious temperament became exceptionally vibrant due to a confidence etched into his very bones—as if he were born to be this willful, unrestrained, and beloved.

Lu Feng’s breathing grew ragged. Beneath his usually calm eyes burned a surging, fierce fire. Yu Qing’s humid, hot breath lingered by his ear, skillfully slipping into the ear canal and sending a strange heat coursing through his entire body.

Kneel for Yu Qing? If he could truly be with him, what did a little kneeling matter?

Involuntarily, Lu Feng reached out toward him, but Yu Qing—mistaking the gesture for an impending blow—shrank back.

Yu Qing called out for reinforcements: “Xi Yue!”

The mention of a third man’s name shattered the erotic tension. The emotions that had been stoked to their limit now felt like burning needles pricking the skin. The fervor remained, but it was tainted with a sharp, unavoidable irritation.

Xi Yue slid his hands under Yu Qing’s arms, effortlessly lifting him away. Lu Feng did not intervene; he simply watched as Yu Qing was gathered into the other man’s embrace. The arms that had just been draped around Lu Feng were now hooked around another man’s neck.

Those eyes—beautiful yet wicked—looked back at Lu Feng provocatively. Yu Qing mouthed a single word: Per-vert.

Lu Feng couldn’t help but let out a short laugh. How interesting.

Just moments ago, Yu Qing had been clinging to him affectionately; in the blink of an eye, he had donned a completely different mask. This two-faced nature was intoxicating—the mere thought of it was enough to incite excitement.

…

The Aftermath

Yu Qing had soaked for a bit too long, so Xi Yue carried him out of the spring. Lu Feng remained in the water for a while longer to compose himself. By the time Lu Feng had sorted his emotions, Yu Qing and Xi Yue had finished rinsing off. Yu Qing’s hair was dripping wet, and Xi Yue was attempting to dry it for him.

However, Xi Yue was clearly unaccustomed to such a task. Coupled with his sour mood, his movements were clumsy and rough.

The pampered young master flared up at the heavy-handedness: “Do you even know how to dry hair? You’re hurting me! You even got water in my eyes!”

Amidst the rising steam, Yu Qing wore a dark bathrobe. The deep color made his skin appear even more pale and tender. His complexion was a sickly sort of white, but having been flushed pink by the hot spring, it carried an unconscious, sultry allure.

Lu Feng watched him for a moment before stepping forward to volunteer. “Let me do it. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Yu Qing gave him a suspicious look. Xi Yue had no intention of yielding, his voice cold: “Would a man of your status, President Lu, actually know how to serve others?”

Since their confrontation, Xi Yue had dropped the act. The previous low-profile, respectful facade was gone, replaced by blatant cynicism and aggression. But Yu Qing didn’t pick up on the subtext. He didn’t want Lu Feng’s help either—he had just played Lu Feng and feared the man might take the opportunity to retaliate.

Since Xi Yue was making him uncomfortable as well, Yu Qing simply snatched the towel away and stomped toward the exit. “I’ll do it myself.”

…

The Hidden Witness

The moment Yu Qing left, the two men stopped pretending. Two pairs of cold eyes clashed in a silent battle. The air pressure in the locker room plummeted, making it difficult to breathe. They were like predators now, competing for a mate. Male instinct, pathological and possessive, demanded total exclusivity.

Just as Lu Feng was about to speak, the phone in his locker vibrated incessantly. He broke the standoff to open the locker. The screen was flooded with missed calls and WeChat messages—all from Shang Ling. It seemed to be about work.

While their companies were partners, why was Shang Ling in such a hurry?

As the thought crossed his mind, Shang Ling initiated a video call. Irritated, Lu Feng answered. The screen was blurred by the steam, but Shang Ling’s state was visible. Despite his composed expression, his furrowed brows betrayed a lack of peace.

“President Lu, did you forget? There is a public meeting at 6:30.”

A meeting? There was indeed one scheduled, but hadn’t Elder Yu postponed it until tomorrow?

“President Lu, I hope you can be punctual. Having a sense of time is the most basic form of respect and upbringing—and a vital condition for our long-term cooperation.”

Shang Ling possessed a very “righteous” look—standard features that were hard to fault—and he spoke with rigorous precision. However, there was a gap in their information. Though Lu Feng didn’t know why Elder Yu hadn’t told Shang Ling about the delay, he decided to inform his partner.

Lu Feng grabbed a towel and walked out. “President Shang, the meeting has been postponed to 3:00 PM tomorrow. I don’t know why you weren’t informed, but it was Chairman Yu’s decision.”

The hallway was cooler. Lu Feng used the towel to wipe the screen clean. He was annoyed; this was his private time, yet Shang Ling was intruding with work. They weren’t close enough for casual video calls. However, Shang Ling held a special status—if Lu Feng ended up with Yu Qing, he would eventually have to call this man “Brother.” Since they would be family sooner or later, he had to show some face.

As the screen cleared, their faces became distinct. Shang Ling’s frown deepened; he truly seemed unaware of the postponement. Just as Lu Feng was about to hang up, an extremely impatient voice rang out.

“I said I’ll dry it myself! I can blow-dry my own hair!” “Do you even know how?”

Shang Ling could never mistake those two voices. Yu Qing and Xi Yue.

At the end of the hallway, Yu Qing’s face was flushed red with irritation. He swatted away Xi Yue’s reaching hand. “Stop following me.”

Xi Yue actually thought he couldn’t blow-dry his own hair. He was just lazy; it didn’t mean he was incompetent. Xi Yue looked like the attentive type, yet he had been so rough that water had gotten into Yu Qing’s eyes, and a patch of his scalp still stung from the heat of the dryer.

Yu Qing had no idea how alluring he looked at that moment. The corners of his eyes and his cheeks were stained with a seductive flush. Damp strands of hair snaked across his pink-white skin like vines. Every detail felt like a deliberate provocation.

Lu Feng’s mind wandered for a split second, causing the phone to slip from his hand and tumble onto the floor. Yu Qing glanced at Lu Feng, frowned, and continued walking forward. His eyes were still irritated and his vision was blurry; he didn’t notice the phone lying screen-up on the ground.

As Yu Qing was about to step over the phone, Lu Feng shouted: “Wait!”

Yu Qing stopped dead in his tracks just before the device, his expression confused.

On the other end of the video call, Shang Ling’s breath nearly stopped. He was looking straight up at Yu Qing. Though the angle was strange, he could clearly see Yu Qing’s “steamed” face. His eyelashes were clumped together from the moisture, his posture relaxed and tinged with a subtle laziness.

Perhaps sensing the gaze through the screen, Yu Qing suddenly looked down at the lens.

His eyes were rimmed with red, his hair was wet, and a drop of water rolled down his forehead to the tip of his nose, trembling like a transparent bead. Time seemed to freeze.

Aside from Yu Qing, both Lu Feng and Xi Yue realized the call was still active. They saw the tightened, stunned expression on Shang Ling’s face on the screen. Shang Ling didn’t make a sound; he wasn’t sure if Yu Qing had seen him. Peering through the camera felt like a tense, secret thrill, a tide of stimulation drowning his senses.

His gaze followed the drop of water on the tip of Yu Qing’s nose. As Yu Qing tilted his head, the drop wobbled, fell heavily, and splashed directly onto the camera lens.

Then, Yu Qing lifted his leg. The dark bathrobe parted at the side, and the light illuminated those slender, white legs.

He stepped right over the camera.

All Shang Ling could see now were blurred patches of color. He didn’t know when the call ended, nor when his secretary entered to report on work. He was in a trance, his thoughts completely occupied.

For the first time, a workaholic who prided himself on 100% focus could not concentrate. Shang Ling closed his eyes in a gesture of self-abandonment, leaning back into his chair as a complex surge of emotion hit his chest.

Why… Why was it pink?