The Little Crybaby Continues to Court Death as a Cannon Fodder - Chapter 31

Chapter 31

The competition moved indoors.

The torrential rain dampened the spirits of the judges and onlookers, and even the morale of the contestants was affected. However, the eyes of most journalists and art critics remained fixed on one person: Xi Yue.

Xi Yue, an undergraduate student, had already appeared multiple times on world-renowned international art programs; his past sculptures had been auctioned for astronomical prices.

Genius is always the center of attention, but it is also never permitted to make a mistake.

On this new path he had chosen, his technique was exquisite and his skill superb, yet the imagery was hollow. He had been critiqued as a “soulless replicator.”

No emotion, no content.

He could perfectly reproduce any style, yet he failed at the most basic level of expression. To a painter, a lack of emotion is equivalent to an inability to create works that possess it; his art was empty and devoid of spirit.

This was true of Xi Yue’s past works—he cared only for the brilliance of the visual, not the depth of the inner meaning. He was incapable of imbuing the canvas with feeling; or perhaps, he was born lacking the capacity to appreciate emotion.

When looking at erotic art, where others felt the wings of liberated thought, he saw only pornography; when looking at performance art, where others found profound philosophy and reflection, he found only boredom.

He could not experience these complex feelings. Appreciating emotion was a difficult task for him, let alone empathy. He lived entirely within a world of his own construction.

His professor had told him countless times: “True art leads the viewer’s mind on a journey to experience the sentiments of the creative process and grasp the profound meaning behind the work.”

“Xi Yue, where is your content? What are you trying to express?”

What was he trying to express?

Xi Yue did not start painting. Instead, he stared blankly at the canvas. His thoughts drifted through the noisy hall and back to the scene in the studio.

He had been mixing colors on Yu Qing’s body. When Yu Qing struggled, his skirt would lift slightly; when he tried to cover up, his wig would slip, tickling Xi Yue. Yu Qing, reclining in the center of white gauze, was breathtaking. The light fell from above, illuminating both him and a nearby sculpture.

Xi Yue’s fingers moved. The judges’ eyes tightened.

Multicolored curves left gashes across the canvas. Colors burst like fireworks—vibrant, wild, and chaotic. Large patches of bright hues merged harmoniously, but as Xi Yue slowly stood up, a shadow loomed over, as if a dark, thin veil had been draped over the image.

Different colors clashed like electric sparks. Sharp lines of high intensity became piercing screams, as if trying to break free from the constraints of the painting and slit his throat.

The judges grew restless, the audience whispered, and the media clicked their shutters frantically, all centered on him. In the past, Xi Yue would have maintained a humble persona, letting everyone admire his composed attitude. He relished this performance—dismissing his genius with a nonchalant wave when others marveled at him.

Xi Yue looked at his work, lost in thought.

He didn’t actually like painting. To him, painting was a meaningless endeavor, a challenge to be conquered, nothing more. Yet, even as the puzzle was solved, no sense of satisfaction emerged.

Why?

His eyes searched the room. He cared about only one thing—whether his Little Master was by his side.

…

For the following week, Xi Yue vanished as if he had evaporated. Yu Qing could not contact him.

556: [The original plot does have a segment like this. Xi Yue is heartbroken by Shang Ling and goes to a corner to lick his wounds in silence.]

But Xi Yue and Shang Ling hadn’t even developed a romantic line yet. Although 556 couldn’t see Xi Yue’s specific data or location, the “Xi Yue” icon in the backend remained green, meaning he was alive.

Yu Qing’s physical exam results came back. Old Master Yu was furious. The internal staff believed the workload was too high, leading a third of the team to resign.

On a snow-white hospital bed, Yu Qing lay obediently, hands folded over his abdomen, drifting off to the familiar scent of disinfectant. When he realized someone was beside him and tried to sit up, a hand pressed him down.

Old Master Yu stroked Yu Qing’s fluffy head affectionately. “Baby, your birthday is coming up. Is there anything you want?”

Yu Qing’s nineteenth birthday wasn’t actually anytime soon, but someone had once told the Old Master that Yu Qing’s original birth date was inauspicious. So, he had spent a fortune to have a master calculate a new date, and they celebrated according to that.

“Grandpa, can I go out to play?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the Old Master’s smile stiffened. Yu Qing forced a sweet, obedient smile. “Just within the city.”

Yu Qing wasn’t interested in local sights; he wanted to go to the Northwest or abroad. But he knew the Old Master’s fears—accidents on the road or potential dangers.

…

The Birthday Gala

Yu Qing’s birthday banquet was grand and magnificent. Only the elite of high society were invited. Today, he was meticulously dressed; his cold, exquisite face and perfectly fitted haute couture suit made him more dazzling than ever.

The moment he appeared, the luxurious decor became a mere backdrop. He was the focus, the point where all gazes converged. High-born, arrogant, and naturally aloof. Was the Yu family’s Little Master always like this?

Some tried to strike up a conversation, but Yu Qing had already slipped away to the conservatory.

Near the arched glass flower house, there was a small cat. Fearing it was hungry, Yu Qing brought a bottle of lactose-free milk. The cat gulped it down as if it were starving. He tapped the cat’s nose, and it rubbed affectionately against his finger.

The fluffy sensation made Yu Qing’s lips curl. He loved animals, but his family never let him keep pets, fearing parasites or fleas—despite knowing that proper care prevented such things.

Suddenly, the cat stopped drinking and began to meow anxiously. Yu Qing tried to quiet it, worried it would be thrown out if discovered. Just as he stood up, an arm grabbed him by the waist from the shadows, and his eyes were covered.

He was shoved forcefully against the glass pane of the conservatory.

“Let go of me!” Yu Qing warned in a low voice, struggling with all his might. But his hands were pinned above his head, a knee wedged between his legs, and his hips were suppressed. A black cloth was tied over his eyes.

He could see nothing. The other person was so close their breaths mingled—hot and suffocating.

The moment he opened his mouth to speak, a wet, slick tongue forced its way in, hungrily sucking on his tender lips and sweeping across his palate.

In the distance, the lights were bright and the music melodious. Inside the dark glass conservatory, there was only the sound of wet, tangled kissing and stifled moans.

“Mmm…” “You… ugh…”

The black cloth grew damp with tears. Yu Qing’s expression turned dazed, his breathing ragged. He went from forced resistance to active compliance, even twisting his waist in protest when the other person kissed too deeply.

As the man pulled away, a thin silver thread of saliva stretched between them, but Yu Qing didn’t notice. Having been taken advantage of by a “stranger,” his first reaction was a fierce insult: “Your kissing skills are terrible!”

The fingers on his waist tightened. The man chuckled, his voice low and intentional. “And yours are better?”

“You can barely breathe, you can’t even switch breaths properly, and you keep making those ‘ungh’ and ‘ah’ sounds.” The man brushed over Yu Qing’s wet lips, smearing the moisture provocatively. “Is it really that good?”

Yu Qing’s face flushed scarlet. He didn’t moan! Those sounds… they just came out of his throat on their own!

“Do you even know how to kiss?” Yu Qing retorted, unwilling to lose. “Do you want me to teach you?”

The man was silent for a moment before saying, “Sure.”

Yu Qing placed his hands on the man’s shoulders and pushed his tongue into the man’s mouth. But the man stood still like a block of wood. Yu Qing grumbled, “You have to move your tongue too.”

“Hmm? How do I move it?”

“Just…” Yu Qing blocked the man’s mouth again, his small tongue clumsily swirling inside the other’s mouth. “Just like this.”

The moment he tried to retract his tongue, the root was firmly caught and sucked hard. Yu Qing’s shoulders and legs trembled; a tingly, numbing sensation traveled from his mouth to his throat, causing another cat-like moan to escape.

“Like this?” “Mmm…”

He panted softly, his tongue numb. He snapped fiercely, “Don’t suck so hard!”

…

When Yu Qing was finally released, he was drenched in sweat. He walked out of the glass conservatory with a flushed face and disheveled clothes, several buttons undone, revealing skin reddened from over-stimulation.

Bastard! Who was that rogue? I’m going to find that pervert!

He cursed in his heart, then remembered the cat. When he went back to check, both the cat and the milk were gone. He cursed even harder. What kind of freak steals a cat’s food?!

He straightened his clothes and returned to the crowd. Under the shimmering lights, his face was gorgeous, his lips swollen and wet, the pink hue spreading to his cheeks and nose.

Shang Ling and Lu Feng both stopped in their tracks, their expressions turning guarded. As they moved toward him, Old Master Yu approached a friend from a prestigious family in the capital.

“He’s quite handsome. Speaking of handsome, it reminds me of someone. Do you know the Zhou family in the capital?” the friend whispered. “The head of the Zhou family recently recognized a son—the only heir. But strangely, he doesn’t take the surname Zhou. He’s called… what was it?”

“Mr. Xi.”

A laugh echoed from afar, accompanied by the clink of glasses. Yu Qing looked up sharply. Through the crowd and the neon lights, a tall silhouette approached.

“His name is Xi… Xi something…”

The footsteps stopped abruptly. He stood before Yu Qing—handsome, elegant, with a faint smile in his dark eyes.

“Hello. I am Xi Yue.”

“Right! Xi Yue!” The friend turned, stunned to be caught gossiping.

Old Master Yu looked at Xi Yue grimly. Xi Yue gave him a polite smile, then looked at Yu Qing like an old friend. “Little Master, long time no see.”

I missed you. Did you miss me?

…

Yu Qing finally realized that Xi Yue had spent his disappearance “reconnecting” with his family. 556 was just as confused—the original plot mentioned nothing about a hidden background or a “lost heir” trope for Xi Yue.

Beside them, Shang Ling and Lu Feng were visibly tense. Lu Feng said coldly, “So what’s your angle? Are you here to settle scores with Qingqing?” After all, Yu Qing had forcibly “sponsored” Xi Yue; seeking revenge now that he had status would be a logical human reaction.

“How could I?” Xi Yue laughed, shaking his head. “I did all of that willingly.”

“Besides, I’ve already returned the money. I don’t want the relationship between the Little Master and me to be a cold financial transaction. I’m a vulgar man; I’m greedy. I want more.”

Xi Yue spoke casually. Now that he had equal status, he no longer needed to play the submissive role. He could reveal his true nature.

When Yu Qing went to get a drink, Xi Yue followed quickly. “Little Master, want to go on a trip?”

“A trip?”

“Yes. I’m going surfing at Waikiki Beach. If you’d like, we can go to Hawaii together.”

But Grandpa wouldn’t allow it. Yu Qing frowned, torn between the restrictions of his elders and his longing for travel. He had never been on a vacation. He knew Waikiki was beautiful.

“Little Master.”

Under the burning glares of the two men nearby, Xi Yue stood in front of Yu Qing. He took Yu Qing’s hand and laced their fingers together—ten fingers intertwined. He whispered in a teasing tone, “If you aren’t allowed… we could ‘elope’.”

Yu Qing looked up at him. Xi Yue had changed—he was more confident and composed, no longer weak. Yet he still maintained a humble attitude toward Yu Qing.

Yu Qing tilted his chin up. “Fine.”

…

After the banquet, no one expected the Little Master to sneak out.

Running through the back alleys, Yu Qing’s heart pounded. He had never done anything so rebellious. The adrenaline made him dizzy. When he saw Xi Yue, he threw himself into the man’s arms.

“Xi Yue!”

“Little Master,” Xi Yue stroked his head. “I’m here.”

Yu Qing was breathless and weak in the knees. Xi Yue didn’t mock his nervousness; instead, he swept Yu Qing up into a bridal carry and left.

In the car, Yu Qing felt sleepy but was too excited to rest. “I… I didn’t bring anything. No passport…”

“It’s okay, Little Master. I’ll take care of it.”

On the plane, Yu Qing sent a text to his grandfather, apologizing and asking him not to worry. He felt guilty, but his desire for a different life was too strong.

Xi Yue’s private jet was incredibly luxurious. As it took off, Yu Qing felt a familiar tightening in his chest. He didn’t notice the flight attendants exchanging glances, ready to open medical crates.

Yu Qing turned pale, remembering the only other time he tried to fly. His parents had turned the plane around immediately because he looked so ill. Since then, he had been kept in a protective cocoon.

Sensing his tension, Xi Yue held his hand and pulled him into a hug. “I need to take motion sickness medicine. Do you want some?”

“I’m not seasick,” Yu Qing insisted stubbornly. “But… I do feel a little unwell today.”

Xi Yue smiled. Some things were simply destiny.

As the plane leveled out, Yu Qing didn’t suffer any further. The medical staff closed their crates. They watched as Xi Yue carefully checked the water temperature and coaxed Yu Qing into taking the medicine as if he were a child.

Soon, the medicine kicked in. Yu Qing’s head grew heavy against Xi Yue’s chest. “So sleepy…”

“You can sleep, Little Master. When you wake up, we’ll be in Hawaii.”

The feeling of Yu Qing’s soft body in his arms gave Xi Yue a sense of peace—as if he had finally grasped an impossible treasure.

“Sir, here is the passport. The new identity is also ready.” “Good. Begin.”

Xi Yue kissed Yu Qing’s forehead. He looked obsessed. Yu Qing was like a bird raised in a greenhouse; Xi Yue had smashed the castle and stripped away the protective wings to keep the most fragile, real version of the boy for himself.

I will take care of you. You will grow brighter feathers, live in a grander castle, and most importantly… you will have me.

“Sir, the tracker in the Little Master’s leg has been removed. His vitals are stable. It’s strange, though, we—”

“I don’t want to hear that.” Xi Yue’s voice was cold as he played with Yu Qing’s hand. “I paid a high price to poach you from the Yu family’s medical team because you know his history.”

The staff fell silent.

“When will he wake up?” “In about two hours.”

Xi Yue could hardly wait for their life together to begin. As the medical team prepared to leave, he spoke one last time.

“From now on, don’t call him ‘Little Master’.”

“Call him ‘The Mistress’.”