The Little Crybaby Continues to Court Death as a Cannon Fodder - Chapter 7

Chapter 7

At this moment, 556 was beyond excited: 【The protagonists’ emotions are surging right now, fluctuating like a drop tower. With such intense and passionate feelings, what could it be other than the sparks of love?】

Having witnessed everything, Xi Yue retracted his gaze and sat back down beside Yu Qing, acting as if he had noticed nothing.

The moment he took his seat, Elder Yu walked out leaning on his cane, and Shang Ling withdrew his hand at the same time.

Yu Qing hurriedly pulled his leg back, but in his haste, his slight frame tilted to one side. His left hand pressed onto Xi Yue’s thigh, seeking a point of support.

Xi Yue looked down at him once more.

His breathing was uneven, his lips slightly parted; his flushed cheeks and stubborn, watery eyes softened his usual cold aura.

“Can you beat him in a fight?”

“What?”

The abrupt question caught Xi Yue off guard. By the time he realized who “he” referred to, Yu Qing had already turned his head away haughtily, straightening his limp body.

Only after asking did Yu Qing realize how foolish he was. Xi Yue and Shang Ling were destined to be a couple sooner or later; right now, they were already sparking “love” just over a meal. How could Xi Yue possibly help him beat up Shang Ling?

But he was truly incensed.

In Yu Qing’s world, there were only two kinds of people: those who followed his lead, and those who didn’t—and went out of their way to provoke him.

The former he treated normally; the latter were classified as enemies.

Shang Ling was clearly the latter.

Wearing a face full of suppressed rage, Yu Qing glared fiercely at Shang Ling across from him, completely forgetting how he had just been bullied into a state of total weakness. Now that he had regained his strength, he began to court disaster again.

He was the classic case of “forgetting the pain once the wound has healed.”

Seeing that Yu Qing’s face was no longer as pale as before and had regained some color and vitality, Elder Yu glanced at Shang Ling’s unusual expression and suddenly had an idea.

“Bao-bao, you’ve kept yourself cooped up in your room for too long this time. Grandpa isn’t at ease with you living in the manor alone. It’s too far; Grandpa can’t look after you.”

Finally, Elder Yu revealed his main objective: “You two should live together.”

Elder Yu had mentioned this to Shang Ling before, and Shang Ling had naturally been unwilling. Elder Yu originally thought it was a lost cause, but seeing Shang Ling’s distinctly different attitude toward Yu Qing today, he brought it up again.

It was also a test for Shang Ling.

Shang Ling’s first instinct was resistance, wanting to decline politely, but a much more violent voice of opposition rang out.

“No!”

“I don’t want to live with him! No!!”

His agitated emotions and arched lashes all worked hard to emphasize his stance.

Shang Ling had never been so openly disdained. He questioned coldly, “Is living with me beneath you?”

Yu Qing trotted to Elder Yu’s side, squatting down obediently to act spoiled: “I don’t want to live with Shang Ling.”

When acting spoiled, he could only pin his hopes on Shang Ling: “Grandpa, you have to at least ask the owner of the house what he thinks, right?”

Doesn’t Shang Ling hate him? If they lived together, Shang Ling would surely be disgusted to death by him.

Yu Qing shot frantic looks at Shang Ling, the disdain in his eyes practically overflowing.

“Xiao Ling, what do you say?” Elder Yu nodded and looked toward Shang Ling.

Shang Ling, who had always viewed Yu Qing as a nuisance and a burden, gave an unprecedented agreement: “Grandpa, I have no problem with it. I happen to have spare rooms at my place.”

Seeing Yu Qing’s eyes gradually widen in shock, he felt a surge of delight and added with emphasis: “Even if you bring your little lover along, there’s plenty of room.”

Though Elder Yu doted on Yu Qing, once he spoke on certain matters, there was no room for negotiation.

Yu Qing racked his brain for a way out; he didn’t want to see Shang Ling every single day.

Sensing Yu Qing’s resistance, Elder Yu patted his shoulder. His aged face was full of affection, and his words were gentle: “Didn’t you always like Xiao Ling? You used to constantly pester me to see your ‘Brother Shang Ling’.”

But that wasn’t me.

However, Yu Qing couldn’t tell Elder Yu that every world was just a cluster of data, including character settings. The “data” that used to love calling him Brother Shang Ling had now become him.

Well aware that his grandson responded better to gentle persuasion than force, Elder Yu successfully saw Yu Qing soften. He was always like this—appearing prickly and unapproachable, but in reality, as long as the request was reasonable and he was coaxed and followed, he would give in nine times out of ten.

He was protected so thoroughly that he was extremely pampered, yet at the same time, incredibly naive.

“Grandpa is old and needs to sleep. If you need anything, just look for Brother Shang Ling.” Elder Yu displayed a well-timed vulnerability, his brow clouded with a weariness typical of his age.

He glanced at the butler, and Uncle Lin immediately stepped forward, handing Shang Ling a card. “Master Shang, if the young master has any expenses in the future, please help keep an eye on them.”

Looking at this black card with no limit, Shang Ling’s first thought was that Elder Yu’s doting was excessive; his second thought was that if he accepted this card, it meant taking on the duty of looking after Yu Qing.

He hesitated.

Agreeing to live with Yu Qing was already inconceivable enough.

Shang Ling turned his head to look. Yu Qing’s frost-cold face was flushed with a rosy hue from anger.

The glare he received was aggressive, as if Yu Qing would fight him to the death if he dared to take that card.

This version of Yu Qing was somewhat different from before.

The old Yu Qing was always sickly and listless, and his temper tantrums were utterly unreasonable. While the current Yu Qing was still unreasonable and perhaps even more pampered…

…it was different.

Shang Ling retracted his gaze and took the card: “Grandpa, don’t worry. I will take good care of him.”

Elder Yu’s kindness to him was as heavy as a mountain. Now that his career was stable, simply helping Elder Yu look after his grandson was not an unreasonable request.

Elder Yu’s two coughs before returning to his room silenced Yu Qing’s further protests.

No matter how much Elder Yu commanded the winds and clouds in his career, he had to admit one fact—he was old.

As the years passed, his cheekbones had become more prominent, and new white streaks had emerged from his freshly dyed hair, like layers of frost on a branch.

Yu Qing obediently said goodnight to Elder Yu, his attitude submissive and docile. But the moment he turned his head, his expression changed completely.

The look he cast on Shang Ling was one of disdain and fury: “I’m going back to pack my bags.”

It wasn’t a request.

Yu Qing’s plan was beautiful: stabilize Grandpa first, and once he was back on his own turf, if he refused to leave, what could Shang Ling do?

Shang Ling watched as Yu Qing trotted over to the shoe cabinet. As he bent over to change his shoes, his clothes traced the line of his spine, revealing a small sliver of his snowy-white waist.

He was truly very thin.

A male skeleton is naturally large, but his wasn’t.

Small frame, but a very large temper.

Shang Ling quietly approached Yu Qing’s position.

While Yu Qing was putting on his shoes and lost in thought about his plan, a strong, powerful arm suddenly hooked around his waist.

The world spun. By the time he regained his senses, his limp arms were draped over Shang Ling’s back; he had been hoisted up and slung over a shoulder.

Shang Ling had broad shoulders, and his bespoke suit outlined sharp, powerful muscular lines, whereas Yu Qing had narrow shoulders and a thin waist. He hung upside down over the shoulder, his soft belly pressed right against it.

A large, well-defined hand clamped behind his thigh. Though he looked very thin, his snowy-white thigh flesh was squeezed through the gaps of the darker-skinned fingers.

Shang Ling felt a flicker of irritation from this excessively soft, fleshy sensation. Seeing Yu Qing still struggling wildly, his fair shins swinging back and forth, Shang Ling felt frustrated.

In a fit of malice, he used his free hand to smack the area behind.

“Stop moving.”

“Shang Ling, I’ll kill you!”

Slap. Another one.

Yu Qing only looked thin; he had meat where it counted. After Shang Ling pulled his hand away, the rounded, full softness bounced with great elasticity.

“You—!”

When has Yu Qing ever suffered such humiliation? In all his years, no one had ever dared to lay a hand on him, let alone hit him there.

Lifting his eyes slightly, he saw the surrounding servants gasping and covering their mouths in shock. The shame of being seen in such a pathetic state made his face burn.

It was Shang Ling again.

The person who made him lose face before was also Shang Ling. Did he have a blood feud with this man?!

The young master had a bad temper but wasn’t good at cursing. His insults were all harmless words: “Are you a hooligan? How could you hit—hit me there!”

The sobbing tone born of shame sounded inadvertently pitiable and endearing.

Shang Ling stopped walking and swept a deep gaze across the room. The servants quickly lowered their heads and scattered like startled birds.

Only the two of them remained in the empty corridor.

Shang Ling gave another warning. When the person on his shoulder struggled even harder, he simply reached under the hem of the shorts, disappearing into the shadows of the fabric.

He very excessively tugged at the edge of the pure white fabric, the elastic snapping lightly against the rounded soft flesh, leaving a faint pink mark.

The moment the pads of the fingers touched the soft skin, Yu Qing’s face flickered with horror and fear. He withered, not daring to move an inch.

Finally, he was quiet.

“Want to curse again?”

Just as Yu Qing was about to open his mouth, Shang Ling’s chilling warning came again: “If you don’t want me to continue disciplining you, shut up.”

Yu Qing wanted to die of shame. Because he was hanging upside down, his chestnut hair draped around his pink skin, revealing cheeks flushed deep red.

Crying out to heaven and earth to no avail, he could only pin all his hopes on Xi Yue on the first floor.

“Xi Yue! Save me!”

“I don’t want to go to Shang Ling’s house! Xi Yue!!”

An earth-shattering cry came from the second floor. The anxious tone was laced with broken sobs, the sound of someone pushed to the brink of grievance.

Hearing this, Xi Yue looked up.

Shang Ling’s assistant, Lin You, immediately blocked him: “The Young Master and President Shang grew up together. They often play around like this; don’t take it too seriously.”

He emphasized, “The Young Master is very obedient to President Shang.”

Just as he said that, a loud, crisp sound rang out from the second floor.

A man’s deep voice resonated: “Have you had enough?!”

A proud, delicate voice followed immediately: “If you don’t want to get slapped again, put me down!”

“You—”

Slap—

Another slap.

If the sounds earlier were intermittent, the following slaps were like a sudden storm, ringing out incessantly.

A series of clattering followed as intense chasing sounds echoed from the second floor.

Xi Yue turned his head to look at Lin You, whose face was turning pale and green: “Do you want to go up and check? President Shang seems to need help.”

Lin You’s eyes showed embarrassment, but he warned again: “This is just a little ‘flirting’ between them. Don’t interfere.” Having said that, he hurried upstairs.

Xi Yue did not go upstairs to meddle.

He had a rough guess—Yu Qing had hired him to provoke his crush, Shang Ling—but he also felt it was illogical.

At least from his perspective, this young master of the Yu family didn’t have a single romantic thought about Shang Ling; in fact, he couldn’t wait to stay away.

Regardless, the money had truly entered his account.

Xi Yue had already received his admission offer for next year and currently had a lot of free time. Taking care of a spoiled young master wasn’t hard work.

Earning money while having an easy job—why not?

The Yu family ancestral home was decorated in a classic Chinese style, ancient and elegant, with a panoramic landscape painting hanging on the main wall.

The painting style was vigorous, the ink usage subtle, the layers rich yet ethereal—clearly the work of a master.

As Xi Yue was admiring it, a noisy sound came from the second floor.

He looked up and saw a pair of dazzlingly white shins poking out from the wooden railing of the second floor.