The Little Crybaby Continues to Court Death as a Cannon Fodder - Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The slender flesh of his legs, pressed against the mahogany, appeared even more pristine—like snow falling upon a crimson forest.

He watched as Yu Qing’s knees were hooked by the man’s sturdy arms; failing to escape, the boy was locked once more within his embrace. Those tender, white legs hung over the man’s arm, rising and falling with his struggles, flushed with an irregular pink glow from repeated friction.

His hair was disheveled, the rims of his eyes were red, and his cold gaze had turned misty. One foot hooked and curled slightly in the air, only to vanish without a trace as the man pulled him back with force.

As they descended the stairs, one of his calves pressed against a side pillar. The soft flesh was squeezed into an indentation, and through constant rubbing and struggling, his white cotton sock slipped down a few inches, revealing a delicate ankle and heel. Yu Qing’s feet were small, and the socks did not fit him snugly; the more he fidgeted, the further the sock slid, reaching a precarious state where it might fall at any moment.

Reacting before his brain could process it, Xi Yue stepped forward. He stopped in his tracks, watching the cotton sock slip from the tips of the toes and drift slowly down from the second floor. He reached out and caught it, as if catching a handful of snow falling from the sky.

A fleeting fragrance drifted into his nostrils. …Why is it fragrant? Or perhaps, it seemed that Yu Qing was fragrant all over.

When Yu Qing had approached him earlier, Xi Yue had smelled the scent on him—unique and unforgettable. Gazing down at the pure white sock, he told himself he was just making sure of something; he wasn’t a pervert, nor did he have a fetish. After lifting his hand to sniff it, Xi Yue’s brow furrowed in slight astonishment.

It really is fragrant…

Hearing footsteps from behind, Xi Yue quickly tucked the sock into his pocket and turned around. Uncle Lin was walking toward him slowly.

“The Young Master said his sock is missing. Mr. Xi, have you seen it?” “No.”

Uncle Lin let out an “ah” and gave a casual smile. “Then it’s no matter. Mr. Xi, you may get in the car now. The Young Master keeps calling for you.” Under that gentle, smiling gaze, Xi Yue felt a pang of embarrassment, as if his lowly behavior just now had been ruthlessly seen through. Despite this, he had no intention of handing over the “trophy” in his pocket.

Guided by the servants, Xi Yue arrived at the car. Someone opened the door for him, and a wave of cool air hit his face. Entering the backseat, before he could even see the person beside him, a pair of symmetrical, tender white legs had already draped themselves across his lap.

As if finding the position uncomfortable, Yu Qing shifted. The flesh—so soft it felt boneless—rubbed slowly against Xi Yue’s thigh, creating a small, pressed area of translucent pink skin. Xi Yue’s eyes lowered, his expression masked in coldness, but the emotions beneath his lashes gradually ignited with an unusual temperature. Only after completely composing his expression did he lift his gaze to the person beside him.

Yu Qing still wore that arrogant expression, the corners of his eyes tilted up and his chin held high—the very picture of overbearing haughtiness. Yet, when he made such a face, it didn’t inspire hatred; it only made one feel that he was born to be pampered.

Yu Qing slowly lifted his left leg and placed his foot into Xi Yue’s palm. The warmth radiating from the grown man made him let out a comfortable sigh. The car fell instantly silent.

In the passenger seat, Shang Ling’s knuckles tensed. He observed every movement in the back through the rearview mirror. Yu Qing was so pale that when he placed his foot in Xi Yue’s hand, the color contrast was stark. At the same time, the man’s hand possessed an aggressive sense of power; even while doing nothing, it looked as if he were fondling it.

Seeing that Xi Yue wasn’t moving, Yu Qing discontentedly ground his sole against Xi Yue’s palm. Because Xi Yue’s palm and fingertips were slightly calloused, it felt itchy. A pink flush spread from his toes upward, like rose juice gradually blooming.

Though the air conditioning was blasting, the temperature in the car seemed to climb out of nowhere, creating an eerie heat. The ill-tempered Young Master still remembered how, when Shang Ling had carried him downstairs, Xi Yue had just stood there like an idiot, watching coldly without any intention of helping.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He shoved his other foot into Xi Yue’s palm as well, forcing Xi Yue to hold both. Then, the Young Master issued an arrogant command: “Use your hands to warm my feet.”

Long, well-proportioned fingers spread naturally and then slowly closed, wrapping the white feet tightly within his palms. Xi Yue’s hands were bony and the color of cold jade; though their heat was unusual, they looked frigid.

Yu Qing checked with 556: What is Xi Yue’s current Disgust Value? 556: 【Currently 80/100!】

The Disgust Value had actually dropped. Automatic alerts only triggered when the value fluctuated by more than 5; perhaps it had been dropping slowly.

Using Xi Yue as a foot warmer didn’t elicit much of a reaction. Before long, the sweat from Xi Yue’s palms made Yu Qing look up in disdain. “Fine, that’s enough.”

But the feet he tried to pull back were held tight. Xi Yue even applied more pressure, making it impossible for Yu Qing to break free. A warmth that felt somewhat strange swirled at the center of Yu Qing’s sole. He felt disgusted—it was like being maliciously smeared with wet, hot sweat; it was agonizingly sticky.

He looked over strangely. What is Xi Yue trying to do now?

“Young Master.” Xi Yue’s eyes, calm and ripple-less, remained fixed on the feet enveloped in his hands. “Your feet are very cold. Let me warm them for a while longer.”

Automatic alert: 【Protagonist Shou Xi Yue, Disgust Value +10, 90/100】 Yu Qing: “?”

He pulled his feet back ruthlessly. Because the movement was abrupt, the friction between his sole and the sweaty palm produced a faint, lewd squelching sound. The car was so silent that this barely audible sound became exceptionally clear. In the enclosed space, it was amplified again and again, as if whispered right into the ear.

“Do you know why I don’t want you to continue?” He looked up coldly, his eyes full of contempt. “Because you are filthy.”

His eyes, which could be described as enchantingly beautiful, were icy and filled with disdain. Instead of detracting from his aura, it made him seem even more unattainable. Xi Yue looked at his empty hands in a daze, feeling a sense of loss and regret.

Vilified so maliciously by the bad-tempered Young Master, he lowered his head slightly; his pale, hardened profile looked somewhat dejected. I must have struck a blow to his self-esteem, Yu Qing thought.

However, the automatic alert rang out again: 【Protagonist Shou Xi Yue, Disgust Value -40, Total: 50/100】

Yu Qing: “……” He began to doubt the very foundations of this world.