The Cannon Fodder Who Fell in Love at Art School - Chapter 10

This was Fang Chen’s first time watching a boxing match.

He was supposed to go with Jeming, but after getting burned by that fake ticket last time, Jeming claimed he’d developed “boxing-related trauma” and absolutely couldn’t bring himself to go again.

So Fang Chen had no choice but to go alone.

He pulled out a pair of overalls from his closet, threw them on, and topped them off with a baseball cap. After a glance in the mirror, he took the cap off again. His hair was a little fluffy, but he ruffled it twice with his fingers and decided that was good enough. Then he headed out.

By the time he arrived at the arena, a massive screen hung outside showing a promotional poster, and crowds of people were taking pictures beneath it.

Fang Chen waited for a small gap in the crowd and quietly snapped one photo himself.

The poster showed Seath looking down with his head slightly tilted, his gray-blue eyes cold and detached, carrying an air of dominance even through the lens.

Fang Chen couldn’t help wondering if this was how Seath always looked at him from above after all, their height difference was considerable.

As he followed the stream of people toward the ticket check, he sighed quietly, troubled by the thought of how one could grow taller at this age.

The ticket Seath had given him turned out to be excellent his seat was quite close to the ring.

He had barely sat down when he heard people nearby talking about the upcoming match. Fang Chen, mildly socially anxious and without anyone familiar around, sat a little stiffly.

Then the electronic announcement sounded the match was about to begin.

Fang Chen immediately straightened in his seat, feeling a strange nervous flutter in his chest.

Both fighters were already by the ring, putting on their mouthguards, hand wraps, and other gear.

He could hear the crowd calling Seath’s name, so he stretched his neck to look but the people in front of him were tall, and the crowd too dense. In the end, he had to sit back down, frustrated.

Fortunately, it wasn’t long before the referee signaled the start, and both fighters stepped onto the stage.

In an eruption of cheers and screams, Seath entered the ring.

He wore a fitted black tank top and shorts, with matching black gloves. As he flexed his wrists, a few strands of his golden hair fell across his forehead, sharpening the already cold lines of his face.

Fang Chen froze for a second.

It was the first time he’d seen Seath like this up close, in his element. The man looked like a predator, a wolf crouching low, ready to pounce. Power and danger radiated from his tall frame, raw and wild.

Fang Chen couldn’t quite describe the feeling it was as if a ball of cotton was stuck in his chest, making it hard to breathe for a moment.

Maybe it was just his imagination, but he thought Seath’s gaze swept briefly in his direction. Those gray-blue eyes paused for a second, then shifted away as if nothing had happened. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

The crowd roared even louder.

Fang Chen licked his lips, his throat suddenly dry.

Soon, the first round began.

Until today, Fang Chen had known absolutely nothing about boxing not even from videos. So when he saw a real punch fly through the air, his heart nearly leaped out of his chest.

A few rounds in, Seath’s performance was clearly stronger than his opponent’s, but he still took several hits. One punch landed squarely on his abdomen, and for those few seconds, Fang Chen completely forgot to breathe.

It wasn’t until the tenth round.

Seath landed a clean right uppercut and knocked his opponent out cold.

When the referee lifted Seath’s arm and declared him the winner, Fang Chen finally let out a long breath, slumping in relief. He touched his own arm and realized, despite the heat and noise, his skin was icy cold.

What a coward.

He silently scolded himself.

Who gets scared just from watching a match?

He sat in his chair a while longer to calm down, then slowly got up and followed the crowd toward the exit.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Fang Chen thought it was Jeming or his boss calling, but when he pulled it out.

It was Seath.

The same Seath who had just won the championship moments ago, whose name was still on everyone’s lips inside the arena, was calling him.

The phone kept vibrating. Fang Chen quickly answered, lips pressing together, not even daring to say Seath’s name aloud.

Fortunately, Seath didn’t seem interested in small talk. He went straight to the point.
I’ve already told the staff. Use the VIP passage and come backstage.

Fang Chen blinked in confusion.

Go backstage? For what?

Uh… no need. You just finished your match, so you should rest.

“Not going to congratulate me?” Seath interrupted calmly.

Fang Chen froze mid-step.  Congratulations.

In person would be more sincere, don’t you think?

That low, smooth voice flowed through the receiver, curling in Fang Chen’s ears.
I’ll wait for you in the lounge backstage.

Amid the exiting crowd, the boy in overalls turned against the flow of people, heading toward the VIP channel. His ticket got him through without issue.

At the backstage entrance, Joey was already waiting.

“Hey, cutie! Over here! Come with me Seath sent me to pick you up.”

Fang Chen hesitated, then obediently followed. Joey slung an arm over his shoulder as if they were old friends. I knew it had to be you. Who else could make Seath pick up trash on the beach?

Fang Chen froze awkwardly. You were there that day?

Yeah, we were out for dinner, and—HAHAHAHA—”

Joey’s laugh cut off abruptly.

Standing by the lounge door was Seath, his arms crossed, staring at him without a hint of expression.

A chill ran down Joey’s spine. He immediately retracted his arm like lightning.

Delivery complete! I’ll, uh… wait in the car.

Once Joey made his escape, Seath looked back at Fang Chen, his expression softening. His voice dropped low.
Did you cheer for me during the match?

Of course, Fang Chen nodded earnestly. “You were amazing.”

When he nodded, two tufts of hair on his head bobbed with the motion. Seath’s fingers twitched with the urge to smooth them down to ruffle that soft, dark hair.

It looked soft, at least.

But he restrained himself. Instead, he draped his jacket over Fang Chen’s shoulders.
The club’s going out for dinner to celebrate. Come with me.

I’d rather not, Fang Chen said immediately. “I don’t know anyone.”

It’s fine, Seath said seriously.  They’ll all bring guests. You can just sit next to me no need to talk to anyone else.

Fang Chen bit his lip, hesitating.

 Fang Chen, I was really happy you came to watch my match. I can’t let you go home hungry, can I? 

Every time Seath pronounced his name so clearly and deliberately, Fang Chen’s resistance softened.

After a brief internal struggle, he nodded. “Okay then.”

They had barely walked a few steps when Fang Chen realized the man had put his jacket on him again. It was so big it nearly reached his calves, making him look like a kid trying on an adult’s coat.

Only then did he notice Seath had changed into a different outfit covered up, casual, low-key.

Does it hurt? Fang Chen asked quietly.

Seath raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Just now, in the ring you got hit.”

Fang Chen thought about it. If he had taken that many punches no, even two he’d probably need a resurrection arc in his next life. But Seath? He was walking around like nothing had happened, ready to go eat dinner.

Of course, it hurt. Seath was human, not made of stone. But he had a high pain tolerance. Unless it was a serious injury, a bit of rest and muscle relaxation would do.

His tone was calm. “It’s fine.”

Fang Chen let out a small “oh,” then immediately realized how stiff that sounded. After a pause, he clumsily added, Still… you should try to avoid getting hurt.

The words barely left his mouth before he wanted to bite his tongue off.
Avoid getting hurt? In a boxing ring? What kind of useless thing was that to say?

Why did his brain always seem to short-circuit around Seath like his frontal lobe wasn’t fully developed and his cerebellum had gone on vacation?

But Seath only gave a faint laugh and nodded. “Okay.”

Fang Chen turned his head away, embarrassed, and his hand accidentally brushed against something inside the coat’s pocket. It felt round and firm.

Of course, this wasn’t his own jacket, so he didn’t dare just reach in and grab it. But curiosity got the better of him.  What’s in your pocket?  he asked.

Seath lowered his gaze briefly, his tone casual.  A lucky charm. Keeps my matches going smoothly.

Fang Chen blinked. So even foreigners believe in that kind of thing?
That’s nice,” he said sincerely. “Seems like it works.”

Seath smiled but didn’t reply.

If Fang Chen had dared to reach into that pocket just then, he would’ve discovered that the so-called “lucky charm” was nothing other than the little tuft of lamb’s tail he had yanked off Seath’s swimsuit that day.

Behind the arena, two silver-gray vans were parked.

Maybe to keep Fang Chen from feeling awkward, the one they got into only had the driver and a half-asleep Joey inside; the others had taken the second car.

As soon as Seath and Fang Chen climbed in, Joey perked right up, his eyes darting repeatedly toward Fang Chen. But under Seath’s watchful presence, he didn’t dare say much.

Still, the longer he looked, the more familiar Fang Chen seemed. He frowned, trying to remember where he’d seen him before.

If you want to keep your eyes, Seath’s cool voice cut through the quiet,  I can help you out with that.

Joey immediately snapped his gaze forward.  God, Seath, you’re so stingy. Can’t I even look at your little cutie?

At the nickname, Fang Chen’s ears flushed red.

Foreigners always sounded so intimate when they spoke. He still wasn’t used to it.

He glanced up at Seath, who unlike Joey never spoke to him that way. Seath always treated him with a kind of measured restraint, like he understood Fang Chen’s boundaries perfectly, almost following Chinese social etiquette instead of the easy foreign kind.

While Fang Chen’s thoughts were drifting, Joey suddenly let out a shout. “I remember now!”

He turned, eyes bright. “I saw you at that party! You’re the little lamb!”

Fang Chen’s eyes widened slightly. 

He didn’t wait. Oh no. It was him! That guy is the one who invited the three of them to that kissing game!

Joey clapped his hands, grinning. “So that’s how it is! You two hit it off at the party, huh? No wonder you disappeared so early that night, Seath you went to keep your cutie company!”

Fang Chen quickly turned away, mortified.
Hit it off?
More like got tied up together!

He’d been kidnapped, for crying out loud!

Seath’s hand shot out and clamped around Joey’s neck. His voice dropped dangerously low. Would you like me to toss you out of the car right now?

“Seath! You cruel bastard.” Joey croaked, eyes watering.

In the restaurant’s private dining room.

Just like Seath had promised, Fang Chen sat beside him, with an empty seat on his other side. It wasn’t awkward at all.

If anything, it seemed like Seath had warned everyone, because the atmosphere was unusually tame. No one said anything inappropriate, and whenever they looked at Fang Chen, they even tried to smile politely.

Fang Chen felt himself relax a little. Maybe this wasn’t as bad as he’d feared.

All he had to do was quietly eat. No small talk required.

Partway through, a waiter brought over a small clay pot. When he lifted the lid, the rich, familiar aroma of mushroom chicken congee filled the air.

Fang Chen blinked in confusion.
Wait… isn’t this a Western restaurant?

Seath ladled out a bowl and set it in front of him, his tone natural. The chef knows a bit of Chinese cooking. I ordered it for you to try it.

One spoonful of the steaming porridge, and Fang Chen’s eyes nearly teared up.

He hurried to say, “Seath, you’re really good.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Really? Then you agree to come to the farm with me?”

What?

Wait farm?

Joey, who had clearly recovered from his near-death experience, jumped in enthusiastically. Seath owns a few farms! Chen, come with us for a couple of days, it’ll be fun.

He’d been warned not to say cutie again, and it showed.

Still dazed, Fang Chen turned to Seath. “You’re… a farm owner?”

 You could say that.

Seath filled his bowl again, speaking lazily. There are lots of animals on the farm. Sheep, too.

His lips curved slightly. “You’ll like it.”

He’s delicate, fair-skinned, with soft black hair, someone who looks like he belongs in a castle, not on a farm.

But he insists on carrying a small leather whip as he inspects his land.

Why was there one bottle less of goat’s milk yesterday?

The spoiled little master lashes out, his whip cracking across his servant’s chest, leaving a red mark behind.

The man barely flinches. Instead, he kneels and gently fastens the master’s leather boots.

Compared to the dainty farm owner, the slave is tall, broad-shouldered, and powerful his one hand can easily wrap around the master’s calf, the soft white flesh spilling between his fingers.

“Please allow me to explain, my lord. You drank that bottle of milk last night. I fed it to you myself your mind was. a little hazy at the time. Afterward, you bit me here see? Your teeth marks are still on my chest.

He smiled faintly. It’s rather cute, actually.