The Cannon Fodder Who Fell in Love at Art School - Chapter 23.1

The air between them seemed to freeze.

Cis exhaled deeply, his gaze dark as he stared at the boy. His voice came out low and hoarse. Too big?

The wine had flushed Fang Chen’s cheeks a rosy red. He blinked, clumsy and sincere, and gestured with his hands. Really. I tried them on, but they just slipped right off. 

Cis’s eyes lingered on the thin white shirt draped over the boy’s body, as if he could see through the fabric. For a moment, the air grew heavy with tension, but then he turned his head away, forcing himself to stay composed. “I’ll have someone bring a smaller size.”

Fang Chen made an “OK” sign over his eye, peering through the little circle of his fingers, his dark eyes blinking playfully.

That single look nearly unraveled every ounce of restraint Cis had left. His jaw tightened, a vein pulsed at his temple, and he spoke through clenched teeth.

 “Go back to your room and wait.”

If he looked at the boy another second, he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

But Fang Chen shook his head. “I’m not sleepy yet. Didn’t you say I could play games? Where’s the game console?”

He muttered to himself as he crouched down to search through the drawer under the cabinet. When he bent forward, the hem of the oversized shirt slid up past his knees, higher still he wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

Cis’s breathing turned ragged, and his eyes darkened to crimson with strain. He clenched his jaw hard enough to ache.

UGH..

He strode over, grabbed Fang Chen by the waist, and hauled him upright. The boy’s round little backside was right in front of him. Unable to stop himself, Cis gave it a sharp smack and growled, Go back to your room. Don’t come out until you’ve put your underwear on.

The crack echoed through the room.

For a second, Fang Chen was stunned. His drunken fog cleared instantly.

Did Cis just… hit him?
On his butt?
When he wasn’t even wearing anything?!

His face flamed redder than it had when he’d been drinking. Even his neck and ears were burning. He froze for a moment, then burst into a flailing struggle, kicking and shouting in a chaotic mix of English and Chinese.
Holy sh1t! You hit me?! You jerk! Put me down! I’ll fight you.

Cis’s face stayed grim. He didn’t dare let go if he did, the shirt would ride up even more, and he wasn’t sure he could keep himself from losing control completely.

By the time he dumped the boy onto the bed, his neck was marked with several red scratches.

Fang Chen scrambled upright, glaring at him with puffed cheeks and clenched fists. 

Don’t think I can’t fight back.

Cis reached out, caught one of those small fists easily, and looked down at him. Oh? You like picking fights with your pants off?

Fang Chen’s eyes went wide. He yanked his hand back and covered his backside defensively.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Cis gave the boy one last, heavy look before turning away.

As soon as he left, Fang Chen rubbed his sore butt furiously.

That bastard! Didn’t he know his own strength?!

Cis returned a few minutes later with a bag, setting it on the bedside table.

 “Put these on.”

Fang Chen glared at him. “Get out.”

The man chuckled softly. A moment ago, the boy had been running around half-naked without a care, and now he wanted privacy. Still, Cis didn’t push it he just closed the door behind him.

He didn’t smoke in front of Fang Chen, but the tension burning inside him was unbearable. Standing by the window, he bit down on an unlit cigarette, grinding it between his teeth.

Outside, the city lights blurred under the heavy rain, melting into a watercolor haze. But what Cis saw was the image burned into his mind the boy wearing his shirt, bare legs peeking out, clean and beautiful and unbearably tempting.

On the sofa lay another bag.
A set of pajamas.

The assistant had delivered both, but Cis had chosen not to give the second one to Fang Chen.

Selfishly, he preferred the boy in his shirt.

Even if.

His gaze shifted to the closed bedroom door.

He suspected Fang Chen wouldn’t come out again until morning.

Rain still drummed against the glass.

And Cis couldn’t tell if coaxing the boy to stay tonight had been a mistake if it would only make things worse between them.

It was definitely worse.

The next morning, Fang Chen sat on the bed with his hair sticking up in every direction, pummeling a pillow like it had personally wronged him.

“Serves you right for drinking! No self-control!”

Last time he’d touched the man’s abs, this time he’d run around the place half-naked. What next? Crawl into Cis’s bed?!

He punched the pillow until it was misshapen then watched as the memory foam slowly puffed back up.

Panting, Fang Chen flopped onto the mattress, face buried in his arms.
Disaster. Absolute disaster.

If only he could stay in this room forever and never face Cis again.

But a few minutes later, a delicious smell began to waft in through the crack under the door.

His nose twitched.
Oh no. That was a trap.

Two seconds later, the “trap” won. He crept to the door, sniffed again—it smelled amazing. Chicken soup?

His stomach growled.

Unable to resist, Fang Chen opened the door and tiptoed toward the kitchen, trying to keep a stern face for dignity’s sake.

So what if he’d been half-naked? That didn’t mean he deserved a spanking!

He was mid-sneak when Cis turned around and caught him red-handed.

“Morning,” Cis said calmly, as if nothing had happened last night. 

I made chicken noodle soup. Go wash up and eat.

All of Fang Chen’s bluster vanished. “M-Morning.”

He looked down quickly, realizing he was still wearing Cis’s wrinkled white shirt from last night and nothing else. His face turned scarlet again.

Cis’s gaze, unseen by him, darkened tracking every inch from the boy’s open collar down to his bare calves beneath the hem of the shirt.

His prey.
Sooner or later, he would have him.

Fang Chen didn’t dare meet his eyes.  I’ll go change first.

He bolted back to his room.

Cis turned off the stove, a faint smile curling at his lips.

At breakfast, their meals were opposites.

In front of Fang Chen sat a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup topped with a golden fried egg and a glass of fresh orange juice.

Cis, on the other hand, had toast, salad, and a cup of black coffee.

Fang Chen ate happily, head down, nearly burying his face in the bowl. 

Aren’t you gonna eat? You’re just having that?

Cis stirred his coffee lazily. “Do you have classes today?”

Yeah! Two this morning.

“I’ll pick you up after,” Cis said easily.

Fang Chen froze mid-sip. That tone sounded way too natural, like they were already living together.

If not for last night, he might have agreed. But now. his instincts screamed danger.

He wiped his mouth quickly. “Uh, I’m having dinner with Jamin tonight, so I’ll just stay at the dorm.

Cis could tell he was lying, but didn’t call him out. He simply nodded.

 Then tomorrow.

I’m busy tomorrow too.

His voice weakened under Cis’s steady gaze.

Cis’s patience finally snapped. He set his cup aside and fixed the boy with a sharp look. 

Are you avoiding me?

Fang Chen turned his face away. “N-no.”

Then come over tomorrow, Cis said, his tone softening slightly. “If you finish your schoolwork, I’ll take you out somewhere fun.

The boy’s eyes lit up. “Where?”

Cis smiled faintly. “Secret.”

Fang Chen pouted but nodded reluctantly. “Fine.”

He was just going out to play this had nothing to do with Cis.

After breakfast, Cis drove him to campus. The area was busy with students, and Fang Chen quickly told him to park on a side street.

Cis frowned.  What am I embarrassed to be seen with?

“You? No. You’re famous,” Fang Chen muttered, fastening his seatbelt. If people see you on campus, they’ll start taking pictures.

“So what?”

Fang Chen gritted his teeth. They’ll misunderstand. Last time, at the Halloween party, people took photos and posted them on the forum, saying we were a couple.

Cis looked straight at him. “And that made you angry?

Fang Chen froze for a beat, then looked away.

 Let’s go. I’ll be late for class.

The sports car roared down the road, vanishing into the traffic.

After watching the boy disappear into the crowd, Cis leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, his expression unreadable.

His phone rang a few times he ignored it. Ten minutes later, he started the engine again and drove home.

If his apartment hadn’t been so close to the university, close enough to lure Fang Chen over he wouldn’t bother returning so often.

At the door, he ran into the cleaning lady and quietly instructed her, Don’t go into the guest room.

I’ll handle that one myself.

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