The Cannon Fodder Who Fell in Love at Art School - Chapter 7

“Hey! Xiao Chen! Baby?”

Jemmy called a few times before Fang Chen snapped out of his daze and quickly handed the ticket back.

What’s wrong with you?

Fang Chen hesitated for a second before shaking his head.

 “Nothing.”

Maybe he was just overthinking.
There was no way it could be that much of a coincidence.

Jemmy didn’t seem to notice. Resting his chin on one hand, he started talking again about his new boyfriend, his tone full of excitement.

Fang Chen’s mind was a mess. He only half-listened, letting the words wash over him while his thoughts wandered elsewhere.

After a while, Jemmy’s phone rang. The moment he saw the caller ID, his face lit up with a wide smile, and he answered almost instantly.

Whatever was said on the other end made him laugh even more. When the call ended, he slung his bag over his shoulder and stood up. Baby, my boyfriend’s here to pick me up. I’ve got to go.

Fang Chen nodded quickly. Alright, see you tomorrow.

He watched Jemmy walk out, hesitated for a moment, then quietly stood and followed him to the doorway. There, he stopped and glanced outside.

Jemmy was hugging and kissing the man warmly.

It was the same “horn guy” from the other day.

Tonight, he was wearing a gray tank top. Under the streetlight, Fang Chen could clearly see the eagle tattoo spread across his shoulder.

Fang Chen silently grumbled to himself. Why did foreigners all love tattoos so much? For some reason, his thoughts drifted again to Cis. Did he have any tattoos too?

He blinked out of it a few seconds later and shook his head hard.

Why was he thinking about him again?!
He couldn’t let money corrupt his soul!

But maybe fate had a strange sense of humor because later that night, when he returned to the dorms, he actually saw Cis standing downstairs.

The man was dressed in a black shirt and pants, half-hidden in the shadows of the night. He leaned against a car door, a cigarette hanging from his lips, the tiny red ember glowing faintly as he breathed. His eyes were lowered, his expression casual and distant.

Wasn’t he supposed to be that elusive champion boxer the one who rarely appeared in public and always caused a stir whenever he came to campus? What was going on these days? Why did they keep running into each other?

Fang Chen grumbled in his head, wanting to pretend he hadn’t seen him, but Cis looked up, as if sensing his gaze, and their eyes met.

Oh no.

The next second, Fang Chen put on a small, polite smile, looking like a well-behaved student as he walked over. “Cis, what a coincidence! What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you live in the dorms too?”

That couldn’t be right.
Someone that rich probably owned a villa somewhere.

Cis studied him for a couple of seconds before crushing his cigarette out. Waiting for a friend.

Fang Chen nodded. “Oh.”

Silence fell between them.

Why did every conversation with Cis turn so awkward?

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to think of something to say, but before he could, Cis spoke first.  Why are you back so late?

Fang Chen let out a silent sigh of relief and jumped at the chance to respond.  I had dinner with a friend. Have you eaten?

A basic courtesy in his culture always ask if someone has eaten.

Cis paused briefly. “No.”

Then go eat!
How was he supposed to respond to that?

Fang Chen braced himself and said, “Uh. I brought some fried chicken from a burger place. Do you want it?”

“Is that convenient?” Cis asked politely.

Before Fang Chen could answer, Cis added quickly, “Thanks.”

Fang Chen choked on his words and reluctantly handed over the bag. He’d been planning to save that for tomorrow’s lunch.

It might be a little cold now. You’ll need to reheat it in the oven,” Fang Chen said, licking his lips unconsciously. But it’s pretty good.

“Alright.”

Cis’s gaze lingered briefly on Fang Chen’s mouth before casually looking away. “I’ll give it a try.”

Since they’d already run into each other, maybe he should just ask.

Fang Chen hesitated, then said softly, “Sorry, but can I ask you something? Do you have a guy named Chuck in your boxing club’s logistics team?”

He gestured vaguely. “Big arms. Pretty muscular.”

Under the dim light, Cis’s gray-blue eyes darkened slightly.

He narrowed his gaze but kept his tone even. There are a lot of people in the club. I don’t know everyone.

Fang Chen instantly regretted asking. That really did sound intrusive. He rubbed his forehead and said quickly,  Sorry, I just asked without thinking. You can pretend you didn’t hear that.

“It’s fine,  Cis said politely.  I’ll ask around when I get back. If I find anything, I’ll let you know.

Fang Chen waved his hands. “No, really, it’s okay.”

But Cis tilted his chin slightly. “It’s late. Go get some rest.”

A few minutes later, Joey came out of the dorm and jumped into the car, looking pleasantly surprised.  You actually came to pick me up today?

Usually, whenever the club held a meeting, Cis was either absent or late. This was the first time he’d ever offered to come to the student dorms himself.

Thinking about Cis’s rumored preferences, Joey’s expression turned wary. You know I have a girlfriend, right?

Cis shot him a cold glance.  A girlfriend? You mean the one from last week or the one from yesterday?

Joey froze, turned his head, and spotted a paper bag on the seat. What’s this? Oh my god, are you eating fried chicken?

Cis was known for his strict self-discipline when it came to diet and training. He only ate custom meal plans, never dined out, and definitely never touched greasy, high-calorie food like fried chicken.

He reached over, snatched the bag away, and said flatly,  Don’t touch my stuff.

Joey raised both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay!”

Do you know a guy named Chuck? Logistics team.

Chuck? Joey scratched his head. “Not sure. You know how it is, a few new people joined recently. I’ll have to check. Why? Is there something special about him?

Cis’s lips curved faintly, the expression tinged with mockery.

He lit another cigarette, took a slow drag, and said, “You talk too much.”

The next morning, Fang Chen received a message from Cis.

There is someone named Chuck in the club.

After a short pause, another message followed:
But he’s not muscular. Probably just fat. Or big-boned.

And then, almost casually:
Muscles come from training. They’re built by tearing and repairing fibers.

Fang Chen had his phone on speaker, resting it on the kitchen counter while he unpacked his breakfast.

After a moment of silence, Cis asked, “What are you eating this morning?”

The frozen pizza I brought back from the restaurant, Fang Chen replied, setting the oven temperature.

He didn’t dare ask if Cis had eaten.
If he did, he might lose the last two slices of pizza in his freezer.

“Thanks,” Fang Chen added after a pause. For helping me find him.

Knowing that Chuck was indeed part of the boxing club, Fang Chen finally felt a little relieved. That meant the ticket probably wasn’t fake after all.

There was a brief silence on the phone before Sis asked calmly, “Chuck he’s your friend?”

Fang Chen made a small sound of agreement.  He’s my friend’s boyfriend. I’m just worried he might be getting scammed.

A soft laugh came from the other end of the line.

Fang Chen pressed his lips together. “What are you laughing at?” he asked quietly.

“Nothing,” Sis replied.  I’m just in a good mood this morning.

Maybe it was because that phone call eased his worries or maybe it was because the pizza he had for breakfast was surprisingly good but Fang Chen was in an unusually bright mood that day.

He had classes in the morning, so he only made it to the pizza shop around noon.

The moment he arrived, Jemmy dragged him off to the side.

“Xiao Chen, I’ve got a chance to make some money. You in?”

Fang Chen fell silent.

That was exactly how every scam started back home.

He hesitated, then said carefully,  I still think it’s better to make money through actual work.

Jemmy rolled his eyes.  Hey, it was your idea in the first place. Did you forget?

Weren’t you the one who told me to sell the extra ticket? I asked Chuck about it last night he said he can get more, but they won’t be free this time. A thousand dollars each.

Jemmy lifted two fingers and waved them in front of Fang Chen’s face.  If we resell them, we can make two thousand profit on every single one.

It did sound like a perfect deal.

But after noticing something off about that ticket yesterday, Fang Chen couldn’t help feeling uneasy.

He pressed his lips together. “So… you’re planning to buy them?”

Of course I am! A deal this good? I’d be stupid not to.  Jemmy paused, grimacing. “Problem is, I don’t have enough cash. I can only afford ten for now.

Then, with a grin, he added,  And I thought of you first, my friend.

Fang Chen didn’t believe in money falling from the sky. In his experience, the only thing that ever dropped from above was bad luck like him, falling right into this novel’s world.

Still, the idea of Jemmy handling this shady deal on his own made him uneasy. Something about it just didn’t feel right.

You know I don’t have much money,  Fang Chen said, spreading his hands.  But I made a bit from selling that watch. I’ll take three tickets.

Then, after a pause, he added,  But… can we make sure to meet the guy in person?

Jemmy nodded without hesitation. “Of course.”

Right in front of Fang Chen, he called his boyfriend. Chuck immediately agreed, saying he’d meet them at a café tomorrow.

When Jemmy hung up, he waved his phone excitedly. “We’re about to get rich, baby!”

As the screen dimmed, Fang Chen accidentally caught sight of Jemmy’s lock screen and his eyes nearly popped out. “You what is that photo?”

“What?” Jemmy looked down, then laughed. “Oh, that? It’s Chuck. I took it after we, you know, finished last time. Nice butt, huh?”

Fang Chen suddenly felt an overwhelming need to rinse his eyes.

Jemmy kept talking to himself.  But he’s not in the ring, so his body’s not quite as toned as the real fighters.

Fang Chen couldn’t help but ask,  Are boxers’ bodies really that good? 

“Of course!”

Jemmy opened his photo album and showed Fang Chen a picture.  Look at this this is a screenshot from Sis’s last match. God, look at those muscles, that body ratio.

Jemmy’s voice faded into the background. Fang Chen couldn’t hear a single word.

His attention was completely locked on the photo. His eyes widened in disbelief.

He’d only ever seen Sis dressed neatly, always in shirts and jackets. He’d known the man was tall, broad-shouldered, with a narrow waist, and when Sis had lifted him before, he’d felt the strength hidden under the clothes but he hadn’t imagined this.

Shirtless, the man’s muscle lines were stunning tight and powerful, like a sculpture carved from stone.

Fang Chen’s gaze lingered for several long seconds, finally landing on the man’s chest.

He swallowed, throat tightening.

He remembered that night in the abandoned factory how he had stumbled and crashed right into Sis’s chest. His whole face had been pressed against that solid, unyielding surface.

So that place.

That was Sis’s chest?