The Cannon Fodder’s Survival Guide at the Noble Academy - Chapter 10

◎ The “main character shou” has appeared ◎

This water was really heavy. After carrying it just a few meters, An Tang had to stop to catch his breath. If it weren’t for Yan An helping to share the load, taking on most of the weight, his arms would’ve completely given out.

He walked who knew how long, turned who knew how many corners, and it was still pitch black ahead. His arms ached, and the bag he carried kept slipping down.

He had come in through the side door. The corridor was dark; he couldn’t see clearly. This couldn’t go on. An Tang set down the bucket of water and took a few steps forward to scout the path.

Through the heavy curtains, a thin sliver of light leaked in.

Carefully, An Tang tugged it open a little and realized he had walked onto a stage.

Where was this?

He listened closely— even the noisy cheers outside sounded far away.

Eh? Did he get lost?

He turned his head, curiously scanning the unfamiliar space.

Suddenly, the curtain moved. An Tang panicked and instantly darted along with it, hiding behind.

The stage lights flared to life.

An Tang crouched low, burying himself in the darkness.

Footsteps clacked against the floorboards.

Someone slowly came up from below.

Handsome features, tall and slender figure— even under the glare of the spotlight his face didn’t collapse, like a celebrity-level beauty. Yet the longer An Tang stared, the stronger the unsettling feeling radiating off him became.

Why? He frowned, startled and afraid by his own sudden thought— why did he feel that way?

While he was still puzzling over it, the person on stage had begun performing.

Standing alone on the empty stage, he spoke grandly toward the invisible audience:
“Hello everyone, my name is Meng Chengyi…”

An Tang thought he’d run into a lunatic. He bent low, ready to sneak away. But the next line froze him on the spot.

“One by one, you’ll all come to me. Liking me is normal— no one can dislike me.” He covered his mouth and laughed. “After all, I’m the main character. Who wouldn’t like the main character?”

An Tang spun around, eyes wide in shock, rubbing them in disbelief. Sure, from the “villain cannon fodder’s” perspective he had always felt the protagonist shou wasn’t a good person. But to see it with his own eyes, to witness this insane delusion— it was nightmare-level derangement.

This was actually the protagonist!

Wait… how did he know he was the protagonist?

Realizing the greater problem, An Tang ducked down on the spot, carefully observing.

Onstage, the boy slipped into another state, conversing with thin air, even waving.

“Fu Jieyu, I already gave you a chance. You asked for this. Don’t come crying to me later.”

Hearing that familiar name, An Tang blinked, suddenly recognizing why the voice had seemed familiar— wasn’t this the same person who had blocked Fu Jieyu before, threatening him?

Huh? They already crossed paths this early?

His worldview reeled. An Tang stood frozen, unable to act.

No, wait. Then where had he been living before? The book clearly said the protagonist shou only arrived at school on Monday, and because it was his first time, not wearing a uniform, he got punished. He remembered that detail perfectly. He had nearly read that broken book into dust. There was no way he remembered wrong.

But here the boy kept going, conversing with the void:

“Ah, the young master of the Shelley family— such a kind soul. Who’d have thought you cared so much for plants and flowers…”

“Ji Suyong, skipping class again, caught by me. Why give up on yourself? Don’t wallow in self-pity…”

The more An Tang listened, the more horrified he became. Was this… a demonstration? But the book never mentioned Ji Suyong skipping class. Was this an extra side plot of their acquaintance?

He squatted low in the shadows, wanting to glean more private information. But then—

The person on stage turned his head, staring directly into An Tang’s corner. His voice was low and eerie:
“Someone’s there?”

An Tang’s eyes went wide. His pounding heartbeat drowned everything else. Without a second’s hesitation, he bolted.

He didn’t know the way and feared the dark. He ran blindly through corridor after corridor until, panting hard, the sound of noise around him steadied his nerves.

He had made it back.

The shouts from the gymnasium now felt like a dose of safety.

Looking left and right, he couldn’t spot any difference from before. He could only grit his teeth and push forward.

When a hand clamped onto his shoulder, he nearly screamed— but a palm covered his mouth just in time. His muffled voice trembled in panic.

“Don’t be scared, it’s me.”

The gentle voice calmed him. An Tang searched his memory, but he couldn’t recall who it was. Still, he was certain— it definitely wasn’t that lunatic from the stage.

He forced his breathing to steady, shoulders loosening. The hand over his mouth slowly released, sliding down to grip his wrist.

The person led him forward. Finally, a shaft of light appeared.

An Tang could now see his outline clearly: bright golden curls, unlike Pei Chengrui’s permed ones, these were natural. A broad build, tall frame, and an inexplicable aura of reassurance.

The boy tilted his head slightly, smiling gently in comfort.

Roy Shelley.

Almost the moment he saw his face, the name sprang to mind.

He was famous for his blond hair and vivid green eyes, which shone brighter under light.

An Tang had never actually met him in person, but somehow, instinctively, he knew it was him.

“You… why are you here?”

He remembered Roy Shelley only liked tending flowers and plants. But now he was wearing a basketball uniform, looking like a player.

“I came to play ball,” he replied with a warm laugh. “See, I’m in uniform.”

Before An Tang could respond, Roy added:
“Pei asked me to come find you. Ah Yu said you went to the convenience store, but your phone didn’t pick up, so he was worried.”

He’s… worried about me? An Tang’s heart leapt, flustered. He quickly explained: “It was too dark. I couldn’t see the way.”

“There really should be more signposts here. I’ll mention it next time.”

He’s so nice… An Tang followed him step by step, full of admiration. Then he suddenly remembered the water and bread he had bought, quickly calling out.

Luckily, Roy Shelley knew the way. After mentioning a few landmarks, he easily led An Tang back. Admiration nearly spilled from An Tang’s eyes.

Amazing. How did he do that?

With Roy Shelley around, An Tang naturally didn’t have to carry the heavy water bucket anymore. He just held a small bag, walking light as air.

When he finally saw the basketball court, An Tang nearly burst into tears of relief. No one would believe the nightmare he had just gone through.

“Hey, little bro, where the hell did you go? I called your phone like ten times.”

As soon as he saw him, Pei Chengrui ran up. It was halftime, and his shout drew many heads to turn. An Tang even spotted Fu Jieyu, also in uniform now, a black headband across his forehead, making him look much younger, less distant and intimidating.

The change was stark. An Tang couldn’t help sneaking another glance— only for Pei Chengrui to block his line of sight.
“I’m talking to you. Why didn’t you answer me?”

“I didn’t bring my phone. But! Boss, I even used all my money to buy you food and drinks!”

Pei Chengrui snorted, barely satisfied.

Seeing his mood ease, An Tang quickly added fuel: “I didn’t have enough, so I even borrowed money from a classmate. Then I got lost inside forever, my hands hurt so bad, and I ran into a total lunatic— scared me half to death, thought I’d never get out.”

The more Pei Chengrui heard, the deeper his frown grew. He grabbed An Tang’s hand— sure enough, clear red marks showed it had hurt.

“There’s water here. Don’t buy it next time,” Pei said, brows furrowed. “Go get some ice from the infirmary.”

An Tang immediately waved it off. If he didn’t actually do something as a little brother, he’d feel guilty taking their money. Besides… if that lunatic really was the protagonist shou, then from now on, he had better stick close at all times.

His dark lashes lowered. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. Aren’t you about to start playing again?”

The referee’s whistle blew. Pei Chengrui still frowned, but seeing An Tang’s insistence, he sat him down in his own spot. “Stay here. It’ll be over soon. We’ll eat dinner together.”

“Okay!” An Tang hadn’t expected such a bonus and nodded eagerly.

His online baiting schemes were beginning to lose their appeal. Maybe in the end he’d just send photos to a few people and be done with it. He was exhausted. Tonight’s group dinner seemed like the perfect chance to shift gears— from one person’s “little brother” to three people’s little brother!

That would be perfect!

But the biggest crisis wasn’t just the exhaustion of sending photos. It was the appearance of the protagonist shou. That boy clearly wasn’t in a normal state. And— why did he directly call out the F4’s names?

An Tang’s only explanation: the protagonist shou also knew the story.

Just like how he, the cannon-fodder villain, had the original book, the protagonist shou must have gained knowledge of the future plot through some unknown means.

That meant he’d be targeted. Definitely targeted.

An Tang stared at the floor, bunching his pants with his hands, expression growing graver by the second. The more he thought about it, the more he felt what he’d done wasn’t enough. He needed to plan harder, be more careful. He didn’t even notice someone had sat down beside him.

Muttering to himself: “No, no, I have to get ahead of him…”

The cheers from the court jolted him back. He took a sip of water, and out of the corner of his eye saw someone’s sleeve. Turning his head, he nearly jumped.

“Cough, cough—” He hadn’t even put his bottle down before blushing hard, choking.

Wiping his lips, embarrassed, An Tang asked, “Why are you here?”

Fu Jieyu sat there calmly, giving him a sidelong glance. “I was subbed out.”

“Oh, oh.” An Tang nodded rapidly, pulling out a whole crate of water bottles from under the bench. Like a lapdog, he offered one up with both hands. “Thirsty? Here, drink.”

He glanced at the scoreboard, eyes widening. “You’re amazing! You’re way ahead of the other side— so impressive!”

Only then did Fu Jieyu truly turn his head, leaning his body toward him.

Their gazes met. An Tang instinctively looked away. This felt like the old Fu Jieyu again— the student council president who commanded absolute authority.

Fu Jieyu chuckled softly. “I’ve looked over at you at least ten times, and you didn’t raise your head once.”

An Tang blinked, stunned.

“What’s so impressive? You didn’t even watch.”

He stared at Fu Jieyu, dazed, vision scattering— but the words sank crystal clear into his mind.

“Do you even know how to play? Or understand the game?”

“I really don’t get why Pei Chengrui bothered to bring you here.”