The Cannon Fodder’s Survival Guide at the Noble Academy - Chapter 13

◎Of course I’m “voluntary”◎

An Tang shot upright, fingers flying over the keyboard:
[Of course, what do you need me to do?]

So unexpected. He really hadn’t thought Ji Suyong would be the only one pushing the plot forward offline.

The reply came quickly:
[Help me figure out the patrol patterns of the gatekeepers and teachers. Next Thursday, I need to go out.]

Go out?
An Tang immediately caught on to that word. His eyes widened in disbelief:
[You’re at school?]

[Mm.]

Such a short response, yet it carried so much—why didn’t he come to class, why didn’t he clarify the rumors, why did he just let others smear him? Looking back, of the four, the one with the worst reputation was Ji Suyong. People said he was a weirdo, a freak, a devil.

An Tang pressed his lips together. He didn’t know what the other had gone through, but this “going out” event matched perfectly with what that so-called lunatic had muttered to himself onstage.

The protagonist really knew the direction of the plot—not just raving nonsense!

The danger level shot up. Before, it had all been speculation without evidence. Now, the nightmare had become reality. He was both irritable and anxious.

[Alright~ but gege, I don’t want money—just one condition.]

[Say it.]

[Stay away from Meng Chengyi. I don’t like him.]

Ji Suyong: [I don’t even know him.]

[You will later. I overheard their conversation—he’s treating you like a bet.]

An Tang didn’t explain further. The seed of suspicion had already been planted. Whether it sprouted or not depended on external forces.

The first move on this treacherous chessboard was critical.

[Okay, thank you.]

Receiving this reply, An Tang finally smiled. What a long day. He stretched his back, twisted left and right, then burrowed into his blanket like a cocoon.

His soft hair fell across his eyes, blocking the darkness. He rolled over, drowsiness washing over him.

In the middle of the night, his restless sleep pulled the blanket loose, a pale white arm slipping out like a section of lotus root.

The troublesome matter was finally progressing, the stalemate had hope, and he even knew the other’s cards. With that comfort, An Tang slept soundly, waking to the broadcast alarm refreshed, body relaxed, spirit bright.

Brushing his teeth, splashing water on his face, he looked into the mirror. His skin was fair, his features soft and delicate, lips pink—rare good complexion. Even the constant dark circles under his eyes had faded.

Fresh, clean, downright adorable.

Cheerfully, he left the dorm, even splurging two yuan on a giant meat bun—soft, fluffy, filling.

Full and happy, he arrived at the track field. On Sundays, considered the first day of the week, Morsey customarily held a morning assembly. Supposedly motivational, but everyone called it the “talent show” segment.

It was the weekly review and criticism session. Standing in formation, listening to one student after another read their self-criticisms, An Tang silently thanked his luck for dodging a bullet.

That wrapped up last week’s troubles.

A new week meant a clean slate—his punishment was nullified!

Happily, he ran back to the dorm, pre-ordered a new “online weapon,” and threw himself into a sea of practice questions.

All day he barely touched his phone. Brain washed by knowledge, fatigue soon dragged him into sleep.

The next day.

An Tang jolted awake from a nightmare, panting hard. But once awake, the dream slipped away completely, no matter how he tried to recall.

As if by fate, his gaze fixed on the little drawer.

Footsteps echoed. He walked over, brows furrowed. Was it this one?

His fingers grasped the handle, pulled hard—the drawer slid all the way out.

Empty.

The book was gone.

An Tang bit his lip unconsciously, only realizing it when a deep tooth mark stung.

He staggered back, gripping the desk edge, knuckles white.

…

He was late to breakfast; only a small bun left. Washing it down with water, he steadied his nerves and returned to the track, lining up with his class.

The lineup was sorted by grades, which unfortunately placed him at the very front.

Front-row seat for the drama, he tried to comfort himself—at least he had the best view.

As the speeches dragged on—principal, vice principal, secretary, then director—his eyes kept darting toward the gates, the shade of trees, the entrance to the track. But when Fu Jieyu finally took the podium, his heart sank.

Still no sign of the “protagonist shou.”

“…”
Today, silence was his Cambridge elegy.

Sulking, he shuffled with the crowd back to class. By noon, his mind was still stuck on it.

This doesn’t make sense. He said he was at school. This was supposed to be an important plot event. Why didn’t he appear? Or did I judge wrong?

Expression gloomy, head bowed—suddenly, something icy pressed against his cheek.

He shivered, startled into looking up—straight into smiling eyes.

The tension melted instantly.

A faint smile lifted his pale face. “So cold.”

It was Pei Chengrui, appearing out of nowhere, pressing a chilled yogurt drink against him.

“For me?”

Pei Chengrui gave him a “you’re stupid” look. “Otherwise? You think I came to tease you?”

“I can’t drink cold stuff first thing in the morning. Bad for the stomach,” An Tang whispered.

Expression blank, Pei Chengrui just stared.

“…Actually, sour stuff helps the appetite.” After two seconds of hesitation, An Tang quickly reached out and “voluntarily” accepted the yogurt.

Strangely, once he held it, his irritation faded. His good mood peaked at lunch, when he found himself with freshly cooked leftovers that somehow tasted better than dinner’s meal.

Naturally, Pei Chengrui didn’t eat leftovers. These dishes were specially prepared by the chef on his order.

A bit awkward, but more than that, An Tang felt grateful—and surprised.

This guy… actually feels like a human being.

After eating, An Tang dutifully went to wash the dishes.

“Eat more,” Pei Chengrui said casually. “The auntie will wash them.”

“I’m full. If I eat any more, I’ll get sleepy for the test.”

“Test? What test?”

An Tang froze. “The monthly exam, of course. Isn’t it always on Mondays?”

Pei Chengrui looked up slightly, sipping his water. Amused, he said, “The bulletin board was updated long ago. The exam’s postponed till tomorrow.”

“…Huh?”

“What!” Panicked, An Tang bolted to the bulletin board, where a crowd had already gathered. Squeezing in, his eyes scanned the notices—two fresh sheets of black text on white paper.

Two pieces of news: one, the exam was delayed until tomorrow; two, the student council would recruit new members on Monday afternoon.

Both stamped with the student council seal. Undeniable.

Back at the villa, Pei Chengrui hadn’t waited long before the door burst open—An Tang returned.

“See the notice?”

“Mm.” Nodding, he flopped onto the sofa, expression flat.

Like a kitten denied its outing by its owner, Pei Chengrui thought, quietly pitiful. “What’s wrong?”

“It means I have to review another whole day.” His face scrunched. No complaint, just stating fact.

But to Pei Chengrui, that soft low voice sounded just like acting spoiled.

“Monthly exams aren’t that important.” He tried to comfort.

“You don’t get it,” An Tang huffed, biting into a pear. “This is about the scholarship. Competition’s fierce.”

A pause. Then Pei Chengrui asked, “How much is the scholarship?”

Suspicious, An Tang swallowed. “First prize is eight thousand. You’re a first prize too, right?”

Pei Chengrui fiddled with his phone, then looked back at him, amused. “The scholarship’s already transferred to you. Don’t worry. Even if you don’t do well, it doesn’t matter.”

The sweet fruit in An Tang’s mouth nearly made him choke. Startled, he dropped it into the trash with a thunk.

“R-really?”

“Why would I lie?”

“…But why?” Was Pei Chengrui this good to all his lackeys?

“Because you’re my little brother, of course. What else? What other relationship could we two men possibly have?”

That single line yanked An Tang’s mood straight down.

God… so straight.

Forcing his face into a smile, he chirped, “Thanks! I’m really happy to be your little brother.”

“Voluntary?” Pei Chengrui looked down at him, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Of course it’s voluntary! Nothing could be more voluntary than this!”

After that earnest pledge, both were satisfied and parted ways.

Back in class, the atmosphere tightened as exams loomed. An Tang noticed his deskmate, supposedly on short leave, still hadn’t returned. No contact info—so the thought drifted away.

Afternoon self-study.

Packing up papers, he bumped into another poor student he sometimes chatted with—Jia Yu.

The moment Jia Yu spotted him, his eyes lit up, instantly latching on.

“Hey, An Tang, are you running for student council too?”

Two seconds of silence. Then An Tang gave the faintest nod, almost imperceptible. To back it up, he added softly:

“Mm. Voluntary.”