The Cannon Fodder’s Survival Guide at the Noble Academy - Chapter 3

◎Bold Move—Someone’s Stealing Cats◎

A burst of noise broke out, sharp shrieks piercing the air not far away.

An Tang lifted the head he had kept lowered the whole way, dazedly staring at the gymnasium in front of him.

Why did they bring him here…? Scenes of basketballs slamming into people’s heads flashed across his mind. He faltered, and before he could retreat, the weight pressing on his shoulder grew heavier.

“I heard you’re really good at basketball. Perfect timing—we’re short a player.”

Heard from who? Ghosts?

An Tang was so stunned by the words that he didn’t even notice when Pei Chengrui’s arm slipped around his waist. His water-clear eyes widened, face full of disbelief.

“I—I can’t play basketball.”

“No need to be modest. Everyone says your three-pointers always go in.” Pei Chengrui chuckled lightly. “Today’s the basketball finals, after all. You can’t just refuse to give us face.”

The arm around his waist didn’t let go, instead pushing him forward with firm strength. “You’ve never even tried—how do you know you’re no good?”

“Don’t be nervous. It’s just the school finals with five thousand people watching. Hardly anyone will be watching the livestream.”

“No way, no way!”

Only now did An Tang remember overhearing in class that whenever Pei Chengrui was playing, the viewership was always massive.

He absolutely didn’t want to become famous at school—especially infamous as “the one who lost the game.”

Here, rank, hierarchy, and class were crystal clear and strictly enforced. The first rule of survival for an ordinary student was to stay unnoticed. Arrogance was reserved only for those who had the capital to back it up.

“I think you’ve been tricked.” Steeling himself, An Tang’s voice still trembled. “You must’ve been set up. Someone’s trying to sabotage you.”

“Oh? And how’s that?” Pei Chengrui kept walking, his strength far too great for An Tang to resist. Step by step, the gym loomed closer, cheers ringing in their ears.

He could already picture it—five minutes later, standing on the court, unable to score even once, becoming the laughingstock of the crowd.

A chill ran down his spine. Snapping back, An Tang grabbed Pei Chengrui’s hand in desperation. His grip was so forceful it actually made the taller boy stop.

Taking a deep breath, An Tang raised his head, meeting his eyes with grave sincerity:
“I really can’t play. Not at all.”

To prove his point, he rolled up his sleeve, revealing pale, tender arms. “Look—no muscle at all. I’m not athletic.”

He thought that was enough, but Pei Chengrui actually put his hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze.

“Tense up.”

Instinctively, An Tang flexed. His arm only hardened the slightest bit. Pei Chengrui pressed down harder, leaving behind two faint red marks when he finally let go.

“Alright, looks like you really can’t.” Pei Chengrui announced the results of his little experiment with a perfectly serious tone. Then he slung an arm around An Tang’s shoulder again. “But we only have one substitute player. If he goes in…”

“I’ll watch your water bottles for you!”

An Tang looked up—only to be caught by Pei Chengrui’s laughing gaze. In that instant, he realized he’d been played. His emotions flickered wildly, caught between anger and helplessness.

Dragged along, he ended up in the locker room. Under the lofty title of “substitute,” he was forced into a jersey. The sleeves were so wide that even lifting his arms felt risky—what if he exposed himself by accident?

While waiting outside for Pei Chengrui, An Tang stared at the floor lamps, thoughts tangled.

“Let’s go.”

Startled, he looked up. Pei Chengrui was already beside him. Even though they were only half a head apart in height, the dim lighting and the downward angle of his gaze gave off an air of superiority—almost contempt.

An Tang quietly clenched his fists.

From the dark hallway to the brilliant stadium was only a short stretch. By the time they stepped inside, he had already calmed himself, obediently sitting in the seat Pei Chengrui arranged. A proper water boy—positioned far away from the audience.

There were more people than he had imagined. Colorful glow sticks sparkled like stars, filling the packed stands.

A huge screen hung above, displaying the score.

Sitting upright, hands folded, legs together—he looked every bit the well-behaved boy. But in his heart, he was silently listing all of Pei Chengrui’s crimes.

Threatening. Coercion. Forcing. One by one, bright as day.

His chest ached with fury. He didn’t even want to watch the game, but his ears couldn’t be shut. The sudden eruption of screams only made it clearer who was shining on the court.

He pulled out his phone, opened his messages, and typed in Pei Chengrui’s number. The chat history was filled with green text bubbles—messages he had sent last night, none of them answered.

Frowning, he tapped one of his photos to enlarge it. It had turned out quite well, polished even better—was it possible he just wasn’t interested in girls?

But that wasn’t the point now. If Pei Chengrui replied at this moment, it would be a horror story.

Lifting his gaze, he fixed it on the flamboyant figure in pink on the court.

Swish! A perfect three-pointer.

His fingers moved, typing: 【I hate you】.

[Message sent.]

Less than a minute later—probably only a few dozen seconds—swish! A two-pointer.

【Hate!】

The ball switched hands. Pei Chengrui stayed under the hoop, motionless. Soon, a teammate passed him the ball.

Thud! He dunked.

【Hate!】

As the team’s core player, nearly every ball went to him. With each successful shot, the score climbed higher—and with it, An Tang’s glee at his little “revenge.” He couldn’t stop staring, eyes locked, unblinking.

Suddenly, Pei Chengrui turned his gaze—straight at him on the bench.

Startled, An Tang fumbled to shut his screen.

“What are you looking at?”

“N-nothing.”

“Taking photos of me?”

“Uh? Uh-huh.”

Pei Chengrui let out a soft laugh. “Give me some water.”

“O-okay.”

Grateful for the chance to hide his phone, An Tang obediently handed over the pink water bottle that Pei Chengrui always used. This guy really had a thing for pink—even his hair was that shade.

The stadium was air-conditioned, but the sheer enthusiasm made it stifling. Sweat clung to Pei Chengrui’s forehead, pink strands sticking down.

“Here’s a towel.” An Tang had cursed him countless times, but seeing him drenched and exhausted, he felt oddly vindicated. The sight made him look more tolerable—so he didn’t mind the small gesture. “Wipe off.”

Pei Chengrui froze for a beat before his lips curved. “So thoughtful. You’re such a good person, Tangtang.”

An Tang: “……” Disgusting. He really shouldn’t have shown any kindness. Let him sweat to death.

He averted his gaze, staring at a crack in the floor, waiting for him to leave so he could continue cursing.

But instead, Pei Chengrui plopped down beside him.

“Ah, seriously—I’m exhausted.”

An Tang’s round eyes widened in disbelief.

“What?” Pei Chengrui teased, relaxing into the seat. “Is sitting here supposed to come with a fee?”

“Y-you…” An Tang scrambled for words. “Don’t you need to get back on court?”

“Haha.” Pei Chengrui chuckled, pointing at the scoreboard.

66:29.

An Tang: “……” Fine. With a forty-point lead, no wonder.

He tried another excuse. “Since you’re resting, can I go now? I still haven’t reviewed today’s lessons, and I’ve got piles of practice papers to finish.”

Pei Chengrui looked at him for a few seconds—then broke into a grin. “Sure. Add me first. With service this good, I’ll call on you again next time.”

An Tang wanted nothing more than to smack himself for handing over that towel. See? Handsy kindness only got him noticed.

Forcing a polite smile, he jotted down the contact info Pei Chengrui gave him.

“You don’t have your phone?”

Of course he did. But with the screen full of “I hate you” messages, how could he show it?

Barely holding his expression, he explained, “It… it ran out of battery. I forgot to charge it last night.”

Pei Chengrui: “Alright then. I’ll wait for your friend request.”

Though smiling, there was something off in that smile—like he had seen right through everything. Uneasy, An Tang bolted without looking back.

Watching him leave, Pei Chengrui lazily turned his attention back to the court. But boredom soon won out. Pulling out his phone, he opened his messages.

A flood of repeated texts popped up on the screen, each laced with obvious personal emotion.

He counted them with interest, then let out a low laugh.

Meanwhile, outside the gym, An Tang rubbed his aching ears. The teaching building was quiet. Glancing at his watch, he realized class was almost over. Returning now would only make him stand out, so he decided to hide somewhere instead.

Morsy Academy’s teaching buildings formed a “U” shape, six classes per grade, lined up opposite each other. An Tang’s Class A directly faced the F4’s Class S—as far apart as palace and heavens, a wall dividing two worlds.

Before that cursed book appeared, An Tang hadn’t thought much about F4. But after a week of cramming, there were still blanks in his knowledge. For example… he had no idea what Ji Suyong looked like.

Unlike the others, his face wasn’t in the “Outstanding Students” photos. He rarely came to school—rumor said his health was poor.

An Tang recalled the book. The one who went mountain climbing, racing, parachuting for the shou—was that a body double?

Pitiful, really. Tsk, tsk.

He casually mocked the character’s brainless devotion in his heart. After all, this guy was the first to target “him” in revenge for the protagonist shou.

An Tang snorted inwardly. If I ever get the chance… I’ll pay him back double.

Avoiding the classrooms, he followed a paved path toward the grove. At the end was a small lake, where a few stray cats lived.

He hadn’t visited in days. Last he saw, Hua Hua’s belly had grown alarmingly large. Though well-fed and unafraid of people, carrying so many kittens still worried him.

“Hua Hua?” he called softly.

Pushing aside bushes, a tabby darted out.

“Xiao Hui.” An Tang crouched, scratching its chin, stroking its head. “Do you know where Hua Hua is?”

The cat purred, rubbing against his hand before padding away. It looked back, checking if he followed.

He trailed after slowly, listening for sounds around them.

“Purr—purr—” Xiao Hui stopped.

An Tang bent down, scooping it up. He hooked his fingers against the tree bark and leaned forward to peek.

There was Hua Hua, being petted. Her belly had shrunk—she must’ve given birth already. His eyes moved upward—then froze.

A… child?

The distance made him doubt his eyes. No way. Security at Morsy was airtight—how could a child get in?

He circled around for a better look, quiet as a shadow.

“…So it’s settled. I’ll give you food, and you give me all the kittens.”

!!! A cat thief!!