When the Cannon Fodder Male Supporting Role Picks Up the Script - Chapter 122

As soon as Yun Zhuoran finishes speaking, the shadow on the table nods quickly like a chicken pecking at rice.

“Weiran.” Yun Zhuoran looks at the excited shadow and naturally thinks of the happy look of the heart demon in front of him. He’s also affected by the heart demon’s joy at this moment and laughs silently.

He’s smaller now. Because of his long-term illness, his stature is much smaller than that of children his age. His skin is porcelain white, revealing an unmistakable frailty. However, when he’s young, he’s delicate and beautiful—very cute. This smile is even sweeter and softer.

Who would’ve thought that the cold and ruthless Yun Zhuoran is so sweet as a child?

The shadow freezes not far from the table for a long time, then slowly floats over, stretches out a hand, wants to get closer but doesn’t dare, and finally points to his stomach.

Yun Zhuoran naturally understands his heart demon and knows what he means at a glance.

“I’m fine. Weiran can’t talk?”

The shadow on the ground shakes his head, puts two fingers together and points at his abdomen, makes a gesture of inserting a hand into his belly, then turns his face to Yun Zhuoran.

Although he can’t see a real person, Yun Zhuoran clearly feels the heart demon’s eager gaze. He understands what the heart demon means and says, “It’s really okay. My injury isn’t serious. Just a little scratch here—it’s fine.”

The shadow still shakes his head, then doesn’t move.

Yun Zhuoran glances outside and hears noises that show Yun Peiran won’t come back for a while. He frowns faintly, sighs after a moment, raises his right hand wrapped in gauze like a zongzi, and brings it to his mouth.

He bites off the knot Yun Peiran just tied, freeing a few fingers in a short while.

The shadow shakes, as if surprised.

Yun Zhuoran then unbuttons the small buttons of his snow-white coat. His fingers are very flexible. Even though they’re almost numb from pain, he quickly unbuttons several layers of clothing, revealing his flat, fair belly.

The porcelain-white skin looks even more striking than the snow-white fabric, and a light red blood mark is clearly printed on his abdomen. Yun Zhuoran sees the shadow freeze in his peripheral vision, secretly smiles, and touches the blood mark with his fingertips.

“See, it’s really not serious.”

His thin white fingers gently touch the blood mark, which is no longer than a finger, and the golden light sealing the wound. It’s cold but seems slightly warm.

Compared to this blood mark, the wounds on Yun Zhuoran’s hands are a hundred times more serious.

The shadow doesn’t move for a long time, as if stunned. Yun Zhuoran guesses it might be shy again and wonders when the shadow will get rid of this shyness.

Yun Zhuoran shakes his head and is about to close his clothes. His body is much weaker now, but his hearing is still sharp. Hearing Yun Peiran approaching, he hurriedly tidies his clothes but is still a step too late.

Yun Peiran is tall and strong, and it takes him only a few steps to enter the house. Yun Zhuoran has only one hand that can move, so putting on clothes is a bit troublesome. Seeing Yun Peiran’s shadow reflected on the door panel, he steps forward hurriedly and uses his thin body to block the sluggish shadow behind him.

Just then, the door creaks open, and Yun Peiran comes in with boiling medicine. At first glance, he sees the child’s disheveled appearance.

“…What are you doing?”

When he meets his brother’s dark, quiet eyes, Yun Peiran is a little puzzled. But when he sees Yun Zhuoran’s exposed fingers, his expression suddenly changes. He puts down the medicine, strides over, picks up the child who isn’t even as tall as his thigh, and places him on the bed.

The whole series of actions is smooth and gives Yun Zhuoran no time to react.

Yun Zhuoran sits on the edge of the bed in a daze, lowers his eyes to look at his short legs hanging a little far from the ground, then looks inconspicuously at the floor. Fortunately, his shadow finally reacts and follows him in.

Yun Zhuoran breathes a sigh of relief, but Yun Peiran carefully holds his wrist.

Yun Peiran squats beside the bed, rewraps the gauze on Yun Zhuoran’s hand, and scolds seriously, “Why did you take it off for no reason? Doesn’t it hurt? And what were you trying to do by taking off your clothes?”

Yun Zhuoran looks at the little shadow on the ground that tries to mimic his movements but always seems a little unnatural. It looks very pitiful with lowered eyes and doesn’t speak.

Yun Peiran frowns, says nothing, tidies Yun Zhuoran’s collar, and stands up to leave.

Yun Zhuoran calls after him, “It doesn’t hurt.”

Yun Peiran glances back at him with a strange look, then goes to the door to get the medicine.

“It’s time to take the medicine.”

Yun Peiran moves a stool and sits on the edge of the bed, stirring the dark brown medicine in the bowl with a spoon. Thick hot mist rises, accompanied by an indescribable bitter smell.

Yun Zhuoran knows he has to drink it, so he sits quietly and waits.

Yun Peiran frowns at the smell of the medicine, his face full of disgust. “If Yun City is blocked again, your medicine will be even harder to find. I don’t know what Yun Tianfeng and the high priest are doing…”

Yun Zhuoran looks at him quietly.

Yun Peiran suddenly shuts his mouth and stares into Yun Zhuoran’s black eyes.

Yun Zhuoran lets him look calmly, not showing anything on his face, though inside he grows more curious.

Yun Peiran feels something is off just now, and now he finally figures out what it is. He scoops up a spoonful of medicine and brings it to Yun Zhuoran’s mouth.

Yun Zhuoran suddenly realizes and drinks it. The taste is just as expected—sour, astringent, fishy, salty, smelly, and bitter. All the flavors are strong and terrible. However, after drinking it, his headache eases, his body grows warmer, and his shortness of breath and chest tightness improve—proving the medicine is effective.

So Yun Zhuoran waits obediently as Yun Peiran continues feeding him medicine. He has no choice but to rely on Yun Peiran since his hands are wrapped.

After a long wait, Yun Peiran hasn’t brought the second spoonful. Yun Zhuoran looks up at him, urging him with his eyes to hurry.

“You always complained about how bitter the medicine was before. But today you’re so eager, not even a frown.” Yun Peiran sets the medicine bowl aside and asks suspiciously, “Kid, did someone take over your body?”

Yun Zhuoran is a little taken aback. He assumed this Yun Peiran was fake, but it turns out Yun Peiran suspects him of being fake. Is there any point in pretending?

Before Yun Zhuoran can think it over, Yun Peiran sighs with a complicated expression, picks up the medicine bowl again, and feeds him more medicine. “But possessing you is useless. You’re weak and have no spiritual root. Looks like you really are my biological younger brother. That’s probably right.”

Yun Zhuoran subconsciously breathes a sigh of relief and drinks the medicine quietly, one spoonful at a time. Yun Peiran doesn’t ask any more questions, but his face remains serious while feeding him.

Yun Zhuoran doesn’t know what Yun Peiran is thinking, and he doesn’t feel any hostility from him.

After Yun Peiran silently takes the empty bowl away, Yun Zhuoran and his shadow finally relax.

Unexpectedly, Yun Peiran comes back before Yun Zhuoran has time to talk to his heart demon. He closes the door, walks in with a quilt, and says lazily while making the bed, “You must be scared today. Let’s do this. Brother will sleep with you tonight.”

Yun Zhuoran is stunned. He never slept with Yun Peiran when he was a child.

The shadow shakes and quickly shrinks back behind Yun Zhuoran as Yun Peiran turns around.

Seeing Yun Peiran’s smiling expression, Yun Zhuoran thinks Yun Peiran is still suspicious of him.

Yun Peiran doesn’t seem to notice the shadow’s abnormality. He turns back, pats the quilt, and smiles, “Okay, come and sleep.”

Yun Zhuoran’s eyes flicker as he looks down at his tightly wrapped hands…

After a while, Yun Zhuoran is pressed down to lie in the small bed. Yun Peiran lies next to him, using his arm as a pillow. The extra candles are blown out. At Yun Zhuoran’s request, only one is left at the bedside.

Maybe he’s worried. Yun Peiran doesn’t say much; he closes his eyes and doesn’t speak.

Yun Zhuoran knows he isn’t asleep. Even though he can’t use his powerful divine sense or spiritual energy here, he can still tell whether this Yun Peiran—currently at the peak of Foundation Establishment—is faking sleep or not.

Could it be that Yun Peiran still thinks he’s the fake one? When really, it’s Yun Peiran who’s fake.

Yun Zhuoran doesn’t act rashly. This illusion is different from all the illusions he’s encountered before. This Yun Peiran is too vivid, and so far hasn’t shown any flaws.

It’ll be hard to break the situation if he can’t guess the ultimate purpose of the person who arranged this illusion.

Yun Zhuoran doesn’t want his heart demon to remain a shadow forever. He wants to see his heart demon.

While thinking, Yun Zhuoran turns his head slightly and looks at the wall next to the bed. His shadow is reflected on the bed curtain by the dim candlelight, lying next to him in almost the same posture.

As he moves, the shadow also moves. Yun Zhuoran finds it interesting and quietly reaches out to the shadow’s hand on the plain bed curtain.

The shadow shrinks his hand slightly, then moves closer to Yun Zhuoran’s hand on the curtain, as careful as a thief.

Yun Zhuoran smiles faintly and truly feels as if he’s holding Weiran’s hand.

It’s a pity he can’t see Weiran.

“Still not asleep?” Yun Peiran’s voice comes from behind.

Yun Zhuoran’s hand and the shadow shrink at the same time, as if the shadow really is just a shadow.

Yun Zhuoran quickly regains his composure, puts his hands properly back under the quilt, and turns to face Yun Peiran. When their eyes meet, he blinks without changing expression.

Yun Peiran chuckles. “You’re acting more and more suspicious. Can’t you tell your brother what’s going on?”

Yun Zhuoran lowers his eyes, thinks for a moment, then speaks calmly, “Yun Peiran.”

Yun Peiran turns sideways to face him. A hint of coldness flashes across his eyes, but the corners of his mouth remain lazy and casual. “You just said that a moment ago, and now you’re calling me again. Alright, what is it?”

Yun Zhuoran knows he has plenty of flaws. He doesn’t want to pretend. He’s Yun Peiran’s only younger brother, no matter how his personality might have changed.

He deliberately explains, “The one who hurt me wasn’t the High Priest, and it wasn’t Yun Tianfeng either.”

Yun Peiran’s expression freezes. “Who then?”

“A person outside Yun City.” Yun Zhuoran thinks of Shen Lingshu’s fierce and ruthless sword and says coldly, “I underestimated him.”

Yun Peiran has obviously never heard Yun Zhuoran speak in such a cold tone before. His brother is always well-behaved and sweet. He’s stunned for a moment, looking thoughtfully at the sick child beside him.

“It really wasn’t the High Priest?”

Yun Zhuoran calmly asks in return, “Do you even know what kind of person the High Priest is?”

Yun Peiran’s gaze has already grown colder. The earlier affection in his eyes is replaced with suspicion. But he doesn’t call him out directly. He stares at the pale side profile of the boy beside him for a moment, then turns his face away and gives a quiet laugh.

“Madman.”

Yun Zhuoran knows he’s talking about the high priest and can’t help but glance at Yun Peiran.

Yun Peiran rests his head on his arm and stares blankly at the top of the bed curtain. His Adam’s apple bobs slightly as he speaks.

“We’ll leave Yun City when we get a chance. Your health can’t be delayed any longer. We’ll go to Lingshan Sect, where the best doctors in the world are. They’ll definitely make you better. Then I’ll teach you how to practice…” Yun Peiran turns to look at Yun Zhuoran, still hesitant. “Why suddenly bring up the High Priest? Weren’t you afraid of him before?”

Yun Zhuoran’s eyes flicker. When he meets Yun Peiran’s gaze, there’s a hint of warmth in his eyes.

“Sleep.”

Yun Peiran has been trying to coax something out of him, but in the end all he gets is that light reply. He chokes on it a little. But before he can ask again, the child beside him already closes his eyes, clearly unwilling to chat any further.

Yun Peiran’s still-youthful face shows visible frustration. He takes a deep breath and turns over in annoyance. But before long, he flips back, turns his head to look at the quiet child next to him, and glares at him for a while before finally giving up and closing his eyes, falling asleep in frustration.

It’s late at night, and the candlelight grows dimmer.

After everyone on the bed falls asleep, the shadow hiding by the wall finally gets up and leans over the pale but delicate and beautiful child lying inside the bed. The shadow gently brushes the child’s face, lingers for a moment, then carefully retreats to the wall.

But he doesn’t know that after hiding, Yun Zhuoran’s mouth curls into a barely visible smile, and a hand wrapped like a dumpling stretches out from under the quilt, close to the wall, as if intentionally or unintentionally.

After a moment, the shadow quietly emerges again from the dim corner and shrouds that round, bundled hand in darkness.