The Cannon Fodder Stole the Male Lead’s Script GL - Chapter 11

【Ding~ Your main quest “Friendship Line” has been updated.】

Jiang Yun tapped open the light screen and indeed saw a change. Her “Friendship Line” progress had nudged from 7% to 7.5%. Somewhat surprised, she clicked in and discovered it wasn’t Zhan Rao’s value that had shifted, but a previously greyed-out name had lit up. Wang Yazhi. Her favorability had jumped to 50%.

Wang Yazhi?

Why would Teacher Wang suddenly feel so warm toward her?

Jiang Yun glanced to the side. Li Yue’s number had quietly dipped from 10% to 5%.

Expected.

She folded the light screen away and picked up her paintbrush again, focusing intently on the sunset before her.

“Why is your sunset blue?”
Zhan Rao had appeared at some point, perching beside her on the rooftop, her eyes fixed on the horizon alongside Jiang Yun’s.

Jiang Yun continued blending the colors without a word.

To Zhan Rao, though, Jiang Yun, bathed in this ethereal light, looked like someone quietly carrying sorrow.

“Are you upset?”

Jiang Yun swept a stroke of blue across the last bit of cloud and set her brush down. Her eyes stayed on the sky, and her voice carried a soft desolation.

“Have you ever trusted someone wholeheartedly, only to discover they never truly cared about you? That, without realizing it, they’ve come to hate you so much it aches?”

Zhan Rao frowned slightly but said nothing.

Jiang Yun gave a hollow laugh and reached out to ruffle the top of her head. “Forget it. You wouldn’t understand. Your character is built to be a beloved little princess. Bad guys are always obviously bad, good people support you to the end. You’ll have challenges, sure, but they always pass.”

She raised her brush again but hesitated, unsure what to paint next.

“But do you know what it’s like to live a life that doesn’t feel like yours? To be forced to feel things you didn’t choose, feelings you can’t control?”

Zhan Rao absentmindedly touched the top of her head, where Jiang Yun’s hand had just been. Her gaze lingered on the girl beside her, searching and soft.

Jiang Yun looked back.

She didn’t entirely understand what Zhan Rao meant, but she could tell. This girl wasn’t as carefree as she looked. Something deeper churned beneath the surface.

“Let’s not talk about messy stuff anymore,” Zhan Rao said cheerfully, brushing it all away with a flick of her hand. She dangled her feet from the rooftop bench and blinked at the blank canvas before them. “Jiang Yun, will you draw something for me?”

Jiang Yun blinked, then smiled. “Sure.”

She had never painted for someone she was close to. Not for her parents, not for classmates, not even for teachers.

She was skilled in landscapes and abstraction, but never portraits.

She disliked the process of carefully dissecting someone’s appearance, hated studying a person in meticulous detail from head to toe.

But not with Zhan Rao.

She wanted to paint her, capture her pure presence exactly as it was.

“Sit still now. Don’t move.”

“Okay.”

Zhan Rao sat upright like a good student.

Jiang Yun made a few quick sketches to block out the proportions and then began.

A girl in a crisp white blouse and deep navy plaid skirt, long white socks hugging her legs just below the knees, and black leather Mary Janes swinging playfully in the air. Her dark hair spilled freely behind her, and her hands braced behind her on the bench. Her grin was radiant.

Jiang Yun painted fluidly, almost instinctively, as if this moment had lived in her mind a thousand times.

Zhan Rao, watching her quietly, found herself smiling. She committed the moment to memory—this quiet scene, this intent gaze—wanting to remember it forever.

Those questions she’d asked earlier? They weren’t just random words to comfort Jiang Yun.

This world did not feel real.

Every emotion Zhan Rao experienced seemed artificial, as if strung by invisible threads.

She despised how easily she could act gentle and thoughtful, and yet always found herself doing just that.

She told her family she loved this school. She didn’t.

She didn’t like Yan Kuo, but still felt this involuntary rush of affection the moment she saw him.

She observed herself perform from within her own body—cool, composed, and utterly detached—while inside, she churned with quiet disgust.

Only Jiang Yun broke through that numbness. The moment she saw her, she’d felt joy, real joy, and hadn’t needed to suppress it.

Only with her could she breathe.

Jiang Yun was her escape hatch.

Her salvation.

“Why didn’t you expose Li Yue?” Zhan Rao asked suddenly, her tone light, but her eyes watchful.

She wasn’t criticizing. She was curious. Maybe even a little jealous of how long Li Yue and Jiang Yun had been close.

But what Li Yue had done wasn’t easily forgivable.

“If I exposed her,” Jiang Yun said distractedly, still painting, “I’d destroy her.”

Like she was talking about someone else’s problem. The morning’s drama had already faded from her mind.

Zhan Rao’s eyes sparkled. “So, you think, if you exposed her, it would ruin her carefully crafted ‘perfect student’ image, right?”

Jiang Yun didn’t answer. But her silence confirmed it.

After all, when a so-called bad kid messes up, it barely makes a ripple. But when a good kid falls from grace, it’s a scandal. A tragedy. Something to hush up and excuse.

That’s the world’s logic.

The good ones get second chances. The rest get buried.

Zhan Rao pouted, indignant. “But what about your reputation? Doesn’t that matter too? You didn’t even do anything wrong. Why are you taking the blame?”

Jiang Yun paused, brush in midair, startled.

“…What?”

Zhan Rao tilted her head. “What?”

Jiang Yun chuckled. “It’s just, that’s the first time anyone’s ever worried about my reputation.”

Zhan Rao puffed up even more. “So what if no one else does? You should care. I know people say awful things about you, but I see through that. You’re kind, responsible, and full of heart. You’re better than most people. So don’t ever joke about throwing your name away. If you give up on yourself, I’ll be really upset.”

The words hit Jiang Yun square in the chest.

She stared at the red paint on her brush, unsure where to place it.

After a long silence, she murmured, “You don’t need to—”

“No. I do. You have to promise me. Study hard, rise up, and become someone who shines so brightly that no one can ignore you.”

Jiang Yun: …

This heroine was so aggressively wholesome.

She tried to stay quiet, but Zhan Rao clung to her arm, pouting and pleading like a child until Jiang Yun finally gave in.

“Okay, okay, I promise. I’ll study hard and rise up every day.”

Only then did Zhan Rao beam again and return to her seat.

Jiang Yun shook her head in resignation, glancing down at her canvas. Somewhere in the commotion, Zhan Rao had tugged her arm and the brush had made a red dot right over the heart on the sketch.

Jiang Yun considered for a moment, then added a few more strokes, turning it into a small, red heart.

A heart that could shine and warm the world.

Just like the girl it belonged to.