Transmigrated into the cannon fodder younger sister of the uke in a BL novel

Upon hearing this, Wen Qing was stunned.

"Qingqing, don't be afraid, your brother is here to be with you..."

What does this mean? What does "coming to keep you company" mean? Where is she going?

Why is he talking like that, as if she's no longer here...?

What kind of dream did my brother have?

She couldn't help but reach out and gently shake Wen Fan's shoulder, speaking very softly so as not to startle him who was still in a nightmare.

"Brother, wake up, you're dreaming."

Wen Fan did not react; his lips were still moving slightly, and his brows were furrowed.

She increased the intensity and shouted a few more times.

Suddenly, Wen Fan's eyes snapped open.

Those eyes were bloodshot, with an unnatural red ring around the eye sockets, and deep in the pupils surged some intense emotion that had just escaped from a nightmare and had not yet dissipated.

He stared intently at Wen Qing, his gaze a mixture of disbelief, the joy of having found what he had lost, and something that sent a chill down her spine.

"Love..."

He spoke, his voice unusually hoarse, trembling with the tremor of someone who had survived a catastrophe.

"I've finally met you..."

He raised his hand and stroked her cheek, his fingertips sliding from her brow bone to her cheek, the movement extremely light and slow, as if to confirm that she was real, warm, and alive.

Then he suddenly pulled her into his arms, his arms tightly wrapped around her back with astonishing force.

Her face was pressed against his chest, and she could hear the frantic pounding of his heart in his chest cavity, and feel his whole body trembling, as if he had just been pulled out of ice water.

She was a little out of breath and instinctively struggled, but he held her even tighter, so tight that her ribs seemed to be protesting.

"Brother...it's too tight, I can't breathe."

She said it with difficulty.

Upon hearing this, Wen Fan loosened his grip slightly, but still held her tightly.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his nose pressed against the skin of her neck, as if desperately trying to absorb her scent to confirm her presence.

His breathing was heavy and rapid, hot against her collarbone, his eyelashes brushing against her skin with a slight dampness.

Wenqing was held tightly in his arms and couldn't move, her worries overwhelming everything else.

My brother has never done this before...

In the past, when she had nightmares, he would hold her and comfort her, and he would never show such uncontrolled vulnerability in front of her.

"Brother, did you have a nightmare?"

Wen Qing couldn't help but ask.

But Wen Fan did not answer.

His face remained buried in her shoulder, and he didn't make a sound, only tightening his arms around her a little more.

Just then, a cough suddenly broke the silence of the night.

The voice came from behind them, carrying a deliberate and obvious warning.

Wen Qing suddenly turned her head and saw that Fu Anhe had come out of the room at some point.

He was wearing a bathrobe, the belt loosely tied at the waist, with a few strands of hair hanging down on his brow bone. His peach blossom eyes showed no confusion from being just woken up; on the contrary, they were very clear-headed.

His gaze drifted across the dimly lit living room, landing softly on the way she and her brother were embracing.

He then reached out and pressed the switch for the small nightlight on the wall. The warm yellow light suddenly flooded into the living room, making Wen Qing squint.

Everything that was just shrouded in darkness suddenly became visible.

She was clung to by her brother like a lifeline, while Fu Anhe stood a few steps away, looking down at the scene.

"You two siblings shouldn't be being affectionate in someone else's house, should you?"

Fu Anhe's tone was slightly hoarse, as if he had just woken up from a dream, and there was also a distinct hint of sarcasm.

"It's the middle of the night, the neighbors must think we're putting on some kind of melodrama."

Wen Qing felt a little embarrassed by his gaze, so she reached out and nudged her brother's shoulder, hoping he would let go of her first.

But he remained completely still.

She turned to look at her brother and found him staring straight at Fu Anhe.

Those bloodshot black eyes were fixed on Fu Anhe without blinking, their gaze completely different from when they looked at her earlier, carrying a bone-chilling malice deep within.

Then he released Wen Qing, slowly stood up, and walked towards Fu Anhe.

He walked barefoot on the wooden floor, his steps slow and even slightly unsteady due to his weakness after his illness, but each step carried an undeniable sense of pressure.

Fu Anhe frowned as he watched Wen Fan approach step by step.

He didn't back down, but just tilted his head slightly, scrutinizing the man who had been unconscious with a high fever a moment ago, but now seemed like a completely different person.

He had seen such gazes before, when a critically ill patient lying on the operating table would stare at him with all their might in the last second before the anesthesia took effect.

His gaze was somewhat similar to Wen Fan's at this moment, but also somewhat different.

Wen Fan stopped in front of him.

The two were of similar height, but Wen Fan had just recovered from a serious illness, and his face was pale and his figure was thin. Standing in front of Fu Anhe, who was used to exercising and had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, he looked rather thin and frail.

But the intimidating look in his eyes made up for the difference in their physical size.

"What's wrong...?"

Fu Anhe's words were cut short mid-sentence as Wen Fan's fist struck his left cheek, the knuckles hitting his cheekbone with a dull thud.

Although the punch wasn't very powerful due to his lack of strength after his illness, it was enough to make the unsuspecting Fu Anhe take half a step back.

Fu Anhe touched the spot where he had been hit, and felt a burning, stinging pain on his skin.

As the young master of the Fu family, he had lived a life of luxury since childhood. Not to mention being humiliated, no one dared to say a harsh word to him.

Anyone would be furious if they were punched in their own home for no reason.

But his good upbringing and decent habits kept him from losing his temper.

He simply rubbed his cheekbone and spoke in a restrained tone, "You..."

But before he could finish speaking, a second punch came.

This time, Wen Fan's punch was even stronger, hitting Fu Anhe squarely on the bridge of his nose, causing him to fall backward.

Fu Anhe's back slammed heavily onto the floor. Before he could react, Wen Fan had already pressed down on him, his fists raining down like raindrops. There were no moves, no techniques, just the most primitive and pure combination of punches and kicks.

Seeing this chaotic scene, Wen Qing was completely stunned.

From the moment the older brother walked up to Fu Anhe to the moment his fist landed on Fu Anhe's face, only a few seconds passed.

All of this happened too fast and too suddenly.

While she was still in a daze, Fu Anhe had already broken free from the passive state of being attacked, dodged two punches with his better physical strength, and then fought back.

He punched Wen Fan in the corner of the mouth with a force that was clearly greater than Wen Fan's fist. Wen Fan groaned and swayed.

The moment Wen Qing saw Wen Fan being beaten, the last thread of reason snapped in her mind.

She instinctively rushed over and stood in front of Wen Fan, spreading her arms to protect him behind her, baring her teeth at Fu Anhe like a mother cat with its fur standing on end.

"Don't you dare hit my brother!"

Fu Anhe was blocked in front of her, and he abruptly pulled back his fist halfway through its swing.

He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, almost laughing in anger at her: "It was clearly your brother who hit me first! Look at my face... cheekbones, bridge of my nose, corners of my mouth, it's all from your brother! Am I not allowed to fight back? What kind of logic is that?"

Wen Qing glanced at the visible redness and bruises on his face. Fu Anhe's handsome face had been badly beaten; a large red patch covered his nose, his left cheekbone was slightly swollen, and his mouth was cut and bleeding.

She knew in her heart that her brother had indeed started the fight, and they were in the wrong, but she still stubbornly refused to admit it.

"You can't hit people. My brother was wrong to begin with, but if you hit him, you're also at fault."

Fu Anhe was speechless with anger at her robber logic, and finally laughed in exasperation.

It turns out there are people who can be this unreasonable.

"Qingqing, move aside."

Wen Fan's voice suddenly came from behind her, hoarse but calm.

Wenqing turned to look at him and asked, puzzled.

"Brother, why did you hit Dr. Fu? He helped us. He brought you back and even had the family doctor come and give you an injection..."

"Get out of the way."

But Wen Fan simply repeated those two words, his tone unwavering.

Fu Anhe patted the dust off her bathrobe behind her and said with a forced smile.

"See? Your brother tried to hit me for no reason. I kindly offered to let you and your brother stay for the night, and even got my family's doctor to see your brother. In the end, I still got beaten up. If word gets out, where will I, Fu Anhe, put my face?!"

Wen Qing was caught between the two men. On one side was her brother, who was in the wrong but instinctively wanted to protect her, and on the other side was Fu Anhe, who had indeed helped but had been beaten. Her tongue seemed to be tied in a knot, and she couldn't speak.

Just then, the door to another room suddenly opened.

Fu Ziqing rubbed her eyes as she walked out, her hair sticking up like a bird's nest, her pajamas buttoned up incorrectly, and she looked dazed as if she had been woken up.

"What are you doing in the middle of the night? All that banging and clanging, can't a person get any sleep?!"

He was halfway through his sentence when he saw the scene in the living room. He stopped rubbing his eyes and his mouth slowly opened wide.

His cousin was standing in the middle of the living room, his bathrobe askew, his hair disheveled, his face covered in red and swollen bruises, and blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

Wen Fan stood opposite him, a bruise also appearing on the corner of his mouth.

Wen Qing stood between the two, as if she had suddenly inserted herself into their midst.

"Brother? Who hit you?"

Fu Ziqing asked blankly.

Upon hearing this, Fu Anhe's temples throbbed twice.

He didn't know why he had such a stupid younger brother. Did he really need to ask such an obvious question?

The injuries on his face clearly showed he had been beaten up, and the only person in the living room capable of hitting him was Wen Fan.

After figuring out the whole story, Fu Ziqing was even more confused.

Why did the warm-hearted older brother suddenly hit his brother?

He glanced at his brother's face and found that his brother was looking at him with a "you're dead if you dare ask another question" look.

He shrank back, and began to seriously consider a serious question in his mind—as the younger cousin, seeing his older cousin being beaten up, he should logically help his older cousin fight back.

But the person opposite him was a kind older brother who had just been sick and looked very frail.

If he goes up to help, wouldn't it seem like he's bullying someone?

Moreover, Wen Qing seems to be very protective of her brother; she would definitely be unhappy if he were to lay a hand on her.

Fu Anhe was unaware that his cousin was having a dramatic internal struggle, a difficult choice between justice and friendship.

If he found out, he would probably beat Fu Ziqing up again on the spot.

Wen Qing looked at Wen Fan's lowered eyes.

He gripped her hand tightly, much more firmly than usual, as if afraid she would disappear if he let go.

His knuckles had red marks from when he punched someone, and there was also tape and a small bruise on the back of his hand from when he received an IV drip.

She looked away, her expression a mixture of confusion and worry, and asked, "Brother, why did you hit Dr. Fu?"

Wen Fan remained silent for a long time.

Then he said, "I don't know."

Fu Anhe was applying an ice towel to his face when he heard this, and his anger flared up again.

He tossed the towel onto the coffee table and snorted coldly, "Don't know? Is that your explanation? You hit someone and think you can just say you didn't know and that's it?"

The usual lazy smile was gone from his peach blossom eyes; they were filled with cold mockery.

He was pampered and adored since childhood, but today he was beaten up in his own home, leaving him with bruises on his face. What's most infuriating is that he didn't even get a reasonable explanation.

Wen Qing felt helpless upon hearing Wen Fan's answer, but she couldn't bear to blame him.

He had a fever of over 39 degrees Celsius, had a nightmare, and his mood was off after waking up.

She knew there must be a reason, but he wouldn't tell her.

Looking at Wen Qing's embarrassed and troubled expression, Fu Anhe suddenly lost interest in continuing the conversation.

He wearily rubbed his temples, put the ice towel back on his face, and said coldly.

"Your brother's fever has gone down and he's awake. Remember to leave early tomorrow morning. I have to go to the hospital tomorrow, so it's not convenient for anyone to stay at home."

Wen Qing breathed a sigh of relief when she heard him say that.

Instead of kicking them out immediately, he gave them a night to prepare, which was quite a show of good manners for someone who had been beaten up for no reason.

She was about to say a few words of apology and thanks when she saw Fu Anhe turn around and walk into the room.

Fu Ziqing looked left and right, watching his brother's retreating figure without turning back, and anxiously called out, "Cousin, what about me?"

"You get out too."

Fu Anhe didn't turn his head, and the door closed as soon as he finished speaking.

Only Wen Qing and Fu Ziqing remained in the living room, staring at each other in bewilderment.

Fu Ziqing scratched his messy hair and chuckled dryly.

"Well... my brother usually has a good temper, but he's a bit grumpy when he wakes up. Plus, being slapped in the face is really... he's never been beaten up before."

Wen Qing glanced at the closed door and sighed silently in her heart.

We need to ask my brother about what happened tonight after he sobers up.

……

The next morning, when Fu Anhe came out of his room, the living room was empty.

Morning light streamed in through the French windows, casting a pale golden sheen on the wooden floor.

The blanket that the brother and sister slept on yesterday has been neatly folded and is now placed squarely on the sofa, with even the wrinkles smoothed out.

The water glasses on the coffee table were taken away, and the used tissues and pill wrappers were gone, as if the chaos of last night was just a dream.

If it weren't for the lingering pain at the corner of his mouth, he probably would have thought it was just a dream.

He walked to the coffee table and found a note on the glass tabletop with several lines of neat and beautiful handwriting on it.

He picked up the note and saw what was written on it.

"Dr. Fu, I'm so sorry about last night. Thank you for bringing my brother home yesterday, and thank you for arranging for the family doctor to see him... But my brother isn't usually like this; he just had a terrible nightmare... I'm sorry for causing you trouble in the end. —Wen Qing"

At the very bottom of the note was a line of tiny print, as if it had been added after much hesitation.

"Please contact me if you need medical expenses, and I will pay for them for my brother."

Fu Anhe held the note and looked at it for a while, the corners of his mouth unconsciously curving slightly, and he let out a soft hum.

"It seems that girl still has a conscience."

He casually tossed the note into his bathrobe pocket and turned to walk toward the bathroom.

He paused as he passed the bathroom mirror, tilting his head to look at the noticeable bruises on his face. His left cheekbone was still slightly swollen, his nose was a patch of light red, and the cut at the corner of his mouth had scabbed over with dark red blood.

He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, then gently pressed the bruise on his cheekbone with his finger and hissed.

Despite the pain, the corners of his mouth still curved into a smile.

Strangely enough, all the anger I was holding in last night dissipated after seeing this note.