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

When they got home, the first thing Wen Qing did was to sit Wen Fan down on the sofa, pour out the fever reducer and anti-inflammatory medicine from the medicine bag, count out the dosage according to the instructions, put them in a small medicine cup, and hand them to him.

After he finished eating, she checked his temperature again and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that it had dropped a little. However, she didn't completely relax. Instead, she turned around and rummaged through the drawer under the TV cabinet and found a small first-aid kit. She took out cotton swabs, iodine, and a box of band-aids.

Wen Fan watched her busy figure, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but she blocked him with a finger pointing to her forehead.

"Brother, be good and don't move."

Wen Fan obeyed and didn't move, but his gaze remained quietly fixed on her.

Wenqing tore open the packaging of the iodine swabs and bent down to get close to his face.

The bruise on the corner of his mouth stood out starkly against his pale skin. Although Fu Anhe had held back in his punch, it was still the force of a grown man. The skin on the corner of his mouth was broken by his teeth, leaving a small cut that had scabbed over with dark red blood and the edges were slightly swollen.

She used a cotton swab dipped in iodine to gently apply it to the wound on the corner of his mouth, her movements careful and gentle.

The coolness of the iodine made him instinctively pull back. She immediately withdrew her hand and asked anxiously if he had hurt her. He shook his head, his gaze quietly falling on her focused profile, watching her eyelashes flutter slightly because they were so close, and noticing the slight furrows between her brows as she earnestly furrowed her brow.

After treating the wound, Wenqing looked at her work with satisfaction and then couldn't help but start nagging him with instructions.

"Brother, don't fight anymore. You're not fully recovered yet, and you got into a fight. You got beaten up. Dr. Fu may not always be very nice, but he did help us. You threw two punches at him. Anyone would be angry."

Wen Fan listened quietly, without refuting or explaining.

He looked at Wen Qing's face, which was so close to his own. He could count the number of her eyelashes and smell her familiar, comforting scent.

"Does it still hurt?"

A warm question.

"It doesn't hurt."

Wen Fan said.

It really didn't hurt. The little scratch on the corner of my mouth was nothing compared to the excruciating pain I felt in my dream last night.

He looked at her face, the face that was so closely linked to the image of him holding an urn of ashes and walking into the sea in his dream, and now she was looking back at him vividly, with a slightly annoyed expression.

His throat felt tight.

"Then promise that you won't hit people again."

With her hands on her hips, Wenqing struck a pose that said, "I won't give up until you agree."

Looking at her unusually assertive demeanor, Wen Fan's lips curved slightly as he tugged at the edge of the band-aid: "I'll try my best."

"Not as much as possible, but absolutely necessary."

Correct him gently.

"I'll listen to you."

Wen Fan smiled and nodded.

After finishing all this, the question that had been lingering in Wenqing's mind since last night resurfaced.

Why did the older brother hit Fu Anhe?

He's not the type to resort to violence.

He could count the number of people he had beaten up in his life on one hand—the boy who bullied her in the orphanage when he was a child, the school bully who threw a basketball at her in high school, and the last time he beat up Gu Qin in the abandoned factory to save "He Yu" who was trapped underneath.

It's all for her.

But those two punches last night were clearly not for her; it looked like he was losing control of his emotions.

"Brother," she looked intently at Wen Fan, unable to resist asking again, "why did you hit Dr. Fu last night?"

Meeting her gaze, Wen Fan lowered his eyes and remained silent. Time passed slowly, until Wen Qing thought he wouldn't answer. Only then did he raise his eyes. There was no evasion in his dark eyes, but no clear answer could be found either.

He spoke calmly.

"I have no idea."

"have no idea?"

Wen Qing frowned slightly.

"I really don't know," Wen Fan said, staring into her eyes and emphasizing each word, "I don't know why, but when I saw him back then, all I wanted to do was punch him."

Wen Qing was stunned.

This was not one of the answers she had expected.

Fortunately, her brother didn't mention this reason at the time, otherwise she was afraid the two of them would fight again.

She thought about it for a moment and then changed the question.

"Did you have a nightmare last night?"

Wen Fan paused, then turned her head and lowered her eyelashes: "It seems like I had a dream."

"What kind of dream?"

"I don't remember," he said.

This is true; he really doesn't remember most of the dream. The images faded away as quickly as the tide receded the moment he woke up, leaving only a few shallow marks on the beach.

Those traces weren't enough for him to piece together the whole story, but he knew it was a very bad, extremely bad dream.

The gloomy look returned to his eyes, as if shrouded in a thin layer of gray mist.

Wenqing dared not ask any more questions.

She knew her brother; when he showed that expression, it meant the topic had crossed the line of his tolerance, and asking further would only make him feel worse.

So she stopped asking and stood up to go to the kitchen to get a glass of water, but as soon as she turned around, her wrist was tightly gripped by a slightly cool hand.

The force was so strong that it startled her. She looked down and saw Wen Fan's fingers gripping her wrist, the knuckles turning white.

His face turned ashen in that instant, and a flicker of near-terrified panic flashed in his eyes.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice tense.

"I just wanted to get a glass of water," Wen Qing said blankly.

Wen Fan's expression visibly softened.

He loosened his grip and saw a faint red mark on her wrist from where he had squeezed her. A hint of annoyance and guilt flashed in his eyes.

He quickly adjusted his expression, revealing a gentle smile as usual, and his voice returned to its usual softness.

"Go ahead, I just thought you were going somewhere else again."

Wen Qing rubbed her wrist, but didn't immediately turn around and go to the kitchen.

Looking at the gentle expression that Wen Fan was trying so hard to maintain, she suddenly felt a pang in her heart.

The way my brother is acting is like a cat terrified by a nightmare. He's trembling, but he's pretending to be nonchalant as he licks his fur.

Is it because you had a nightmare about her that you're so nervous?

He was afraid she would disappear the moment she turned around, afraid she might have an accident where he couldn't see her.

She gently squeezed his hand resting on his knee and found that his fingertips were cold.

In this not-so-cold room, his hands were colder than when he had just come in from outside.

……

Wen Fan's gaze followed his younger sister's figure.

She walked into the kitchen, and his gaze followed her there. When she bent down to get a water glass, his eyes fell on her bent-over back.

He only felt at ease when she was in his sight, as if she were a phantom that could vanish at any moment, and he had to keep her firmly in his sight to confirm her real existence.

But the moment she turned and walked back, he quickly adjusted the expression on his face.

The dark eyes that had been staring intently at her suddenly softened and warmed, his tense shoulders relaxed, and the corners of his mouth curved into the same arc as usual.

Looking at his sister's vibrant figure, he felt a surge of indescribable bitterness welling up inside him.

Last night's dream fragments were scattered all over his mind, broken and disordered, and he couldn't piece together any complete picture.

But one of those fragments made his heart feel like it was being pierced just by thinking about it—he was holding an urn of ashes, walking step by step toward the gray sea.

He didn't know exactly what happened in his dream, but he seemed to have a vague idea of ​​who was placed in the urn.

Although I don't know what happened in the dream, the intense and profound emotions in the dream are preserved without reservation.

So the moment he woke up and saw Fu Anhe, the malice in his heart exploded like ignited gunpowder without even going through his brain.

He felt that Fu Anhe must have done something in his dream, otherwise why would he feel such disgust upon seeing him?

They even wished he were dead.

……

Two days later, Wen Fan was completely cured, his complexion returned to normal, and his body temperature stabilized.

Wenqing wanted him to rest for a few more days, but he insisted on going to work. She comforted him, saying that he knew his own body best and that he was fine.

Wenqing couldn't persuade him otherwise, so she carefully examined his complexion and only felt relieved after confirming that he had indeed returned to his usual self.

That day, Ms. Su, the teacher at the art studio, had an unexpected day off, so Wen Qing stayed at home to paint the painting that Su Jiqing had asked her to finish.

She had been working on this painting on and off for several days. She had been struggling to find the right inspiration, and every time she picked up a brush, she felt that what she was painting was not right.

But today, perhaps because the rain had finally stopped after several days, her thoughts suddenly became clear.

Looking at the unfinished dark forest on the canvas, she was once again struck by the intense sense of melancholy in the painting.

The background of this painting is heavy and oppressive, and the intertwining of each branch conveys a sense of despair with nowhere to go.

The more she looked at the portrait, the more she felt it was a metaphor—a person standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at the bottomless abyss.

It seems that something has pushed them to the edge, and one more step back would mean an abyss.

Why did Su Jiqing paint such a picture? Was he in a bad mental state at the time?

If she saw a creator's work when he was at his lowest emotional point, she would probably see a similar sense of gloom and depression.

But Su Jiqing looked so gentle and composed, which didn't match the painting at all.

On the day of his birthday party, he always had a gentle smile on his face, treating Su Yi'an and Su Yilan with kindness and patience, and being polite and courteous to her as well.

Aside from being a little weak and having a pale complexion, he looked exactly like a normal, well-mannered rich young master.

But perhaps that's just how he wants people to see him.

She had heard Su Yilan talk about Su Jiqing's past.

Five years ago, he wasn't as sickly as he is now. He could ride horses and swim, and was as energetic as any young person.

But an accident severely injured him. He barely survived and spent a long time in the hospital before being discharged.

However, his body had already suffered irreversible damage, which led to his current sickly state.

He was already quite well-known in the art field he loved, had held solo exhibitions, and had his works collected; his future looked bright.

But after his health deteriorated, he was no longer able to dedicate himself to his creative work as before, and many of his plans had to be put on hold.

When Wen Qing heard Su Yilan mention this, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

If it weren't for that accident back then, Su Jiqing might be shining brightly in her favorite industry now, instead of being stuck at home.

Just then, my phone rang. It was Su Yilan calling.

Wenqing answered the phone, but before she could even say "feed," the other end had already started talking non-stop.

"Wenwen! It's been so long since I've seen you, I've missed you!"

Su Yilan's voice was as enthusiastic as ever, like a popping candy bouncing around on the other end of the phone.

Wen Qing put down her paintbrush, leaned back on the sofa, and unconsciously smiled.

Then Su Yilan started to chatter on and on about her recent life.

She said her mother dragged her to work at the company, where she struggles with piles of reports and PPTs every day, and she was so sleepy during meetings that she almost fell headfirst into her coffee cup.

They said Su Yi'an brought a bunch of bad friends home again, and they messed up her cosmetics.

She also mentioned that a stray cat recently came to her house and is very attached to her, sleeping on her bed every night, which makes Su Yi'an extremely jealous.

Listening quietly and gently, occasionally laughing out loud, and occasionally interjecting with "And then?"

She enjoyed listening to Su Yilan talk; she didn't have to worry about how to respond, she could just listen.

At the end, Su Yilan changed the subject: "By the way, when I went to see my uncle yesterday, he mentioned you and asked how your painting was coming along."

Wen Qing glanced at the painting on the canvas, which was already mostly finished: "It will probably take another day or two."

"That's great! Your uncle said he's really looking forward to seeing the finished product. Keep it up!"

Su Yilan's tone was genuinely happy, as if she herself was the one being looked forward to.

"Then I won't keep you from drawing any longer. After you finish, let's go out and have some fun. I'll even treat you to dinner!"

She smiled warmly and agreed.

After hanging up the phone, she picked up her paintbrush again, looked at the painting, and suddenly a new idea came to her mind.

……

Su Jiqing stood on the balcony, looking at the garden bathed in sunlight.

The rose bushes were in full bloom, with red, pink, and white roses crowding together. The lawn had just been mowed, and the air was filled with the fresh scent of grass and soil.

The gardener was bending over watering the flowerbeds in the distance, and the water hose sprayed out a small rainbow in the sunlight.

The sunlight shone on him, making him feel warm and comfortable.

But he still felt his body was cold, as if there was a piece of ice inside that would never melt.

A gentle breeze blew by, carrying the fragrance of flowers and warmth.

But he couldn't help coughing.

"Young master, it's getting windy outside, let's go inside."

The nanny's worried voice came from behind.

Su Jiqing looked at the dazzling sunlight outside and gave a slight, self-deprecating smile.

Yes, it was a bright sunny day with a comfortable temperature, but even a slight breeze made him cough incessantly while leaning against the railing, forcing him to retreat back into the room where he didn't even dare to open the windows.

However, he didn't say anything in the end and turned to go back into the house.

But as I walked into the corridor, I suddenly heard a very distinctive sound of footsteps behind me—tatatatatat, fast and crisp, like a cheerful little deer running in the corridor.

"Uncle! We've come to find you!"

Su Jiqing concealed all emotions in her eyes and then turned around.

His face remained gentle in the sunlight, his eyes curving into a soft arc.

Su Yilan was running towards him, with someone following behind her. Wen Qing was being pulled by her sleeve as they jogged along.

When the two of them ran up to her, panting, Su Jiqing frowned slightly and spoke with the reproach of an elder.

"Lanlan, Wenqing's body isn't as healthy as yours. How could you drag her along and run so fast?"

Su Yilan then realized that she had run too fast and turned around to look at Wen Qing with guilt, preparing to apologize.

But Wenqing only said in a breathy voice, "It's okay, it's okay. I've been feeling better lately, so I can handle this level of exercise."

Su Jiqing's gaze lingered on her face for a moment, and his tone suddenly became questioning.

"Your health has improved recently. Didn't you have heart disease?"

Wenqing was surprised that he would suddenly ask this, and paused for a moment before answering.

"My heart disease wasn't congenital; it was caused by an accident. The doctor said it can be repaired with surgery, so it's not as serious as I thought."

Su Jiqing stared at her, his light-colored eyes revealing no emotion in the sunlight.

He didn't press further, but simply nodded and said, "I see."

The three of them then went to Su Jiqing's room together.

Su Yilan went to make tea for everyone, while Su Jiqing sat in a rattan chair by the window, the sunlight shining in from behind him, giving him a pale golden outline.

Wenqing sat opposite him, her fingers unconsciously twisting together.

She remembered the last time she came to this room, he told her to take the painting of the Black Forest home to finish it, saying, "You can paint it exactly as you want."

At the time, she thought it was just a polite remark, an encouragement to a younger person.

But as she continued painting, she felt more and more that he was serious when he handed the painting to her, so serious that it seemed as if he was entrusting a part of himself to her.

"Lanlan said you fixed that painting."

Su Jiqing's tone was as gentle as ever, revealing no particular expectation, but also no perfunctory politeness.

"Can I take a look?"

Wenqing took the painting out of the tube and handed it over with trembling fingers.

Su Jiqing took the painting and unfolded it.

As he watched, the corners of his slightly curved lips gradually flattened out.