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

The sudden approach of the aura behind her made Wen Qing's hair stand on end.

She instinctively tried to jump away, but a hand gently pressed down on her shoulder. The pressure was light and steady, like a feather landing on her shoulder but impossible to brush away.

Then Su Jiqing's voice rang in her ear, with a hint of amusement: "Don't be nervous, it's me."

"Mr. Su, why aren't the lights on?"

Wenqing asked, her voice still trembling slightly from the fright she had just received.

Don't you think it has a certain charm when the lights are off?

Su Jiqing said with a smile.

Wen Qing looked at the pitch blackness and her lips twitched.

Flavor? The flavor of pitch blackness?

Su Jiqing seemed to sense her inner grumbling and chuckled softly behind her. The laughter was particularly clear in the darkness, deep and gentle.

"Try getting used to it a little more."

Wen Qing blinked, then blinked a few more times.

Sure enough, as the pupils slowly dilated, the darkness was no longer a solid block.

The outlines of the objects slowly emerged like photographic paper immersed in liquid—first the square outline of the window, a faint ray of light seeping in through the gap in the curtains, then the triangular stand of the easel, and then the various sizes of picture frames on the wall, row upon row, like silent spectators watching two people in the center of the room in the dark.

Su Jiqing removed his hand from her shoulder and led her deeper into the studio.

He walked slowly and calmly, each step steady even in the darkness.

Wenqing followed him as he stumbled along in the unfamiliar space, until finally he stopped in front of a painting that was larger than the others, almost half a person tall.

He stood beside her, tilted his head slightly, and asked, "Can you see this painting?"

Wenqing opened her eyes wide and looked carefully.

The painting depicts a male body, half-naked, with only his private parts covered by fabric.

The figure is slender yet powerful, with the direction of every muscle meticulously outlined by fine brushstrokes. The slight indentation below the collarbone, the faint muscle lines of the ribs, and the faintly visible V-line on the waist and abdomen are all drawn with great care, as if the artist had repeatedly sketched this body with their gaze.

However, several black marks ran across his chest, ruining the body's originally flawless beauty.

She tried to see clearly, but couldn't make out what it was; it looked like a scar, or a crack.

She answered truthfully, "I can see it clearly, but I don't know what those black marks on his chest are."

"I can tell you."

Su Jiqing's voice sounded behind her, his tone calm.

Then she heard a rustling sound of clothes coming from behind her.

She turned her head in confusion, and when she saw what was happening behind her, her pupils suddenly dilated in the darkness.

Su Jiqing was seen taking off his clothes.

The thin blanket he had draped over his shoulders had been placed on the easel beside him, and the buttons of his light gray cashmere cardigan were being undone one by one, followed by the white shirt that was gently pulled off by his slender fingers.

The fabric slipped down, revealing her fair and slender upper body completely in the dim light.

Only a sliver of light leaked through the gap in the curtains in the studio, falling right below his collarbone and giving his already pale skin a cool glow.

If the curtains were drawn open at this moment, the scene before one's eyes would certainly have a strong visual impact, evoking a sense of warmth and tenderness.

But then she noticed several crisscrossing scars across his chest, stretching from below his collarbone to the edge of his ribs.

The scar was darker than the surrounding skin, an old but never fading dark brown, like several cracks etched on white paper.

The scattered, crisscrossing scars ruined the original perfection of this beautiful, jade-like body.

Looking at the horrifying scar, Wen Qing suddenly felt a sense of familiarity, but she quickly remembered the painting. The scar was the same shape as the black thing on the man's body in the painting.

So the man in the painting is himself, and those black marks are his scars?

However, Su Jiqing's next words clearly confirmed her guess.

"Want to touch it?" Su Jiqing's voice suddenly rang out in the darkness, deep and calm, as if inviting her to touch the texture of a work of art, "My scars."

Wen Qing was startled and met Su Jiqing's gaze. She felt that his eyes were like those of a fox spirit, tempting people little by little to a point of no return.

In the end, Wenqing still reached out her hand.

She didn't know why she reached out her hand.

Perhaps it was the seductive power of that deep voice, or the visual impact of the scars in the dim light, or perhaps it was the scene itself—the dark studio, the half-naked man, and the sound of his breathing so close to hers—that temporarily robbed her of the ability to think rationally.

When her fingertips touched his skin, the first thing she felt was temperature. His body temperature was low, and his skin was slightly cool, unlike her brother who made her feel warm and secure as soon as she got close.

Then there's the tactile sensation under the fingertips; the texture of the scar is different from the surrounding skin—rougher and slightly raised.

Su Jiqing didn't move, not even her breathing quickened; she simply stood quietly and let her touch her.

He slowly closed his eyes the moment her hand touched the scar, his eyelashes casting a small shadow on his cheekbone, a momentary relaxation in his expression.

……

Meanwhile, Su Yilan finally finished flipping through the thick Impressionist art book, carefully put the first edition back in its original place, rubbed her sore eyes, and realized that almost half an hour had passed without her noticing.

She stretched contentedly, then felt a pang of guilt for leaving Wenwen alone with her uncle. She quickly left the study and walked back home with light steps.

When I got to my uncle's room, I found the door ajar, but no one was inside.

She looked around in the corridor, about to call for help, when she saw two people coming down the stairs.

My uncle walked ahead, his expression as usual, his steps unhurried, only the smile on his lips was a little different from usual.

Wen Qing followed behind him, her head down, her hands clasped together, and two suspicious blushes on her cheeks.

Su Yilan ran over quickly, first looking at her uncle, then staring at Wen Qing suspiciously, her curiosity mixed with a hint of grievance at being excluded.

"What did you guys do upstairs? And Wenwen, why is your face so red?"

Wen Qing touched her face, feeling as guilty as a thief caught red-handed, and stammered, unable to speak.

The more she did this, the redder her face became, spreading from her cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears. Su Jiqing looked at her embarrassed appearance, chuckled softly, and gently and naturally helped her out of the predicament.

"We just went to the studio on the third floor and showed her some of my old works. It was a bit stuffy in the studio, so she blushed."

Upon hearing the word "art studio," Su Yilan's attention was immediately drawn to it, and she widened her eyes in dissatisfaction.

"You went to the art studio? Why didn't you wait for me! Uncle, you're so unfair! I begged you so many times and you wouldn't let me in, but as soon as Wenwen arrived, you took her in!"

Su Jiqing smiled and explained calmly, "Weren't you looking at the picture book? I saw you were engrossed in it, so I didn't call you. You can come again next time if you want."

Su Yilan nodded in satisfaction, then pulled Wen Qing aside and asked what kind of paintings were in her uncle's studio. Wen Qing gave a vague answer, but the image in her mind was still of Su Jiqing holding her hand and touching his scar in the studio.

His long, cool fingers covered the back of her hand, guiding her hand inch by inch over the uneven old wounds, as if guiding her to read a manuscript written with skin.

She could still feel the slightly cool temperature and the gentle rise and fall of his chest on her hands, as if the breath of that body was still lingering on her fingertips.

……

Seeing that it was getting late, Wenqing decided to go back.

Su Yilan immediately offered to give it to her.

Wenqing waved her hand and said no, she still needed to go to the street to buy some things, as her paints were almost gone, and some tubes of paint were so dry that she couldn't squeeze any more out.

Upon hearing this, Su Yilan became even more excited, grabbing her arm and her eyes sparkling.

"Then I'll go shopping with you! It's still early anyway, and if I go back, my mom will just drag me to the company to look at those boring reports. I'd rather go shopping with you at an art supply store. You don't know, I've been staring at PPTs every day lately, and my eyes are almost going blind. I desperately need some beautiful things to cleanse my soul... like those pretty paint tubes in the art supply store, the kind that are arranged so neatly. Just looking at them makes me feel good."

Wenqing was unable to get a word in edgewise from her long string of words, and tried to struggle a bit.

"But you still want to go back..."

"Go back what? Go back," Su Yilan waved her hand, her tone resolute. "Besides, I promised your brother I would send you back safe and sound. I, Su Yilan, must keep my promises. My word is my bond. Let's go, let's go. You buy paint and I'll go shopping. We can kill two birds with one stone."

Looking at her unyielding expression, Wen Qing smiled slightly and finally stopped struggling.

"All right."

When he said goodbye to Su Jiqing, he stood in the entrance hall, a thin blanket wrapped around his shoulders, his pale face still bearing a faint smile under the soft light of the hallway.

"Warm and cozy, come visit again next time."

Wen Qing felt a little uncomfortable when she met his smile, and nodded haphazardly for some reason.

Su Jiqing's smile deepened slightly, and her light-colored eyes appeared particularly deep under the light, as if they held many unspoken words.

Su Yilan stood between the two, looking left and right. She felt that there was an undercurrent between them that no one else could penetrate, as if they were sharing some secret that she did not know.

After shopping and leaving the mall, it was already close to evening.

Looking at Su Yilan who was still by her side, Wen Qing felt both touched and a little guilty. She turned to her and advised her that it was enough to drop her off here, and she would go back on her own.

The two had just reached the zebra crossing when the red light on the other side was counting down, the numbers ticking away one by one.

When the green light came on, the two stepped onto the zebra crossing side by side.

"Since we've already brought you here, wouldn't it be better to just take you home?" Su Yilan said matter-of-factly, holding her hand. "Besides, I promised your brother I'd get you back safe and sound. I, Su Yilan, must keep my promises."

Wen Qing smiled helplessly, about to say something, when suddenly the unexpected happened.

A screeching sound of tires shattered the noise of the street. A silver-gray sedan sped out from the corner of the intersection at an absurd speed. The car was slightly tilted and showed no signs of slowing down. It was heading straight for the crowd on the zebra crossing.

Pedestrians screamed and scattered. Some fell to the ground and scrambled to their feet, while others scattered their shopping bags all over the ground.

Su Yilan reacted quickly, reaching out to grab Wen Qing and shouting, "Wen Wen, let's run!" But the crowd surged forward like a swarm of bees exploding, an elbow hitting her shoulder, and then someone else squeezed past her from behind, forcibly separating her and Wen Qing's hands.

The surrounding crowd was running away in panic, but Wenqing remained standing there, stunned.

It wasn't that she didn't want to run, but that she couldn't.

At this moment, her feet seemed to be nailed to the ground. No matter how much her brain screamed and gave commands, her legs did not move an inch.

The world suddenly turned into slow motion in her eyes. The silver-gray car was getting closer and closer. She could see the driver's terrified and distorted face behind the windshield, hear Su Yilan shouting her name hoarsely not far away, and feel the wind whistling as people around her fled.

But she couldn't move at all.

Just as the front of the car was less than two meters away from her, a figure rushed over from the side at high speed and hit her heavily like a bullet.

She was thrown into the air and crashed heavily onto the asphalt road several meters away with the other person.

Her head was tightly protected by a hand, and her body was completely enveloped by a tall figure. The inertia of the two of them made them roll half a circle on the ground before stopping.

The out-of-control car whizzed past them less than half a meter away, the gust of wind whipping her hair all over her face.

Then came a loud crash—the car had struck a fire hydrant on the roadside, sending a jet of water shooting skyward and refracting a pale rainbow in the setting sun.