The Genius Cannon Fodder's Counterattack 13

Cheng Jian had already spoken to their parents, so Chi Xiaochi was not questioned when he got home.

He turned off his phone, locked himself in his room, and played a plane-shooting game on the Xbox.

As far as he knew, Cheng Jian had a habit of gaming with Cheng Yuan.

This young CEO only played plane shooters, so nearly every record on this console had been set by the two brothers.

If Cheng Jian had any time to spare, he would probably come challenge him and help him blow off steam.

While emotions could affect one's game sense, Chi Xiaochi's utter lack of manual dexterity clearly went beyond anything emotions could explain.

After an hour of playing, his score was still hovering below fiftieth place, not even enough to make the rankings. All he could see were the flashing special effects of little planes exploding.

He tossed aside the controller and complained to 061, "My eyes hurt."

After thinking for a moment, 061 rummaged through the audio library.

Soon, a woman's crisp, standard voice sounded in Chi Xiaochi's ears: "For the revolution: protect your eyesight and prevent myopia. Eye exercises begin."

Chi Xiaochi: "..." Please, give it a rest.

061 said, "I know you want to adapt to Cheng Yuan's life as soon as possible, but you don't need to work this hard."

Chi Xiaochi was unconvinced. "I was amazing at games when I was little."

061: "...Yes, yes. Amazing."

Chi Xiaochi added, "This controller's too old."

061: "Mm, it is a little old. The manufacturing data says it's been in use for two years."

061 agreeing with him like this was the equivalent of handing Chi Xiaochi a step down, complete with a red carpet.

But that made Chi Xiaochi feel it was no fun instead.

He flopped back dejectedly. "Fine. I'm terrible with my hands."

061 gently said, "You can still do eye exercises, can't you?"

Chi Xiaochi: "..."

Under the system's guidance, Chi Xiaochi did a set of eye exercises and practiced for a while longer. Only when he estimated it was nearly dinner time did he obediently go downstairs.

The two elders were already waiting below.

Standing on the stairs, he called to Mummy Cheng at the table, "Mom." Then he turned to Daddy Cheng. "Dad."

Cheng Yuan looked all right on the surface. He had not cried, but his eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, and he looked exhausted, his gaze unfocused and vacant.

Mummy Cheng's nose stung. She turned her face away.

Daddy Cheng pointed at Cheng Yuan's usual chair. "...Sit."

Just then, Aunt Chen came out of the kitchen carrying a steaming bowl of fish slices. The bean sprouts were plump, the pickled cabbage crisp, and the glistening fish slices rested in bubbling, savory broth; the fish was tender and the broth golden.

Cheng Yuan's eyes lit up. He hurried over, deftly took the bowl, set it firmly on the table, and immediately scooped up a slice with a spoon and put it in his mouth. It was so hot he kept huffing out breaths.

Cheng Jian emerged from the kitchen. "No one's fighting you for it! How many years has it been since you had meat?"

Mummy Cheng's heart ached again. "It's fine. Don't rush; sit down and eat slowly."

The fish was cooked perfectly and melted in his mouth.

Cheng Yuan smacked his lips in satisfaction. "From now on, wherever I go, Aunt Chen has to come with me."

Aunt Chen smiled. "All right. Once Xiao Yuan makes something of himself, Auntie will go wherever he goes."

It was no lie.

Not long after Cheng Yuan's suicide, Aunt Chen, who had worked for the Cheng family for over twenty years and watched Cheng Yuan grow up, had a heart attack and followed him.

Before she died, her mind was already unclear, yet she still murmured, "I'm going to find Xiao Yuan. I'm going to make him pickled-cabbage fish. He hasn't had it in years."

Cheng Yuan rolled the sleeves of his cotton pajamas up twice. "Aunt Chen made fish for me. I should return the favor and make Aunt Chen a couple of dishes."

Aunt Chen hurried to stop him. "Oh, my ancestor! You get an idea and act on it right away! The other dishes will be done soon. Sit down properly. You'll have to wash again if you get covered in cooking fumes!"

Cheng Yuan turned to ask for help. "Brother."

At the thought of Cheng Yuan's cooking, Cheng Jian actually felt saliva well up in his mouth.

Ever since Cheng Yuan had brought him lunch last time, the company cafeteria's food had never tasted right.

He waved a hand. "Go ahead. There are still chicken pieces and some matsutake in the kitchen. Do whatever you want."

With Cheng Jian's permission, Cheng Yuan immediately snatched Aunt Chen's apron.

Aunt Chen was a little worried. "Don't burn the pot."

Ten-odd minutes later, Cheng Yuan brought the dishes to the table.

He had stir-fried the chicken with chilis until it was fragrant, tender, and golden, served it on a deep platter, and poured the reduced sauce over it. The butter-roasted matsutake ran with juice; sliced and arranged beautifully like umbrellas, they were thick and rich to chew, almost like meat. Along with a simple stir-fried plate of Chinese lettuce, the table was soon lively with food.

Mummy Cheng and Aunt Chen both stared in amazement.

Cheng Yuan wiped his hands on the apron and said to his father, "Dad, try it."

Since taking over Cheng Yuan's body, Chi Xiaochi had never cooked a single meal for Yang Baihua.

First, everyone cooked differently, and every dish tasted different. If Yang Baihua noticed that the food tasted unlike it used to, he would inevitably grow suspicious.

Second, Chi Xiaochi only wanted to cook for people who deserved it.

The family sat before the steaming table. Cheng Jian and Daddy Cheng discussed a recent company account, Mummy Cheng asked after Cheng Yuan's audition, and Aunt Chen kept putting food in Cheng Yuan's bowl, afraid he would not eat enough.

Their faces blurred a little in the rising steam from the home-cooked dishes, but the warmth was extraordinary.

By the end of the meal, there was barely anything left on the table. Cheng Jian even used a steamed bun to soak up the sauce, clearly wanting more.

After dinner, Aunt Chen chased Chi Xiaochi, who was trying to wash the dishes, back to his room.

He had barely picked up the game console when Cheng Jian knocked on the door.

Cheng Jian had not come to play, but seeing the game screen still open on the television, he could not help feeling the itch. "One round?" he suggested.

Chi Xiaochi: "Sure."

Chi Xiaochi looked calm as an old dog, but inside he was panicking like hell.

He mourned to 061 in his mind. "...It's over."

061 said, "Don't panic."

Chi Xiaochi ignored the comfort and began quietly making up excuses.

...Heartbreak has left me devastated, and devastation has made me terminally bad with my hands.

As they sat down in front of the television, Chi Xiaochi suddenly heard 061 say, "Don't be afraid. It's me."

Chi Xiaochi: "?"

Soon, a warm, dry sensation covered Chi Xiaochi's hands, as though another pair of hands had settled over them, though nothing was visible to the naked eye.

Chi Xiaochi shuddered, nearly dropping the controller.

The owner of those hands was very good at soothing people. He lightly squeezed the web of Chi Xiaochi's palm, enclosed his faintly trembling hand in his own, and said in a voice gentle as water, "It's all right. Leave it to me."

When 061 said leave it to him, he meant it completely.

Chi Xiaochi did not have to move at all. He only had to hold the controller. A pair of nonexistent hands, long and soft to the touch, held Chi Xiaochi's hands and operated it for him.

Those hands were astonishingly fast. Chi Xiaochi felt as if his hands were about to leave afterimages under their guidance, while the little plane controlled by 061 darted through the hail of bullets and precisely sniped every enemy.

Yet those enemies, along with the plane itself, gradually became dense blocks of color. The flare of explosions blurred in Chi Xiaochi's eyes into a pool of brilliantly colored paint.

His expression did not change, but his palms had begun to turn cold and sweat. It felt as though an anthill had exploded in the palms held by 061—itchy and unbearable.

When the round ended, Chi Xiaochi had easily broken the highest record.

He turned and smiled at Cheng Jian. "Brother, you're rusty."

Cheng Jian was competitive by nature. He was just about to demand a rematch when he turned and saw the fine sweat covering Cheng Yuan's forehead. Startled, he reached out to feel it. "What's wrong?"

Chi Xiaochi leaned back to avoid him. "Maybe I ate too much. My stomach's a little uncomfortable."

Cheng Jian immediately forgot the game. "Look at you, no self-control at all. I'll go get you some medicine."

Chi Xiaochi said, "It's fine. Don't make Mom worry. I just need to lie down for a while."

Cheng Jian was still worried. He helped him to the bed, said he would get some digestive tablets, then turned and left the room.

Estimating that Cheng Jian had reached the first floor by now, Chi Xiaochi got up and rushed into the bathroom, vomiting violently.

061's voice changed. "Mr. Chi...?"

Chi Xiaochi could not spare the breath to answer. He vomited until his face turned white, his stomach like a glove being pulled inside out, churning and spasming in waves.

Once he could breathe again, the first thing Chi Xiaochi said was regretfully, "...I finally got to eat all that, and I threw it all up."

061 was at a loss.

In truth, he had not needed to physically guide Chi Xiaochi through the game.

He could have invaded the game system with a virus. Even if Chi Xiaochi had played with his toes, he could have rigged a million-point score for him.

But he had wanted to run an experiment.

The results proved his judgment right. Chi Xiaochi had an aversion to physical contact, but 061 had not expected it to be so severe.

No wonder Chi Xiaochi had been like Sun Erniang at Cross Slope these past few days, knocking Yang Baihua unconscious at the drop of a hat, even at the cost of affection points.

After emptying his stomach, Chi Xiaochi rinsed his mouth and leaned against the sink to recover.

061 apologized. "I'm sorry."

Chi Xiaochi wiped his mouth. "It's fine. I saw there's still some glutinous rice flour and fermented rice wine in the kitchen. I'll make myself sweet rice-wine dumplings for a midnight snack later."

Even knowing Chi Xiaochi was unwell, 061 could not help finding that a little funny. "That isn't the problem. ...What is going on with you?"

Just touching hands had made him vomit until his stomach spasmed. It was obviously psychological.

Chi Xiaochi said lightly, "An old problem."

061 asked, "When you model or act, you must have to make physical contact with other people." Not to mention kissing scenes or bed scenes.

Chi Xiaochi said, "It's fine. I can usually hold out until the set changes."

061: "..."

Chi Xiaochi was rather proud of himself. "You get used to throwing up after a while."

061 asked, "How did it become like this?"

Chi Xiaochi looked up at Cheng Yuan in the mirror. A thin mist of tears covered his eyes, making him especially pitiful, but Chi Xiaochi's expression of not giving a damn about anything diluted much of that fragile sweetness.

He left the bathroom, failed to find cigarettes, and pulled out a box of chocolate Pocky instead, putting one between his lips. "Does Teacher Six handle counseling too, besides reading to me?"

...That meant he did not want to talk about it.

061 sighed. "I'm sorry. In the future, I'll try to pick worldlines where you won't become too emotionally involved with the target."

Chi Xiaochi praised him sincerely, "Six-six, you're adorable."

061: "..." Fine, fine. Adorable it is.

To comfort Chi Xiaochi, 061 said, "I saved a recording of that game."

Chi Xiaochi immediately perked up and rubbed his hands together. "Quick, quick, quick. Send it to me."

061 thought that if he sent it to Cheng Jian, getting beaten up would be his own problem. Then he obediently packaged the recording and sent copies to Chi Xiaochi's phone and terminal computer.

Chi Xiaochi turned on his phone.

He ignored all ninety-odd WeChat messages and more than thirty calls from Yang Baihua. Amid the irritating cascade of beeps, he saved the recording.

He watched it happily once. "This is one small step for me, but one giant leap for the manually challenged."

Then he added, "When I go back to the real world, copy this video for me."

061: "Hm? What for?"

Chi Xiaochi said, "I'll visit Brother Lou's grave, put this video on a disc, and burn it as an offering to him so he can see it. With Teacher Six coaching me, I'm not terrible with my hands anymore."

061 laughed.

Chi Xiaochi was a strange person. When things happened, he was incomparably rational, scheming and laying things out step by step, yet every so often he revealed a stubborn, childlike side.

061 treasured that stubbornness.

Of the hundred worlds he had passed through, Chi Xiaochi might be the first person with any chance of returning to the real world.

And so Chi Xiaochi settled in at home, eating and drinking as he pleased. Every now and then, he interacted with fans on his Weibo, posting bits of his songwriting routine and short videos of himself playing and singing.

Cheng Yuan had never shown his face on Weibo before. In Chi Xiaochi's words, that was like guarding a gold mine while gnawing dry cornbread.

He posted a video of himself playing guitar. When he woke up the next day, he had gained more than two thousand followers, and the number was still climbing.

"!!! Oh my god, is the blogger this cute?"

"Marry me! Or wear women's clothes for us!"

"...What kind of orientation is that person upstairs?"

"I always thought @Cheng Yuan made a living off talent. Now you're telling me he could actually make a living off his face? [doge][goodbye]"

Chi Xiaochi picked a few comments to reply to and continued posting snippets of his songwriting routine from time to time.

But ever since he showed his face, a whole brigade of people had started lining up under his posts begging for photos.

Chi Xiaochi said to 061, "See? Lots of people say a pretty face is a dime a dozen, while an interesting soul is one in a million. But without a pretty face, who wants to spend time getting to know an interesting soul?"

061 felt that did not quite make sense.

When he had first received Chi Xiaochi, he did not even know what he looked like. Hadn't he found him interesting enough to ask 023 to look up information on him?

But watching Chi Xiaochi's follower count steadily rise, 061 felt his argument carried little weight and simply kept quiet.

One day, Chi Xiaochi came downstairs for fruit and heard Mummy Cheng happily chatting on the phone with an old friend in the living room. "They broke up, they really broke up. I never liked that young man named Yang. ...It's not that I look down on poor people. Isn't Old Cheng's father still raising fish? But 'well-matched families' isn't just something people say. Xiao Yuan and Yang Baihua aren't from the same world at all. Why did they have to force themselves together?"

Chi Xiaochi smiled.

He quietly slipped back to his room, leaving Mummy Cheng to the joy she wanted to scatter to the entire world.

But Yang Baihua did not want to break up with Cheng Yuan.

After so many years, their emotional foundation was there. It could not simply vanish.

Yang Baihua found he could not contact Cheng Yuan no matter what he did. All he could do was stalk Cheng Yuan's Weibo obsessively. Whenever Cheng Yuan posted, he would quietly tap like, while continually sending conciliatory messages asking whether he had calmed down.

Without Cheng Yuan cooking, without his attentive care, without piano music and singing sounding at any time, Yang Baihua suddenly found his whole life off-kilter. He drifted through work in a fog. A tiny Cheng Yuan often popped out to wreak havoc in his mind, leaving him unable to concentrate. He made quite a few mistakes and was even hauled in for a scolding by his supervisor.

At first, Yang Baihua had still been confident.

Cheng Yuan was only throwing a temporary tantrum. He loved him so much; he would definitely come back.

But then a week passed. Half a month passed.

After barely enduring more than twenty days, Yang Baihua finally could not take it anymore.

Why hadn't he come back yet?

Had his family confined him and stopped him from getting out?