Ch 110: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

The next day, when Han Jing got up, what he saw from the window was the pair of siblings sitting in the yard talking.

Each had a swing, legs swaying, chatting idly.

Mu Yue was actually a little nervous. She was afraid Xingxing would ask her—ask about her work, ask why she was at home today. How would she answer then?

She had already thought up many different excuses in her head.

But Mu Xing didn’t ask at all.

He just looked at Mu Yue and let out an exaggerated sigh: “Sis, I think you’ve gotten thinner.”

Mu Yue instantly grew nervous and lowered her head to look at herself.

Mu Xing sighed again: “You look a little haggard, like your skin isn’t as smooth as before.”

Now Mu Yue was even more anxious. Ami, standing by, very thoughtfully took a little mirror out of its belly and handed it to Mu Yue.

As it looked her up and down, it earnestly praised her: “Actually there isn’t much difference. Young Mistress Mu Yue is still just as pretty.”

The nervousness in Mu Yue melted away and she laughed. She reached out to hug Ami, resting her head on its now-softened round belly, and muttered with a bit of grievance: “Sigh, Ami, making money is so hard.”

Ami patted her head, played a piece of pure music, and served her a bowl of chicken soup: “Everything is difficult at the start. Everything will get better!”

Mu Yue hugged it silently.

After waiting a while, Ami said to Mu Xing: “Young Mistress Mu Yue has fallen asleep.”

Its arms lengthened a little to carry Mu Yue and bring her into the room.

*

When Han Jing was pushed into the yard, he overheard Mu Xing bargaining with Ami: “…I’ll do it secretly, just don’t tell my parents, okay?”

Ami: “No!”

Mu Xing: “But don’t I have your highest authority?”

Ami’s soft voice replied: “Yes, but any behavior harmful to Young Master’s health is something Ami can never allow.”

Mu Xing: “…”

Frustrated.

His body really wasn’t good right now. On a place like Red Moon Star, given his age and health, it was impossible to go out and work.

But on the star network, if he wanted to, there were many ways he could earn money.

Too bad Ami wouldn’t allow it.

In Ami’s system, letting a thirteen-year-old master go online to find jobs and make money was against its programming.

Even if Mu Xing had a hundred skills, under Ami’s constant supervision, he couldn’t do anything.

He sighed, his gaze drifting again to the rose that had been growing at an unscientific speed, now covering half the yard wall in just a few days.

He couldn’t help muttering: “What’s the point of just growing taller? You should bloom already.”

Han Jing came closer. Mu Xing glanced at him but wasn’t in the mood to talk.

He said slowly: “Placing your hopes on such unrealistic things is foolish.”

Mu Xing: “…”

He couldn’t help wondering—how could his sister possibly like someone like this?

Sure, he looked handsome, but his mouth really didn’t know how to speak.

Han Jing then asked: “You’re so young, don’t you go to school?”

Mu Xing lazily answered: “Because of my health, I always had private tutors before. Now… you know the situation.”

Mu Lin only wished their whole family would die on Red Moon Star. How could he possibly hire them teachers?

Han Jing frowned: “When I go back, I can mention it to the Mu family head.”

Mu Xing gave him a strange look: “Thanks.”

Han Jing nodded and sat in the yard, basking in the sun.

He wasn’t much of a talker. Mu Xing, sitting on the swing and lost in thought, also wasn’t inclined to chat. Somehow, the two still got along peacefully.

Until lunchtime, when Mu Yue woke up.

Ami, with its three little assistants, served the dishes. After asking for their opinions, it set lunch directly on the small table in the yard.

Besides the usual dishes, there was an extra bowl of soup.

The smell wasn’t exactly pleasant.

Mu Xing glanced at it.

Ami said: “It’s stargrass medicinal soup. Master instructed it to be made for the guest.”

Han Jing froze.

Stargrass was an herb that grew in meteorite crevices. It was very nourishing and not cheap.

Ami, imitating Mu Rongrong’s voice, said: “Mingyu, Auntie doesn’t have money right now to buy you medicine or take you to the doctor, so I can only make some nourishing soup to help you recover.”

But stargrass wasn’t cheap at all. Weren’t they still out working to earn money for daily expenses?

Han Jing’s sharp eyes noticed everything. Even if Mu Rongrong came home smiling every time, the fatigue in her eyes couldn’t be hidden.

Working so hard, yet still remembering to buy supplements for him, a “family acquaintance’s son” she didn’t even know.

No wonder, even though Mu Rongrong was the eldest heir, her younger brother squeezed her out until she couldn’t even stay on the main star.

Too foolish, Han Jing thought expressionlessly.

He glanced at the siblings across the table. They were only briefly surprised, then happily dug into the food, not caring at all that their mother had just spent a “fortune” on medicine for a stranger, making their already poor life even harder.

Not very smart, this whole family.

Han Jing lifted the bowl and downed the strange-tasting stargrass medicinal soup in one go, while thinking: Maybe I should find a way to help such a foolish family.

Otherwise, if they were sold off, they probably wouldn’t even know who the black hand behind it was.

In the afternoon, Mu Xing, as usual, needed to take a nap. His body was weak and he always got sleepy easily.

Mu Yue, having slept enough in the morning, was full of energy now.

She secretly glanced at Han Jing, who was sitting there with his eyes closed, resting. Because of his injuries his face was pale, but his features were deep and striking, extremely handsome.

Behind him was the lively rose vine blooming in full splendor.

Her hands itched instantly. She took out her painting tools, and with just a few strokes, a clear outline appeared.

“What are you doing?” Immersed in her own world, Mu Yue’s hand trembled, leaving a glaring mark on the paper.

She looked up to see the man called Lu Mingyu gazing at her indifferently.

Mu Yue panicked.

Maybe it was a salted-fish instinct, but from the first moment she saw this man, she felt intimidated.

Perhaps because he rarely smiled, always looking serious and cold.

He felt sterner than the old man who had once taught her to paint.

Seeing him made her feel like a failing student caught by the homeroom teacher.

Cowardly.

She stammered: “I–I was painting.”

Han Jing’s eyes swept over. The painting was already more than half finished: a tall, austere man sitting beneath a rose-covered wall, head slightly raised, sunlight on his face, smiling.

It was him.

And not him.

Seeing he’d spotted it, Mu Yue felt a rush of heat from her feet to her head.

Not exactly shyness—embarrassment.

But she still held her composure and explained: “I saw you asleep… you looked nice, so I couldn’t resist.”

Han Jing looked at the painting, intrigued: “So this is how I look in your eyes?”

Mu Yue shook her head honestly: “I just thought you’d look better this way.”

Such a handsome face—it was a pity not to smile more.

Han Jing studied the painting for a long time and finally said: “You’re very talented at painting.”

Mu Yue, who couldn’t resist compliments, immediately broke into a smile: “Yes, I think so too.”

“Unfortunately, I was foolish before. Learning from my teacher felt too tiring.” She looked a little downcast. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be stuck like this now, unable to sell my paintings for a good price.”

She had her father’s bright golden hair. With her head drooping, she looked like a pitiful little golden retriever.

Han Jing took the brush from her hand.

Mu Yue: ?

She stared blankly as this cold man added a few strokes to the part where she had drawn a line. Beside the serene, smiling man’s face, he drew a drooping branch with a blooming rose.

*

Mu Xing yawned as he came out of his room and glanced into the yard.

?

!

His drowsiness vanished instantly.

It had only been two hours since he last saw them, yet how had his sister and that man already become so familiar?

In the yard, Mu Yue had already moved her drawing board and chair next to Han Jing’s wheelchair, and was fawningly bossing Xiao Xiaomi around…

Pouring tea for the big shot!

Serving snacks for the big shot!

Though they weren’t talking much, the atmosphere was visibly peaceful and close.

At mealtime, it hadn’t been like this at all.

Mu Xing rubbed his eyes, full of vigilance.

He stretched out his voice and called: “Sis!”

Mu Yue looked up, still smiling happily, and waved at him: “Xingxing, you’re awake? Come see the painting I just finished.”

When Mu Xing came over, she exclaimed with admiration: “Mr. Lu is really amazing. I thought he was just a cold military man, but I didn’t expect him to be so good at painting, and with such gentle brushstrokes.”

Mu Xing looked at the painting. It was a rose: on the petal of a blooming pink rose sat a butterfly with outstretched wings.

Han Jing lowered his eyes and set down the brush: “I studied for a few years before.”

Mu Yue felt her heart pierced.

Mu Xing looked critically at the painting. He had to admit, it was very good.

Then he looked at Mu Yue’s painting—of a man sitting beneath the roses.

Mu Xing instantly recognized it as Lu Mingyu.

His wariness deepened.

What kind of filter did she have to paint this man into looking so gentle?

He turned his head to glance at Han Jing, who could only feel the look was unfriendly.

Puzzled—how had he offended this little fox again?

Then he saw the little fox turn his head, face toward his sister, and act spoiled: “Sis, you never paint me anymore. You’re not allowed to paint other people!”

Mu Yue foolishly asked: “Didn’t you just say the other day I painted you too much and should try something else?”

Mu Xing: “…”

“I don’t care!” He was unreasonable. “You paint me. You’re not allowed to paint anyone else!”

Mu Yue found it strange, but her spoiled younger brother was just too adorable.

She scooped him up, rubbed him hard in her arms, and laughed cheerfully: “Alright, alright, whatever Xingxing says goes. I’ll only paint you, okay?”

With his soft hair fluffed into a mess, Mu Xing thought wearily: For my sister’s happiness, I’ve sacrificed too much.

At that moment, Ami arrived.

Its red eyes flashed—usually expressing excitement.

“Little Master, Little Master,” its tone switched to cheerful mode, “come quickly, look at the rose!”

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