I’ve Got this Cannon Fodder’s Back

147: 146 147: 146 The throne’s transition occurred quietly.

The Emperor abdicated, but the successor was not the crown prince, as many had expected.

People linked this change to the nobles’ pressure, and though rumors swirled, no one had a better explanation.

The noble families had grown too powerful, so much so that they’d forced the Emperor to step down.

This offense justified their downfall.

To set an example, the Prime Minister relinquished his fief’s private army and requested a three-thousand-mile exile to experience the people’s hardships.

The new emperor was reportedly devastated and nearly fainted when he heard it.

Unable to dissuade the minister’s decision, he delayed him for a month, eventually escorting the prime minister and accompanying his imperial grand uncle out of the capital himself.

The people gathered, kneeling along the road, escorting the two men thirty miles out of the city.

From then on, the capital had no Prime Minister.

After Gu Ai’s departure, rumors began circulating in the capital.

Some claimed the minister had requested exile due to a close relationship with the young prince, which the royal family couldn’t tolerate.

Others said the previous imperial uncle had to leave because his seniority was too high—making the emperor call him ‘Imperial Grand Uncle’, and it was too much for the young emperor, so he’d been subtly ousted from the capital.

This second rumor was quickly dispelled.

Even after they left, the prime minister’s residence and Prince Yi’s residence were left untouched.

The court funded all staff and servants, and the new emperor would sometimes personally visit, often staying the night.

The people, seeing this, marveled at the emperor’s loyalty.

Rumors only grew more extravagant.

Some swore that, on the day of departure, the emperor clung to the minister and his imperial grand uncle’s legs, crying, refusing to let go until his imperial grand uncle finally hoisted him onto his carriage.

However, the court quickly suppressed this rumor.

Anyone spreading it was fined one tael and confined for thirty days.

As the reform’s final phase weakened the noble families, showing signs of revival.

The people adapted to the new laws and a fresh spirit infused the court.

Another Mid-Autumn Festival arrived, and the streets were lively with celebration.

Under the bright mid-autumn moon, lanterns illuminated the streets, filling every corner with light.

The fragrance of osmanthus wine filled the air, towers of mooncakes adorned the festival stands, and various small gadgets were sold on the street.

The curfew was nonexistent today.

People strolled freely, and even the usually reserved scholars indulged, drinking heartily till, intoxicated.

In a small street tavern, a dignified middle-aged scholar sat down with a refined young man, ordering a few dishes and a pot of wine.

Noticing their unusual bearing, the owner also brought out his best mooncakes and respectfully placed them on the table.

Gu Ai smiled in thanks, picked up a mooncake, broke it in half, and handed it over.

“These are the homemade mooncakes of this tavern; they are very well made.

Give it a try.” The mooncake was perfectly baked with a soft lotus paste filling.

It is delicate and has a mellow flavor.

Lu Chengru’s eyes lit up, savoring each bite as a smile curved his lips.

“It’s delicious.” “You find everything delicious.

It’s very easy to raise you.” Gu Ai laughed, pouring hot tea to sterilize their utensils.

His gaze softened as it fell on Lu Chengru, “Are you tired?

You cannot sleep early tonight.

If you’re sleepy, take a little rest now…” It was an ancient custom to stay up late on Mid-Autumn, for longevity.

Though it was merely a tradition, the thought of spending the night under the full moon made one reluctant to sleep early.

Lu Chengru, well accustomed to this, nodded, resting his head on the table as he nibbled on his mooncake, chatting with Gu Ai about the day’s festivities.

The young prince had recently celebrated his coming-of-age ceremony, growing taller and shedding much of his youthful innocence.

His former defiance had faded, leaving a serene elegance.

Gu Ai listened patiently, occasionally sharing anecdotes that made the young prince’s black eyes light up with excitement, showing a rare, lively enthusiasm.

The young prince had grown up.

As the former Prime Minister, who had presided over Lu Chengru’s coming-of-age ceremony, had a certain thought flashed in his mind.

He raised his hand to adjust the young prince’s collar.

His gaze lingered on a familiar jade pendant hanging on Lu Chengru’s waist.

It was still that piece he gifted them on their first meeting.

It was not valuable; its only beauty was the clean and slim cut of the jade.

After being worn for years, its surface had softened to a lustrous glow.

The tassels it is adorned with had long faded in color and worn out.

A gentleman fitting for an excellent jade.

Gu Ai originally intended to exchange it for a good one at his coming-of-age ceremony.

However, the young prince insisted on keeping it, unwilling to change it no matter what.

He even slipped it under his pillow at night for peace of mind.

Noticing Gu Ai’s gaze, Lu Chengru quickly clutched his pendant.

“Sir!” “Sir, only take a look, I won’t take it from you.” Gu Ai chuckled, patting his hand.

Just then, the owner brought their food, so he picked up the chopsticks and picked up the dishes.

They had traveled and tasted various cuisines, now returning to the shores of West Lake in Hangzhou.

The light, mildly sweet Hangzhou cuisine suited Lu Chengru’s palate well.

He enjoyed the Dongpo pork and Hangzhou’s Three Delicacies with delight.

The chestnut-stewed chicken is a must-have.

Tender chestnuts are only available during Mid-Autumn, making this a rare seasonal dish.

As Lu Chengru ate happily, Gu Ai felt reassured, spooning more chestnuts into his bowl.

“They’ll be lighting the main lantern soon.

Let’s take a look as well…” Before he could finish, a stranger appeared beside their table.

Gu Au did not recognize the man, but he could tell from his demeanor that he was not an ordinary person.

He was about to rise and greet the refined man, yet was startled as Lu Chengru suddenly stood up.

Gu Ai was puzzled.

The young prince had been by his side all these years, with little chance to know strangers, “Chengru?” Lu Chengru’s heart raced as he looked at the man in plain, dark clothing, but the stranger raised a hand, stopping him from speaking.

The man’s calm aura exuded quiet authority as he glanced at Gu Ai, then at Lu Deng.

“How far along are you?” His question was so direct that Lu Chengru couldn’t help blushing, lowering his head as he stumbled upon his words.

“Not… we haven’t….” Having entered this world young, he had just come of age.

Although the mission was almost complete, their relationship had remained that of master and student.

Discussing this with a respected elder, especially one he deeply revered, was mortifying.

Seeing the man approach, Lu Chengru bowed down even deeper, until he felt a gentle hand resting on his head.

Looking up, he met the man’s gaze.

“You’ve worked hard.

Good job,” the man said softly, smiling kindly.

“Enjoy yourselves.

There’s no need to rush.

I’ll come back to fetch you guys in due time.” His presence was extraordinary.

He exuded a clear and dignified demeanor that stood out from the crowd.

Even in plain clothes, he still stood out in this ordinary small restaurant.

Noticing that some onlookers started paying attention, he nodded slightly to Lu Deng, giving a final glance at the carefully selected chestnuts before leaving.

His young attendant fell one step behind him.

Watching the man leave, Gu Ai suddenly felt a strange clarity, as if glimpses of old memories were surfacing, though they vanished as quickly as they came.

Lu Chengru’s heart was still pounding.

The appearance of the master of the Hundred Refinement Space meant that after fulfilling this world’s mission, he would have the chance to bring Gu Yuan into the real world.

If the transition succeeded, they could remain together within system worlds and the real world as well.

He just can’t stop looking forward to that time.

Gu Ai withdrew his gaze, noticing Lu Chengru’s evident silent joy, but refrained from asking.

He simply gestured for him to sit.

“A friend of yours?” Not just a friend.

Lu Chengru couldn’t stop smiling, though, with Gu Ai still lacking his memories, he couldn’t explain it.

He excitedly took Gu Ai’s bowl and filled it up with chicken with joy.

Once sated, the first lanterns of the festival illuminated the streets.

After going through several worlds, Lu Chengru had built a slight alcohol tolerance and wouldn’t get drunk dead after only one cup.

With Gu Ai by his side, he had the courage to drink two cups of peach blossom wine but still got a little tipsy.

They sat on the streetside, waiting for the lanterns, and his head sank down, leaning on Gu Ai.

He woke under the full moon.

He was nestled in Gu Ai’s arms, and as soon as he opened his eyes, he was greeted by a soft gaze that penetrated deep into his own.

Gu Ai had draped his robe over Lu Chengru, holding him close.

He raised his cup in a relaxed gesture, a faint hint of intoxication enhancing his eyes.

With a light smile, he extended the cup to Lu Chengru.

Lu Deng’s head was throbbing from the hungover, feeling his brain turned all mushy.

At this moment, although the fragrance of osmanthus wine tempted him, he dared not touch it again.

He quickly waved my hand, refusing, “No more…” He had just woken up; his voice was slightly raspy, and he coughed softly.

“Sir, what time is it?” Gu Ai smiled, brushing his hand across his shoulder, a gentle expression still plastered on his face.

“No rush.

The lanterns are just going up.” Last year, they’d missed the lantern ceremony, so Lu Chengru eagerly propped himself up.

His gaze brightened along the scenery.

The lanterns along the street were made with thin bamboo frames and flown into the sky, six or seven people high.

The craftsmen deftly flew up one after another, pushing small and exquisite lanterns upwards.

Twelve lanterns were laid out on the ground.

The best painter painted various figures, flowers, birds, and wind on the silk surface as if it were real and able to move.

The prince pulled Gu Ai along.

“Look, Sir!

It’s very beautiful!” Gu Ai followed behind him, softly murmuring agreement.

His gaze lingered on the young prince.

The main lantern would be fully lit at midnight, but the smaller lanterns were lit in advance, their vibrant hues reflecting in Lu Chengru’s dark eyes.

Beautiful, indeed.

During Mid-Autumn, people raced to snatch the best lantern to make wishes to the god.

It was said that their wishes would be granted.

Many people gathered around, eagerly looking up, waiting for the time to step on the ladder and grab the first place.

Lu Chengru was enthralled when he heard about it for the first time and had been wanting to take a look.

Gu Ai offered a cup of tea to moisten his throat, but still worried and instructed, “Be careful.

Don’t hurt yourself.” “Rest assured, Sir!

I will.” The tea was a little too hot.

Lu Chengru held the cup as he blew into it.

Full of excitement, he asked, “If I win a lantern, what would Sir wish for?” Gu Ai arched an eyebrow, smiling, but did not give him an answer, only patting his shoulder lightly.

“The lanterns are lit.” Four craftsmen quickly ran up to four corners, and each ignited the bamboo tube oil passage with torches in their hands.

The four fire points quickly spread along its route, creating a fire dragon, gathering towards the center with a deafening roar.

The dazzling fireworks shot straight into the night sky, exploding with a bang.

The flames flickered in the blink of an eye, and the floating lantern spun rapidly, igniting the entire area into a mesmerizing display of fireworks and a sea of lanterns.

Cheers rose in all directions, and everyone rushed toward the direction of the lanterns, hoping to grab the best one.

Without further ado, Lu Chengru hurriedly handed Gu Ai his cup before darting up to claim the highest lantern.

In the bright moonlight, the young prince still wore that outer robe, his figure agile as his sleeves fluttered.

Without even stepping on the ladder, he leaped a few times to the top of the lantern display, grasping the topmost lantern in his hand.

The revolving lantern spun, scenes flashing rapidly, and the embroidered flowers, birds, and figures seemed to come alive, drawing loud cheers from the crowd.

Gu Ai suddenly felt a stir in his heart among the dazzling sights.

Since that stranger left, a faint image had begun to surface, becoming increasingly apparent.

Memories surged forth, so familiar, and were within reach.

It was as if everything had merely been sealed away temporarily, and now was finally the time to unlock it.

Gu Ai stood there, watching that figure amidst the fiery fireworks display.

The youth who once hid in his arms to avoid crowds could now laugh and play without a hint of reservation, capturing the prettiest lantern with ease.

There could be nothing better than this.

Lu Chengru held that small, exquisite lantern, his eyes bright as he turned back to look at him, shouting something.

Gu Ai couldn’t help but step forward.

Just in time as the figure on the lantern lightly floated down, landing steadily in front of him.

Lu Deng leaped into his embrace, stuffing the lantern into his arms, his face still carrying the thrill of excitement.

“Sir, make a wish!

It will surely come true…” Gu Ai chuckled softly, holding the lantern steady and pulling him into his embrace.

Grabbing the lantern was just a fun little activity.

No one would be genuinely disappointed if they missed out.

Moreover, it had been years since anyone had seen such “martial arts masters” leaping along rooftops.

The surrounding crowd cheered, urging Gu Ai to quickly make a wish and toss the lantern into the river.

Gu Ai held the person in his arms, meeting the dazzling light in his dark eyes.

He then tossed the lantern into the river with a serene smile, “All my wishes are fulfilled already.

There is no need to trouble the moon goddess.” His tone was laced with some hidden meaning but somehow implied an extra familiarity.

Lu Deng held his breath slightly, looking up at him.

Gu Ai was lowering his head to look at him with a smile, pulling him into his embrace, and lightly touching his forehead.

In ancient times, it was not uncommon to see this kind of intimacy between men, especially in the open-minded literary circles of Jiangnan, where true feelings were blessed instead.

As the surrounding cheers grew louder, Lu Deng suddenly felt a vague sense of foreboding, instinctively clinging to his clothes and looking up into those deep eyes.

Gu Yuan gazed at him quietly, smiling gently.

“It’s been a while…” He paused, then entirely wrapped him under his embrace, whispering softly by his ear.

“Zhiguang.” Lu Deng looked up blankly, his eyes suddenly turbulent with emotion.

Gu Yuan stood silently before him, slightly lowering his head, smiling as he spoke in a soft tone.

“I used to worry that this job would mean we’d be separated, waiting until the end of each shift to finally be together.

Who would’ve thought we could even fall in love while working?” Warmth and affection gleamed in his eyes as he lowered his head, planting a gentle kiss on his beloved’s cheek.

“Turns out there’s such a good thing.” Tears shimmered in Lu Deng’s eyes, but he couldn’t help laughing at his words, wiping his eyes and lowering his voice, “You can’t say it… it’s like going through the backdoor.

If someone reports us, we might have to retake the exam…” Gu Yuan chuckled, nodded in agreement, and placed a hand on his head.

“You’ve worked hard.

From now on, I’ll always be with you.” The familiar warmth settled on his head.

Lu Deng pressed his lips together, looking up at him, his brows and eyes softening as he suddenly threw himself into his lover’s arms.

He didn’t work hard at all.

Characters were just paper figures, requiring set data to operate within a world.

Before the data was installed into them, much of their autonomous memories would be sealed, integrating the current world’s settings and circumstances.

That’s why the main system needed many hands to help adjust the plot and ensure reasonable rights for characters with minor roles.

Time and again, they entered the role of these minor cannon fodder characters, walking a predetermined plot, moving toward a future that held no hope without change.

Lu Deng knew better than anyone how exhausting it could be.

His lover’s current form wasn’t particularly solid.

Lu Deng tightened his arms, burying his face in the ink-scented fabric, his eyes faintly moist.

Gu Yuan smiled, looking down to pat his back, just about to speak when his little lover, sturdy as ever, hoisted him up, right on the street.

The next moment, Lu Deng was already holding him like a rice bag, dashing through the crowd, leaping across rooftops in a few bounds, and heading straight for the inn without looking back.