Re-Awakening: Cannon Fodder With Strongest Talent-Chapter 43: Hong Wei

As he walked through the crowded marketplace, a conversation from a passing couple caught his attention.

"That poor boy, Hong Wei. He was the sole survivor from the orphanage," a woman said, clutching her husband’s arm as they hurried toward the second district gates. "He was away when the fire happened, and when he returned, everything had already been consumed by the flames."

Her husband nodded grimly. "To make it worse, the monsters are now starting to attack. I wonder how he will deal with everything going on."

"I don’t think he will hold on for long. I think he’s already lost his mind," the woman replied, lowering her voice. "He kept muttering ’beans’ repeatedly. Just walking around the market square saying ’beans, beans’ over and over."

Ethan froze mid-step, the name striking a chord in his borrowed memories.

Hong Wei. The boy from the orphanage who had followed the original Ethan everywhere, looking up to him as an older brother figure.

"Beans? Why does it feel...familiar?" Ethan muttered.

Suddenly, his predecessor’s memories surged forward, overtaking his consciousness with startling clarity.

Eight Years Ago

"Come on, Hong Wei! Mrs. Chen will be back any minute!" Ethan gestured frantically to the small boy peering around the kitchen doorframe. At nine years old, Hong Wei was all skinny limbs and wide eyes, his oversized clothes hanging off his frame like sails on a becalmed ship.

"But Mrs. Chen said no one’s allowed in the kitchen between meals," Hong Wei whispered, though he inched forward despite his protest.

"And that’s exactly why we need to hurry," Ethan replied with the confidence of a seasoned rule-breaker. "I saw Cook leave a whole plate of bean cakes on the counter. They’ll be gone by dinner if we don’t grab some now."

The orphanage had been short on supplies for weeks. The military had requisitioned most of the district’s food for an expedition, leaving civilian institutions to scrape by on reduced rations. Hunger had become a constant companion to the children, especially growing boys like Ethan.

Hong Wei’s stomach growled audibly, making the decision for him. He scurried across the kitchen floor to where Ethan already stood beside the counter, eyeing the prize.

"There they are," Ethan whispered reverently.

A plate of steaming bean cakes sat cooling by the window—sixteen perfect rounds of sweet bean paste wrapped in rice flour dough. More importantly, they were unattended.

"I’ll lift you up," Ethan said, interlocking his fingers to create a step for the smaller boy. "You grab four—two for each of us—then we run."

Hong Wei nodded solemnly, accepting the mission. He stepped into Ethan’s hands and was hoisted upward, his fingers just reaching the counter’s edge.

"Almost..." he strained, tongue poking out in concentration. "Almost got it..."

His small fingers closed around one bean cake, then another.

"Got them!" he whispered triumphantly.

That’s when the kitchen door swung open.

"Ethan Brandon! Hong Wei! What do you think you’re doing?"

Mrs. Chen stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her normally kind face set in stern disappointment.

Ethan dropped Hong Wei in surprise, though he managed to catch the smaller boy before he hit the floor. The bean cakes weren’t so lucky—they tumbled across the clean kitchen tiles.

"We were just..." Ethan began, mind racing for a plausible excuse.

"Stealing food when there are twenty-six other hungry children in this orphanage?" Mrs. Chen finished for him, her voice carrying a rare edge.

Hong Wei burst into tears. "We’re sorry, Mrs. Chen! We were so hungry!"

Mrs. Chen’s expression softened slightly, but remained firm. "Come with me, both of you."

She led them to her small office, the silence heavy with impending consequences. Once inside, she motioned for them to sit in the worn chairs facing her desk.

"Do you know why what you did was wrong?" she asked, her voice gentler now.

Ethan stared at his shoes. "Because stealing is wrong."

"Yes, but there’s more," Mrs. Chen said. "They were for Old Man Lin’s birthday celebration tonight. He donates what little he can to us every month from his pension."

Shame burned Ethan’s cheeks.

Old Man Lin was a kind elderly man who often visited the orphanage to tell stories. Despite having hardly anything himself, he always brought small gifts for the children.

"But also," Mrs. Chen continued, a strange glint appearing in her eye, "those particular bean cakes were never meant to be eaten."

Ethan looked up in confusion.

"They were a trap," she explained, allowing herself a small smile. "Cook and I have been trying to catch our kitchen thief for weeks. We suspected either you, Jian, or Liu. Those bean cakes were filled with a special pepper sauce that would have turned your mouths fire-red for hours."

Hong Wei’s eyes widened in horror. "P-pepper sauce? In bean cakes?"

"Indeed," Mrs. Chen said, finally letting her amusement show. "In fact, I should thank you for saving me the trouble of figuring out who’s been sneaking extra food. You’ve confessed without taking a single bite."

Ethan couldn’t help but laugh at their near-escape from pepper-sauce doom, and after a moment, Hong Wei joined in, tears forgotten.

Mrs. Chen’s expression became serious again. "However, this doesn’t excuse the stealing. You’ll both help Cook clean the kitchen for the next week. And Ethan, as the older one who should know better, you’ll also help serve at tonight’s celebration."

"Yes, Mrs. Chen," they chorused.

As they turned to leave, she called after them, "And boys? If you’re hungry, just ask. We don’t have much, but what we have, we share. That’s what family does."

Later that evening, after serving Old Man Lin’s birthday meal, Ethan and Hong Wei each received a proper, pepper-free bean cake as a reward for their honest work. Seated side by side on the orphanage’s back steps, they savored each bite under the stars.

"Ethan?" Hong Wei asked, his small face serious in the moonlight.

"Yeah?"

"Will you teach me to be smart like you? So I don’t get caught next time?"

Ethan laughed, ruffling the boy’s hair. "I’ll teach you something better—how not to need to steal in the first place."

"How?"

"By being strong enough to protect what’s yours, and kind enough to share it with others who need it."

Hong Wei nodded as if this was the most profound wisdom he’d ever heard. "I want to be just like you when I grow up."

Tiana, who was sitting with them stargazing, smiled.

From that day forward, Hong Wei followed Ethan everywhere, soaking up every lesson, every skill, every story. And whenever they found themselves in trouble, "beans" became their code word—a reminder of traps, consequences, and the importance of watching out for each other.

The memory faded, leaving Ethan standing in the crowded street, his heart pounding with realization.

Hong Wei was alive. The only survivor of the orphanage fire.

And "beans" wasn’t random delirium from trauma. It was a message specifically for him—a warning about a trap.

’Han Wei has him,’ Ethan realized, cold certainty settling in his gut. ’He’s using Hong Wei as bait to draw me out.’

The pieces clicked into place with terrible clarity. Han Wei had burned the orphanage, somehow spared Hong Wei, and was now using the boy to set a trap for Ethan.