MVCFO CH50

Chapter 50: “At This Moment, Everything Before Me Is the Best Ending I Could Imagine”

Lin Xiangqi’s first reaction upon opening his eyes was a huge sigh of relief.

It was finally over.

And he was still alive.

Thank you, Lu Cong, for your mercy.

He tried to sit up, but the moment he moved, his bones felt like they’d been reassembled, utterly foreign.

He lifted his upper body half a meter before collapsing back with a thud.

A soft chuckle came from nearby.

Lin Xiangqi craned his neck and saw the culprit, Lu Cong, sitting at the desk, propped on his elbow, watching him leisurely.

Lin Xiangqi: “You’re still laughing…”

He regretted speaking. His voice was so hoarse it sounded like he’d swallowed gravel, each word gritty.

How to describe it?

A super raspy, sparkling voice, perhaps.

“Want to get up?” Lu Cong walked over, pulling him into his arms.

Lin Xiangqi glared resentfully, a thousand accusations swirling in his mind. He wanted to condemn Lu Cong’s actions last night, but the current Lu Cong seemed even more deserving of criticism. “You just sat there watching me?”

Lu Cong explained, “I made lunch earlier, but you didn’t wake up, so I left it.”

Lin Xiangqi wasn’t pleased. “You turned me into this mess, and instead of staying in bed with me, you went to cook?”

Lu Cong was the kind of scummy Alpha from those viral short videos—using someone up and then acting indifferent!

Lu Cong looked at him meekly, wanting to apologize but needing to clarify a fact first. “Yanyan, you kicked me off the bed.”

Lin Xiangqi: “Huh?”

Was that true?

A frail little Omega like him, kicking Lu Cong? That impressive?

It had to be a lie!

Lu Cong glanced down at a certain spot, smiling wryly. “You kicked here.”

Lin Xiangqi sat up. “W-what?!”

He hurriedly lifted Lu Cong’s clothes, ignoring his aching waist and legs, inspecting carefully. “I didn’t cause any damage, did I…?”

Though Lu Cong’s “weapon” had nearly cost Lin Xiangqi his life on the bed, as a fellow man, he could imagine how a kick there would feel.

Lu Cong caught his hand, saying softly, “I messed up. I deserved it.”

Lin Xiangqi silently agreed.

Before this, how could he have known Lu Cong could be so terrifying when unleashed? Despite Lin Xiangqi’s repeated pleas, Lu Cong hadn’t relented—instead, he’d escalated.

That kick wasn’t even punishment; it was self-preservation.

Lu Cong’s hand supported Lin Xiangqi’s lower back, gently massaging. “Still sore?”

Lin Xiangqi softened, leaning lazily against him. “…A bit.”

Lu Cong released some pheromones.

But Lin Xiangqi, still shaken, quickly said, “No, no pheromones. Hold back.”

He was genuinely scared of Lu Cong now. What if he lost control again while releasing pheromones?

Lu Cong didn’t fully retract them, letting a faint trace linger through their touch. Softly, he said, “I’m sorry, Yanyan. I went too far.”

That apology carried a hint of lingering fear.

Lu Cong had thought that, given another chance, he should’ve held back.

Tang Luyu had warned that Lin Xiangqi’s reproductive cavity was still fragile and couldn’t handle a permanent mark.

Rationally, Lu Cong wouldn’t do that. But with both of them drinking, and his pheromones prone to instability, in that moment, if he’d lost even a sliver of control…

Thankfully, he’d restrained himself.

But judging by Lin Xiangqi’s reactions, he was clearly dissatisfied with Lu Cong’s “technique.”

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have kicked him off the bed.

“Hmph…” Lin Xiangqi grumbled softly, unable to say anything too harsh.

He was a bit scared of that version of Lu Cong.

Normally, Lu Cong was so gentle that the contrast made his bedroom ferocity shocking.

Lin Xiangqi, inexperienced and uninformed about such matters, thought it should’ve been gradual.

But Lu Cong hadn’t given him any chance to ease into it. Like a beast ready to devour him, he’d collided with brutal force, each thrust seeming to crush Lin Xiangqi’s insides.

Even now, the memory made Lin Xiangqi shiver. Lowering his voice, he said, “Don’t do that next time.”

“Okay,” Lu Cong said in a docile, punishment-accepting tone. “I’ll change.”

Lin Xiangqi exhaled in relief.

Then Lu Cong added, “Let’s try again tonight.”

Lin Xiangqi: “?”

Had he misheard?

He stared at Lu Cong, eyes wide. “What did you say?”

Lu Cong: “This time, we’ll try a different position. I’ll go slow, gentle. It won’t hurt.”

Lin Xiangqi confirmed he hadn’t misheard. “…Lu Cong, are you human?”

Lu Cong: “I am.”

Lin Xiangqi: “You just said you’d change!”

Lu Cong nodded earnestly. “Technical issues need practice to improve.”

That’s the change you meant?!

Driven by Lu Cong’s eagerness to learn and improve, the following nights were anything but calm.

After the twelfth “intense practice,” Lin Xiangqi couldn’t take it anymore. He decided to sleep at his own place.

Lu Cong held him close, pleading softly, “Yanyan, I was wrong. I’ll change.”

Lin Xiangqi’s legs still trembled, his body covered in marks from Lu Cong’s kisses and bites. When he pushed Lu Cong away, his shirt lifted, revealing pale skin at his waist, marked by obvious imprints from rough hands.

“You always say you’ll change, but each time is worse than the last.”

Lu Cong kissed his cheek. “I really changed.”

Lin Xiangqi fumed. “All you changed were positions and locations!”

Lu Cong: “And angles.”

Lin Xiangqi: “…”

Damn it.

This Alpha was beyond saving!

Lin Xiangqi seriously suspected Lu Cong was addicted to his body, and Lu Cong didn’t deny it.

Sometimes, Lin Xiangqi wondered if he’d accidentally released pheromones, making Lu Cong so hooked. But Lu Cong’s obsessive fascination seemed unrelated to pheromones.

Honestly, it wasn’t like he couldn’t refuse.

Deep down, Lu Cong was indulgent and accommodating toward Lin Xiangqi. If Lin Xiangqi got truly stern, Lu Cong wouldn’t force him.

But every time Lin Xiangqi half-heartedly resisted, seeing Lu Cong’s yearning yet restrained gaze, he couldn’t bring himself to be harsh.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy it…

Lu Cong’s “practice” was paying off, noticeably improving lately.

In the end, Lin Xiangqi could only blame his own soft heart.

This went on until early July.

At some point, Lu Cong started holding back.

He was still clingy, always wanting to be close to Lin Xiangqi, treating him as well as ever, with no apparent change in behavior.

But Lin Xiangqi sensed a cautiousness in Lu Cong around him.

It was noticeable in small ways: their kisses grew shorter, as if Lu Cong feared Lin Xiangqi might stop breathing, pausing mid-kiss to remind him to breathe.

They also hadn’t done anything more intimate in days.

Though Lin Xiangqi had been exhausted by Lu Cong’s fervor and wanted a break, he hadn’t expected such an abrupt halt.

Pretending to be casual, he asked, “Not doing it today?”

Lu Cong replied, “No, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Lin Xiangqi looked at him oddly. “You weren’t worried about hurting me when you went so hard before.”

Lu Cong fell silent, visibly ashamed.

If that was Lin Xiangqi overthinking, there were other signs: when he choked on water, Lu Cong suddenly insisted on taking him to the hospital; when he took a slightly long shower, Lu Cong barged in asking if he was unwell; when he dozed on the couch, Lu Cong carried him to bed to check his temperature… and so on.

In short, Lu Cong seemed overly anxious about Lin Xiangqi’s physical condition.

But Lin Xiangqi was perfectly healthy, and he couldn’t fathom why Lu Cong was acting so strange.

Today, Lu Cong’s odd behavior was even more pronounced.

Having stayed up late gaming with Chen Qiutian, Lin Xiangqi slept in. Normally up by nine, he didn’t wake until ten.

They’d graduated, and with the military academy’s start date pending, it was their last bit of free time, so sleeping in was reasonable.

But Lu Cong forcibly woke him.

Lin Xiangqi, too sleepy to open his eyes, whined, “…Annoying.”

“Not annoying. Lift your arms.” Lu Cong took off his pajamas, helped him into a clean T-shirt, and said, “Don’t sleep too much today.”

Lin Xiangqi didn’t get it. “Are we going out?”

They’d already done nearly every fun activity locally. With the military academy’s unique schedule, they were waiting for admission notices and couldn’t travel far.

Lin Xiangqi couldn’t think of anything else to do.

Lu Cong said, “No, we’re staying home.”

Lin Xiangqi was even more confused. “Why can’t I sleep at home?”

“Sleep tomorrow, okay?” Lu Cong offered no reason, just a plea.

Lin Xiangqi studied him, then slowly climbed onto his shoulders, hanging off him playfully. “What’s up? Got some special plans for me today?”

Lu Cong chuckled. “Sorry, no plans.”

Lin Xiangqi: “Then why can’t I sleep?”

Lu Cong avoided his gaze, saying lightly, “Tomorrow will be fine.”

Something was off.

Lu Cong was rarely this strange.

He was a methodical, steady person who gave Lin Xiangqi a sense of security. For him to dodge questions and act abnormally, there had to be a reason.

But Lu Cong didn’t seem eager to talk, so Lin Xiangqi didn’t press. He went along, agreeing not to sleep during the day and to stay home.

With Lu Cong’s company, Lin Xiangqi didn’t feel bored.

They spent the morning gaming, had a hearty lunch, and curled up to watch movies in the afternoon. Time flew, and Lin Xiangqi nearly forgot Lu Cong’s odd behavior.

Until he got a message from Chen Qiutian that evening.

Chen Qiutian: [[Image] [Image]]

Chen Qiutian: [Qi-zi!! Check out my admission notice, hehe, your boy’s got a university to attend!]

Chen Qiutian’s exam results were a step above his usual scores, securing his first-choice university. He’d known he’d get in days ago but only received the notice today.

He was thrilled, and Lin Xiangqi was happy for him.

As Lin Xiangqi started to reply, his hand froze. A realization hit him—

When he’d told Lu Cong about the dream of his future, he’d mentioned dying suddenly on the day he received his admission notice.

By pure coincidence, that day was today.

Lin Xiangqi was carefree. After Shen Qiaolan said the story had changed, he’d let go of his fears, believing that future was gone, so he stopped dwelling on the “sudden death” plot.

But Lu Cong couldn’t be so relaxed.

Realizing this, Lin Xiangqi wasn’t sure whether to laugh at Lu Cong’s overcaution or scold himself for being heartless.

This was, after all, his supposed “death day.”

He’d forgotten it.

Lin Xiangqi set down his phone and glanced at Lu Cong.

The TV played a movie neither was watching. Lu Cong held him, outwardly calm but likely a mess inside.

Lin Xiangqi noticed Lu Cong glancing at the living room clock every few minutes.

He was clearly waiting for the day to pass.

Lu Cong rarely felt so powerless. From his perspective, if fate couldn’t be changed, what could they do but wait?

That explained his odd behavior these past few days.

He was afraid something would happen to Lin Xiangqi today, so he was panicked, rattled, unsure how to face it.

Lin Xiangqi, optimistic and believing things were heading in a good direction, could easily forget what today meant.

But for Lu Cong, anything concerning Lin Xiangqi was monumental, impossible to face lightly.

Even the slightest possibility of losing Lin Xiangqi terrified him.

Lin Xiangqi glanced at the clock—it was only 6 p.m., far from midnight. He didn’t want Lu Cong to stay so anxious, but he knew no amount of reassuring words would calm him until the day passed.

Nestled in Lu Cong’s arms, Lin Xiangqi suddenly released some pheromones.

Lu Cong froze, looking down at him. “What’s wrong?”

Lin Xiangqi gave him a sweet smile. “Kiss me.”

Lu Cong blinked slowly, hesitating, but Lin Xiangqi’s pheromones and his captivating eyes lured him to abandon pointless resistance.

Finally, he leaned down and kissed him.

Not content with just kissing, Lin Xiangqi began unbuttoning Lu Cong’s shirt. Lu Cong paused, catching his hand. “Not today…”

“I want it.” Lin Xiangqi’s eyes locked onto him. “Give it to me.”

For so long, Lu Cong had always taken the lead in their intimate moments, with Lin Xiangqi half-resisting, half-yielding.

This was the first time he was so forward, with unmasked seduction.

Lu Cong’s breathing grew unsteady. Before he could speak, Lin Xiangqi climbed onto his lap, undoing his buttons.

Lu Cong held his waist, unsure what to say, so he just called his name. “Yanyan…”

Lin Xiangqi looked down at him slyly. “Are you rejecting me? I’m giving you a chance.”

Lu Cong stared for a moment, then laughed. “I’m not stupid enough to do that.”

Lin Xiangqi rewarded him with a kiss.

They made love in the living room—on the couch, the carpet, by the dining table—leaving traces of intimacy everywhere.

Time ticked by, breaths and heartbeats mingling. Whatever Lin Xiangqi’s initial intent, as their bodies intertwined, they forgot everything, losing track of time and place.

After what felt like forever, Lin Xiangqi, legs weak, collapsed onto Lu Cong. “Thirsty…”

Lu Cong got up to fetch water, still keeping close, their closeness unbroken.

With each step, Lin Xiangqi let out soft whimpers, but the Alpha’s pheromones were gentle, filling him with pleasure and comfort, his body trembling with bliss.

Lu Cong held his legs with one hand, passing him a glass with the other. Instead of drinking, Lin Xiangqi held it to Lu Cong’s lips. “You drink.”

Lu Cong paused, smiling warmly. “Okay.”

He took a sip from Lin Xiangqi’s hand, then, without swallowing, kissed it back to him. The warmth passed between them, the air filled with sweet coconut milk scent.

Suddenly, Lin Xiangqi’s eyes lit up, pointing at Lu Cong. “Look at the time…!”

Lu Cong glanced over, startled—it was 2 a.m.

In that moment, he understood Lin Xiangqi’s intent.

Lin Xiangqi’s laughter rang in his ears. “See, Lu Cong, I’ve really escaped that ending. I’m perfectly fine now.”

That story was over. Nothing could trap them anymore.

Lu Cong let out a sigh of relief, like a survivor after a calamity, holding Lin Xiangqi tightly, his breath buried in his neck. “Yeah, I was overthinking.”

Lin Xiangqi patted his hair, rubbing against his face with a smile. “No need to worry about this anymore. We’ll live to a hundred.”

Lu Cong chuckled. “Grow old together?”

Lin Xiangqi laughed, nodding vigorously. “Together, together.”

Lu Cong gazed at him deeply, kissing him again. This time, the kiss was light, like sealing a promise, confirming a vow.

Lin Xiangqi pressed his forehead against Lu Cong’s, catching his breath. “…Speaking of which, if you could write the ending of this story, what would you want?”

Without hesitation, Lu Cong answered, “An ending with you.”

Lin Xiangqi had asked the question casually, expecting Lu Cong’s vast perspective to paint a grand, vivid ending. But no.

Lu Cong’s answer was simple, unwavering.

It was as if, from the story’s start, he’d already envisioned this ending. Everything he’d done had been to lay the groundwork for it.

Every moment, carefully planned, was to reach an ending with Lin Xiangqi. Now, with his wish fulfilled, he desired nothing more.

In Lin Xiangqi’s silence, Lu Cong pulled out a tissue, wiping the sweat from his cheek, and asked lightly, “What about you?”

Lin Xiangqi: “Me?”

Lu Cong smiled ambiguously. “You said before that the story didn’t give us a happy ending, so you’d write it yourself. I didn’t fully understand then. Now I do, and I’m curious—what ending do you want?”

Lin Xiangqi froze at the simple question.

Lu Cong had answered effortlessly, but for him, his mind went blank.

It wasn’t that he greedily wanted some grand, perfect ending. He just couldn’t think of any unfulfilled regrets.

He began recalling the past, examining himself, searching for unresolved wishes.

In his memories, there was their childhood meeting, his stumbling teenage years.

Every joy he’d shared with Lu Cong, every moment of helplessness supported by him, every pain endured together, every growth witnessed by him.

Lu Cong was in every scene of his memories. Lin Xiangqi realized that, in his short eighteen years, Lu Cong had been there for thirteen.

Unknowingly, he’d grown used to Lu Cong’s presence.

He’d become part of his life, someone he loved as naturally as drinking when thirsty or sleeping when tired.

If Lu Cong were removed from those scenes, Lin Xiangqi felt everything would be dull.

Realizing this, he laughed brightly, finding an answer as certain as Lu Cong’s:

“At this moment, everything before me is the best ending I could imagine.”

His wish was fulfilled, and he wanted for nothing more.

It was the perfect ending.

End—