MVCFO CH1

The smell of disinfectant in the hospital made Lin Xiangqi feel dizzy.

Clutching his ID card timidly, he nervously scanned the lobby before finally spotting a window with barely any line. Hunching his shoulders, he darted over like a thief and, lowering his voice, spoke at lightning speed:

“I’d like to register for a special Omega appointment—to check my gland.”

He had rehearsed this line over and over in his head, hoping it would sound natural.

But what he didn’t know was that Omega patients didn’t register here. All medical issues involving glands had to be handled in another building—gland-related specialties were separated from the general hospital precisely to prevent chaos from uncontrollable pheromone leaks among Alphas and Omegas in crowded areas.

This was basic healthcare knowledge for AOs.

But Lin Xiangqi didn’t have that knowledge.

Because until today, he had lived his life as a Beta.

He only realized he was actually an Omega—and that his gland was sick—because this morning, Lin Xiangqi had suddenly awakened with full self-awareness.

And he discovered that the world he lived in was actually the setting of an ABO dog-blood romance novel, one where a scummy Alpha and a pitiful Omega engaged in a twisted substitute love affair.

He was just a minor cannon-fodder character in that novel.

–

When all the plot details flooded into his mind, Lin Xiangqi at first thought he was the protagonist.

Because the story began with him meeting the scummy Alpha lead and falling in love at first sight—it was one of those cliché, melodramatic love entanglements.

Lin Xiangqi was already familiar with the name of the Alpha lead.

Shen Qiaolan, the transfer student who had joined their class this semester.

Just like the novel described, the moment Lin Xiangqi saw Shen Qiaolan, he fell for him.

Whenever Shen Qiaolan came near, Lin Xiangqi would feel as if electricity coursed through his whole body, tingling from his neck down his spine. He firmly believed this was “physiological attraction”—his body had made the decision before his brain, so he threw himself into the pursuit without hesitation.

But Shen Qiaolan had a strange, terrible temper. Arrogant and domineering, he was a high-ranking Alpha through and through—prideful to the core—and he looked down on someone like Lin Xiangqi, an ordinary Beta with an unremarkable background.

Shen Qiaolan brutally rejected Lin Xiangqi’s confession with harsh words, but didn’t refuse Lin Xiangqi’s every attempt to please him. He kept stringing him along—hot and cold, near and distant.

Lin Xiangqi didn’t know why, but it was like he was under a spell. Even after being rejected, he kept trailing behind Shen Qiaolan.

…

As the story progressed, there was less and less about “Lin Xiangqi.”

He began to realize he wasn’t the other protagonist—he was merely the scummy Alpha’s tragically short-lived white moonlight, the doomed childhood friend of the twisted villain.

In the novel, Lin Xiangqi died of illness at eighteen.

In real life, Lin Xiangqi was about to turn eighteen.

Did that mean he had less than a year left to live?

Save this poor child!

He had no time to mock the absurdly melodramatic plot or question why his oddly possessive childhood friend Lu Cong had turned into a “brooding villain.”

He was focused entirely on diving into the story to find out what caused his early death.

After carefully reading the entire novel, Lin Xiangqi finally figured it out—

He was born with a rare gland disorder.

He looked like a Beta, but was actually an Omega.

His failure to differentiate during adolescence was caused by this illness, which stunted the development of his glands, leaving them unable to properly sense or release pheromones.

He had been living as a Beta all this time, but his body had long been overloaded with unprocessed Omega pheromones. After years of accumulation and no outlet, his gland had become severely diseased.

The most effective treatment was exposure to a high-level Alpha’s pheromones. Their pheromones could soothe the excess within him and help stimulate proper gland development.

…

Upon reading this, Lin Xiangqi jolted upright in bed.

Heavens above, please reveal the truth and expose the villains!

So he hadn’t fallen in love with Shen Qiaolan at first sight at all!

The entire mess started because that shameless Alpha released his pheromones during their first meeting. Shen Qiaolan’s pheromones were extremely potent, and Lin Xiangqi—long weakened by illness—had been so starved for high-quality pheromones that he became addicted almost instantly.

Case closed!

The smell of disinfectant in the hospital made Lin Xiangqi feel dizzy.

He felt timid, clutching his ID card tightly. After scanning the lobby from a corner and picking a window with the shortest line, he hunched over and darted forward like a thief. He lowered his voice and spoke at lightning speed:

“I’d like to register for the Omega special consultation—to have my glands checked.”

He had repeated this sentence over and over in his mind during the entire trip, trying to make it sound natural.

But what he didn’t know was that Omegas didn’t register at this building. All gland-related conditions had to be treated in a separate facility—this separation existed to avoid chaotic outbreaks of pheromones in public areas caused by uncontrolled interactions between Alphas and Omegas.

This was common medical knowledge for AOs.

But Lin Xiangqi had no such knowledge.

Because until today, he had been living as a Beta.

He only realized he was an Omega and that something was wrong with his glands because, when he woke up this morning, he suddenly gained self-awareness.

He discovered that the world he lived in was actually the setting of an ABO trope-filled angst novel about a scummy Alpha, a miserable Omega, and a tragic substitute love story.

And he was a minor cannon fodder character in it.

–

When the plot details flooded into his mind, Lin Xiangqi initially thought he was the protagonist.

After all, the opening scenes of the original novel described how he met the scummy Alpha and fell in love at first sight—a messy, melodramatic entanglement.

He wasn’t unfamiliar with the name of the male lead Alpha: Shen Qiaolan—a transfer student who had joined their senior year of high school.

Just like in the novel, Lin Xiangqi fell for Shen Qiaolan the moment he saw him—

Whenever Shen Qiaolan got close, Lin Xiangqi felt as if he’d been electrocuted; the sensation ran down his spine, tingling all over. Lin Xiangqi believed this was “physiological love”—his body had chosen before his brain could—and so, he dove headfirst into chasing him.

But Shen Qiaolan had a terrible personality and an awful temper. Arrogant and domineering, as a high-grade Alpha, he was born proud and completely disdained Lin Xiangqi, a Beta with an ordinary background.

Shen Qiaolan rejected his confession with cutting words, yet never refused his constant attempts to please him. He kept Lin Xiangqi hanging—hot and cold, near and far.

Lin Xiangqi didn’t know what was wrong with him. It was like he was cursed—he had already been rejected, yet he still trailed after Shen Qiaolan.

…

As the story progressed, Lin Xiangqi’s appearances became fewer and fewer.

He slowly realized—he wasn’t the other protagonist of the novel. He was merely the white moonlight (first love) who died young, both to the scummy Alpha and to the brooding villain, who had once been his childhood friend.

In the novel, Lin Xiangqi died of illness at eighteen.

And in real life, Lin Xiangqi was about to turn eighteen.

Did that mean he had less than a year to live?

Somebody help this poor kid!

Lin Xiangqi didn’t even have time to complain about the melodramatic plot, nor to question why his seemingly sweet childhood friend Lu Cong had become a twisted villain.

All he could do was dive into the story’s events, trying to find the reason for his early death.

After carefully reading the full novel, Lin Xiangqi finally understood what had happened—

It turned out he had a rare congenital glandular disorder.

He looked like a Beta but was actually an Omega.

His failure to differentiate during adolescence was due to this illness—his glands had not matured properly and were unable to produce or sense pheromones normally.

While living as a Beta all these years, his body had been stockpiling an excess of Omega pheromones. Without proper release, the build-up had led to severe complications over time.

The best treatment for this condition was to use high-grade Alpha pheromones for soothing. It would both dispel the excessive pheromones and help stimulate his gland development.

…

Upon reading this part, Lin Xiangqi sat up in bed with a jolt.

Heaven help him! Let the truth be known!

So it wasn’t love at first sight with Shen Qiaolan at all!

The whole misunderstanding had started because that inconsiderate Alpha had released his pheromones the very first time they met. Shen Qiaolan’s pheromones were powerful, and Lin Xiangqi—long sick and deprived—had immediately gotten addicted to the first high-quality dose he encountered.

Mystery solved!

The tingling, electrified feeling he experienced around Shen Qiaolan was simply his overbuilt-up pheromones being soothed by Alpha pheromones—a mild physiological reaction.

His so-called love at first sight had nothing to do with “physiological attraction.” His glands were just desperately seeking medicine.

Lin Xiangqi thought he’d fallen in love with Shen Qiaolan—but really, all he’d fallen for… was the cure!

…

And in the novel, Shen Qiaolan had been awful to him while he was alive—not only did he never offer any pheromonal help, he hadn’t even shown him the slightest kindness.

But after Lin Xiangqi’s death, Shen Qiaolan suddenly came to a dramatic realization: he had actually loved Lin Xiangqi all along, to the bone.

He was the one who had truly fallen in love at first sight!

Shen Qiaolan had always acted like he looked down on Lin Xiangqi, mocking and cold toward him every day—but deep inside, he had been wavering all along.

He probably couldn’t accept that he had feelings for a Beta, so he used extreme behavior to suppress his emotions.

But he couldn’t bring himself to completely reject Lin Xiangqi, and so he secretly paid attention to him in twisted and possessive ways.

Shen Qiaolan hated the Alpha named Lu Cong who was close to Lin Xiangqi and had been his childhood companion for over a decade. Driven by jealousy, he did everything he could to drive a wedge between them.

Shen Qiaolan disliked seeing Lin Xiangqi talk to anyone else, so he would lash out with cruel remarks, mocking him for “throwing himself at any guy he sees.”

In the novel, all of Shen Qiaolan’s actions were described as a twisted and awkward expression of love—an immature youth flailing through his first love, too scared to expose his own raw and sensitive heart, and thus fumbling his entire adolescence.

After finishing the full novel, Lin Xiangqi was stunned: Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?

When I was alive, you ignored me, mocked me, humiliated me. Then I die, and you suddenly turn into Prince Deep Emotions?

And you go find a substitute? Did you even ask for my permission?!

What “raw and sensitive heart”…

Get lost!!

But no matter how much Lin Xiangqi complained, in the book, he was still just a cannon-fodder.

His greatest narrative purpose was to be the unforgettable white moonlight of a scummy Alpha and to set up the groundwork for a painful substitute romance.

His past and future were only mentioned in passing. Every time the plot brought him up, it was just a fleeting line.

The only part that received detail… was his death.

“Lin Xiangqi seemed to be spending more and more time staring off into space. When did that start? Maybe when Lu Cong left the city.

Before leaving, Lu Cong had left him a letter, but Lin Xiangqi never got to read it—because Shen Qiaolan had burned it. That had always felt like a thorn in his heart.

When he received his acceptance letter from the Capital University, he messaged Lu Cong again to share the good news. But there was no reply.

Lin Xiangqi knew that military academies had strict rules—no outside communication on non-holidays.

Still, when the phone rang, he instinctively thought it was Lu Cong calling.

He always believed that whenever something good happened in life, Lu Cong would be there to hear about it.

But it was Shen Qiaolan’s voice on the other end.

He hung up.

After Shen Qiaolan got engaged to that Omega, Lin Xiangqi resolved to forget him and start fresh. But Shen Qiaolan wouldn’t let go, haunting him like a ghost.

To Shen Qiaolan, Lin Xiangqi was just a passing amusement, a show for his own entertainment.

Lin Xiangqi couldn’t understand: if Shen Qiaolan didn’t love him, why wouldn’t he just let him go?

And Shen Qiaolan couldn’t seem to understand Lin Xiangqi either—he seemed to believe Lin Xiangqi was destined to love him forever.

The phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Lin Xiangqi had had enough. He turned it off and locked it in a drawer.

…

That night, Lin Xiangqi was struck by sudden, intense pain. He fell off the bed, tried with all his strength, but couldn’t reach his phone to call an ambulance.

So many things had gone wrong in that eighteenth year.

Back then, he thought the worst life could do was take away the one you loved.

It wasn’t until his illness fully erupted that he realized something was deeply wrong with his body.

But fate had no mercy left to give.

And so, Lin Xiangqi died at eighteen.”

When Lin Xiangqi read this part of the story, he practically lost his soul.

How could I just die like that?

Can’t I get some emergency care at least?!

Why do the main characters get to survive bullets, drownings, and cliff falls, while us cannon-fodder die from a simple gland blockage?!

And so, the very first thing Lin Xiangqi did after waking up with his newfound awareness… was rush to the hospital.

—

But he ran into trouble at the registration step.

The hospital receptionist glanced at his ID, then frowned and looked up at him through the glass with clear displeasure. “Gland check? For who?”

Lin Xiangqi puffed up his chest and said, “For myself.”

The receptionist impatiently shoved the ID back out at him and said, “You’re a Beta. Why are you here for a gland check? If there’s nothing wrong with you, move along. Don’t waste everyone’s time.”

As a Beta in mind but an Omega in body, this was Lin Xiangqi’s first-ever gland consultation, and he was already nervous. Being snapped at made him lose even more confidence.

Truthfully, he had been having second thoughts since stepping into the hospital.

He was afraid the dream last night wasn’t real—just a delusion. Afraid he didn’t actually have anything wrong and would get kicked out like a lunatic. But at the same time, he was afraid something was wrong, and that it’d be declared incurable.

His mind was in a chaotic mess, and the usually silver-tongued Lin Xiangqi couldn’t form a single coherent sentence.

The receptionist pushed him to leave, and people in line were pressing forward.

Lin Xiangqi couldn’t understand why getting a consultation was so hard. In a moment of panic, he blurted out, “I’m an Omega—I just haven’t differentiated properly yet. That’s what I’m here to check!”

And the moment he said it, he regretted it.

What if it turned out he wasn’t an Omega at all? He’d have to be referred to the psychiatric ward!

But Lin Xiangqi was overthinking it.

As soon as he said that, the receptionist’s expression turned serious—not suspicious, but concerned. “Omegas usually differentiate between ages twelve and fourteen. If you’re almost eighteen and still haven’t, that’s very serious. Why didn’t you come earlier?”

Lin Xiangqi dared not say that he had only confirmed his gender after reading the original novel’s setting.

He thought for a moment and came up with a more reasonable-sounding explanation: “I didn’t know before. The school medical checkup didn’t catch it either, but recently I found that I could smell my classmates’ pheromones.”

“Got it.” This time the receptionist didn’t say anything else. She came out from behind the counter. “I’ll take you to the building next door. Follow me.”

Though she wasn’t from the gland specialist department, having worked in the hospital for many years, she knew well enough that cases like Lin Xiangqi’s—stalled differentiation—could be serious. So she didn’t waste time doubting him and led him straight to the specialist’s office in the adjacent building.

On the way, Lin Xiangqi was still a bit dazed, his pale face drained of color. He pursed his lips and followed her with small, timid steps, looking both pitiful and adorable.

The receptionist couldn’t help but feel a little soft-hearted and gently asked, “Are you scared?”

“I’m not scared,” Lin Xiangqi blurted out.
But truthfully, he was scared to death.

That was just the kind of person he was. No matter how big the crisis, he refused to show weakness. He thought he was acting calm and collected, unaware that to someone like the receptionist—who had seen all kinds of people—his unease was written all over his face.

“You’re very brave. But where are your parents? They should really be with you.” She didn’t expose his lie and simply reminded him, “Anything related to glands shouldn’t be taken lightly. If you need to be hospitalized, you’ll need someone to stay with you.”

Lin Xiangqi blinked, his long lashes fluttering, then swallowed the unnecessary explanation and said simply, “They’re not around.”

Whatever she thought that meant, she didn’t ask more. Instead, she gently advised him: “Omega glands are very fragile. No matter what the test results are, you must take good care of your glands from now on. It’s best to tell your family and have them buy you a pheromone-blocking patch.”

These patches served many functions—mainly to protect an Omega’s glands. They could block external pheromone interference and also prevent one’s own pheromones from leaking. Every Omega had one nowadays.

Lin Xiangqi clearly didn’t know much about Omega-related matters, so he listened very carefully and silently made a mental note to get those patches for himself later.

–

The gland specialist doctor turned out to be much gentler than expected. After learning about Lin Xiangqi’s situation, he patiently explained many details about Omega medical care and personally accompanied him through a full set of tests.

One of the pheromone tests required a gland puncture, which was extremely painful.

Lin Xiangqi managed to endure it without making a sound—even bit through the corner of his mouth.

Feeling sorry for him, the doctor asked if he wanted to stop and take a break.

Red-eyed, Lin Xiangqi shook his head. He figured ripping the bandage off quickly was better—he could handle it.

But halfway through, the pain made him faint.

The surrounding doctors and nurses were startled. They had thought Lin Xiangqi had a high pain tolerance since he hadn’t cried or complained.

Little did they know—it was the opposite. Lin Xiangqi was just good at enduring it, but he was very afraid of pain.

After resting for half an hour, he finally looked a bit better. Thankfully the puncture was over. He held the hot milk that a nurse had bought for him and sipped it slowly while waiting for the results.

No one knew how much time had passed when the doctor returned, holding a thick stack of reports, looking at Lin Xiangqi with a complicated expression.

Lin Xiangqi stood up instinctively, biting again at his already-injured lower lip.

He thought, The test results must be terrible.

Otherwise, the doctor wouldn’t be looking at him with such a sympathetic gaze. He wouldn’t have opened with, “You should call your parents. This is something that needs to be discussed with an adult.”

Lin Xiangqi unconsciously clenched his fingers. He pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth for a long moment before replying calmly, “Doctor, you can just tell me. My parents passed away a long time ago. I’m the only one at home. If I need surgery, I can sign for myself. I brought enough money too.”

The doctor looked surprised for a moment. Then, probably afraid that showing too much sympathy would upset Lin Xiangqi, he quickly looked away and pretended to be busy flipping through the reports. He said:

“Don’t worry. There’s no surgery required. But your condition is very serious. I’ve never seen an Omega whose glands have stopped developing but can still secrete pheromones. I recommend you start pheromone therapy immediately…”

Realizing that Lin Xiangqi might not understand, he explained more simply, “That means using high-level Alpha pheromones to dissolve the ones that are congested in your body. It’s the gentlest and most effective method and will help prevent any complications later on.”

The doctor told him that his glands were unresponsive to most pheromones. Only extremely compatible, high-quality Alpha pheromones could be detected by his glands. Therefore, treatment using that specific person’s pheromones would be the most effective.

After saying all this, the doctor asked if Lin Xiangqi had recently smelled an Alpha’s pheromones.

“…” Lin Xiangqi now had a major psychological aversion to the scumbag Alpha Shen Qiaolan, but he didn’t dare lie to the doctor, so he nodded stiffly. “Yes.”

The doctor asked bluntly, “What’s your relationship with this person? Your glands aren’t fully developed, yet you can smell his scent—that proves his pheromones are extremely high-quality. I suggest you talk to this Alpha and ask him to assist in your treatment.”

Lin Xiangqi immediately wilted.

Knowing the plot of the original story inside and out, he was absolutely, absolutely unwilling to get tangled up with Shen Qiaolan again.

He decided to struggle a bit and asked, “I’m not close to that Alpha… Is there any other treatment?”

“There is.” Surprisingly, the doctor nodded right away. “You could try injection therapy.”

Hearing this, Lin Xiangqi’s eyes lit up—so there was another way!

But then he noticed the doctor’s expression didn’t look too optimistic, so he cautiously asked, “Are there any side effects?”

“Not really,” the doctor replied, rubbing his brow. “But what you probably don’t realize is—high-grade pheromones are extremely rare worldwide. So the price is… also quite high.”

Lin Xiangqi thought, As long as it works, I’m not afraid of spending money.
He patted the savings passbook in his pocket and asked with determination, “How much?”

“100,000,” the doctor said.

Lin Xiangqi’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve got that!”

“For one dose,” the doctor added. “You’ll need one shot a week during the early stages. After a year, depending on the improvement in congestion, we’ll assess whether your glands can continue differentiating.”

Lin Xiangqi’s eyes lost their sparkle.

100,000 per shot.
Once a week.
For a whole year.
And no guarantee that the pheromone supply would remain stable.

Doctor, you’re basically telling me to drop dead!