MVCFO CH10

“The Shen family initially stayed holed up in the principal’s office, clearly trying to cause trouble for the class monitor. But guess what? Once the surveillance footage was pulled, it confirmed that Shen Qiaolan was the one who kicked first, and he was also the first to release his pheromones. Our class monitor not only didn’t get punished—he might even get commended for standing up to injustice. Once the Shen family realized they were in the wrong, they stopped pushing the issue. Acting all high and mighty, they just handed Xu Muwen and the others some money for medical expenses and left.”

It wasn’t even 7 a.m., but a few students had already arrived earlier than the most diligent class rep. They were all huddled in the back row, desperately cramming for the weekend’s test like comrades in misfortune.

As they copied from each other amid Chen Qiutian’s gossipy chatter, their pens flew across the paper.

Zhou Yang was working on a math test, muttering, “ABCDC… Being rich really is something. If anyone else went around kicking people at school, they’d be suspended and given a demerit. But I don’t think the school plans to punish Shen Qiaolan at all.”

“Zhou Yang, are you stupid? What you’re copying is a physics multiple-choice section,” Chen Qiutian said, swapping his paper.

Zhou Yang waved it off. “Doesn’t matter. Mixing truth and fiction makes it less obvious you copied.”

Then he continued grumbling, “Shen Qiaolan is so arrogant at school because his family donated a bunch of buildings. Plus, I heard he’s got a brother working for the Alliance government… Tsk, this goes deep.”

“You can’t say that,” Chen Qiutian suddenly said, self-righteously. “I don’t like Shen Qiaolan either, but to be fair, the school didn’t plan on letting him off. I heard they were going to call him in for a talk. But you know what? Xu Muwen, the one who got kicked, decided not to press charges!”

Everyone froze mid-pen stroke and exaggeratedly gasped.

Chen Qiutian went on, “Forget about holding Shen Qiaolan accountable—once Xu Muwen and his crew got the money, they were practically licking the Shen family’s boots. If the so-called ‘victim’ wants to settle, the school naturally won’t make a fuss, so it all got swept under the rug.”

“What? They agreed to settle? Just because they got paid?”

Someone asked, “That’s so low. How much did the Shen family give them to make them sell their dignity?”

Chen Qiutian held up two fingers.

The others started guessing:

“Twenty thousand?”

“That’s too little. The Shen family wouldn’t be that stingy. Maybe two hundred thousand.”

“Two hundred thousand? That’s too much. It was just one kick! Even a week in the hospital wouldn’t cost that much.”

Chen Qiutian put on a mysterious face, lowered his voice, and said, “Two million.”

Even the students who hadn’t been paying attention gasped: “No way!”

“Are you serious? Chen Qiutian, stop making stuff up!”

“Two million?! That’s just throwing money around!”

“Chen Qiutian, your rumors are getting wilder. Ever since you started saying Lin Xiangqi might not like Shen Qiaolan anymore, I knew your sources weren’t reliable.”

“No, I think it’s possible,” another student joined in. “Last Friday, I passed by the principal’s office and overheard Xu Muwen’s dad cozying up to the Shen family, saying stuff like, ‘Our kid was being careless and bumped into the young master.’ Sounded like they’d already taken the money by then.”

“Unbelievable—getting kicked and then apologizing to the kicker. Everything’s upside down.”

“Wait, why were you passing by the principal’s office? You were eavesdropping, weren’t you?”

“Man, if Shen Qiaolan could kick me once, I’d be set. I don’t even have two million to my name. Xu Muwen got rich from one kick. I’m so jealous.”

“Get lost. Have some self-respect!”

“Shh, shh, I feel a chill down my spine. Can one of you look up and see if the homeroom teacher’s standing at the back door?” Chen Qiutian, seated near the back door, shivered as he spoke.

Everyone panicked and scrambled to hide their papers in a flurry.

But when they looked up—

“Lin! Xiang! Qi!”

Lin Xiangqi was leaning against the window, grinning mischievously as he pushed open the door. “Why so jumpy when you see me? Talking behind my back?”

“Of course not, who’d dare?”

Everyone stood up and cleared a spot in the center for him, flattering him, “Brother Xiangqi, you’re here early. Did you bring ‘the goods’?”

With a smug tilt of his chin, Lin Xiangqi pulled out a stack of completed test papers from his bag, slapped them on the desk, and said, “I did these with Lu Cong. All correct.”

Eyes lit up all around. “This is quality stuff! Let me get a taste!”

But before they could reach for it, Lin Xiangqi slapped a hand over the papers and, deadpan, said, “We’re in senior year now. It’s better not to copy homework. Doing it yourself helps you grow.”

Chen Qiutian: “Say it in human language.”

Lin Xiangqi: “Lu Cong came with me.”

That said it all.

Lu Cong was the class monitor. Though he never snitched, his presence alone was as intimidating as a teacher’s.

With him around, no one dared copy.

Everyone gave up, rushing to fill in big blank sections with random nonsense before Lu Cong arrived. One person even copied the entire question stem on the Chinese test.

Chen Qiutian was better off—he’d only left the foreign language section blank and had almost finished it. He asked Lin Xiangqi, “Where’s our dear class monitor?”

Lin Xiangqi walked up to his front-row seat, dropped off his bag, and said, “Went to wash apples.”

“Huh?” Chen Qiutian was momentarily confused.

“On the way here, we bought two candy apples. He said he’d peel them. I told him I like eating the skin, so he just went to wash them.” Lin Xiangqi looked genuinely puzzled. “He’s so fussy. Apples are clean enough—you just wipe them and eat, right?”

Chen Qiutian gave him a look. “He’s worried you’ll get sick. Last time you ate a sour cherry off the school’s cherry tree, you got a stomachache, remember?”

Lin Xiangqi blinked. “Oh yeah, I did.”

Chen Qiutian sighed. “Lu Cong really takes good care of you.”

Soon, Lu Cong returned with the washed apples.

The moment he stepped through the front door, the back row—which had just been frantically scribbling—instantly sat up straight, picked up books, and recited like they were pondering the mysteries of the universe: “Why is B the correct answer here? Ah, because B is the correct answer.”

Lu Cong glanced at them with a half-smile, wiped the water droplets off the apple, and handed it to Lin Xiangqi. “I’m going to the cafeteria to buy a drink. Want one?”

Lin Xiangqi bit into the apple and stood up. “I’ll come with you.”

Then he looked back at the group and said meaningfully, “Ten minutes.”

The two walked out together.

Everyone stared tearfully at their backs. “Long live Brother Xiangqi! Glory to the class monitor!”

Lu Cong turned back and said calmly, “Just this once.”

Everyone cupped their hands: “Of course, of course!”

Many were curious about Lin Xiangqi’s absence on Friday.

But he didn’t want to go around telling people he was an Omega with a rare condition, so he gave a safer excuse, saying he’d been sick and was feeling much better now.

Technically, their school was a mixed-gender ABO school—but there were lots of Betas, a few Alphas, and no Omegas.

Omegas were rare globally, and the government had good welfare and education policies for them. Most Omegas attended public Omega academies for free, and exceptional ones could even get high scholarships to elite AO schools.

Lin Xiangqi had spent over ten years as a Beta and was used to that life. Becoming an Omega didn’t make him feel particularly special. With less than a year left until the college entrance exam, he didn’t want to make a fuss over his gender change—it would only disrupt his studies and complicate the bonding treatment he needed with Lu Cong. So, he chose to keep it to himself.

But someone sharp-eyed still noticed the large medicated patch on the back of Lin Xiangqi’s neck and asked if he had a cervical spine issue.

Lin Xiangqi calmly replied, “Yeah, my cervical spine isn’t great. I’ve got bad posture, so I’ll probably need to wear this patch for quite a while.”

In truth, the patch was only there to cover the gland-blocking sticker underneath.

Fortunately, everyone believed him and didn’t question it too much.

Only one person seemed particularly “concerned” about Lin Xiangqi today.

That person was Xu Muwen.

He was the one who’d been kicked by Shen Qiaolan last Friday, also their Class 7’s eternal dead-last in rankings, a school punk whose status had never changed.

Usually, Xu Muwen was a bit of an outlier. He didn’t hang out with his own classmates much—he was always buddying up with people from other classes, even from other schools. It was like he was determined to craft himself a school bully persona.

But after that kick last week, that persona shifted.

Chen Qiutian wasn’t spreading rumors—Xu Muwen’s family had indeed received a hefty compensation from the Shen family.

Not only that, but Xu Muwen’s father had been laid off from his company last year and still hadn’t found suitable work. His temper had grown worse and worse, and he’d taken to drinking to drown his sorrows, turning their home into a toxic mess. To avoid legal trouble, the Shen family took decisive action—they arranged a new job for Xu Muwen’s father in one of their companies, with pay no less than what he used to earn.

Under these circumstances, Xu Muwen’s parents gladly accepted all of the Shen family’s terms and made it very clear to him at home: no matter what, he had to build a good relationship with Shen Qiaolan at school. Whatever it took, they couldn’t afford to lose this “connection.”

Now Xu Muwen was Shen Qiaolan’s lapdog—and he wore that role like a badge of honor. He didn’t even think it was shameful.

The first thing Xu Muwen did upon arriving in class today was to block Lin Xiangqi at his desk, glaring fiercely and pointing a finger at him. “Hey, what were you doing on Friday and Saturday?”

Not only was Lin Xiangqi stunned—Chen Qiutian nearby was stunned too.

Lin Xiangqi and Xu Muwen had barely interacted since they were placed in the same class. He had no idea why Xu Muwen was coming after him now.

He said nothing, just looked up at Xu Muwen, and from his over-the-top “fierce” demeanor, he could clearly see the vibes of someone playing the role of a lackey.

Sure enough, the next moment, Xu Muwen followed up with: “Why didn’t you answer Young Master Shen’s calls on Saturday?”

Lin Xiangqi: “Pfft.”

Chen Qiutian: “Pfft.”

The classmates nearby: “Pffft pffft pffft.”

“Did you hear that? ‘Young Master Shen’—HAHAHA! That sounds like something out of a super cheesy drama!”

“……” Xu Muwen had spent the entire weekend sucking up to Shen Qiaolan, wagging his tail like a dog. He’d been calling him “young master” so much it had become a reflex. By the time he realized what he’d said, it was already too late to take it back.

In truth, no one had told Xu Muwen to go confront Lin Xiangqi—he took the initiative himself.

The reason went back to Saturday, when Shen Qiaolan had been partying at an upscale club with a bunch of second-generation rich kids. After a while, just drinking and watching performances got boring, so they started playing games.

Shen Qiaolan rarely lost a bet, but he lost that one round. The crowd got rowdy and insisted he kiss one of the club’s Omega companions as punishment.

Shen Qiaolan kicked the person off him in disgust before they could even crawl into his lap.

No one dared truly offend him, but they still wanted to keep the mood lively. Someone joked, “Tell you what, the Omegas here are all kinda gross anyway. Why don’t you call someone yourself? As long as you complete the punishment, we won’t care who it is.”

No one knew exactly what Shen Qiaolan was thinking when he dialed Lin Xiangqi’s number.

Maybe it was just for fun. Maybe it was mockery, or even humiliation.

But everyone was waiting for a show.

Including Xu Muwen, who’d tagged along with his shameless face to join the party—he too was curious to see how Shen Qiaolan would toy with Lin Xiangqi.

But Lin Xiangqi never picked up the call.

The first time? Maybe he was napping. The second? Maybe his phone was on silent. The third, fourth… still nothing. Shen Qiaolan’s joking expression slowly vanished, replaced by a dark scowl filled with fury—the kind of rage that comes when desire is denied.

Everyone thought Shen Qiaolan got angry because he’d lost face. He smashed his phone and stormed out, leaving more than a dozen people behind.

That’s what even Xu Muwen believed.

So on Monday morning, he came in hot, trying to “win face back” for his young master.

He figured, if he could rough Lin Xiangqi up a bit, and Shen Qiaolan saw him looking pathetic, maybe that would make the young master feel better and look at him more favorably.

The more Xu Muwen thought about it, the more sense it made.

He glanced at the Coke bottle and the tall stack of books on Lin Xiangqi’s desk, then suddenly clamped his hand on the edge, ready to flip everything over.

With a single heave, he could easily send the books and snacks flying. Then he’d stomp all over the snacks, and while Lin Xiangqi was squatting to clean up in a mess, he’d dump the Coke over his head and snap a photo to show Shen Qiaolan later.

It was a perfect plan.

But something seemed off in the execution.

“…Huh?” Xu Muwen pulled again. Then harder.

The desk didn’t budge.

He frowned and looked down at Lin Xiangqi.

Lin Xiangqi tilted his head with an innocent look, meeting his gaze. “Did you not eat breakfast? Can’t even flip a desk?”

“You little—”

Furious, Xu Muwen tried again with more strength—

What the hell? Still not moving?!

That’s when he noticed something was wrong. He turned to the side—and saw another hand on the desk.

Lu Cong had silently walked over at some point.

He had been collecting homework, row by row from the window side of the room.

Now, his left hand held a thick stack of papers, while his right casually pressed down on Lin Xiangqi’s desk, as if he just happened to stop by. His face was calm as he looked at Xu Muwen.

Xu Muwen gave the desk a tentative push. It didn’t move at all.

He realized—it was Lu Cong’s hand holding it down.

Lu Cong suddenly said, “Xu Muwen, you haven’t handed in your homework.”

Xu Muwen’s lips twitched.

He wasn’t as tall as Lu Cong. He had to look up just to meet his gaze. He wasn’t stronger either—he couldn’t even budge a corner of the desk with both hands. And most importantly, Lu Cong’s calm, expressionless demeanor somehow gave off an overwhelming pressure, making Xu Muwen feel totally crushed.

He burst out in frustration, yelling, “Screw your homework! I didn’t do it!”

Lu Cong raised an eyebrow but said nothing. His gaze slid past Xu Muwen’s shoulder.

Right then, Lin Xiangqi deliberately raised his voice and sweetly called out toward the door, “Good morning, homeroom teacher!”

Their teacher Qin Xiao was standing at the doorway, glaring at Xu Muwen with eyes like a god of death. “Xu Muwen, come. Come stand in front of me and say that again.”

Xu Muwen: “!!!”