MVCFO CH20

Chapter 20: Why Do I Feel Like Your Lips Are Swollen?

“Why do I keep feeling like your lips are swollen?”

“Is it my imagination, or—”

Chen Qiutian turned his head, staring at Lin Xiangqi for a long moment, as if he had something to say.

Lin Xiangqi, unsure what he was getting at, ignored him, focused on filling out his college aspiration form.

It was an old tradition at their school. In the first semester of senior year, students had to draft a college aspiration form. This helped those clueless about applications understand which universities their current grades could reach, while also motivating everyone to strive for their goals.

The homeroom teacher required it to be submitted by the end of the day.

Typically, students aimed high since it was just practice—no fear of falling short. Even bottom-ranking students dared to list Capital University.

But Lin Xiangqi’s homeroom teacher, Qin Xiao, took it seriously.

He stressed that this was an aspiration form, not a dream list.

Aspirations could be as grand as desired, but the form had to be realistic, based on their latest comprehensive exam scores.

Lin Xiangqi’s goal was Capital University, but his current grades were 100-200 points shy of last year’s cutoff. He needed another university to list.

While pondering, Chen Qiutian suddenly said, “Why do I feel like your lips are swollen?”

Lin Xiangqi instinctively covered his mouth.

Still swollen?!

No way…

He’d checked in the mirror for ages this morning. There shouldn’t be any telltale signs.

“And I noticed something else,” Chen Qiutian continued, oblivious to Lin Xiangqi’s embarrassment, as his tactless observation skills shone. “The class monitor’s lips are chapped.”

Lin Xiangqi: “…!”

One with swollen lips, the other with chapped ones.

Separately, it’s nothing. Together, it’s suggestive.

Lin Xiangqi tensed.

Though his and Lu Cong’s “kissing” had a legitimate reason, he knew it couldn’t be shared, no matter how justified, lest it spark misunderstandings.

He dreaded Chen Qiutian blurting out some earth-shattering revelation.

True to form, Chen Qiutian had a brainwave, slamming his desk and standing. “Oh! Did you guys sneak off to eat hotpot without me?!”

Lin Xiangqi froze for a second, then his mouth twitched. “You’ve got the freshest brain I know.”

He’d worried for nothing.

Chen Qiutian, thinking he was praised, grinned. “My brain’s fresh? Last time, my mom said it’s rusted shut. Ugh, why can’t she see my strengths like you do?”

Lin Xiangqi gave him a pitying look. “Maybe she’s trying hard to find them.”

And failing.

Chen Qiutian missed the last part, fixating on food. “So, did you and Lu Cong eat hotpot or not? Last week for your birthday, I planned with Zhou Yang and the others to treat you to dinner, but you took the whole afternoon off and vanished. Now you’re sneaking off with Lu Cong for good food without me. Are you still my best friend?”

Lin Xiangqi, deadpan, said, “You’re obviously not my best friend.”

Chen Qiutian: “?”

He stared, betrayed. “I’m not your best friend? Then who is? Who?!”

Lin Xiangqi, matter-of-factly: “Lu Cong.”

“Oh.” Chen Qiutian’s hurt vanished, and he grinned. “That’s fine then. He’s not in my lane. You and I are pure bros.”

Lin Xiangqi: “…”

Ignoring Chen Qiutian, Lin Xiangqi returned to his aspiration form, but Chen Qiutian, hung up on missing his birthday, kept yammering.

“Did you eat out, or cook at home?”

“Spicy hotpot? Which brand’s broth? Was it good?”

“Speaking of, where were you for your birthday? What’d you eat that night?”

“With Lu Cong’s cooking skills, anything he makes must be great. Your lips are so swollen today—what kind of gourmet dish did you devour—”

Annoyed, Lin Xiangqi dropped his pen. Deciding to lean into the chaos rather than stress, he teased, “Why’re you so sure we ate hotpot? Maybe this morning, before leaving, Lu Cong and I were at home, making out for ages, and that’s why my lips are messed up.”

Chen Qiutian snorted. “Hilarious. Stop spouting nonsense.”

Lin Xiangqi hadn’t wanted Chen Qiutian to catch on, but his insistence on their innocence irked him. He shot back, “Why’s it nonsense? Don’t you ship us as a CP?”

Chen Qiutian: “I ship CPs based on facts, never out of character! Remember that movie we watched? The leads tongue-kissed for two seconds, and you gagged, saying you’d never make out with anyone because it’s gross. Since then, I don’t even write kissing in your fanfics. That’s how well I know you—”

Lin Xiangqi cut in: “Hold up. You wrote what fanfics about me?”

Chen Qiutian, ignoring him, continued, “Point is, you can’t dodge owing me a hotpot by spreading rumors about yourself.”

Lin Xiangqi lunged, smacking him. “What the hell did you write?!”

Lu Cong entered, carrying quizzes for the next class, and saw Lin Xiangqi and Chen Qiutian tussling.

Lin Xiangqi had apparently found something scandalous in Chen Qiutian’s bag, his face red with fury, tearing paper and trying to shove it into Chen Qiutian’s mouth.

Chen Qiutian, pleading, yelled, “No! That’s my blood, sweat, and tears—”

Lu Cong didn’t know what was happening but wasn’t surprised. He tapped Lin Xiangqi’s desk lightly.

But at the sight of him, Lin Xiangqi jumped like a cat with its tail stepped on, eyes darting anywhere but at Lu Cong.

Lu Cong frowned, puzzled, and glanced at Chen Qiutian, who mirrored Lin Xiangqi’s reaction, avoiding his gaze.

Chen Qiutian’s expression screamed guilt; Lin Xiangqi’s was… shame and irritation?

“Finished your aspiration form?” Lu Cong asked Lin Xiangqi. “The homeroom teacher wants you in the office.”

“Oh!” Lin Xiangqi, still not looking at him, grabbed the blank form and bolted out.

Lu Cong watched him flee, then slowly turned to Chen Qiutian.

Chen Qiutian: “…”

A sense of impending doom.

Chen Qiutian was close to Lin Xiangqi but only casually acquainted with Lu Cong. Their mutual connection to Lin Xiangqi hadn’t made them friends.

In all their years as classmates, Chen Qiutian’s conversations with Lu Cong combined were fewer than his whispers with Lin Xiangqi in a single class.

Yet now, Lu Cong spoke to him directly.

“Can I see it?” Lu Cong asked.

Chen Qiutian’s scalp tingled. “…”

How did Lu Cong know?

He trembled with guilt.

Lu Cong offered a tolerant, benevolent smile. “Should I grab it myself?”

“…I-I’ll get it!”

Chen Qiutian frantically sifted through his pile of painstakingly crafted works, picking the tamest one, and handed it to Lu Cong with both hands. “Spare my life, Monitor!”

Lu Cong took it, asking, “Which ones did he see?”

Chen Qiutian’s rusty brain worked overtime. Knowing better than to pry, he answered what Lu Cong wanted to hear. In a flash of desperation, he blurted, “None! Xiangqi didn’t see any. He flipped to the first page and started tearing!”

No exaggeration there.

Lin Xiangqi hadn’t read a word. Just knowing Chen Qiutian had spun so many tales about him and Lu Cong sent him into a rage. He didn’t bother with the details.

Lu Cong nodded, composed.

Chen Qiutian found it odd.

Lu Cong had just walked in—how could he know what they were fighting over? How did he know about the writings?

So he asked, “Monitor, how’d you know I wrote… wait, do you even know what I wrote?”

Lu Cong looked down at him, calm and refined, holding the notebook Chen Qiutian had offered. His tone was measured. “I’m about to find out.”

Chen Qiutian: “…”

My life is over!

“This is worth considering carefully.”

Qin Xiao handed Lin Xiangqi some documents, patting his shoulder. “Honestly, I suggest applying for this special recommendation. Your grades are too unstable, and your subject imbalances are severe. Improving overall is a tall order. I know you’re smart, but your mindset’s too restless. Without this opportunity, the next year will be tough.”

“Capital Film Academy is the top arts university in the Alliance. Many can’t even dream of getting in. Our school has one recommendation slot, and the principal personally asked me to give you this application. Why do you think you left such an impression on him? Because you’re a perfect fit.”

Lin Xiangqi grinned obediently. “Maybe because I went up to the podium for self-criticism three times last year.”

Qin Xiao: “.”

“Let’s not dwell on that.”

“Lin Xiangqi, this recommendation is rare. Universities usually pick academic stars, but the Film Academy’s criteria are different. Look at you—a campus celebrity! You sing, dance, and shine in talent. Didn’t you win a national singing competition? And you’re—” Qin Xiao paused, about to say good-looking, but worried it might bother a boy, so he switched gears. “You’re so handsome. At the Film Academy, you’d stand out. You could easily become a big star. If you’re interested, fill out this application carefully.”

Lin Xiangqi kept smiling, his stance unclear, and said, “But, Teacher, I’m good at singing, not acting. They might not want me.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. Besides your grades, you’re exceptional in every way. Acting? You’d nail it effortlessly. I have high hopes for you.” Qin Xiao gave him a thumbs-up.

Lin Xiangqi chuckled, feeling the teacher’s sincerity. “Thank you, I’ll fill it out properly.”

“Good. Head back to class.” Before he left, Qin Xiao warned, “Don’t write it during class. I’ve caught you whispering with Chen Qiutian several times this week. After the sports festival, I’m splitting you two up. Let’s see how you slack off then!”

Lin Xiangqi stuck out his tongue. “Bleh.”

Before Qin Xiao could grab his ear, he bolted.

Back in class, the bell rang, but the teacher hadn’t arrived.

Seeing the documents in Lin Xiangqi’s hand, classmates crowded around. “Xiangqi, what’s that?”

Lin Xiangqi waved it cheerily. “Film Academy recommendation application. Jealous?”

“Holy crap, a Film Academy recommendation? That’s so niche!”

“Damn, if I had your face, I’d apply too.”

“Forget it. Eight hundred reincarnations wouldn’t get you his looks.”

“Brother Xiang’s gonna be a big star?”

“So jealous! Can you sign something now? I’ll sell it when you’re famous!”

The classmates were more excited than Lin Xiangqi, assuming he’d take the Film Academy slot.

Not only did his image fit their idea of a Film Academy student, but who would reject a near-guaranteed recommendation?

Plus, Lin Xiangqi’s bright smile suggested he wasn’t opposed.

Sitting down, he didn’t start the form but pulled out his textbook and workbook for the next class.

It was math, his weakest subject.

Normally, he’d zone out, staring at the incomprehensible board.

But today, he listened intently.

Even if some problems baffled him, he didn’t doze or chat with Chen Qiutian.

Lin Xiangqi was making a final effort.

He wanted to see if he truly couldn’t improve his grades.

But after the whole class, he felt defeated. He just couldn’t grasp it.

In the original story, Lin Xiangqi did get into Capital University. But the plot skipped how he worked for it, only showing the acceptance letter.

For the real Lin Xiangqi, choosing between an easy, guaranteed goal and a distant, possibly unattainable future was tough.

Capital University was his and Lu Cong’s shared promise, their joint plan, his dream school.

But Lin Xiangqi remembered that in the original story, Lu Cong didn’t take the college entrance exam. He went to military academy.

Lin Xiangqi’s thoughts wandered. Lu Cong’s tall, striking figure seemed made for a uniform, his fierce pheromones fitting the image of a powerhouse.

Military academy suited him so well that Lin Xiangqi had long wavered on dragging him to Capital University.

In the story, Lu Cong died in war—not from defeat, but from a pheromone explosion caused by mental collapse.

If the real Lu Cong resolved his original issues, his military achievements could soar.

His future was vast, not confined to one school or a youthful promise.

So…

Why not just go to the Film Academy?

When the bell rang, Lin Xiangqi wrote his name on the application.

He thought, It’s not bad. A recommendation—others would kill for this…

Clink.

A small coconut milk appeared on his desk.

Lin Xiangqi’s pen paused. He looked up.

Lu Cong, who’d approached unnoticed, met his gaze. His dark eyes were deep, unfathomable, yet held a reassuring gentleness.

He spoke, asking Lin Xiangqi, “Wanna talk?”