MVCFO CH35.1

Suddenly, Lin Xiangqi and Lu Cong became deskmates.

This would have been unthinkable in the past.

Because Lin Xiangqi had a track record.

When seated with others, at most, he’d sleep, daydream, or doodle in his textbooks. Even with Chen Qitian as his deskmate, he’d only respond if Chen Qitian initiated the conversation.

But whenever he sat with Lu Cong, every teacher would seek out Qin Xiao after class and say, “That Lin Xiangqi in your class is out of control. He cannot sit with Lu Cong.”

At first, Qin Xiao didn’t understand. “What’s the problem?”

The teachers said:

“Today, I gave them a pop quiz. I was worried Lin Xiangqi hadn’t listened in class and might copy Lu Cong’s answers. Guess what? He didn’t even need to copy—Lu Cong wrote the answers for him while he read joke books the entire period!”

“My class was even worse. He leaned on Lu Cong’s shoulder and slept. I threw chalk at him, but Lu Cong blocked it with his hand. That’s Lu Cong—your class monitor! Instead of setting an example, he’s enabling Lin Xiangqi’s nonsense!”

“Lu Cong is usually so well-behaved—quiet in class, never breaks rules. But the moment he sits with Lin Xiangqi, both of them go wild.”

“So, Teacher Qin, kids who’ve grown up together and are too close shouldn’t sit together. Separate them, now!”

Later, Qin Xiao quickly rearranged their seats, fearing Lu Cong’s grades would suffer and Lin Xiangqi would get too comfortable slacking off in class.

But this time, the seating adjustment was a last resort.

Even though Lu Cong now wore an Alpha-specific neck restraint and seemed to have returned to his pre-“pheromone失控” state, anyone who’d smelled his pheromones would instinctively retain a fear of this high-tier Alpha’s genetic dominance.

It wasn’t just the students—even Qin Xiao, as their homeroom teacher, couldn’t help but feel a subconscious urge to submit in Lu Cong’s presence.

Qin Xiao could maintain his composure only through age and experience. For the younger students, swayed too easily by pheromones, no one could blame them.

Aside from Lin Xiangqi, no one dared get that close to Lu Cong.

On the podium, Qin Xiao pretended to sip tea while discreetly observing the two students in the corner.

When he saw Lin Xiangqi smack Lu Cong’s shoulder, he calmly thought: At least Lin Xiangqi’s proactive seat change saved me and Lu Cong some awkwardness. I’ll let the scolding slide today.

When he saw Lin Xiangqi doodling nonsense on his test, he thought: It’s fine. I’ll talk to him after class.

When Lin Xiangqi suddenly took off his scarf and shoved it into Lu Cong’s arms, Qin Xiao’s hand trembled, but he reassured himself: It’s fine. Lu Cong’s grades won’t suffer from a minor distraction.

But when he saw Lu Cong set down his pen, meticulously fold the scarf, gently wrap it around Lin Xiangqi’s neck twice, tuck in the gaps, pat his head, then resume his test—while Lin Xiangqi lazily rested his chin on Lu Cong’s arm, watching him write, occasionally yawning and wiping teary eyes on Lu Cong’s uniform—

That was the moment Qin Xiao snapped.

He slammed his thermos down with a bang, startling the entire class. Lin Xiangqi jolted upright, wide-eyed and nervous as he looked at Qin Xiao.

“Lin Xiangqi, Lu Cong—my office, now.” Qin Xiao scanned the room. “Everyone else, keep working. Class monitor, maintain order.”

Lin Xiangqi never imagined he’d be forced to rewrite the “No Early Dating Pledge”—again.

With all the indignation of the wrongly accused, he scrawled, “Lu Cong and I are absolutely NOT dating.”

When he peeked at Lu Cong’s paper, he nearly fainted.

Because Lu Cong had written: “I promise early dating won’t affect our studies.”

While Qin Xiao wasn’t looking, Lin Xiangqi kicked Lu Cong and glared a warning.

Lu Cong pretended not to understand, smiling back at him.

Lin Xiangqi gritted his teeth and reached for Lu Cong’s paper to fix it, but Lu Cong held it down, refusing to let him take it.

Just as Lin Xiangqi was about to protest, Qin Xiao cleared his throat. “Lin Xiangqi, you can go first. I’d like a word with the class monitor.”

Lin Xiangqi froze, his pen leaving an awkward ink blot on the paper.

He’d assumed he was the troublemaker, so if anyone needed lecturing, it should’ve been him.

Why was Lu Cong being kept behind?

Anxious, Lin Xiangqi glanced at Lu Cong, who patted his back reassuringly. “Go on.”

Lin Xiangqi reluctantly muttered, “Okay.”

He left the office seemingly obediently, even politely closing the door behind him.

In reality, he didn’t go far—lingering by the door to eavesdrop.

After a long pause, he finally heard voices inside.

“Lin Xiangqi mentioned you’re tutoring him.”

Qin Xiao’s voice was muffled but audible.

Lu Cong replied, “Mn. Made a study plan, but haven’t started yet.”

Qin Xiao wasn’t in a hurry. “Why not?”

“Been busy lately.” Lu Cong’s answer was vague, not specifying what had kept them occupied.

But it was true—they’d been taking leave nonstop, as if mishaps kept piling up.

“Do you really think Lin Xiangqi can get into Capital University?” Qin Xiao asked bluntly.

Outside the door, Lin Xiangqi nervously picked at the wall tiles.

He heard Lu Cong say, “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Qin Xiao: “Are you saying that to comfort him,敷衍 me, or do you mean it?”

Instead of answering directly, Lu Cong said, “He’s smart. Always had top grades—ranked top three in his year during middle school.”

Of course, that was before his parents passed away.

After turning fourteen, his grades plummeted. But everyone made allowances for Lin Xiangqi back then, so no one pressured him to study.

“His grades aren’t bad now, honestly.” Qin Xiao half-joked. “Last semester’s finals—he didn’t even finish some papers, yet still passed.”

Lu Cong nodded. “Right.”

Qin Xiao: “But that’s precisely the issue, understand?”

Lu Cong stayed silent.

Qin Xiao continued, “He’s grown accustomed to slacking. Even when he could excel, he half-asses it. He says he wants to get into Capital University, but where’s the effort? Without the drive to improve, no amount of study plans will help.”

“He…” For once, Lu Cong was at a loss for words.

Because Qin Xiao wasn’t wrong. Lin Xiangqi was strange—he had goals but no motivation.

Qin Xiao added, “You can make endless excuses for him, but facts won’t change. Honestly, don’t expect to raise his score to 680 in half a year—that’s unrealistic. Focus on yourself first. I’ll talk to Lin Xiangqi a few more times to adjust his mindset.”

Lu Cong, however, said, “I’ll be fine.”

Qin Xiao assumed he was just being modest. “The school has high expectations for you.”

Then Lu Cong dropped a bombshell that left Qin Xiao speechless:

“I can’t attend university.”

Not just Qin Xiao—even Lin Xiangqi, eavesdropping outside, was stunned.

Can’t attend?

What did he mean, can’t?

Lu Cong’s grades were perfect—he could ace every subject. If he couldn’t go to university, who could?

And hadn’t he promised to go to Capital University together?

Qin Xiao voiced the question on Lin Xiangqi’s behalf: “Why? Did something happen? You can tell the school, we’ll do everything we can to help resolve it.”

Lu Cong calmly touched the restraint around his neck and explained, “Because of this.”

Qin Xiao understood in an instant: “Because your pheromone test results won’t pass university health screenings?”

“Something like that,” Lu Cong replied without elaborating.

The real issue was mainly the inhibitor’s failure.

Lu Cong’s pheromones were too dangerous, but if he scored perfectly on the college entrance exams, top universities likely wouldn’t reject a student like him. However, the inhibitor’s failure meant Lu Cong would remain an unstable factor.

Moreover, wearing a restraint collar essentially signaled that this Alpha required special supervision. Even with perfect scores, most universities wouldn’t accept such a student.

After hearing this, Qin Xiao felt like his soul had left his body.

Though Lu Cong would still take the exams—and his scores were crucial for the school—it was a profound pity that such an outstanding student couldn’t attend university. A tremendous pity.

But Lu Cong remained unfazed. “It’s fine.”

Qi Ye had already secured him a special position at the research institute, mainly assisting in military projects related to pheromone weaponry. Though he wouldn’t have any real responsibilities, it would grant him a researcher’s title.

If Lin Xiangqi successfully got into Capital University, Lu Cong could immediately accept the institute’s offer and, six months later, apply for an advanced study program at an alliance university.

That way, he could still enter Capital University—just through a more complicated process.

To Lu Cong, it wasn’t a big deal.

The outcome remained unchanged.

After hearing his explanation, Qin Xiao frowned. “From the sound of it, all your plans revolve around Lin Xiangqi’s situation.”

Lu Cong didn’t deny it. “Mn.”

“Are you even interested in the work at the research institute?” Qin Xiao asked.

Lu Cong: “Not particularly.”

Qin Xiao: “Then why make such a decision so easily?”

“It wasn’t easy,” Lu Cong said coolly, glancing at Qin Xiao. “When I realized I couldn’t directly enter Capital University, I was frustrated too. I worried he might give up on Capital University—or even the exams—because of me. I thought it over carefully before settling on this plan.”

Qin Xiao suddenly felt a pang of irritation. “So, from start to finish, you’ve never considered yourself.”

Lu Cong seemed puzzled by Qin Xiao’s words. After a pause, he asked, “Is the Alliance Central Research Institute… bad?”

Qin Xiao was startled. “Of course not! It’s where the smartest people in the world work!”

Lu Cong chuckled. “Then why regret it on my behalf? Most things in this world are too easy for me. Getting into university and finding a job are the least of my concerns.”

The statement sounded arrogant, but it was true.

Qin Xiao hadn’t known Lu Cong’s mother held such a high position in the alliance. It was unlikely she’d let her son miss out on higher education.

What he truly regretted for Lu Cong wasn’t the inability to attend university normally, but rather—

He felt that Lu Cong, like Lin Xiangqi, didn’t yet understand what kind of future they truly wanted.

Lin Xiangqi’s obliviousness was surface-level. Anyone could tell he hadn’t figured many things out, so his occasional indecision was understandable.

But Lu Cong’s uncertainty was deeply hidden.

He had the most flawless plans, the most meticulous preparations—yet he didn’t know what outcome he truly wanted from all this.

He did these things simply because the result was what Lin Xiangqi could most easily accept.

Among all his students, Qin Xiao had always held Lu Cong in the highest regard. He was the type of person who, at a glance, anyone could tell would achieve great things in the future.

And Lu Cong lived up to that impression. Whether in character, integrity, or academic performance, he was exceptional—always appearing effortlessly capable, making it seem like he had everything under control.

But only now did Qin Xiao realize: no one was perfect. Lu Cong, too, had his stubborn and clumsy side.

Ten minutes before class ended, Lu Cong returned to the classroom with Qin Xiao.

Qin Xiao quickly went over the answers with everyone.

When Lu Cong sat back down, he glanced at Lin Xiangqi’s test paper, now filled with writing, and paused slightly.

Lin Xiangqi looked up at him with a grin. “What were you two talking about that took so long? My hand’s sore from writing on my own.”

He stretched out his hand for Lu Cong to massage.

Lu Cong didn’t refuse, taking his palm and rubbing it gently with his thumb.

After checking the answers, Lin Xiangqi proudly handed his test to Lu Cong. “Only got one wrong—misremembered a quote. And I didn’t finish the last reading passage. Do I stand a chance at Capital University like this?”

Lu Cong skimmed it. Indeed, only one error—though this subject had never been difficult for Lin Xiangqi. He praised, “You’re doing great.”

When the bell rang, Chen Qitian called from across the room, “Qi-zi! Let’s hit the snack bar!”

Lin Xiangqi usually loved going to the snack bar—sometimes for coconut milk, sometimes for snacks, other times just to stroll around and enjoy the breeze.

But today, he refused. “I’m studying. Go without me.”

Chen Qitian and the other boys erupted into exaggerated howls. “Whoa! Brother Qi’s actually putting in effort now!”

Lin Xiangqi ignored them, seriously organizing his books and pulling out the next subject’s materials.

Lu Cong watched him silently.

Lin Xiangqi said, “Lend me your notes.”

Lu Cong handed them over. Lin Xiangqi started from the first page, skimming quickly—even complex formulas were grasped in one go. He spent the entire break buried in the notes, only asking Lu Cong once, “This part’s confusing. Will it be on the test?”

Lu Cong said it wouldn’t—he’d derived it himself and jotted it down casually. It wasn’t important.