MVCFO CH40

Chapter 40: He Said They’d Grow Up Together

Lin Xiangqi slowly opened his eyes, instinctively reaching to rub them, only to find his hands trapped.

No doubt about it—Lu Cong was holding him too tightly, leaving him no room to move.

Lin Xiangqi took stock of Lu Cong’s current embrace and couldn’t help but want to laugh. Sure, they’d often slept together before, but a bro-hug usually stayed above the waist. Lu Cong slinging an arm over his shoulder was already pretty intimate.

Now, Lu Cong was like a giant octopus, arms and legs locking Lin Xiangqi in place, his face buried in the nape of Lin Xiangqi’s neck, each breath grazing the Omega’s gland.

Lin Xiangqi thought he was heavy but didn’t push him away, quietly lingering in bed a bit longer.

“Awake?”

Lu Cong’s voice, rare with a touch of laziness, murmured as he snuck a kiss against Lin Xiangqi’s neck.

After the kiss, realizing their relationship allowed for less caution, he boldly planted several more, making loud smacking sounds on purpose.

“Mm…” Lin Xiangqi found his neck ticklish but manageable. He asked, “Why aren’t you up yet?”

Lu Cong was always an early riser, with an enviable superpower Lin Xiangqi admired: he could control when he woke up. Though Lu Cong claimed it was just his biological clock, Lin Xiangqi had noticed multiple times that no matter what time the alarm was set, Lu Cong always woke a few minutes earlier.

But today, Lu Cong was lazier than Lin Xiangqi.

“Nothing to do,” Lu Cong said.

Lin Xiangqi glanced at the time. “Don’t you usually go for a morning run or workout on weekends?”

He’d once thought Lu Cong just loved exercise, but through Tang Luyu, he learned it was tied to his pheromones. Without a stable susceptible period, Lu Cong needed other ways to release his restless energy.

Before Lin Xiangqi’s pheromones could help, sweating through exercise was one of the simplest, most effective methods.

Lu Cong thought for a moment. “Not running anymore. Switching to indoor workouts.”

Lin Xiangqi, curious: “Because of the weather? You never minded the cold before.”

Lu Cong pinched his cheek, saying naturally, “Because I want to stay with you.”

Lin Xiangqi froze, then let out an exaggerated “Wow!”

Lu Cong chuckled. “What?”

Lin Xiangqi rolled over to face him. “Where’d you learn all this sappy talk?”

Lu Cong: “From the heart.”

Lin Xiangqi, half-skeptical: “Say another one, then.”

Lu Cong didn’t reply right away, just gazed at him for a moment before flipping over, pinning him down with a smile. “You sure?”

There was none of the awkwardness Lin Xiangqi had feared, no strange vibe from a drastic shift in their relationship.

The biggest change, he figured, was Lu Cong’s shamelessness.

Before, he’d beat around the bush a bit. Now, he just went for it, no pretense.

Lin Xiangqi wasn’t intimidated, staring back. “Trying to scare me? I’m not buying it.”

Lu Cong only smiled, silent.

But the air slowly grew warm with a hint of pheromone heat.

As if saying: Not scaring you—just giving you a preview.

Lin Xiangqi pursed his lips, a sly glint flashing in his eyes.

He propped himself up, nipping quickly at Lu Cong’s Adam’s apple. Taking advantage of Lu Cong’s stunned moment, he deftly grabbed the neck ring from the bedside table and snapped it on with a practiced motion.

Click.

Lu Cong looked at him, exasperated. “Yanyan.”

Lin Xiangqi stuck out his tongue. “Dr. Tang warned you not to use your pheromones so often.”

Lu Cong sighed, seemingly conceding, slowly leaning down but not letting go. Instead, he cheekily nuzzled his face against Lin Xiangqi’s waist.

Lin Xiangqi toyed with Lu Cong’s hair. It looked coarse but felt soft, much like Lu Cong himself—seemingly a top predator, yet the best at showing vulnerability and yielding.

He griped, “Why’re you so clingy?”

Lu Cong accepted the label, his fingers flicking up Lin Xiangqi’s shirt hem, planting a kiss on the soft skin of his waist. “I really like you.”

Lin Xiangqi always thought he was thick-skinned, but compared to Lu Cong, he paled. Flustered yet competitive, he pinched Lu Cong’s ear. “Since when did you start liking me?”

Lu Cong, pressed against his stomach, seemed to ponder seriously. After a pause, he said, “Five years old.”

Lin Xiangqi burst out laughing. “Yeah, right.”

Lu Cong: “Not lying.”

Lin Xiangqi reminded him, “You were the least likable at five!”

Lu Cong: “But you were likable.”

Lin Xiangqi choked, half-disbelieving. “For real? You liked me at five? No way, you were so annoying back then, always sulking, standing at your window glaring at me first thing in the morning.”

Lu Cong: “Wasn’t glaring. I was checking if you were awake. You were such a sleepyhead, snoozing till eleven, rolling your eyes at me the moment you opened the curtains.”

Lin Xiangqi: “Pfft.”

Lu Cong found his younger self a bit ridiculous too, and they both muffled their laughter together.

Lu Cong wasn’t entirely joking. He really had liked Lin Xiangqi since he was five. But back then, it wasn’t this kind of like—just a vague curiosity.

Growing up in a sanatorium, Lu Cong had no peers, only familiar staff who ran tests and monitored his vitals. Even his parents rarely showed up.

He was used to a rigid routine: blood draw at six, breakfast at seven, classes at eight, lunch at noon, nap till two. Afternoons, he could pick activities he liked, and as long as he asked, the Alliance would arrange them.

Lu Cong remembered things early, even from age one or two. He could still recall his teachers’ names, ages, genders, and their roles in the Alliance government.

The teachers were patient enough, some even fond of his talent, but Lu Cong felt little difference toward them. He knew their patience stemmed from protective isolation.

No one dared touch him without precautions—they were, at their core, afraid of him.

Growing up in that environment until five, Lu Cong had lost most of a normal child’s emotional expression. When sent to his grandparents’ old house, he felt neither excitement nor resentment, calmly accepting the adults’ arrangements.

To him, it was just trading one glass cage for another.

The adults’ guilt, regret, pity, and caution meant nothing to him. He had no desire to respond.

Until Lin Xiangqi walked into his life.

He was a beautiful porcelain doll, practically glowing, his pink-pale face brimming with curiosity and delight for the strange new neighbor. He didn’t know who Lu Cong was, so he wasn’t afraid of him.

His expressions were easy to read—liking was liking, disliking was disliking.

When he first wanted to befriend Lu Cong, his eyes sparkled. But after Lu Cong called him “dumb,” his lips pursed, and a shadow of hurt clouded his misty eyes.

Lu Cong deeply regretted being so harsh at their first meeting, but he didn’t know how to fix it.

It was his first encounter with someone outside his rigid routines, the first tiny variable in his dull, monotonous world.

Later, Lin Xiangqi, sulking, stopped talking to him and wouldn’t come to the neighboring yard.

The adults didn’t try to mend things between the kids, likely misjudging Lu Cong’s personality, assuming he was just difficult and fearing Lin Xiangqi might get bullied if he got too close.

Lu Cong waited days for a chance to reconcile with the boy next door, but none came. His grandparents, seeing his cold, sullen face, thought he was still adjusting to life outside the sanatorium. They didn’t dare disturb him, leaving meals at his door for him to eat when he felt like it.

Lu Cong locked himself in his room, watching Lin Xiangqi from across the way.

Lin Xiangqi was the quintessential pretty child, pampered and adored from birth. Everyone loved his smiles, playfulness, and sweet-talking charm with adults.

Lu Cong had seen other kids his age, but he was certain none were as good as Lin Xiangqi.

To think he’d made such a good kid cry at their first meeting—Lu Cong was ashamed.

Finally, one afternoon when his grandparents were out for a walk, Lu Cong roamed the house, tearing open the fancy gift boxes meant for him—imported candies and chocolates from across the ocean, a one-of-a-kind custom toy, and a six-figure laptop.

His small frame struggled under the weight of the gifts as he trudged to the neighboring yard. Unable to free a hand to ring the bell and too shy to call out, he stood in the blazing sun for nearly ten minutes.

Until Lin Xiangqi’s mother, Yuan Wei, came out to water the flowers and spotted the sweating Lu Cong at the gate.

She invited him in, asking what he was holding.

Lu Cong didn’t answer, only asking, “Where’s Lin Xiangqi?”

Yuan Wei instantly understood—he was here to play with her son.

She fetched Lin Xiangqi, who’d been napping for nearly three hours.

Lin Xiangqi, already cranky from waking up, saw Lu Cong and pouted, ready to storm off.

Lu Cong laid out the snacks, unwrapping a chocolate to win him over. But the chocolate had melted, dripping down his fingers. He stared at it, suddenly feeling like he was useless outside his glass cage.

Lin Xiangqi tapped his mother’s shoulder, and Yuan Wei set him down. He toddled over, curly lashes fluttering as he curiously eyed the chocolate in Lu Cong’s hand.

“What’s that?” he asked.

Lu Cong, dazed, answered, “Chocolate.”

Lin Xiangqi scrunched his delicate brows. “The chocolate I’ve had doesn’t look like that. It looks like mud.”

Lu Cong’s instinct was to correct him or explain how chocolate forms, but remembering how his know-it-all attitude had upset Lin Xiangqi before, he held back.

Instead, he went along with it. “Yeah, it’s chocolate-flavored mud.”

Lin Xiangqi’s interest piqued. “Really? Edible mud?”

“Yes.” To prove his sincerity, Lu Cong licked the chocolate off his finger.

Lin Xiangqi’s eyes widened. He grabbed Lu Cong’s other finger, gave it a lick, and exclaimed, “It is chocolate-flavored mud! So yummy!”

Lu Cong blinked, withdrew his hand, and offered the rest of the chocolates. “Want some?”

Lin Xiangqi hesitated, wanting them but politely asking, “What do you like? I’ll trade you.”

Lu Cong: “No trade. They’re for you.”

Lin Xiangqi insisted, “Gotta trade. Mom says I can’t take stuff for free.”

Lu Cong thought for a moment, seizing the chance to make amends. “I’ll give you all this if you play with me.”

At five, despite his young age, Lu Cong’s awareness was sharp. He didn’t really need someone to play with—he wanted to play with Lin Xiangqi.

Luckily, Lin Xiangqi didn’t catch his slyness, thinking he’d scored a great deal. Clutching the chocolates and candies, he nodded eagerly. “Then we’re friends now!”

Yuan Wei watched with a smile, not interrupting. When Lu Cong wasn’t looking, she quietly returned the pricier gifts, like the laptop, but let the rest slide.

At first, she thought Lu Cong’s parents or grandparents had coached him to apologize this way. But over time, she realized Lu Cong genuinely enjoyed Lin Xiangqi’s company. He wasn’t as gloomy or cold as he seemed—he had a slightly clumsy but gentle heart.

When Lu Cong and Lin Xiangqi were together, adults often felt Lu Cong was the one indulging Lin Xiangqi.

When Lin Xiangqi said something naive, even if Lu Cong knew it was wrong, he didn’t call him “dumb” again. Instead, he’d say, “I’ve heard a different explanation. Wanna hear it?”

Lin Xiangqi loved hearing Lu Cong’s stories, so different from his own. He learned things adults never told him—complex, fascinating things.

Lu Cong told him where the stars came from, about tree rings, how ants were incredibly strong, and about a limping kitten at the sanatorium.

The kitten often lounged outside the glass house. During Lu Cong’s blood draws, it would peer in curiously; when he had lessons, it napped there. It might not have understood humans or recognized Lu Cong, but it kept him company for a long time, separated by a pane of glass.

One day, it stopped showing up. Lu Cong waited months before asking a nurse.

She said it wasn’t a kitten—it was over ten years old, frail from illness, looking small and thin. Cats live shorter lives than humans. It had passed and was buried under a tree, gone to the “Cat Star.”

Lin Xiangqi sometimes understood Lu Cong’s wild, vivid stories, sometimes didn’t. But he always listened intently.

When he heard about the kitten, he bawled his eyes out.

Lu Cong, flustered, asked why he was crying, wondering if he’d said something wrong again.

He apologized, unsure of his mistake, thinking Lin Xiangqi pitied the lame kitten. “It’ll be healthy and happy in its next life. Don’t be sad.”

Sobbing and sniffling, Lin Xiangqi hugged Lu Cong, wiping tears and snot on his clothes, stammering, “Don’t you be sad. I’ll live longer than a cat. I’ll keep you company.”

Not long after, Lin Xiangqi painted a vibrant picture and gave it to Lu Cong, saying they’d grow up together.

Lu Cong hung the painting on his wall and kept that promise in his heart.

Today, his wish had come true.