MVCFO CH51

That day, Lin Xiangqi and Lu Cong were packing up their two houses.

Initially, they were just planning to pack for the upcoming start of school.
But considering how far the military academy was—there were no direct flights, and the trip required two transfers—they’d also heard that the school’s management was so strict that even leaving campus on weekends required prior approval.

Lin Xiangqi did a quick calculation and realized they might not get to come home often in the future, so the amount of stuff they wanted to bring increased significantly.

To improve efficiency, Lin Xiangqi suggested they each pack their own things.

As Lu Cong left, he looked at Lin Xiangqi with a complicated expression.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Lin Xiangqi paused, then gave him a knowing smile and a playful shove. “Come on… don’t be clingy. It’s just a short time apart. I’ll come find you after I’m done packing. In the meantime, you should learn to be a little more independent, okay?”

Lu Cong looked at him for a moment, then finally nodded with a faint smile. “Okay.”

After he left, Lin Xiangqi was full of energy. He laid out two large suitcases and rolled up his sleeves to get to work.

“This coconut milk is a local brand—you can’t even find it in the neighboring city, let alone nationally. I’ll get cravings without it, so… bring two boxes.”

“These two mugs are hand-painted by me and Lu Cong. Bring them.”

“These books—I haven’t finished them yet. Bring them.”

“This pillow is super comfy. Bring it.”

“Bring the computer, the game console, the speakers, the flashlight… might come in handy if the power goes out.”

“This and this and… huh?” Lin Xiangqi suddenly stopped mid-pack.

Because both of the oversized suitcases were now completely full.

Lin Xiangqi wasn’t bad at packing—he hadn’t just tossed things in randomly. Everything was neatly arranged and stacked, looking very tidy and packed to perfection.

But he still wasn’t satisfied—he hadn’t even started packing clothes yet…

No problem. He’d just bring another suitcase!

“Oh right, there’s one more thing I want to bring.” Lin Xiangqi suddenly remembered the graduation albums of him and Lu Cong, spanning from kindergarten, elementary, middle, all the way to high school.

Back then, the photos hadn’t seemed like much, but as they got older, they became more and more nostalgic. Lin Xiangqi wanted to keep them close, so he could flip through them when he missed home.

That said, Lin Xiangqi had a great memory for study material and exam prep—but when it came to organizing his belongings, he was totally clueless. Even though he’d lived in this house for over a decade, he had no idea where anything was.

He turned over several rooms in the house but still couldn’t find it.

Half an hour later, Lin Xiangqi was panting with exhaustion and still had no progress. Then a lightbulb went off in his head and he shouted:

“Lu—Cong—!”

In less than thirty seconds, Lu Cong was by his side.

He glanced at the two overstuffed suitcases at Lin Xiangqi’s feet, his face expressionless, as if he had expected this exact situation to happen.

As soon as Lin Xiangqi saw him, he called out, “Lu Cong, come help me find the graduation album. I remember I just pulled it out a couple days ago.”

Without a word, Lu Cong bent down and picked up the pillow that took up the most space in the suitcase—removing it would free up a lot of room.
But for some reason, a moment later, he put it back in.

“No rush,” Lu Cong said as he walked over to the still-rummaging Lin Xiangqi and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Take a break.”

Lin Xiangqi put down what he was holding, turned around, and flopped into Lu Cong’s arms. “You finished packing your stuff?”

“Almost.” Lu Cong pulled out a tissue and wiped a smudge of dust off the tip of Lin Xiangqi’s nose. “The larger and heavier items can be shipped.”

Lin Xiangqi nodded as realization hit. “Right! I can ship stuff! I was just wondering what to do if everything doesn’t fit.”

Lu Cong patted his head. “You can put some in my suitcase too.”

“But then where will your things go?” Lin Xiangqi asked.

“I don’t have much,” Lu Cong replied.

Lin Xiangqi agreed, “You really don’t. But just our two guitars take up a ton of space.”

“It’s fine, we’ll ship them,” Lu Cong said, looking at him.

“My desktop computer too?” Lin Xiangqi asked.

“Sure.”

Lin Xiangqi looked visibly relieved and began mentally listing what else could be shipped. It felt like a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders. “Then go help me find the graduation album—I’m going to start folding my clothes.”

Lu Cong watched him hop toward the wardrobe, then stood in place for a while in silence.

He had known from the start that Lin Xiangqi wasn’t good at packing.

It wasn’t because he was dumb or incapable—it was simply lack of experience.

Lin Xiangqi had hardly ever traveled far. The few times he stayed overnight somewhere…

Lin Xiangqi never had to worry about anything—Lu Cong always took care of packing for both of them. And their trips were never long anyway. Two days and one night was usually the limit.

Because for the longest time, Lin Xiangqi…

…would get anxious when away from home. He couldn’t sleep in unfamiliar beds and would be wide awake until the early hours. Lu Cong would have to comfort him for ages before he could finally fall asleep.

This happened even…

…after the college entrance exams, when they spent a night at the beach in a neighboring city. That night, Lin Xiangqi curled up in Lu Cong’s arms, breathing in his pheromones, and finally slept well.

But one peaceful night didn’t mean much—he still lacked experience being away from home for long periods.

Once they started at the military academy, aside from a few long holidays, there would probably be no chance of returning.

Looking further ahead, this might be the beginning of a lifelong departure from home.

Once they grew up, graduated, and started working, they’d most likely settle in other places. These two houses would become the “old homes” they only visited occasionally.

So when it came to packing, Lin Xiangqi seemed normal on the surface—he even looked a bit excited. But Lu Cong knew that deep down, Lin Xiangqi probably wasn’t truly ready for this kind of long-term separation.

The reason he stuffed so many seemingly unnecessary things into his suitcase wasn’t because he didn’t know what counted as “essentials.”

It was just that… he wanted to bring as many familiar things as possible, so that when he got to a strange place, he wouldn’t miss home too badly.

Within two minutes, Lu Cong found the album in a box on the top shelf of Lin Xiangqi’s bookshelf—carefully stored just as Lin Xiangqi had described.

He pulled out the album and handed it to Lin Xiangqi to confirm.

“Yes, yes, that’s the one!” Lin Xiangqi said. “Let’s just bring the whole album.”

“Sure,” Lu Cong said.

He paused for a moment, then asked, “Do you want to check my room too? See if there’s anything of yours you want to take?”

“You’ve got my stuff in your room?” Lin Xiangqi asked.

“A lot.” Lu Cong listed a few examples and emphasized, “Your favorite Jerry plushie is in my room.”

Lin Xiangqi immediately jumped up. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

The state of Lu Cong’s room was the complete opposite of Lin Xiangqi’s.

There were no visible signs of packing. Everything was still neatly in its place—as if no one would ever guess Lu Cong was leaving the home he had lived in for over a decade.

After picking up his plushie, Lin Xiangqi glanced around Lu Cong’s room, then peeked into his suitcase. He asked curiously, “You barely packed any clothes. Planning to buy new ones after we get there?”

Lu Cong explained that their program required them to wear the academy’s uniform from head to toe, leaving little opportunity for casual clothes—so he hadn’t packed many.

Lin Xiangqi nodded in understanding, but still asked, “You’re not bringing a computer either?”

“They’ll confiscate all electronic devices upon entry,” Lu Cong replied. “Phones are only issued during designated times.”

“What?! I have to do that too?” Lin Xiangqi was shocked.

“If it’s not mentioned in your acceptance notice, then you’re fine,” Lu Cong said.

Lin Xiangqi let out a sigh of relief but immediately frowned again. “Your program is stricter than high school. That’s crazy.”

“The first year is like that,” Lu Cong said calmly, clearly well-informed. “From second year onward, phones are allowed, just not during class or training. Also…”

He trailed off.

Lin Xiangqi, now intrigued, asked, “Also what?”

Lu Cong replied, “After the academic year ends, the top student in the program gets to apply for a single dorm room.”

“Wow!” Lin Xiangqi clapped his hands. “So if I rank first in my program, I can apply for a private dorm too?”

Lu Cong gave him a helpless look. “Yanyan.”

Lin Xiangqi chuckled and poked Lu Cong’s forehead. “Why do you look so aggrieved? Do you actually think I can be the top of our major? The Alliance Military Academy isn’t like an ordinary university. The annual assessment is done across the entire major, not by year. I’d be lucky not to rank at the bottom. I’ll probably end up sharing a dorm with you anyway.”

“If you want to, you can be number one,” Lu Cong replied—not as a form of comfort, but with a quiet certainty, as though he had seriously considered it. “But the independent dorms are pretty big. You’ll get lonely living alone. So even if one of us gets first place, only one of us needs to apply for it.”

“Don’t look at me through such rose-colored glasses,” Lin Xiangqi said, feigning modesty while lifting his chin proudly. “I’m only good at memorizing and doing exercises. When it comes to pheromone healing, I’m a total newbie. But I’ll accept your offer—when the time comes, you can apply.”

Lu Cong curled his lips into a smile, gently rubbing Lin Xiangqi’s neck. “Thanks, Yanyan, for giving me the opportunity.”

Lin Xiangqi squirmed from the ticklish sensation and patted his hand, laughing. “No need to thank me. But you’d better win that top spot. Otherwise, we’ll be stuck living apart for two years.”

“I will,” Lu Cong murmured, lowering his head to kiss his ear. “I can’t stand being apart from you for too long.”

“…Mm.” Lin Xiangqi’s heart melted.

Honestly, he should have been the one saying that. He couldn’t bear being apart from Lu Cong for too long either.

—

They had started packing in the afternoon, but as it got dark, Lin Xiangqi was still far from done.

Initially, they prepared four suitcases. Lu Cong only used one, leaving the remaining three for Lin Xiangqi. But even after packing those, Lin Xiangqi found it wasn’t enough. He fetched two cardboard boxes to prepare for shipping. In the end, it was like half the house had been packed up.

Lu Cong had always been indulgent with him—whatever Lin Xiangqi wanted to bring, he didn’t object. But the military academy was fully enclosed, and for the first year, they would live in shared dorms. That meant everything they brought had to fit in the dorm.

Dorms for medical students at the academy were relatively spacious, but still couldn’t possibly fit all of Lin Xiangqi’s belongings.

So when Lin Xiangqi started trying to pack his drum set, Lu Cong finally had to step in. “Yanyan, the dorm won’t fit all this. They might even confiscate it. Go through your things again—just bring what you want the most.”

Lin Xiangqi looked distressed. “But I want all of it…”

He began circling his luggage, unwillingly picking out a few large, impractical items—but it didn’t make a noticeable difference. The total volume was still overwhelming.

He was visibly anxious and frustrated, pulling at his hair, repeatedly taking things out of the suitcase and then putting them back in.

Lu Cong sat silently, not offering any advice. He leaned against the desk, resting his hand gently on the surface. After a while, he said, “Come sit for a bit.”

Lin Xiangqi, still furrowing his brows in distress over what to give up, responded, “Alright.”

He walked over, dropped into the chair, and let out a heavy sigh. “I wasn’t like this before. Why am I suddenly so reluctant to leave things behind? I wish I could just move the whole house with me…”

Lu Cong’s calm gaze rested on him. He didn’t judge whether Lin Xiangqi’s attachment was good or bad—he simply said, “There’s still time.”

Lin Xiangqi thought he meant there was still time to pack and said, “Even if you gave me more time, I don’t know if I could do it.”

Lu Cong asked, “Why do you want to take all these things?”

“Because they remind me of home!” Lin Xiangqi sat up, pointing things out one by one. “Look at this photo—it reminds me of our past, it’s so meaningful. And this pillow, whenever I hold it, I feel relaxed, like I’m home. These clay dolls—we made them together by following an online tutorial. We failed a bunch of times, but when we finally got it right, we were so happy. Just looking at them brings back those moments!”

Lu Cong smiled faintly, but didn’t comment. Instead, he asked, “If you could only bring one thing, what would it be?”

“Ah.” Lin Xiangqi looked like he’d been struck by lightning, glancing around his luggage in horror. “Impossible. I can’t just bring one. I’d need at least… one or two suitcases, minimum.”

“Is that so.” Lu Cong pressed his lips together as if contemplating something, but said nothing further.

Lin Xiangqi watched as he casually picked up a notebook from the desk and began flipping through it like he was killing time.

The gesture was so out of place—it’s not every day someone starts reviewing homework in the middle of a conversation—that Lin Xiangqi’s attention shifted.

His eyes followed Lu Cong’s hand and landed on a familiar name written on the cover. He immediately exclaimed, “Eh? What’s that?”

He leaned closer to look and confirmed he wasn’t seeing things. “Lu Cong, why does this have Chen Qiutian’s name on it?”

“Because it’s his notebook,” Lu Cong replied, flipping another page.

A bad feeling crept into Lin Xiangqi’s chest. He reached out. “Let me see that.”

Lu Cong raised his eyes and asked innocently, “Planning to return it to him?”

Without answering, Lin Xiangqi snatched the notebook and quickly flipped through it. “No need to return it. He probably already sold it by weight with a pile of old textbooks. I’m just curious why his notebook ended up with you… wait?!”

Hold on.

What is this?!

It was supposedly a notebook of assignments, but it also had notes—and every page had a strange subtitle in the top-left corner.

“Reality AU · The Childhood Friend’s Secret”
“Reality AU · The Beta Who Can’t Be Marked”

“If AU · O Pretending to Be B Gets Caught by the Cold Class President”
“If AU · What Happens After the Crossdressing Is Exposed”

“XP Collection”—

Stop.

Not a single title in this “collection” would ever pass a content filter!

What the hell was Chen Qiutian doing?!

Hadn’t he promised to destroy all that messy fanfiction nonsense already?!

How did a complete notebook of it end up in Lu Cong’s hands?!

“Did you see what kind of ‘assignment’ this is?”
Lu Cong’s teasing voice echoed above him.

With a loud snap, Lin Xiangqi slammed the notebook shut and gave a forced smile. “Nope. It’s all nonsense scribbles—I couldn’t understand a word.”

“What a pity.” Lu Cong slowly walked behind him and leaned in close, bracing his hands on the desk and trapping Lin Xiangqi between his arms. “Some parts are actually decent. Want me to read them aloud?”

Lin Xiangqi stiffened and turned to bite Lu Cong’s face in frustration. “Why would you even take this from him? Isn’t it embarrassing?!”

“I brought it back a while ago—I forgot all about it. Today, while organizing the bookshelf, I found it again. I was planning to destroy it, but after reading a few pages…” Lu Cong paused and drawled, “Chen Qiutian actually has some interesting ideas.”

“Interesting, my ass…” Lin Xiangqi groaned into his hands. “No sane person writes this kind of stuff. Chen Qiutian should be dragged out and shot. Shot!”

Lu Cong, ignoring his outburst, flipped open the notebook again, slowly pointing to a paragraph. “Like this one—I never thought of doing it this way before.”

Eyes shut tight, Lin Xiangqi shouted, “AH! Close it! Close it!”

Lu Cong kept flipping. “Honestly, his writing is pretty tame. He probably held back because of your connection. Look, these concepts are fine, and he only wrote the beginnings and summaries.”

“I! DON’T! WANT! TO! SEE!” Lin Xiangqi was blushing furiously, practically steaming from the top of his head.

“Chen Qiutian seems quite experienced,” Lu Cong mused. “‘Blindfolded, the body becomes more sensitive’—what do you think?”

Lin Xiangqi had no idea what Lu Cong was getting at anymore. His head was buzzing. “Why ask me?! I’ve never been blindfolded! How would I know?! And stop reading it! The stuff he wrote later on—tying people up and blindfolding them—what even is that, kidnapping?! I’m calling the cops!”

“Mm.” Lu Cong calmly closed the notebook.

Just as Lin Xiangqi thought it was all finally over, everything suddenly went dark—something had been placed over his eyes.

Lu Cong’s gentle whisper sounded beside his ear:

“Let’s test whether it really does make you more sensitive.”

—

Lin Xiangqi didn’t know what kind of fabric was used to blindfold him, but it was soft and blocked out all light—he couldn’t even see a sliver of brightness.

He reasonably suspected that Lu Cong had prepared everything in advance—how else could he have found those wrist restraints so quickly?

Besides, Lu Cong’s behavior left him completely confused.

Blindfolding and tying someone up could be chalked up to Chen Qiutian’s “inspiration.” But after placing Lin Xiangqi on the bed, Lu Cong did… nothing. He simply said:

“Yanyan, I’ve placed all your favorite things around you—your pillow, your plushies, your guitar, your clay dolls, and everything you packed today.”

Lin Xiangqi was bewildered. “Is this a game? Do you want me to find things while blindfolded?”

Lu Cong didn’t answer. He just leaned down to kiss him, then took a few steps back.

“…Alright then. Lu Cong, if you really want to try something new, let’s at least discuss it fairly and vote on what to play, okay?”

In the darkness, Lin Xiangqi pleaded with the only person who could control his situation. “This is too weird. Why did you tie me up? Take this thing off my eyes, please? Let me see you, okay?”

Lu Cong either didn’t agree or didn’t find the plea sincere enough—he stayed silent.

In the silence, with nothing to see, Lin Xiangqi became hyper-aware of every sound or shift in the air. But strangely, he couldn’t even hear Lu Cong breathing…

Had Lu Cong… left the room?

“Lu Cong?”

His voice trembled. Even though he was in the most familiar and secure environment, not being able to see anything made him feel uneasy and conflicted. “Lu Cong, are you still in the room? Can you say something?”

Lin Xiangqi wasn’t in too uncomfortable a position, but besides the bed, he couldn’t go anywhere for now. He reached behind himself and felt something familiar.

But what did it matter?

In his current state, what good was a pillow or a guitar?

“Lu Cong,” Lin Xiangqi said pitifully, “I don’t want to play this. I hate this.”

Thankfully, Lu Cong finally spoke.

“Yanyan.”

The moment he heard Lu Cong’s voice, Lin Xiangqi felt as if he had come back to life. His heartbeat calmed, his breathing steadied. Even in total darkness, he felt deeply reassured.

Lu Cong’s voice was very close—almost right by his ear, as if he were leaning down beside the bed. He asked softly, “Yanyan, what is it that you hate?”

That question took Lin Xiangqi by surprise.

Did he hate being blindfolded? Being tied up? Actually… knowing it was just Lu Cong playing around, he didn’t really hate it.

His unease, when he thought about it, stemmed not from being bound or blindfolded—but from not seeing Lu Cong, from being left in the dark without him.

Before Lin Xiangqi could answer, Lu Cong suddenly asked again, “Yanyan, tell me—if you could only bring one thing with you and had to leave everything else behind, what would you choose?”

Lin Xiangqi blinked, then laughed softly. “Seriously? All this drama just to help me sort my luggage?”

Lu Cong repeated the question: “So—what would you pick?”

This time, Lin Xiangqi fell silent.

But not because he didn’t have an answer—quite the opposite. The moment Lu Cong asked, he immediately knew the answer. That made him want to laugh at himself.

All his anxiety, all the back-and-forth over what to pack—it had all been unnecessary.

The thing that made him feel safe was never the environment or the objects, never the photo or the pillow. It was the security of knowing Lu Cong would be by his side.

So really, from beginning to end, there was only one thing he ever needed to pack—

“You,” Lin Xiangqi said firmly. “I’ll bring you.”

“But,” Lu Cong said, his voice laced with a smile, though he pretended to be serious, “you can’t fit me in your suitcase.”

Lin Xiangqi couldn’t see him, but he shifted toward the direction of his voice, moving until he felt Lu Cong’s warmth. “I’m not bringing a suitcase. I’m not bringing anything. As long as I’m holding your hand, I can go anywhere.”

At the moment he finished speaking, Lu Cong’s kiss came crashing down on his lips. As if he’d waited forever for this answer, unable to hold back from giving him the best possible reward for a perfect score.

“Yanyan…”

When they were both breathless from the kiss, Lu Cong eased up a little. He undid the restraints on Lin Xiangqi’s wrists, and with his lips still brushing his, whispered:

“Photos can be taken again, pillows can be re-bought, unfamiliar places can become familiar. Everything can start over. Just leave it all to me, okay?”

“Okay.” Lin Xiangqi instinctively reached up to take off the blindfold—but Lu Cong caught his hands.

In this emotionally stirring moment, Lin Xiangqi couldn’t help but destroy the mood a little. “Lu Cong, shouldn’t you untie me first?”

“Untie you? Why?” Lu Cong pressed down, pulling him into his arms.

Lin Xiangqi said, “So I can see you.”

“No need. I can see you.” As he spoke, Lu Cong had already lifted Lin Xiangqi’s shirt, pressing him beneath his body. “Yanyan, be sure to tell me—how does it feel when you can’t see?”

Lin Xiangqi laughed and cried at once, tilting his head back. “I told you already—everything Chen Qiutian wrote was just fantasy. There’s no difference just because someone’s eyes are co—”

Suddenly, his voice halted.

The next moment, his entire body went taut with tension.

“—Mm!!!”

Without any warning and without being able to see a thing, Lin Xiangqi was hit with an overwhelming wave of sensation.

—

At 3 a.m., Chen Qiutian got a phone call.

He had been up late playing video games, and when he saw that the call was from Lin Xiangqi, he panicked—thinking something serious had happened—and quickly picked up.

On the other end, he heard Lin Xiangqi’s hoarse voice, still carrying the aftertaste of crying, weak but full of rage:

“Chen Qiutian, I want you dead—”