MVCFO CH59

Upon learning that Lu Cong had never been married, nor had any so-called deceased loved one, Lin Xiangqi’s mood that day was inexplicably good. He ate his meal with gusto, each chopstick precisely picking up his favorite dish, smiling as he ate.

Lu Cong asked him what he was smiling about, and Lin Xiangqi said, “The food you cook is delicious.” He seemed to have forgotten that the sumptuous lunch yesterday was also made by Lu Cong, and at that time, he had eaten it without much enjoyment.

Lin Xiangqi acted more on intuition; sometimes, when his mood suddenly improved, he wouldn’t pursue the reason. Anyway, even if he did, he might think in the wrong direction. He believed that the fact that his marriage to Lu Cong hadn’t harmed anyone was already cause for comfort.

Although Lin Xiangqi knew there were still many unanswered questions about this matter. For example, since Lu Cong wasn’t widowed, why did he wear that earring every day? Although Lu Cong said he just didn’t want to participate in matching, so he did it this way. But Lin Xiangqi intuitively felt that this explanation didn’t quite hold water. Lu Cong was a very low-key person; would he really go to the trouble of wearing an earring with clear symbolic meaning every day, just to avoid matching, making everyone who saw him think his wife had died?

And how did Lu Cong’s application for widower status get approved? He said he had never been in a relationship, so did he just fabricate a fake wife out of thin air? Did the Alliance not review it? Or was it because Lu Cong was a major general in the military, they gave him face and helped him fake it? If it truly was because Lu Cong held a high position and was given privileges, then they might as well have just removed him from the matching system directly, cleanly and simply. Why bother with a special earring?

In short, if one scrutinized the matter, many inconsistencies could be found. But Lin Xiangqi didn’t press further. As long as Lu Cong said he had never been married, Lin Xiangqi’s biggest unease had been resolved. Nothing else mattered; he understood that Lu Cong had his own little secrets—after all, he was almost thirty.

Lu Cong didn’t know when he put down his chopsticks, sitting opposite, arms crossed, silently watching Lin Xiangqi. His personal residence had always had its windows sealed with blackout devices, but because Lin Xiangqi had said “it’s a bit stuffy” a few minutes ago, all the windows were now brightly lit. The golden summer sunlight poured down, enveloping the youth in a warm, golden glow.

Lu Cong watched him, watching Lin Xiangqi’s smiling, crescent-shaped eyes, watching Lin Xiangqi eat heartily, watching Lin Xiangqi’s face, which overlapped with the deep recesses of his memory. Not knowing what he was thinking, his fingers lifted, tapping silently, one by one.

Lin Xiangqi’s reappearance was like a small stone thrown into the stagnant abyss of many years. His original intention was not to stir up any huge waves, and perhaps he even felt his own appearance was insignificant to this vast world. But in the darkness that Lin Xiangqi couldn’t see, it was Lu Cong desperately suppressing an undercurrent. Those impending eruptions would inevitably shake the earth. It was only a matter of time.

Lin Xiangqi was a little full, so he shifted his attention from the food and looked up at Lu Cong, finding that Lu Cong was also looking at him. He asked, “What’s wrong?” He felt that Lu Cong’s gaze was so serious that he probably had something to say. But Lu Cong just smiled and shook his head, saying, “I’ve cooked all the dishes I know these past two days. I’m thinking about what to make tonight.”

Lin Xiangqi disagreed, saying, “There’s so much left, we can still eat it tonight. Don’t waste it.”

Lu Cong hummed, saying, “Okay.”

Lin Xiangqi began to actively clear the dishes, but as soon as he stood up, he was restrained by various intelligent machines and couldn’t help at all. He was very curious about these high-tech gadgets and followed them into the kitchen.

Lu Cong’s gaze followed him, but he didn’t follow. That typically sharp and stern face maintained a subtly gentle appearance. To prevent his disguise from failing, even when Lin Xiangqi wasn’t looking, he smiled calmly. It was only when Lin Xiangqi ran out, excitedly saying that he wanted to install these smart home devices in his own home in the future, that Lu Cong lowered his gaze, suppressing the emotion in his eyes, and said faintly, “You want to move out?”

Lin Xiangqi didn’t think deeply and frankly said, “I’ll have to move out eventually, I can’t just keep freeloading. After I’m cured, I want to go home and see. I used to have some assets, after all… I just don’t know if my house is still there after being gone for ten years. Oh right, do you know?”

Lu Cong unconsciously kneaded the calluses on his knuckles. After a moment, he slowly said, “It was demolished a few years ago.”

“Ah…” Although Lin Xiangqi was prepared, it was still a bit hard to accept. “Completely demolished? Then what happened to my things? Were they all thrown away?”

Lu Cong said, neither lightly nor heavily, “I happened to be in the war zone when it was being demolished and rebuilt, so I’m not clear.”

“Then it’s over,” Lin Xiangqi lamented. “Now I’m not only undocumented, but also penniless.”

Lu Cong stood up and walked towards him, gently embracing Lin Xiangqi’s waist, and opened his terminal device, saying, “According to the Alliance’s latest marriage law, all my property belongs to you after marriage. So, you’re still quite wealthy.”

Lin Xiangqi had two sentiments in his heart.

The first sentiment was that he felt the Alliance’s marriage law was really harsh on Alphas. Lu Cong said that the current rule was that once married, an Alpha had to give all their property to the Omega, not just houses, cars, and all the cash on hand, but their future salaries too. Lin Xiangqi felt this new rule was truly cruel to Alphas.

His second sentiment was that inflation had been severe in the Alliance over the past ten years. Lu Cong had just shown him his balance, and the terminal displayed a very long string of numbers that Lin Xiangqi couldn’t even count with both hands. He was afraid of looking too long, fearing Lu Cong would think he wanted to monopolize the property, so he quickly averted his gaze. But he silently recalled it in his mind and felt that Lu Cong’s cash assets amounted to at least tens of billions.

He suddenly stopped feeling bad about his own bank card disappearing. It wasn’t because he genuinely wanted to possess Lu Cong’s property. Rather, Lin Xiangqi felt that currency had depreciated so much that his own million-dollar savings wouldn’t be worth much now anyway.

It was difficult for Lu Cong to explain to Lin Xiangqi that while there was indeed an impact from inflation, it wasn’t as if everyone in the Alliance had tens or hundreds of billions in their hands. But… if Lin Xiangqi thought money wasn’t worth much, then spending Lu Cong’s money would carry less of a psychological burden. Lu Cong thought for a moment and then tacitly accepted Lin Xiangqi’s sentiment.

The loss of Lin Xiangqi’s childhood home was a significant blow to him. He wasn’t concerned about the money itself, but rather a sense of homelessness and bewilderment. Being alone in a world ten years later had already made Lin Xiangqi feel as if his feet weren’t touching the ground. Fortunately, Lu Cong was there to accompany him, allowing him to quickly accept and adapt to this new world. But with his home gone, his old house gone, it meant that Lin Xiangqi no longer had a place to return to. Apart from Lu Cong, Lin Xiangqi seemed to have no connection to this world.

In the following days, he was often distracted and in low spirits. Due to the need to monitor his gland condition at all times, Lin Xiangqi couldn’t go out until he fully recovered. Otherwise, if he had an episode outside, there would be no way to treat it in time.

These past few days, he could only idle away his time in Lu Cong’s residence. Although Lu Cong had provided him with a mobile terminal to play with, the myriad of new things on the internet only made Lin Xiangqi feel more abandoned by time. He was a bit resistant to going online, at most just finding some old movies to watch.

Compared to Lin Xiangqi, Lu Cong’s daily life seemed very busy. Although the Alliance was peaceful now, with no active wars, Lu Cong’s official duties were not few. Typically, he would leave at six in the morning for a gland examination. This was likely a personal check-up for him. Around seven, he would review the previous day’s official documents in his office. When the time was about right, he would go to Lin Xiangqi’s bedroom, take Lin Xiangqi’s temperature, check his gland condition, and then make breakfast. Even though Lin Xiangqi said that the robot-made breakfast tasted good too, Lu Cong said he was used to making it himself, so he would make Lin Xiangqi’s portion as well. Lin Xiangqi didn’t refuse.

At nine o’clock, Lu Cong had to participate in Alliance security council meetings via hologram. If there were urgent matters, he might need to attend in person. After the meeting, he would go to the military base’s virtual battlefield for combat drills, which usually took up several hours of Lu Cong’s time. Besides that, there were inspections of classified containment facilities, participation in military court executions, follow-ups on military pheromone weapon research primarily driven by Lu Cong’s own pheromones, or invitations to give speeches at various Alliance nations or military academies. Lin Xiangqi wasn’t surprised; if a major general was idle, that would be the real problem.

However, what Lin Xiangqi was more curious about was that despite Lu Cong being so busy, he could instantly reply to any of his messages. Several times, when Lin Xiangqi was bored and didn’t know what to do, Lu Cong would suddenly make a video call. Lin Xiangqi was always pleasantly surprised by such coincidences because when he was alone for too long, he couldn’t help but overthink, and gradually, he would feel lonely and uneasy. But as soon as he heard Lu Cong’s voice, he wouldn’t anymore. Lu Cong would tell him many interesting things within the non-classified range and share what he was currently doing. Lin Xiangqi would then no longer be bored.

At first, Lin Xiangqi was always afraid of delaying Lu Cong, so after saying a few words, he would hastily hang up. Later, Lu Cong told him not to hang up the call. They could remain silent, but maintain communication. If he had to attend a classified meeting, he would turn on mute. Lin Xiangqi initially thought it was an unnecessary extra step. After trying it once, he found that as long as his call with Lu Cong remained connected, he wouldn’t feel that sense of unease of being left in a strange place anymore. Moreover, although Lu Cong said he might occasionally turn on mute, Lin Xiangqi had already tested it—every time he spoke to Lu Cong, Lu Cong would answer. Lu Cong had never once turned on mute.

Lin Xiangqi thought, with so many countries in the Alliance, how can there be no important matters at all? Lu Cong must be bored constantly on the phone with him too.

One day, Lin Xiangqi suddenly approached Lu Cong and asked if he could get an identity card.

“I know it might be a bit difficult, after all, given my situation, no one would believe it if I said it…” Lin Xiangqi twisted his fingers, whispering, “Anything is fine, even a different name, I just want an ID card.”

Lu Cong looked at him, raised a hand, and gently stroked Lin Xiangqi’s hair, saying, “It’s already done. I’ve been too busy these past few days and forgot to give it to you.”

Lin Xiangqi happily hugged him: “Really?! Thank you, thank you! Did you give me a new name?”

Lu Cong replied, “It’s your own identity, just the birth year has been changed.”

Lin Xiangqi was even happier: “That’s great! Then I’m not undocumented anymore!”

Lu Cong embraced the person in his arms and casually asked, “So, what’s the matter that requires an ID card?”

Lin Xiangqi, completely unguarded, said, “I want to try for Capital University again! Today I checked, and it turns out the college entrance exam ten years later is pretty similar to before. I want to continue my studies and take the next exam. What do you think?”

Lu Cong’s palm rested on Lin Xiangqi’s slender waist, and he said with a faint, unreadable smile, “Good.”

Lin Xiangqi, receiving Lu Cong’s support, felt his morale greatly boosted. But Lu Cong quickly told him, “Your body hasn’t fully recovered yet, so you might not be able to go to school.”

“I’ll self-study,” Lin Xiangqi said. “Anyway, after you left, I was always studying alone—” He trailed off here, his expression a bit awkward as he changed the subject, “Anyway, I just graduated not long ago, so I haven’t forgotten all my knowledge yet.”

From the time Lin Xiangqi woke up and saw Lu Cong until now, it had been almost a week, but no one had specifically brought up the events of ten years ago. But for Lin Xiangqi, the “ten years ago” had actually passed very recently. He still remembered the empty feeling in his heart when he returned from the hospital and saw that Lu Cong had moved. He also remembered that in the days without Lu Cong, he gradually grew less fond of even Shen Qiaolan, whom he thought he really liked, even feeling an indescribable aversion whenever he saw her. Those days, Lin Xiangqi hadn’t been well. He had numbly held on, driven solely by the idea of getting into Capital University. But looking back, applying to Capital University was originally something he and Lu Cong had agreed upon together. What was the point of doing it alone?

“I’ll hire two tutors for you. They can help you review the key points for the exams over the next few years,” Lu Cong’s voice suddenly chimed in, carrying a comforting implication that only they could understand, “Capital University opened a special admissions channel last year. One of the clauses is for candidates who couldn’t take the college entrance exam due to illness but meet the admission requirements. Would you like to try that exam?” This meant that without having to repeat a year, Lin Xiangqi had a chance to get into university this year.

“Yes! Yes!” He nodded vigorously, almost shaking his head off.

“But,” Lu Cong said, finishing the good news, not forgetting to remind him, “Even if you get in, you might not be able to enroll immediately. If your body doesn’t fully recover, I’ll arrange for you to take a leave of absence for a period.” This was no problem at all for Lin Xiangqi; being able to attend university meant he had a chance to reintegrate into this new world. He was immersed in the joy of being able to smoothly attend university. The homeless feeling of drifting and the unease of an uncertain future were, at this moment, replaced by a predictable new future.

Suddenly, Lin Xiangqi stood on tiptoes and kissed Lu Cong on the mouth.

It was an unprepared kiss, not even truly a kiss. Just lips colliding. But it made the major general, who was accustomed to storms, freeze for a full minute before slowly coming back to his senses: “YanYan?”

Lin Xiangqi didn’t seem to realize what he had done. He eagerly clutched Lu Cong’s lapel, saying, “Then, to recover faster, can we do more markings? Once a day is too little, how about ten times a day?” It turned out he merely thought that kissing was a signal before a temporary mark, so he had kissed Lu Cong.

Lu Cong: “…”

After two seconds of silence, he then said, “No.”

Lin Xiangqi calmed down, retreating slightly, then said, “Sorry, I got a little overexcited…”

Actually, except for the first temporary marking where Lu Cong was very active and dominant, the subsequent times he just went through the motions calmly—every night before bed, he would bite Lin Xiangqi once, leave his pheromones, and then leave Lin Xiangqi alone to sleep in the bedroom, quietly departing himself.

Lu Cong didn’t seem to like performing frequent temporary markings on Lin Xiangqi. Lin Xiangqi’s request for such frequency seemed like too much of a bother to others.

“I didn’t explain it clearly enough.” Lu Cong stepped forward, re-embraced Lin Xiangqi, lifted Lin Xiangqi’s disheartened, drooping chin, and gently pinched his cheek, telling him, “Temporary markings can only absorb a limited amount of pheromones. Even a hundred times a day makes no difference compared to just once.”

Lin Xiangqi pursed his lips and looked at him, confirming that Lu Cong truly wasn’t displeased with him, and then he breathed a sigh of relief, saying, “Alright.”

“Be obedient, receive your treatment well, and you’ll recover soon,” Lu Cong said.

Lin Xiangqi nodded obediently: “I know.”

Lin Xiangqi wouldn’t know how much effort it took for Lu Cong to restrain himself and only give him a simple temporary mark. He also wouldn’t know that every night after Lu Cong marked him, the electric current from the embedded suppressor would incessantly punish the Alpha’s insatiable gland all night long.

As Lin Xiangqi’s attending physician, after Dr. Tang Zhe learned that Lin Xiangqi and Lu Cong had no blood relation, nor were they distant relatives, he had suggested to Lu Cong that a lifelong mark could be used for the final treatment. This way, Lin Xiangqi could differentiate and recover at the fastest speed.

Of course, there was also a downside. Because Lin Xiangqi’s gland development was too slow, and other Omega parts of his body had not yet matured. If a lifelong mark were to be performed under these circumstances, he would experience extreme pain. It would be like forcibly opening a flower bud before its natural bloom, inevitably leaving marks of damage.

A more conservative treatment method would be to first perform temporary markings for a period of time. Once Lin Xiangqi’s gland matured a bit and the delicate birth canal developed enough to normally withstand a lifelong mark, then the next stage of treatment would begin. However, the timing for this was uncertain. It could be as fast as one or two months, or as slow as three to five years. It all depended on how well Lin Xiangqi’s gland adapted to Lu Cong’s pheromones.

Tang Zhe originally thought that the Major General, being an efficiency-first, ruthless Alpha, would most likely choose the permanent solution of an early lifelong mark. So, during this period, he was on high alert, ready 24/7 to receive an Omega with a damaged birth canal at any moment.

But something unexpected happened. The little Omega radiated vitality every day, and his gland condition got better and better. But the wise and mighty Major General himself walked into his emergency room at three in the morning one night.

Tang Zhe looked at the bloody, lumpy mass on the table in horror, unable to distinguish what it was: “Ma-Major General, this is?!”

Lu Cong calmly wiped away the blood flowing from his gland and said calmly, “The embedded suppressor.”

Tang Zhe’s legs went weak: “You just… you just did that to it…”

Dug it out?!

“It was noisy all night, that never-ending thing.” Lu Cong seemed completely unconcerned about the act of manually gouging out flesh. Annoyance lingered between his brows as he instructed Tang Zhe, saying, “First, stop the bleeding and apply medicine. Make sure the gland isn’t damaged.”

Tang Zhe frantically began working, thinking, If you’re afraid of your gland getting hurt, then don’t do such terrifying things! But he didn’t dare accuse the Major General, only managing to say pleasantries: “Long-term current discharge from the embedded suppressor attacking the gland can cause glandular dysfunction. It’s best if you stay here for observation for a while. But please rest assured, your gland’s self-healing ability far surpasses that of ordinary people, so there shouldn’t be any serious damage.”

He thought Lu Cong was worried about his power being undermined. But the next moment, Lu Cong asked, “Will it delay Lin Xiangqi’s treatment?”

“N-no…” Tang Zhe was startled, almost biting his tongue. After a long moment, he said, “If you recover well, it shouldn’t cause a delay.”

Lu Cong frowned: “Shouldn’t?”

Tang Zhe swallowed hard. His survival instinct made him give his full attention at that moment. What kind of joke was this?! If he dared to utter the second half of his sentence at a time like this—”You’d best rest these next two days and avoid marking activities; you’ll recover faster”—then his fate would definitely be identical to that bloody, mangled suppressor on the table!

So Tang Zhe decisively changed his words: “You are the most powerful Alpha in the entire Alliance, no, in the entire world! How could such a small injury cause a delay? No delay, no delay at all!”