MVCFO CH61

Lin Xiangqi didn’t think there was anything wrong with what he had said.

He certainly hadn’t meant to imply that Lu Chong wasn’t young enough—he was just objectively analyzing how someone might change over the course of ten years.

That was a whole decade.

And for Lin Xiangqi, who hadn’t even lived two full decades himself, it felt like an intimidatingly long time.

Besides, to someone truly young, “young” didn’t necessarily sound like a compliment. Sometimes it felt like a way of saying someone was immature.

Lately, Lin Xiangqi often felt that he came across as too naive and clueless in front of Lu Chong, constantly making clumsy mistakes.

For example, he could never understand the latest tech, was bad at using smart devices, and needed Lu Chong to teach him everything step by step.

One big issue was… his youthful self and the now-major general Lu Chong didn’t seem to have any shared topics of conversation.

Lu Chong always matched his emotions, humoring him with topics he understood, but never talked about his own life. He looked more mature and composed than he had in his youth, carried himself with a commanding aura, managed life flawlessly, and had a career that was so successful it made others feel they could never catch up.

Lin Xiangqi was always nervous around Lu Chong and afraid of being seen as a child, so he tried to say things that sounded mature. But in the end, it was all just posturing.

He wasn’t truly mature, and it was hard to recreate the carefree banter they used to share as kids.

So when Lin Xiangqi said Lu Chong was different from his younger self, it had actually been meant as a compliment.

He wanted to grow up quickly and become someone like Lu Chong.

But it seemed like Lu Chong didn’t take it that way.

“To you, I’m already not young anymore,” Lu Chong said as he stepped closer, his presence intense and overwhelming like a mountain shadowing over Lin Xiangqi. “Is that what you meant?”

Only then did Lin Xiangqi realize he had said something wrong.

But he felt so wronged.

He never would’ve guessed that the Lu Chong of ten years later would have age anxiety.

He rushed to clarify, “No, no, you misunderstood! I meant you’re a general now, so obviously your habits aren’t the same as when you were a student—it’s got nothing to do with age… Besides, you’re not even 29 until next month. That’s still very young.”

Lu Chong: “…”

Alright. One more year added.

Lin Xiangqi, oblivious, continued: “They say thirty is when people truly begin to understand themselves and realize their value. And you’re not even thirty yet and already a major general—you’re amazing! Honestly, look at Alliance history—who else made general before thirty?”

“Most people are still lost at thirty, still figuring life out, and you’re already at the peak of your career. Lu Chong, you’ve got nothing to be anxious about!”

Lu Chong: “…”

Okay. Two more years.

Trying to sound even more convincing, Lin Xiangqi compared himself: “Look at me—eighteen, completely helpless and useless. I can’t even be sure if I’ll get into university. I admire you so much—you did in ten years what most people can’t do in a lifetime. I’m nowhere near your level. So don’t be insecure. You’re the best.”

He raised both thumbs in sincere praise.

Thanks to Lin Xiangqi’s persistent encouragement, Lu Chong’s mind was now full of phrases like “thirty years old”, “anxiety”, “eighteen years old”, “far behind”, and “don’t be insecure.”

That little mouth just wouldn’t stop talking.

Lu Chong had finally had enough. He reached out, cupped the back of Lin Xiangqi’s head, and kissed him hard.

The world fell silent.

Whether he was eighteen or thirty, the young general made one thing clear through that kiss: he was burning with passion.

It was an extremely effective way to shut someone up.
Lin Xiangqi stayed quiet for a long time.

When the kiss finally ended, Lin Xiangqi covered his now-flushed lips and muttered in confusion, “What just happened…”

It was a kiss that had nothing to do with treatment.

Too sudden, too intense—it left him dazed for a long while.

Lu Chong silently rolled up his sleeve after undoing the cuff, exposing a strong forearm, then opened the bedside drawer.

Lin Xiangqi didn’t understand what he was doing, his attention completely caught by Lu Chong’s muscular arm. He reached out to compare.

His own forearm was pale and delicate, with no signs of muscle—like a peeled lotus root, smooth and tender, as if even the lightest touch would leave a mark.

Lu Chong’s arm, even at rest, was lined with veins and faint scars—looking especially powerful next to Lin Xiangqi’s soft skin.

“You’re like, twice as thick as me,” Lin Xiangqi said sincerely.

Lu Chong paused.

“With muscles like that, no wonder your strength is…”

Lu Chong averted his gaze, face blank. “We’ll talk after you’re better.”

Then, in front of Lin Xiangqi, he casually gave himself an injection.

Lin Xiangqi jumped in shock, grabbed his sleeve. “What was that?!”

Lu Chong discarded the used syringe. “Medicine.”

“What kind of medicine?” Lin Xiangqi asked. “Was it a suppressant?”

Lu Chong said, “Something like that.”

Something like that?
That kind of vague answer clearly meant he didn’t want to talk.

Lin Xiangqi got the feeling Lu Chong was hiding a lot of things.

“You haven’t really told me anything about yourself since we reunited,” Lin Xiangqi said, not in accusation but with genuine curiosity. “Is it because you think I’m too young to understand or help with anything? Because my mind is still stuck at eighteen, and it’s boring to talk to me?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lu Chong freeze slightly and say, “No.”

But as he said it, Lu Chong took out another small bottle from the drawer, popped a few pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry.

Lin Xiangqi pressed his lips together and didn’t speak again. He got off the bed quietly.

Maybe, in Lu Chong’s eyes, he really was just a kid.

Eighteen might be legally an adult, but to someone truly mature, it was still far too young.

Lu Chong had no need to confide in a child.

Lin Xiangqi said a soft good night and walked away.

Lu Cong caught him.

The man’s burning-hot body pressed up from behind, hugging him tightly, as if unwilling to let him leave.

Lin Xiangqi became more and more confused by Lu Cong’s behavior. “What do you mean? You don’t want to talk to me, but you also won’t let me go? Just because you’re a general now, you get to be this unreasonable?”

“I thought just now…” Lu Cong’s voice sounded slightly unnatural. “I’m sorry. Don’t go.”

“I am going.” Lin Xiangqi pouted, feeling a surge of belated grievance. “You didn’t want to talk to me.”

“I did.” Lu Cong answered quickly. “I do want to.”

“Then explain to me clearly—what medicine did you take? What was that injection?”
Lin Xiangqi turned to face him, staring him down. “Why are you suddenly taking medication? Are you unwell? Is it serious?”

Lu Cong hesitated for a moment but only answered the last question. “It’s not serious.”

“…”

Lin Xiangqi turned to leave.

He walked away so decisively, his entire posture screaming that he was about to throw a tantrum.

Lu Cong had no choice. He hadn’t come up with a better excuse yet, so he pulled him back into a tight hug. “I was feeling unwell and thought I was seeing things—hallucinating.”

Lin Xiangqi’s temper flared up quickly but also died down just as fast. Curiosity took over. “Hallucinating? Is it an issue with your eyes?”

Lu Cong said, “With my brain.”

Lin Xiangqi immediately tried to run.

But this time, Lu Cong didn’t let go. He simply picked him up and teased, “Why are you running?”

Lin Xiangqi struggled for a moment but realized he couldn’t break free, so he flopped onto Lu Cong’s shoulder and grumbled, “You don’t speak properly. I’m not talking to you anymore.”

Lu Cong gave a bitter laugh. “Ask me anything, and I’ll answer everything. How’s that not talking?”

Lin Xiangqi said, “You say there’s something wrong with your brain. What kind of answer is that? Even if your brain is injured or sick, you should explain it clearly. Just tossing out one dry sentence like that—it’s obvious you don’t want to tell me. I’m not the type to pester someone endlessly. If you don’t want to say, I won’t ask. That’s that. Goodbye.”

“No goodbyes,” Lu Cong said, patting his wiggling butt as he held him steady. “Didn’t you want to talk about what happened these past ten years? Let’s talk, you stubborn thing.”

Lin Xiangqi stared at him in disbelief. “What did you just call me?”

Lu Cong raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer.

“No matter who you are, get down from Lu Cong’s body right now!” Lin Xiangqi pretended to strangle Lu Cong, threatening, “The Lu Cong I know would never call me a ‘stubborn thing.’”

Lu Cong let him fool around for a while before finally saying, “The one you knew was the Lu Cong from ten years ago.”

Lin Xiangqi slowly released his grip, quieting down, lost in thought. After a long while, he looked at Lu Cong and said:

“Then… can you let me get to know the Lu Cong of ten years later?”

Lu Cong’s eyes darkened like ink bleeding into water—deep and unfathomable. “If that’s what you want.”

Lin Xiangqi had originally planned to take the lead—to start the conversation himself.

But after all, he was someone from ten years ago. Most of his stories, more or less, were connected to Lu Cong.

Which worked out perfectly.

Reminiscing about the past together was one of the quickest ways for people reunited after a long time to rebuild their bond.

Lin Xiangqi could use this chance to get closer to the Lu Cong of the present.

But the more they talked, the more Lin Xiangqi regretted it.

Because ten years ago, things between him and Lu Cong had ended… not so well.

When Lu Cong left, he hadn’t even said goodbye. There must have been resentment.

Lin Xiangqi stole a glance at him, only to find Lu Cong’s expression distant. It seemed that Lu Cong didn’t hold much fondness for those memories.

Which made sense. Back then, Lin Xiangqi had fallen head over heels for a scumbag Alpha and completely ignored Lu Cong’s feelings. More than once, he had confronted Lu Cong without verifying anything, questioning him about things Lu Cong might not have done at all.

Looking back now, Lin Xiangqi couldn’t believe he’d once liked someone like that—or that he believed every one of Shen Qiaolan’s provocations.

“Since we’re talking about this now, I want to apologize too.”

Lin Xiangqi admitted his fault openly. “Back then, it was like I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t analyze things properly. Looking back calmly, it’s clear Shen Qiaolan was trying to stir things up. A lot of what happened… might’ve been misunderstandings.”

“For example, the first time he tried to drive a wedge between us, he said you used your pheromones to suppress me and hospitalized me. And I actually believed him. But now that I think about it—it makes no sense. We barely talked back then. That night, you only picked up a drunk me and took me home. How could you have beaten me up?”

The more he spoke, the angrier he got. He apologized again, more sincerely this time: “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have believed him. I shouldn’t have gone to argue with you afterward.”

But Lu Cong’s reaction was calm. “You didn’t misunderstand. I did beat him.”

Lin Xiangqi: “?”

Lin Xiangqi: “Then… the other two times…”

Lu Cong: “Also beat him.”

Lin Xiangqi: “…”

Lu Cong: “There weren’t as many misunderstandings between us as you think. The things that made you angry… I did do them.”

Lin Xiangqi blinked slowly, suddenly at a loss for words.

He had thought this night of heart-to-heart conversation would be about clearing up misunderstandings. But now Lu Cong was telling him—there were no misunderstandings.

Lu Cong really did beat up Shen Qiaolan, really did use pheromones to hurt him, nearly destroyed his glands. Every incident was true.

Lin Xiangqi stubbornly insisted, “Then he must’ve started it. He tried to hurt you, and you had to fight back.”

Lu Cong said, “He couldn’t hurt me.”

Lin Xiangqi’s nose stung. His eyes turned red. He gave Lu Cong a shove: “Why are you always arguing with me!”

Lu Cong looked at him, eyes full of bitter self-mockery. “I did what I did. I’m not afraid to admit it. But you—are you afraid to hear it?”

“I’m not afraid.” Lin Xiangqi turned his head away. “I just don’t get it. Why…”

He really couldn’t understand.

What could Shen Qiaolan have done to deserve such a vicious response from Lu Cong? Why had he nearly killed him?

If Lu Cong hadn’t injured Shen Qiaolan’s glands, hadn’t lost control of his pheromones, they wouldn’t have ended up parting ways like that.

He pouted and looked at Lu Cong sullenly. “So there weren’t any misunderstandings between us? Not even one?”

It was harder to accept that they had parted for no good reason, without even a misunderstanding, than to believe Shen Qiaolan had been behind it all.

But Lu Cong still told him, “There were no misunderstandings.”

Lu Cong added, “I know you wish I was completely innocent. That way, you could blame everything on someone else. But unfortunately, I’m not. If the police had arrived a few minutes later that day—Shen Qiaolan would’ve died.”

Lu Cong’s resolute tone made Lin Xiangqi realize—there had never been misunderstandings between them.

The Shen family’s lawsuit was completely justified. Lu Cong had lost control of his pheromones and had murderous intent. Under those circumstances, leaving was inevitable.

Even though Lin Xiangqi still didn’t want to believe things were really that simple, with Lu Cong saying it himself, he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It took him a long time to accept the truth.

He climbed off the bed, sadly put on his slippers, and said, “I get it. I’ll go sleep now.”

Lu Cong didn’t stop him—perhaps because he couldn’t bear to see Lin Xiangqi looking so disappointed in him.

When Lin Xiangqi reached the door, he sighed and casually brought something up:

“So that means… I owe Shen Qiaolan an apology too. Back then, he burned a letter and said your decision to leave the military school had been made long ago—that even if his family hadn’t pressured you, you would’ve left sooner or later…”

He laughed bitterly. “I thought he was talking nonsense and hit him with some rocks I picked up. I never spoke to him again after that.”

“But if there weren’t any misunderstandings, I guess I do owe him an apology.”

It was the first time Lin Xiangqi realized that a person’s eyes could turn bloodshot in an instant.

Lu Cong walked quickly toward him, gripped his shoulders tightly, and stared into his eyes with such intensity that Lin Xiangqi found it hard to breathe.

“You… didn’t see the letter?”

“No.”

Only then did Lin Xiangqi realize—they’d spent all this time going over the grudges between Lu Cong and Shen Qiaolan, but never once mentioned that letter. He asked, “What did you write in it?”

He saw Lu Cong’s eyelashes tremble. A rare look of confusion crossed his face, so out of place for a stern major general. His throat bobbed, but no words came out.

Lin Xiangqi grew worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Lin Xiangqi.”
Lu Cong swallowed the surge of emotion and suddenly called his name again. His voice was unsteady. He repeated it once more, softly: “So… you really never saw that letter.”