MVCFO CH7

Lin Xiangqi chewed on Lu Cong’s cooking while mentally criticizing the original plot’s absurdity all over again.

Just look—he and Lu Cong got along so well, so how could they have ended up like strangers just because of Shen Qiaolan’s meddling?

Even taking a huge step back—how could he have gone an entire week without contacting Lu Cong, passed by his house three times without entering, and left behind such amazing wasabi shrimp balls, such delicious sweet and sour pork ribs, and diced lotus root—just to eat tomato stir-fried with tomatoes at the cafeteria every day?

That’s why, he concluded, being love-brained was truly terrifying.

It not only made people lose their reason, it made them lose their sense of taste too.

Even though Lin Xiangqi had been trapped by the original story’s setup, thinking back on everything that had happened still made his heart race with lingering fear.

He couldn’t let that happen again.

As he bit into another shrimp ball, the deliciousness once again awakened his conscience. Lin Xiangqi resolved that no matter what happened in the future, he had to come to Lu Cong’s place to “clock in” every day.

Not a single meal should be missed!

At that moment, he caught a glimpse of Tang Luyu dashing down the stairs like the wind. She only tossed out a quick line—”Tomorrow’s the weekend. You two remember to come to my hospital!”—before storming out the door.

Lin Xiangqi: “Eh?”

Lu Cong followed shortly behind, and seeing Lin Xiangqi’s confused expression, walked over, pulled out a tissue, and wiped a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“Isn’t Dr. Tang eating with us?”

Lin Xiangqi didn’t want to admit it, but he was still feeling a bit awkward.

Just a few minutes ago, he’d almost accidentally agreed to a permanent mark and registering for marriage with Lu Cong. The sheer absurdity of it still made him feel too embarrassed to sit at the same table with Lu Cong.

“She had something urgent and had to leave. No time to eat.”

Lu Cong sat calmly across from Lin Xiangqi, as if he hadn’t noticed his discomfort at all. “If you have any questions, you can ask her tomorrow at the hospital.”

“No, no, I don’t have any questions,” Lin Xiangqi straightened up instinctively and replied with exaggerated seriousness. “Let’s eat.”

Fortunately, Lu Cong wasn’t the nosy or chatty type.

He didn’t ask any questions that would’ve made Lin Xiangqi even more embarrassed—like why Lin had suddenly discovered he was an Omega and gone to the hospital, or what it felt like to absorb Lu Cong’s pheromones.

Even more importantly, he didn’t bring up the topic of a permanent mark again.

He simply sat there quietly, eating with Lin Xiangqi.

Gradually, Lin Xiangqi’s mood began to relax. Seeing that Lu Cong didn’t seem to care at all, he didn’t want to dwell on it either. After all, it was just for treatment. As long as the marriage misunderstanding was cleared up, it was fine.

He began glancing over at Lu Cong.

Although he’d refused the idea of a permanent mark, Dr. Tang had said that regular pheromone therapy still required temporary marks so the pheromones could be properly absorbed.

In simple terms, that meant Lu Cong would have to bite his neck once a day.

Having lived over ten years as a Beta, all of Lin Xiangqi’s impressions of AO marking came secondhand—from what others said, or from TV shows and comics. He never imagined he’d one day experience it himself…

He couldn’t picture how Lu Cong would bite his neck, so he started staring at Lu Cong’s teeth.

…Oh. So Alpha canine teeth really were sharp. How had he never noticed before?

But no matter how sharp, they were still teeth, and breaking skin to inject pheromones sounded painful!

Lin Xiangqi subconsciously raised a hand to cover the back of his neck and looked at Lu Cong’s canines with slight resistance in his eyes.

“What are you looking at?”
Lu Cong suddenly put down his chopsticks and asked.

Lin Xiangqi jumped and quickly dropped the hand from his neck. He blurted out, “Your teeth are really nice—white and neat, just like the models in toothpaste commercials. Oh right, what toothpaste do you use? I want to try it.”

Lu Cong reminded him, “We use the same one.”

Lin Xiangqi forced an awkward smile. “What a coincidence.”

Not a coincidence at all—they had bought that toothpaste together.

Lu Cong looked at him for a moment, then suddenly sighed and stood up, walking toward him.

The movement startled Lin Xiangqi.

His mind turned to mush. He couldn’t think straight, only filled with thoughts like “marking,” “canines,” “pheromones,” “this is gonna hurt!”

Until Lu Cong sat down beside him, reached out to ruffle his hair, and said in a low, gentle voice, “If you don’t want a temporary mark, we can switch to injection therapy.”

Lin Xiangqi froze. “Injection?”

“We draw pheromones from my gland,” Lu Cong explained briefly, “and then inject them into you.”

That was the treatment Lin Xiangqi originally intended to go for—the one that cost a hundred thousand. But back then, they had to give up because they couldn’t find a compatible pheromone source no matter how much they spent.

Although the injection method and temporary marking achieved the same outcome—the only difference being how the pheromones were introduced—there was one big issue…

If Lu Cong was right there, why go through all the extra trouble?

Lin Xiangqi didn’t know many details about AO biology, but he did know that extracting pheromones from glands wasn’t easy.

It might be like the puncture procedure he had done that morning—painful to the point of near-death. If done repeatedly in a short period, it could even leave a permanent scar at the Alpha’s gland.

In short, extracting pheromones was far more complicated than injecting them. Otherwise, high-quality pheromones wouldn’t be so rare.

“No need to go through all that,” Lin Xiangqi said, turning the logic around to comfort Lu Cong. “Dr. Tang told me some pheromones could be lost during the injection process, so they’d need to extract twice as much to match the effectiveness of a single temporary mark. That’s really not worth it.”

With a single “not worth it,” he rejected Lu Cong’s proposal.

Lu Cong almost laughed.

Lin Xiangqi quickly added, “And it’s not that I don’t want a temporary mark. I’m just worried…”

At this point, he paused and glanced at Lu Cong with a hint of distrust.

“Hmm?” Lu Cong waited quietly for him to continue.

Lin Xiangqi admitted frankly, “I’m just worried you don’t have experience. If you bite too lightly, it won’t work, but if you bite too hard, it’ll hurt.”

“…Cough.” Lu Cong choked on air, seemingly reminded of something.

Lin Xiangqi patted his back. “Are you catching a cold or something? Why do you keep coughing today?”

Lu Cong turned his head and rubbed his forehead. “Maybe.”

“Alright then, you’d better take some cold medicine before bed tonight.”
After reminding him, Lin Xiangqi returned to the topic of the temporary marking.

This kind of thing could easily get twisted in your own head if you kept overthinking it alone, so it was better to talk it over with Lu Cong. He said, “Lu Cong, can you try biting my neck now—just the spot where the gland is, without releasing your pheromone?”

Lin Xiangqi’s reasoning was simple. He’d had a gland puncture done today and was terrified of that intense pain—it had practically left him traumatized.

And Lu Cong’s teeth were a lot thicker than the fine needle used in the puncture. That was the root of his concern.

Wasn’t there a saying that what people fear is fear itself? Lin Xiangqi thought that made a lot of sense.

What he was scared of was actually the pain he imagined in his head. Maybe if Lu Cong really bit him once and broke that illusion, he wouldn’t be afraid anymore.

Lu Cong listened and looked at him with a complicated expression. “Why?”

“Why else? I’m nervous,” Lin Xiangqi said. “I want to get a feel for what it’s like to be bitten on the neck so I can mentally prepare. That way I’ll know what to expect when we do the real marking tomorrow… Otherwise I might not be able to sleep tonight.”

Tang Luyu had already made plans with them. They were to go to her hospital early tomorrow morning to do a compatibility test first, followed by their first treatment session.

Technically, temporary marking could be done at home.
But Tang Luyu was worried Lin Xiangqi’s glands couldn’t withstand too strong a dose of pheromone, so she suggested doing the first marking at the hospital.

Lin Xiangqi was so nervous that he asked Lu Cong to bite him now—just as a rehearsal.

He thought Lu Cong’s frown meant he was going to refuse. To his surprise, the next moment, Lu Cong said, “Alright.”

“Really?” Lin Xiangqi straightened up and patted Lu Cong’s shoulder in gratitude. “You’re so nice. Thanks!”

Then he tugged at his collar, turned his back, and exposed the back of his neck to Lu Cong. “Go ahead.”

An offering, waiting to be claimed.

Lu Cong: “…”

Maybe being a Beta for so long had really blurred gender lines for him.

Lin Xiangqi didn’t understand at all what this gesture meant to an Alpha.

But that was okay. As Lu Cong looked at that smooth, delicate nape, he thought—he would teach him, one step at a time.

“You’re still not starting?” Lin Xiangqi waited a bit and got impatient. He turned his head to ask, “Is it hard to bite from this position?”

Thinking from Lu Cong’s perspective, he realized that the angle might really be awkward.

There was a big height difference between them when standing. Even sitting in chairs, he was still shorter than Lu Cong. From this angle, Lu Cong couldn’t bite his gland accurately unless he leaned in, bent down, lowered his head, and braced himself on either side of his body…

When Lin Xiangqi imagined that scene, his breath hitched inexplicably. He quickly forced himself to stop thinking about it and, in his simple, straightforward way, offered a solution: “How about we move to the bed—” I’ll lie down, and you do your thing.

Before he could finish the sentence, Lu Cong suddenly reached out his hand and said softly, “Come here.”

Lin Xiangqi had always been cooperative when it came to things he didn’t understand. Since Lu Cong told him to come, he obediently held out his hand without question. But he didn’t understand what Lu Cong was planning.

He thought maybe handholding was part of the temporary marking process too.

Like how teammates bow to each other before a match, maybe AO pairs also needed to shake hands before marking—
Okay, that was totally impossible.

Feeling a bit ridiculous for thinking that, Lin Xiangqi was just about to ask why they were holding hands when, the next moment, he suddenly felt a strong tug—and then his entire body toppled forward from the force of Lu Cong’s pull.

His balance gone, the world spun around him. It felt like he turned a hundred circles before finally landing squarely in a warm embrace, backed by a steadily thumping heartbeat.

When his vision returned, he realized—

He was now sitting on Lu Cong’s lap, legs spread with toes just touching the ground, his body securely wrapped in Lu Cong’s arms.

“Ah…!” Lin Xiangqi’s expression went through several transformations. Even though he knew this position made it easier for Lu Cong to bite his neck, it still felt a bit strange. He squirmed and tried to push Lu Cong’s arm away. “Let’s just forget it—”

“Yanyan,” Lu Cong’s lips were practically against the back of his neck, his voice hoarse, “don’t move.”

Lin Xiangqi froze like he’d been struck by a pressure point.

Not just because he could feel Lu Cong’s hot breath on his skin, but also because Lu Cong had just called him by his childhood nickname.

Yanyan.
Ever since his parents passed away, no one had called him that.

He thought Lu Cong had forgotten he even had that nickname.

—

Speaking of Lin Xiangqi’s name, many people found it odd.

Back in elementary school, classmates had even pitied him because of it—assuming his parents didn’t love him and just gave him a random name.
At first, even the teachers couldn’t understand how such a half-hearted name came about.

That was, until they learned his father’s name—

Lin Buwang. (“Never Forget”)

Then it all made sense. It was a naming tradition in the family.

Reportedly, Lin Xiangqi’s parents had even met because of this name. When his mother Yuan Wei was in college, she checked out a book at the library and saw that the previous borrower had been someone named Lin Buwang. She thought the name was fascinating, so she started asking around on campus—and eventually found him. From acquaintance to affection, the two naturally fell in love.

So when Lin Xiangqi was born, Yuan Wei agreed to let Lin Buwang come up with another creative name for their son.

Lin Buwang racked his brain all night and finally came up with “Lin Buzhi” (“Never Know”), which Yuan Wei rejected immediately.

The reason?
“Lin Buzhi” sounded like a kid who did badly in school.

Eventually, they settled on Lin Xiangqi—because Yuan Wei believed, “No matter what we’re thinking about, the first thing that comes to mind will always be our precious son.”

Both parents had a sort of unserious romantic streak and unpredictable way of thinking. Though they were sincere in their intentions, most people still found the name a little strange.

Fortunately, Lin Xiangqi didn’t mind the name at all growing up. In fact, because it was so unique, it often drew people to approach him, and he ended up making many friends. So he just kept using it.

As for his childhood nickname “Yanyan,” that had been entirely accidental.

When five-year-old Lu Cong was sent to stay at his grandparents’ old house, Lin Xiangqi’s family lived right next door.

Lin Buwang and Yuan Wei were friendly and sociable people. They went to ask about the new neighbor right away.

Apparently, the Lu family’s child had been sick since birth and lived in a convalescent center. He’d never played with other children and had become quite withdrawn.
Now that he’d recovered, his parents—both extremely busy people—had no one to care for him, so they sent him to his grandparents’ place.

When Lin Buwang heard the boy was five years old, he immediately brought out his own five-year-old son to act as a “diplomat.”

 Five-year-old Lin Xiangqi was innocent, adorable, lively, and clever—he had always been the most popular sweetheart in kindergarten.

He spoke sweetly to Lu Cong: “Hi, my name is Lin Xiangqi. What’s your name?”

When Lin Xiangqi smiled, his eyes curved like crescent moons, his eyelashes curled, and his chubby little face was rosy and soft, like a delicate glutinous rice dumpling.

However, five-year-old Lu Cong remained silent, his deep and indifferent expression lacking even the slightest childishness, like a dark, cold glutinous rice dumpling.

The adults around them were a little embarrassed, so Lu Cong’s grandmother answered on his behalf: “His name is Lu Cong. Xiao Qi, do you know which ‘Cong’ that is?”

Lin Xiangqi’s eyes lit up. “The ‘chong’ from ‘maomaochong’ [caterpillar]!”

Lu Cong gave him a cold, shadowy glance and said, “It’s yu cong.”

“Yu chong? What kind of bug is that?” Lin Xiangqi was genuinely curious.
He was at that age where everything in the world fascinated him.

Young Lu Cong had no patience for anything. He looked coldly at Lin Xiangqi and commented, “Idiot.”

The adults chuckled, but Lin Xiangqi was furious. He puffed up his cheeks and called Lu Cong a “Bad bug!” before running home.

That night, Lin Xiangqi pestered Lin Buwang and Yuan Wei relentlessly, insisting they explain what “yu chong” was, or he wouldn’t go to bed.

Lin Buwang couldn’t exactly explain what a yu cong (a jade ritual object) was to a child who didn’t even understand what jade was, so he tried the simplest explanation: “It’s something made of jade… uh, a pretty stone.”

Lin Xiangqi’s eyes widened. “A pretty stone?”

Lin Buwang laughed. “Exactly.”

“I want one too!” Lin Xiangqi said. “Mom, am I pretty?”

“Our baby is the most, most, most pretty.” Yuan Wei hugged him and stroked his head. “Do you like jade, sweetheart?”

Lin Xiangqi didn’t really know what jade was. Even though his parents had shown him pictures, he still had no real concept. But since it was associated with ‘pretty,’ he immediately nodded vigorously. “Mhm!”

That night, Yuan Wei gave her husband strict orders: he must come up with a nickname for their son that sounded as beautiful as jade, to end this whole “yu chong” debate.

And that’s how the name “Yanyan” was born.

—

Much later, on a whim, Lin Xiangqi once asked Lu Cong what he thought of his nickname, “Yanyan.”

By then, Lu Cong was no longer a cold and distant little dumpling. He also felt quite sorry for how rude he’d been as a child. So he told Lin Xiangqi:

“I really like it, Yanyan.”

—

“Yanyan…”
Lu Cong’s voice was hoarse and dry—just two syllables, but it sounded as if he was using all his strength to say them.

He gently held Lin Xiangqi’s waist, preventing him from moving, his lips pressing against the delicate skin of the back of his neck. Bit by bit, his sharp canines nudged the location of the gland.

Though an Omega’s gland wasn’t yet fully developed, there was still a trace of it to be found. But the fading puncture wound nearby made Lu Cong reluctant to bite too hard, so instead he brushed the spot with his lips and teeth, as if unintentionally kissing it—linger­ing longer than affection usually allowed.

“Hah…” Lin Xiangqi’s body abruptly went limp, trembling uncontrollably.

Even though he hadn’t inhaled any pheromones, he still felt as if his consciousness was slipping away.

Lu Cong was moving too softly, too slowly. Maybe he was giving him time to adjust, or maybe he was afraid of hurting him—but whatever the reason, the delay was driving Lin Xiangqi mad.

He started to feel itchy, a kind of itch that spread from the nape of his neck throughout every nerve and limb.

So he couldn’t help but urge, “Just bite—ah!”

Lu Cong obediently opened his mouth and bit down, but not in the way a proper mark was made.

He just held a small piece of soft skin between his teeth and ground it gently.

Lin Xiangqi practically melted, collapsing entirely, letting out an uncontrollable whimper. He unconsciously tilted his neck further into Lu Cong’s mouth, craving the relief of a real bite…

No—this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Lin Xiangqi was distressed. Wasn’t he supposed to feel scared? Nervous? Afraid of being marked?

Then why was he starting to look forward to it now? Why was he so desperate for Lu Cong to release his pheromones, so impatient for the moment he’d be marked?

Was this what they called an Omega’s biological instinct?

But according to all the educational material he’d read, an Omega only lost control under the influence of an Alpha’s pheromones.

And Lu Cong hadn’t even released any yet, so why was he the one losing control?!

“I think… maybe we should stop.” Lin Xiangqi struggled to suppress the heat churning in his chest. He tilted his head back, trying to avoid Lu Cong’s lips, and attempted to wriggle out of his arms. “We should really follow the doctor’s instructions and wait until tomorrow at the hospital to—ugh!”

Before he could finish, Lu Cong pulled him back again.

His already-weak arms dropped helplessly to his sides, too feeble to resist.

One of Lu Cong’s arms circled his waist, while the other pressed a firm palm to his throat—not enough to hurt, but enough to keep him still:

“Yanyan, don’t be scared. It won’t hurt.”