Not minding it?
Ming Ying blanked for a moment.
It took him a while to realize that XI actually didn’t mind. That meant… did it mean she was giving them permission to cross that line?
Ming Ying frowned. He remembered what Mark had said. Could it be that Brit was actually right?
He covered his face.
And just like that, the “evil” seed was planted in Ming Ying’s heart.
…
Silas, of course, wouldn’t mind a wrongly sent message from a kid.
He could even tolerate his niece using his private number to add a stranger as a prank. Moreover, he had tacitly allowed this stranger to lie in his contact list, delivering daily doses of silly yet amusing chatter.
As his secretary, Catherine, put it, Silas, despite his immense power, rigorous work ethic, and high standards, was remarkably tolerant of anything that didn’t involve academic or principled issues. He was a true gentleman.
At this very moment, Ming Ying was cosplaying again, trying to find topics to hook this gentleman.
Mingo: Teacher, do you know how to cook?
Mingo: [Starry Eyes.jpg]
It was an incredibly boring topic. But after two minutes, XI replied.
XI: Yes.
A single, concise word.
Curled up on the sofa, Ming Ying marveled again. She even knows how to cook…
Mingo: Really? That’s amazing!
Mingo: What kind of dishes do you usually make? [Curious.jpg]
This time, the two messages were read after five minutes, and a reply came three minutes after that.
XI: Have you not eaten breakfast?
Ming Ying laughed.
Mingo: Damn, Teacher, do you have mind-reading powers?
Mingo: [Puppy Raging.jpg]
After sending the sticker, Ming Ying propped his chin on his hand and waited for a reply. When none came after a while, he suspected his waiting posture was wrong, so he switched hands to prop up his chin.
Still no reply.
Ming Ying pursed his lips, tapped his finger, and sent a sticker.
Mingo: [Puppy Peeking.jpg]
It actually worked, surprisingly. Soon, a reply came, but it was only two words.
XI: Am busy.
Mingo: Oh, okay! We’ll chat when you’re free!
Mingo: [Puppy Wink.jpg]
XI: Mm.
Ming Ying clicked his tongue. He wasn’t disappointed; instead, he smiled. This was the first time XI had ever given him a reason for not replying. Before, the messages were always read and ignored, or simply unseen.
Progress. Definite progress.
Top student Ming Ying immediately sat up straight and began his analysis.
One: XI didn’t mind his boundary-crossing behavior, indicating a possible acceptance of developing a close relationship with him!
Two: XI didn’t leave him on read, and even started explaining her availability, indicating a tendency to develop a close relationship with him!
Three: Cosplay is highly effective. Please use it deeply. Use it often.
And… that Brit Mark’s advice might actually be worth referencing.
Damn. Ming Ying took a deep breath, rolled off the sofa, and walked to the full-length mirror in the living room, phone in hand.
The youth in the mirror was tall and thin, though his hair was messy and his crew-neck T-shirt was wrinkled like a pickled vegetable. Yet his face was delicate enough to make up for it—a smile crinkling his eyes and flashing white teeth could let a radiant, youthful handsomeness overflow.
Ming Ying was tentatively satisfied with himself.
He coughed, reached back to hold his head, and struck a pose imitating Mark.
Damn.
Why was this so weird?
Ming Ying ruffled his hair again, placed his other hand on his waist, and struck an almost coquettish pose in the mirror. He snapped a full-body photo showing his abs.
Before even sending it to XI, he laughed his head off at the picture himself and decided to harass his childhood friends’ group chat first.
So the “Single Aristocrat” group chat was like:
Mingo: [Image.jpg]
A minute later.
Son No. 1: ??????
Son No. 1: Ming, are you GAY? In heat?
Mingo: ? You’re the gay one! This is a photo of my abs! Abs, man!
Son No. 1: ……
Son No. 2: Little Ming, you’re not planning to send that pic to that girl, are you?
Ming Ying’s face instantly reddened.
Mingo: Nonsense, your mind is so dirty!
Son No. 1: Hahaha, I wonder whose mind is pure enough to take a pic like that [Tsk tsk tsk]
Ming Ying facepalmed. He really couldn’t argue with that.
At that moment, another childhood friend suddenly shared a bunch of photos in the group.
As the messages kept popping up, Ming Ying frowned and opened the chat. He found his buddy had shared all sorts of photos of guys taking mirror selfies in gyms.
Son No. 2: Does this look familiar? @Mingo
Holy crap.
Mingo: Don’t tell me these are all gay guys?
Son No. 1: No, they’re not gay, your mind is just dirty.
Son No. 2: Right, they ARE all gay!
Son No. 2: So to stop people from thinking YOU’RE gay, I’d advise you to try a different pose for your thirst trap, @Mingo
Ming Ying: …
Admittedly, he had to concede his pose was really a bit too… gay…
But the problem was, he’d copied Mark’s style. Could it be that British gay guys don’t do it this way?
Forget it.
Ming Ying exited the page. Taking a combined Eastern and Western advice, he finally chose to hide the photo.
Then he checked his chat window with XI again. It was still stuck on that concluding “Mm.”
Ming Ying sighed.
With nothing else to do, it was time to study.
So he returned to his room, opened his computer, and started continuing his research on that damned architectural design literature.
When XI replied to him again, an hour had passed.
Within that hour, Ming Ying had also found time to mark XI as a favorite contact and research how to set a custom notification sound for favorite contacts on WhatsApp.
Ming Ying picked and chose, finally setting a unique vibration pattern for XI’s messages, similar to an alarm clock ringtone—Ming Ying’s unique method of trying to make himself no longer fear this ringtone.
But the moment that vibration buzzed on the table, Ming Ying grabbed his phone and quickly silenced the ringtone.
XI: [The other party shared a location link]
Damn.
Seeing that location link, Ming Ying’s heart suddenly raced with excitement.
Could it be time to meet up offline?!
But he wasn’t ready yet, wasn’t this a little too rushed? Wait, what clothes should he wear?
But before he could finish agonizing over his outfit, XI shattered his fantasy.
XI: A Chinese restaurant in Brooklyn. The food is excellent.
Mingo: Have you been there? [Curious]
XI: I have.
After a pause, another message was added.
XI: Not expensive.
Ming Ying let out an “Ah” and laughed.
This is way too thoughtful!
Mingo: Teacher, you’re too kind. This student wants to serve you like an ox or a horse [Hands Clasped Together]
XI: Go eat.
Mingo: Mm-hmm.
Not wanting to let XI’s recommendation go to waste, Ming Ying immediately headed out.
To his surprise, this Chinese restaurant called “The Shanghai Alcove” wasn’t far from him, just one subway stop away.
However, the restaurant was large and beautifully decorated, yet had few customers.
The moment he entered, Ming Ying began to suspect XI’s foreign palate had been tricked.
Until—he saw a bowl of fragrant beef noodles emerge from the kitchen and float past him.
Ming Ying’s eyes followed the beef noodles, forgetting everything else. He didn’t even ask the price before he boldly placed his order.
While waiting for his food, Ming Ying continued chatting with XI.
Mingo: I’m here! I ordered the beef noodles! It smells so good!
Mingo: I’ll send you a picture in a second!
Mingo: [Puppy Wagging Tail.jpg]
“Here you go.”
Ming Ying took the beef noodles, inhaled the aroma, and smiled as he picked up his phone to take a picture.
But maybe because the noodles smelled too delicious, Ming Ying’s hand slipped. Before the camera had flipped around—he had already pressed the shutter button and hit send!
Thus, when Mr. Aston, who was preparing to eat at N University, opened his phone, he saw a close-up selfie of someone with wide eyes, a face full of cluelessness and gluttony.
