Chapter 19: Tutor Ming Reports for Duty Part 2

XI: You can go rest in the bedroom.

Bed-room.

Such an ambiguous word.

Ming Ying looked up. This luxury apartment didn’t have many rooms. Based on his hotel experience, he could roughly deduce which one was the bedroom, but for heaven’s sake, this wasn’t his home. He still felt weird about it.

Mingo: Thanks, but no need, I’ll be heading back soon hahaha…

After he sent the message, it remained unread.

Ming Ying put his phone away and walked back to the living room, feeling slightly unsettled. Benjamin was sitting on the sofa, chattering away in a mix of English and Chinese. But Ming Ying’s gaze couldn’t help drifting toward the room in the corner.

Catching his own wandering eyes, he shook his head! What the hell was he thinking?!

Ming Ying took a deep breath, walked over to Benjamin, and asked with the cajoling tone one uses on a child, smiling: “Ben, is Catherine your sister?”

Benjamin tilted his little head at the question and said in Chinese, “Don’t know her!”

Ming Ying paused, then probed further: “What about Cherry? Is she your sister?”

The moment Benjamin heard the name Cherry, his eyes widened, and he declared, “The big meanie sister!”

A match!

Confirmed!

Ming Ying secretly clenched his fist. It was Cherry. This was the ‘big meanie.’

Just as Ming Ying was about to dig for more, his phone buzzed twice in his pocket.

Ming Ying patted Benjamin’s fluffy head and fished out his phone.

XI: Go to the bedroom.

What?

Ming Ying dismantled those three words and reassembled them, reading them again. What did he mean, go to the bedroom?

Go to the bedroom and do what?

He hadn’t yet figured out XI’s meaning when Sophie knocked and came in. “Ben! Time to go home! Come on, kid!”

Benjamin happily scampered off toward Sophie. Behind him, Ming Ying was a little bewildered. He pocketed his phone, grabbed his bag, and also headed for the door.

Seeing this, Sophie looked puzzled. “Ming? Aren’t you staying?”

Huh?

“Why would I—”

Don’t tell me this was XI’s doing?

Ming Ying pulled out his phone.

XI: Get a good rest before you leave.

And simultaneously, slam. Sophie had closed the door behind her and Benjamin. With astonishing speed, they were gone.

Ming Ying paused, then let out a dry laugh. Fine. Stay it is, sleep it is. Such a nice apartment—it’d be a waste not to sleep here. So, he sat back down on the sofa.

Mingo: Teacher, do you want me to sleep here?

Mingo: Then which room should I sleep in?

Mingo: [Puppy peeking sticker]

About five minutes passed after his message was sent before he got a reply.

XI: Is that even a question?

XI: Ming, aren’t we currently flirting?

Pfft. Ming Ying couldn’t hold it in. Wasn’t that a little too straightforward?!

Well, for XI, this level of suggestiveness probably didn’t count as embarrassing anymore.

Mingo: Okay then, I’ll take your bedroom?

XI: Feel free.

Mingo: Am I really just going to simply sleep?

Ming Ying was projecting his own thoughts here. All sorts of inappropriate fantasies were running wild in his mind. He simply didn’t believe XI was only asking him to stay over for a simple, innocent sleep.

Buzz. Ming Ying picked up his phone.

XI: What do you think?

Ming Ying clicked his tongue. Truly incorrigible.

Mingo: Then Teacher, I’m off to sleep~

After sending that, he pocketed his phone and headed for the room at the very back of the apartment.

The door wasn’t locked—it swung open with a push. Ming Ying stood at the entrance and scanned the room. He still couldn’t see any difference from a hotel room, neither in the decor nor the furnishings. Not even a single photo.

Strange. Why had XI made her own home look like a hotel?

Oh. If there was one thing different, it was the bedsheets.

Pure blue, very comfortable to touch, smooth, and expensive.

Ming Ying took off his jacket and sat on the edge of the bed. He was about to lie down, but the moment he thought about how XI had also lain on this bed, he suddenly couldn’t bring himself to do it.

So he did have a conscience after all. Ming Ying thought, feeling a bit creeped out.

Just then, his phone buzzed.

XI: Ming, fell asleep?

Ha. Ming Ying laughed. The rogue couldn’t keep up the act!

Mingo: Fell asleep.

Mingo: [Puppy snoring.jpg]

Seeing this sticker, Silas allowed an almost imperceptible smile.

XI: Mm, asleep. May I ask who is sending these messages then?

Mingo: Sent by my doggy paws.

Ming Ying couldn’t see for himself how wide his own smile was, but before he could laugh enough, he froze.

XI: Comfortable?

Ming Ying’s eyes widened. The sudden question caught him off guard. Comfortable? What did he mean, comfortable?

Mingo: [Blushing]

XI: Why the blushing face?

XI: I was asking about the bed.

Ming Ying was truly in awe. How had he never noticed before that XI had such talent for being a rogue!

Mingo: I was blushing for the bed too!

XI: Take a picture for me to see.

Ming Ying froze.

Mingo: What? Of the bed?

Two little blue checkmarks lit up.

XI: Ming, you tell me.

Brilliant. Just brilliant—”Ming, you tell me”!

Did he mean “Ming, you tell me” (whether it was the bed), or did he mean “(Take a picture of) Ming, you tell me”?

Ming Ying was genuinely impressed. This person’s mastery of the Chinese language had likely reached an unprecedented, flawlessly refined level!

He even wanted to ask, If your Chinese is at this level, why don’t you just tutor your nephew yourself?

Was this just creating a job position for him?

Ming Ying bit his lip. Unable to think of a reply, he just tossed his phone aside with a thump and flopped star-shaped onto the bed, face down.

He threw himself onto the bed XI had slept in. His first impression was how soft it was—a softness threatening to swallow him whole.

Then, it smelled very nice.

A fresh, clean scent. Ming Ying wrinkled his nose. It felt a little familiar…

Had he smelled this somewhere before?

Even on someone else’s bed, Ming Ying couldn’t shake his bad habit of rolling around. He rolled over once, sat up, and retrieved his phone.

XI hadn’t sent him any more messages.

It seemed XI was waiting for his choice, or his photo.

Ming Ying tilted his head.

XI always seemed like this—a master of provocation.

Ming Ying could picture the scene in his mind. XI was like a master of flirting. After stirring up another’s desires, she would stand calmly to the side, cool and collected, waiting.

Waiting for the other person’s anger, or submission.

Ming Ying certainly wouldn’t be angry. He just lay there on XI’s bed, scrolling through their chat history, feeling like he was drowning in this thrilling, stimulating sensation.

This thrill was completely carefree, unrelated to the future, unburdened by the past. There was only the present.

How could someone be so incredible, making him so utterly captivated even though they’d only met once?

So he chose to submit.

Smiling, Ming Ying picked up his phone. In the dimly lit room, he took several selfies.

Literally, just simple selfies, close-up face shots.

Mingo: [Picture]

Mingo: [Picture]

Mingo: [Picture]

…

After sending them, he didn’t even wait for XI’s reply before falling asleep.

Ming Ying was usually someone who had trouble sleeping in strange beds, but maybe from too much excitement, his nerves were overstimulated, or some other reason—in any case, he just drifted off like that.

At that very moment, Silas was stepping out of an elevator at a launch research facility in Washington. His phone buzzed in the pocket of his suit. He pulled it out as he walked.

From opening the phone to pulling up the chat interface to putting it away, Silas’s expression didn’t change significantly. Only Catherine could tell that Mr. Aston’s mood was rather good.

Before getting into the car, Silas turned his head, tapped the car window with his fingertip, and frowned: “Catherine, please give Frank another call. Ask him how much longer he estimates it will take.”

Catherine immediately understood. “Yes, Mr. Aston. My estimate is that Friday should more or less wrap things up.”

Silas nodded. “Mm. Thank you.”

When Ming Ying woke, it was exactly 3 p.m. He rolled over and jolted wide awake.

Crap?

Where was he?

He sat up, taking a full minute to remember—he was currently lying in XI’s home.

He climbed out of bed, neatly folded the blanket again, and then walked out.

The huge, expansive apartment held only him. The late afternoon sun streamed straight in, turning the living room into a high-end showroom. It felt too empty, too strange.

Ming Ying grabbed his phone.

His gaze traveled down past his own selfies and saw XI’s reply.

XI: Nicely done.

Two minutes later.

XI: Ming, do you drool in your sleep?

Ming Ying: “…”

What was with this person?!

Mingo: As if!

He was about to hit send but stopped himself. Ming Ying let out a sardonic snort and retyped his message.

Mingo: Yep. I drooled.

Mingo: My drool is all over the bed now 🙂

Mingo: Hope Teacher doesn’t mind [Hands Clasped in Prayer]

Buzz. Ming Ying’s hand shook. A reply so fast?

XI: I’ll come back Sunday to check.

Ah. Ming Ying blinked. Sunday…

His heart fluttered again.

Mingo: Well then, shall we have dinner together on Saturday? Go out, or…?

XI: Why else?

XI: Do you know how to cook?

Mingo: Well, if you really dare to let me use your kitchen, I could give it a try.

Mingo: [Guilty]

After sending it out, Ming Ying slightly regretted it. Would this make XI think he was lame for not knowing how to cook?

XI: We’ll try that another time.

Ming Ying paused. Another time… What an enticing set of words.

It seemed XI didn’t mind that he couldn’t cook.

Mingo: Okay! Then I’ll be waiting for you!

Mingo: [Puppy holding bowl in mouth.jpg]

From Wednesday to Sunday, a span of just four days. Yet to Ming Ying, it felt like he lived through four years.

And so, amidst this sweet anticipation and waiting, he finally made it to Sunday.

FINALLY!