On Sunday, Ming Ying woke up a bit late.
The reason was simple. The semester had just started, and the professor for his main Architectural Research course had already piled on an incredibly heavy workload.
The difficulty rivaled the thesis topics XI had given him (scratch that).
In short, this whole week, besides agonizing over meeting XI, Ming Ying had been stressing about this damn course.
See, Ming Ying was a master of last-minute cramming. But this kind of assignment, requiring extensive research and huge amounts of time, was immune to his ultimate technique.
On top of that, Ming Ying still had to do work for Professor Thomas, so he was so busy he barely knew what day it was.
When Sophie called, Ming Ying had just scrambled out of bed.
By the time he got in the car, the cold October wind of New York sobered him up a little, and he suddenly realized it was Sunday.
He leaned back in his seat and took out his phone.
Before he could even look for the WhatsApp icon, a message from the [Single Aristocrat] childhood friends group popped up first.
Son No. 1: Hit the road yet, bro? Hope you win a great victory! Wear a qipao! @Mingo
Son No. 2: +1 @Mingo
Ming Ying was a bit amused and exasperated. Ever since those two jerks found out he was meeting his online crush in person, they couldn’t seem to go a day without heckling him.
Ming Ying gave a very concise reply in the group: Get lost.
Then he looked down.
Today, Ming Ying wore the same outfit he had at the airport a month ago: a simple hoodie and baggy jeans.
As the nanny van drew closer to that building, Ming Ying took a deep breath.
He pulled out his phone and navigated to his chat with XI.
Their conversation had stopped last night, when XI said she was boarding her flight.
Mingo: Okay~ Safe travels, good night.
XI: Mm. Good night.
Ming Ying deliberately hadn’t mentioned meeting up today. XI hadn’t brought it up either. If she didn’t, Ming Ying initiating it felt like he was losing face.
Even though he had long since lost all face with her.
As Ming Ying scrolled up through the chat history, a smile involuntarily tugged at his lips. He scrolled back down and began to type.
Mingo: Teacher, good morning~
Mingo: [Good Morning sticker]
Five minutes passed. Unread, no reply.
Ming Ying wasn’t disappointed at all. No reply must mean she was busy.
Soon, they arrived. Ming Ying pocketed his phone and got out of the car, humming an unknown little tune.
Riding the elevator up, Ming Ying’s mind wandered again. He was thinking, what if XI was the one who opened the door right away? What should be the first thing he said?
“Long time no see?”
No, too cliché.
“We finally meet!”
Even more cliché.
“You’re just as pretty as I imagined!”
That’s just insane!
…
Ming Ying’s mental rehearsal was so vivid that he missed the “ding” of the elevator doors opening.
Sophie called out from the doorway, “Ming?”
Huh? Ming Ying snapped back to reality. He rubbed his head sheepishly. “Sorry.”
Sophie smiled. “Are you students at N University that busy? I see you’re even carrying your backpack?”
They walked inside. Ming Ying coughed once and said, “Special circumstances. It’s been pretty busy lately.”
As they reached the living room, Ming Ying swept his gaze around. Only little Benjamin was there, sprawled over the coffee table reading a book.
Left side, no one. Right side, no one.
She couldn’t be in the bedroom, right?
“Ming?” Sophie asked with a smile, “What are you looking at? It’s just the three of us here.”
Ming Ying’s mood plummeted for a moment, but then he thought, it’s still morning. What’s the rush?
“Nothing,” he said. Ming Ying set his backpack down and sat beside Benjamin. Suddenly, an idea struck him, and he asked casually, “Is Cherry coming today?”
“What?” Sophie looked a bit stunned; Ming Ying had jumped topics so quickly.
Ming Ying rubbed his nose, but before he could say anything, Benjamin beside him suddenly jumped up. “No! Bad sister can’t come! Can’t come!”
Sophie just caught on then. “You mean Cherry? I haven’t heard anything about her coming.”
Ben: “NO! She’s not allowed!”
Sophie leaned closer and whispered, “Ben was chased by a dog Cherry set on him before.”
Ming Ying let out an “Ah,” thinking to himself, so she really is a “badass scoundrel”.
Meanwhile, Cherry, who was on vacation, sneezed out of the blue…
Because his mind was preoccupied, Ming Ying was a bit absent-minded. Fortunately, Ben was very smart, a self-learning prodigy. The little teacher beside him barely counted as a study companion.
Right now, this study companion’s eyes suddenly lit up—because that familiar profile picture, a campus scenery shot, had popped up on his phone screen!
Ming Ying glanced at Ben, shifted his sitting position, and opened his phone.
XI: Not early anymore.
XI: How did the assignment revision go last night?
Ming Ying: “…”
The “assignment” here referred to a real paper, not something… embarrassing.
It all started because Ming Ying was always complaining about how hard Oliver’s (their Architectural Research professor) assignments were, and XI told him to send it to her for a look.
Ming Ying didn’t think much of it, treating it like mutual help between classmates or a way to find a topic with XI. The result, however, was that she disappeared for half an hour, then came back having found and corrected three errors, calling him careless and saying he made basic mistakes.
Ming Ying had felt she was really getting into her Cosplay, so he played along.
But now it was Sunday, and there was still no message about whether she was coming or not.
Heh. Ming Ying bit his lip and decided not to reply to that message.
Who knew XI would send another.
XI: ?
Even though Ming Ying was used to XI sending question marks, this time it genuinely sparked a flicker of irritation.
But he didn’t dare throw a question mark back at her.
So he could only pretend not to see it and look at something else.
Yet, XI sent another message.
XI: Ming, reply.
Damn. You tell me to reply and I just will? No way.
It still held true: Ming Ying was actually a very rebellious person. If no one urged him to do something, he’d slowly but surely get it done on his own. But if anyone pushed him, he had a strong urge to just throw in the towel, an “I won’t do it even if the Heavenly King himself shows up” kind of mentality.
Ming Ying was still planning to ignore it, but then the next second:
XI: I’m looking at the surveillance feed. What are you looking at?
Ming Ying: “…”
Ming Ying abruptly looked up, face-to-face with the white camera probe hanging from the ceiling.
…Damn it, forgot about that thing.
Mingo: I wasn’t looking at anything~
After the message was read, no reply came.
Ming Ying facepalmed, sighed, and backed out of the chat with XI.
Just then, having finished a book of Chinese poetry, little Ben stealthily leaned over and saw the chat windows bouncing around on Ming’s phone. He sighed in admiration, “Ming, you have so many friends.”
Crap. Ming Ying jumped, startled, and whipped his head around to see the little guy had somehow snuck up right beside his shoulder without making a sound!
This reminded Ming Ying of Mark. What was with these foreigners, being able to walk without making any noise since childhood?
“Finished the book?” Ming Ying deliberately frowned and asked.
But little Ben, even though he’d only met Ming Ying once, knew a soft touch when he saw one. He showed no fear at Ming Ying’s frown.
“Ming, you have so many friends. I’m so envious.” Little Ben seemed to have his own troubles.
Ming Ying pulled out his line for tricking elementary schoolers: “Study hard and you’ll have lots of friends. Read.”
“No. Your chat ended!” Ben raised his chin. “My book is finished, too—can we play games now? I brought new game consoles this time!”
(The previous ones were confiscated.)
Ming Ying heard this and was shocked.
Was he leading a child astray?
His conscience pricked, Ming Ying quickly tossed his phone aside, scooped Ben up, and then grabbed the homework book. He said, very sternly, as if for some audience, “Play what games?! How can someone your age even think about playing games?!”
Ben: “…”
And so, little Ben was forced to diligently study for the entire morning.
At noon, the food delivery people arrived. Ming Ying stretched, got up to open the door, and the moment it swung open, he stood face-to-face with the person outside.
“Hello, Chinese?” The guy outside, dressed in a red uniform, asked with a smile first.
Ming Ying let out an “Ah,” “Yes, I am.”
The young man took out a slip of paper from his hand. “We’re here to cook. The reservation is for 11 AM, right?”
Cook? Ming Ying tilted his head and saw the logo on the guy’s uniform.
—It was The Shanghai Alcove!
“Please, come in, come in.” Ming Ying quickly stepped aside to let them in.
“Thank you.”
Ming Ying counted; at least seven people had come.
Watching them walk expertly into the kitchen, Ming Ying followed and asked, “Um, may I ask, who requested you to come?”
The young man handed him the slip. “It’s on here.”
“Oh, okay, thanks.” Ming Ying took the slip, scanned past a series of English menu items, and saw the member name at the very bottom: XI.
Alright. Ming Ying’s ambitions were truly not high.
He turned to go find his phone. Ah, he suddenly wanted to chat with XI again.
But unexpectedly, the moment he opened his phone, XI’s messages from an hour ago jumped out first.
XI: [XI shared a location link with you]
XI: [XI shared a location link with you]
XI: [XI shared a location link with you]
XI: Have you decided what to eat? Western, Chinese, or Japanese?
Ming Ying was stunned for a second, then quickly replied.
Mingo: I’m okay with anything, anything!
Mingo: [Puppy holding bowl sticker]
XI replied two minutes later.
Damn sugar daddy