This Son No. 1 really couldn’t go a single day without being a nuisance.
The world went silent for a second.
Ming Ying didn’t want to speak. He coughed.
“Uh, sorry about that. My friend was just joking.”
Was there a more feeble explanation in the world than that?
Silas’s lips curved slightly upwards. “Mm.”
Ming Ying: “…”
Ming Ying: “I, I don’t have that… actually, I rarely use my phone, let alone online dating.”
As he spoke, Ming Ying even shoved his phone under his butt.
Silas wrapped one hand around the steering wheel, and upon hearing this, he simply said, “Ming, you can tell the truth. We’re not at school now.”
“…”
What did that mean? If they weren’t at school, he wasn’t a School Board Director anymore?
Ming Ying rubbed his nose, unsure how to answer. Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck, and he mimicked the man in the driver’s seat: “Mm. Mm.”
This made Mr. Aston laugh again.
“…”
Ming Ying thought silence was pretty good, too.
At least better than this moment right now.
But the next second, his phone vibrated again.
A trilling ringtone sounded from under Ming Ying’s butt.
“…”
Ming Ying pressed his lips together, pulled out his phone. The caller ID showed Thomas—Ming Ying had never been so grateful for his advisor’s call in his life.
He hurriedly answered, his voice particularly loud: “Professor Thomas? Yes, yes, I’m not at school.”
Thomas asked, “You don’t have class right now? Why aren’t you at school?”
“Because…”
Damn it. The words reached Ming Ying’s lips, but he glanced at the person beside him. He thought, what would happen if he told Thomas that Aston had forced him to leave…
The thought had barely formed when Silas suddenly turned his face to look at him—okay, maybe he was looking at the rearview mirror, but it was enough to terrify Ming Ying’s little heart.
Forget it, forget it. Better not pluck the tiger’s whiskers.
Ming Ying obediently said, “Professor, I had something to do so I asked for leave.”
After saying this, Ming Ying noticed the person beside him glance at his side mirror again.
Thomas on the other end of the line said, “Alright, kid. I was originally going to call you to the lab, but since that’s the case, never mind. But what about this class you missed? If you need, I can have Bruce give you a makeup session.”
WTF…
Ming Ying remembered that the man in the driver’s seat had also said he would give him remedial tutoring.
Sure enough, teachers all over the world were the same.
But speaking of which… letting Bruce do it was way better than letting that other person do it, right?
“Sure,” Ming Ying readily agreed. “Thank you, Professor. I’ll treat Senior Bruce to a meal later.”
“Good kid.” Thomas gave a suggestion: “This Saturday works. He’s coming back this week to help with the school’s Freshman Orientation Ceremony anyway.”
The official N University campus-wide orientation was this Sunday.
Ming Ying said, “Okay.”
After exchanging a few more pleasantries with Thomas, Ming Ying hung up.
During this interval, they had turned two corners on the bustling streets. Silas asked, “Thomas went to Germany for a project and didn’t take you?”
“Huh?” Ming Ying said. “I, uh, had classes to attend.”
Silas gave an “Mm” and suddenly asked, “Getting used to it?”
Ha?
Getting used to what? Getting used to school? Or classes? Or… getting used to what?
Damn it. Even his way of speaking was exactly the same as online—leaving half the sentence for him to guess.
Luckily, Ming Ying was ready with a counter-strategy for this.
Although he had no idea what the other party was talking about, he still furrowed his brow, tugged on his seatbelt, and said very seriously, “Mm. Getting used to it.”
Who would have guessed that Silas would then ask, “What’s it like?”
???
What’s what like?
Damn. Was this openly flirting with a male student in broad daylight?
Ming Ying coughed. “Uh, nothing special.”
“Nothing special.” Silas repeated the words.
Then he asked, “Why is it nothing special?”
“…”
“Uh.” Ming Ying clutched the seatbelt in front of him. “Just… nothing.”
“How can it be nothing?”
“…” Ming Ying didn’t know what he was thinking, but his face heated up, and he felt a bit awkward.
Then he heard Aston say, “Ming, I was asking you about your feelings regarding Thomas. What are you talking about?”
“…”
Fuck
Ming Ying wanted to abandon the car and flee.
Deliberate. It was absolutely deliberate.
Ming Ying secretly ground his teeth and decided not to speak anymore.
So he turned his head to look out the window, leaving only a stubborn view of the back of his head for the other party.
But unexpectedly, when he looked, Ming Ying discovered the car wasn’t heading in the direction he was familiar with. Instead, it was going down completely foreign streets. His heart immediately pounded faster. Could they be about to…
Just as he was thinking this, the car began to slow down, gradually pulling to the roadside.
Ming Ying froze and turned to glance at Silas.
But the moment he turned his face, he saw the person in the driver’s seat suddenly lean over and press towards him.
???
Ming Ying’s eyes instantly widened. In that split second, his internal monologue went like this:
What’s he doing…
Is my chastity in this life still safe…
Friends, never, ever get into a strange man’s car…
Cut—
Before his lament could finish, with a “click,” Ming Ying blinked, and the person on top of him had already sat back.
He turned his head. Oh. Aston had just lowered his window for him.
His chastity was still intact. He was just a little cold.
Damn. Ming Ying suddenly realized what he’d been thinking and felt a jolt of horror.
At that moment, Silas took off his sunglasses and glanced at his wristwatch. He asked, “Bringing some things back. Do you like sweets?”
Ming Ying hesitated. “No need to go to so much trouble…”
As soon as he finished speaking, a very handsome Asian guy appeared outside the car window. He opened his mouth and spoke in standard Chinese: “Hi, Mr. Xi, your pastries are all packaged up.”
“Mm. Thanks.” Silas looked at Ming Ying. “Ming, take them.”
Ming Ying was still reeling from the shock of that “Mr. Xi” title. Goddamn “Mr. Xi.” He didn’t know how it happened, but amidst his jumbled memories, he suddenly recalled with crystal clarity that rainy day in New York when he’d eaten a $430 bowl of beef noodles at Shanghai Alcove, and in the end, it was Mr. XI who had paid for him.
Damn. Back then, he’d wondered why it was “Mr.” and not “Ms.,” just assuming they’d made a mistake. But the truth was, he’d been wrong from the very beginning.
“Ming?” Silas seemed displeased by Ming Ying’s daze.
Ming Ying blinked. He dared not refuse. Numbly, he reached out to take the small box of exquisitely packaged pastries.
But after taking them, Ming Ying thought again. No, no. Taking things puts you in someone’s debt. He couldn’t just accept food given to him out of the blue.
Their relationship was clean and clear.
So Ming Ying said, “Mr. Aston, I can’t take this.”
Silas looked at him. “Why?”
“It’s… too expensive.”
“It’s not expensive.”
“Not expensive for you. Very expensive for me. I can’t accept it for nothing.”
Ming Ying felt he had found the perfect excuse.
However, the other party paused for a few seconds and suddenly asked, “Ming, do you really think so?”
“Mm-hmm.” Ming Ying nodded.
“Fine. Will you be paying by card or cash?”
???
Were his ears working?
Damn. He… he was making him pay?
Ming Ying looked up in shock. His eyes clearly said: This is coercion! I can sue you!
Silas saw the child’s eyes shaking like an earthquake and chuckled. “Since I said it’s not expensive, then just rest assured and take it.”
“…”
Fine. Ming Ying clutched the pastries. He’d just consider it compensation for emotional distress.
After leaving the pastry shop, Ming Ying finally saw the familiar road leading to his home.
He relaxed a little.
But when Silas’s car stopped downstairs, Ming Ying’s heart started thumping again. How was he supposed to say goodbye now?
And when Silas got out of the car with him, the drumming in Ming Ying’s heart only grew louder. What if this man said he wanted to come up and sit? How should he refuse…
It wasn’t that Ming Ying’s wild imagination was running away with him—wasn’t this exactly how it went in American TV shows…
So when Silas called him over, Ming Ying, who was inching slowly towards the stairs, felt his heart practically leap out of his chest.
Ming Ying stopped in his tracks and looked up. Silas stood by the car door. Their eyes met.
Ming Ying’s internal monologue: What are you looking at!
“Ming,” Silas frowned at him. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Ming Ying clutched the pastry box. “What?”
Silas narrowed his eyes. “You don’t want your backpack?”
Ming Ying: “…”
Damn.
“Sorry.” Ming Ying scratched his head.
He was just about to go around to the back seat to get his bag when Silas beat him to it. He opened the car door, bent down, and hooked the backpack strap.
Since he’d taken off his jacket, Silas was only wearing a white shirt. As he bent over, Ming Ying caught a glimpse of the Board Member’s faintly visible waistline…
What a sin.
Ming Ying quickly averted his gaze. The next second, Silas hung the backpack on Ming Ying’s shoulder and said, “Ming, you need to be organized. This is a bad habit of yours.”
Ming Ying cursed inwardly but remained outwardly polite. “…Mm.”
“Got paper and a pen?” Silas suddenly asked.
“Huh?” Ming Ying paused. “Yeah, I do.”
As he spoke, he unzipped his backpack and pulled out a blue notebook and a fountain pen. “Will this do?”
Silas nodded, and the corner of his lips curved up. “Fine, thanks.”
Silas took the notebook, casually flipped open a page, then turned around, propped the notebook on the car roof, and bent his head to write something.
While he was writing, Ming Ying stood behind him, head down, kicking pebbles. But when he looked up, he saw a familiar blurry figure on the main road not far away—it was Mark!
Damn. That guy Mark was like an NPC—usually you couldn’t find him anywhere, drunk until midnight, but the moment he was in trouble, here he appeared.
Ming Ying hurried forward. “Mr. Aston! Uh, my roommate’s about to come back—”
Maybe because his expression was genuinely anxious, Silas raised an eyebrow. “You live with a classmate?”
“Uh, yeah. Is there a problem?”
“Mm. Noted.”
? What did you note?
Silas handed the notebook to Ming Ying and said, “My contact info is in there.”
???
Ming Ying was dumbstruck.
Didn’t they already have “contact info” long ago?
Silas capped the pen and, seeing Ming Ying’s expression, chuckled. “What, do you know me now?”
“…”
Deliberate, wasn’t it?
“I don’t.” Ming Ying coughed and repeated with a blank expression, “I really don’t.”
Silas: “Mm. Noted. No need to repeat yourself.”
“…”
Ultimately, under Ming Ying’s “repeated earnest pleas,” Silas drove away before Mark came back.
Unfortunately, Mark’s eyes were too sharp. He grabbed Ming Ying and frowned. “Ming, were my eyes playing tricks on me just now? Was there a car here just now?”
Ming Ying looked at him expressionlessly. “Yep, totally playing tricks on you.”
“Oh, then I guess I’ll just have to go back and have a couple more drinks,” Mark said, finding his excuse to drink for the day, and went upstairs laughing.
Back in his room, Ming Ying tossed his jacket, kicked off his shoes, flung away his backpack, and was about to throw the pastry box too when his movement suddenly stopped.
How to put it… after all, it was a gift from XI…
Damn, damn, damn.
The moment this fact registered, Ming Ying felt goosebumps prickling all over his body again.
He set down the pastries, took a deep breath, and with a thump, threw himself into the soft bed.
Unfortunately, it was useless.
Due to the massive shock he’d endured over this half-day, Ming Ying had developed midday insomnia.
Close his eyes, and he saw Aston’s face. Open them, and he saw the scene of Aston taking him away from the professor.
Lying on his back to sleep, he recalled seeing the “Hollywood Star” at the airport for the first time. Sleeping on his side, he remembered the weird professor giving him a zero at the hotel.
Damn it all.
Ming Ying sat bolt upright.
Stop thinking. Stop thinking.
Ming Ying got up, silently chanting in his heart: This is life. It’s never smooth sailing. Who doesn’t stumble now and then? So what if your online romance turned out to be a guy? Big deal. Some people run into ladyboys. In comparison, my situation is nothing.
Ming Ying grabbed his phone and opened it. The first thing that jumped out was the 99+ messages in the [Single Aristocrat] group.
Ming Ying didn’t even need to look. It was definitely those two bastards mocking him.
Exit. He couldn’t look at that now. He needed some positive energy.
So with a swipe, Ming Ying slid back into his chat history with XI.
The ten unread [Puppy Peeking Sticker] emoticons almost made him black out all over again. He was just about to exit when a buzz sound rang out—two new messages!
XI: Been busy this morning.
XI: Awake now?
WTF…
Ming Ying thought his eyes were deceiving him. He rubbed his eyes, confirming he hadn’t misread.
Been busy this morning.
Been… busy… this… morning.
What did that mean? Wasn’t he with him this morning? Busy with what?
And then, the next second.
XI: ?
Damn. Ming Ying jumped up from the bed. What was that tone? What did he want?
XI: Ming, you’re online. Read. Reply.
Listen to this tone of entitlement. Anyone who didn’t know better would think he really was his online dating partner. Damn it. Ming Ying resisted the urge to delete him—mainly because he didn’t dare.
So he deleted, revised, typed, and tapped away.
Mingo: Uh, I’m awake now.
Mingo: Something up?
Five minutes after the two messages were read.
XI: Where are your emoticons?
God damn it.
Ming Ying wanted to scream into the screen: Dude, are you sick?
That’s what he thought, and that’s what he typed.
: Mr. Aston
The moment he typed out that name, Ming Ying’s fingers froze.
At that moment, Ming Ying’s Schrödinger’s memory kicked in. He suddenly remembered the scene of insisting he didn’t know Aston, right in front of Aston’s face.
Damn. How should he put this nicely?
If he said it, wouldn’t that be admitting he knew him?
But if he didn’t, this guy…
Just as Ming Ying was agonizing, another message popped up.
XI: Ming, it’s time to update your thesis outline.
Ming Ying felt like he was going to crack.
Good heavens. All these years, heaven or hell, Ming Ying had finally found someone whose thick skin could rival his own—no, Ming Ying felt that even his own face wasn’t that thick.
To hell with the elegant and gentlemanly School Board Director!
All he did was bully kids!
The person who bullied kids had now arrived home.
After parking the car, Silas got out with his phone. As soon as he turned on the screen, a message popped out.
Mingo: Too busy. Let’s talk later.
Silas chuckled softly.
Ming Ying received a reply from XI: Mm.
Immediately followed by another.
XI: Don’t forget.
Ming Ying: “…”
Ming Ying wanted to smash a hole through the center of the earth with his phone. But sadly, he paid for his phone himself, and the earth was where he lived. He could do neither.
Ming Ying sighed bitterly. Fine, he’d play a video game. Playing a game would let him forget all this crap.
But just as he sat down on the floor and started tinkering with his Nintendo, buzz, his phone rang loudly again.
Ming Ying had developed a bit of a trauma to his phone ringing now. Frowning, he did some mental preparation before daring to turn on the screen.
First glance: thankfully, WhatsApp had no new messages.
Ming Ying’s shoulders slumped in relief. Then he tapped the iMessage icon with its unread notification. The moment he opened it, a message from an unknown number stunned him on the spot.
+: Silas Aston
WTF???
Ming Ying was stupefied.
He glanced at the string of numbers, then immediately scrambled up, found the little blue notebook from earlier.
In his fluster, he flipped through it until he finally found that page—
On the paper were only bold, sharp English letters and a string of numbers. It was Aston’s style.
Buzz.
Ming Ying picked up his phone to look.
+: Lecture notes for the class you missed today are being emailed to you. Please check them.
+: Remember to find time to come in for remedial tutoring.
Ming Ying stared at this message for a long time.
Setting aside how utterly unbelievable it was that the School Board Director was sending him lecture notes and offering tutoring, his thoughts were even more chaotic.
His thoughts were even more chaotic than willow catkins in spring, but he managed to somewhat figure out what this person was doing—could it be… because he refused to admit that XI was him, so he pulled this move?
Damn.
Were all old men this eccentric, or was it just him?
Ming Ying wiped his face and decided he couldn’t just give in like this.
So he replied on iMessage: Mr. Aston, thank you very much! But I’ve already made an appointment with Senior Bruce! Seeing him on Saturday!!!
The message was read. Then three words came back.
+: Are you sure?
Holy crap.
Ming Ying cursed, then guiltily got up and sent Bruce a barrage of frantic messages.
Luckily, Bruce replied quickly: Sure, Ming!
Ming Ying breathed out, as if he had found his backbone, and sent Silas three words and three exclamation marks: I’M SURE!!!
The next second. Buzz. A WhatsApp message came in.
XI: Ming, let’s meet on Sunday.
Holding his phone, Ming Ying was speechless. But just as he was at a loss for how to reply, a sudden flash of inspiration hit him!
Mingo: Can’t. Gotta attend the Freshman Orientation Ceremony on Sunday. Need to listen to the speeches!!!
XI: Then meet after the speeches are over.
Mingo: No way. That would be way too late!!!
XI: Whose speech is it that day?
Ming Ying paused. He actually didn’t know. But he had an inexplicably bad premonition. No way…
The next second, XI sent a picture.
XI: [Picture]
Ming Ying opened it, zoomed in, followed the schedule downwards, and saw the name on the very last line: Silas Aston!
Damn…
Before Ming Ying could use his, shall we say, colorful vocabulary to express his shock at this information, his phone buzzed again.
XI: What a coincidence. This Silas is a friend of mine. When he’s done, just leave with him.
