Come to my office.
Five words.
Ming Ying’s first thought was that he was about to get a thrashing with a leather belt.
He scrambled to his feet, said goodbye to his Black buddy, and amidst the chaotic background noise, found a toilet stall in an academic building to call Silas.
The phone rang about twice before it was picked up.
Ming Ying held his breath.
Silas’s side was very quiet. “Ming?”
Ming Ying leaned against the stall panel. “It’s me.”
Silas: “Where are you?”
“Uh…” Ming Ying hesitated.
The moment he hesitated, the man on the other end picked up on it and countered, “Do you need me to come there?”
Ming Ying paused. “I don’t want to go to your office.”
“The reading room, then?”
Ming Ying remembered needing a fingerprint lock just to exit the reading room and frowned. “No.”
“Then where do you want me to go?”
“Uh…” Ming Ying looked up. “I’m in the first-floor restroom of the building.”
Silence on the other end for a few seconds.
“Ming, are you suggesting we discuss what comes next in a restroom?”
“…”
That sounds so weird.
Ming Ying coughed. “Forget it, I’ll come to your office.”
Silas said, “Good. I’ll wait for you.”
Ming Ying had never been to the Board Member’s office, but he had been to Professor Thomas’s office.
It was like a typical engineering professor’s space: rigid, cluttered, piled high with documents and files. Stepping inside instantly reminded him of his high school homeroom teacher’s office.
Since the Board Member’s office wasn’t in the same building as the regular professors’ offices, Ming Ying had to walk across campus. He passed through who knew how many student rallies and parades along the way.
To his surprise, Aston was actually standing right at the entrance!
Whether he was specifically waiting for him, Ming Ying didn’t know. Ming Ying only saw that he seemed to be talking to a man beside him. The man looked familiar, was holding a bag, and had several teaching assistants standing behind him—quite the entourage.
Ming Ying narrowed his eyes and stood next to a stone pillar. From a distance, he suddenly recognized who the man standing with Aston was—the President of N University!
While Ming Ying never cared who the school board directors were, he recognized the president of the school he attended.
He cursed mentally. What luck was this?
One boss wasn’t enough, now here came another.
Just as he decided to wait it out a bit longer, hoping the two would part and allow him to sneak inside, Ming Ying suddenly saw Aston raise a hand toward the group, as if bidding farewell. Then he walked down the steps, heading straight in his direction.
“!”
Their eyes met across the distance of several meters. Silas let out a laugh and said, “Come on up with me.”
And so, Ming Ying followed Silas upstairs.
Contrary to his expectations, the Board Member’s office was remarkably simple and spacious: a bookshelf, a long desk, and a sofa set. If there was one thing slightly different, it was the floor-to-ceiling window that offered a phenomenal view of the campus lake, unobstructed. Standing there, a person’s mood probably lifted considerably.
As Ming Ying was taking it all in, suddenly, behind him—click—the office door closed.
“Have a seat,” Silas said.
Ming Ying heard this, and nightmare images flooded his mind. His eyes involuntarily drifted from the window to the person before him… specifically, to his waist.
Tsk. Mr. Aston was wearing a black belt with a subtle textured pattern today. As always, it bore no logo. Ming Ying couldn’t identify the brand.
Suddenly, Ming Ying heard a voice above him ask, “Ming, what are you looking at?”
…Shit. What was he looking at?
Ming Ying hastily looked up and spoke the truth: “Uh, you know, your belt is pretty nice.”
…Shit. What was he saying?
Silas, hearing this, hooked the corner of his lips. “Oh? Do you want it?”
“…”
Ming Ying coughed, then forced a laugh. “I couldn’t afford it. It looks really expensive.”
Silas looked at him. “Ming, are you suggesting I should take off my belt and give it to you?”
“…”
A thousand little horses galloped through Ming Ying’s heart. “…Did I imply that?”
Silas walked over to the sofa, saying, “Given that I have no hobby for streaking, I’m afraid I can’t grant that wish for now.”
Ming Ying: “…”
Silas beckoned him over. “Ming, come sit.”
Ming Ying walked over and sat down.
Silas looked at him and asked, “Would you like something to drink?”
Ming Ying secretly took a deep breath and said, “No, let’s just get straight to the point.”
But Silas disagreed. He chuckled softly. “Ming, you’re tense. Having a drink helps soothe the nerves.”
As he spoke, he reached out and pushed his teacup towards Ming Ying. “This is tea Lee brought me from China. You can try it.”
The ‘Lee’ he mentioned was probably a Chinese professor at the School of Architecture and Design. Ming Ying had seen the man before—a semi-old guy in his forties.
Looking at the delicate teacup placed before him, Ming Ying inexplicably hated this feeling of being taken care of, of being seen through.
So, he said stiffly, “I’m not tense.”
Silas raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Alright. What do you want to say? Go ahead.”
Ming Ying hesitated. “I hung up on you earlier because there were a lot of people around. It wasn’t convenient.”
“Hmm, I know.”
Ming Ying: “So, uh, I-I know who you are.”
Silas looked at him, giving a soft laugh. “Mm-hmm. And what else?”
What else.
Ming Ying steeled his heart, frowning as he said, “Before, you said Cherry is your niece. I think I understand what happened now. I think this is a mistake, and we should correct this mistake.”
“I admit, I was too scared before, that’s why I kept denying it. But last night I had a nightmare, dreamed that—uh—”
“Anyway, regardless, this has already affected my mental state. It can’t go on. I hope Mr. Aston understands.”
After finishing, Classmate Ming Ying let out a long sigh of relief in his heart.
Damn, that felt good.
They say a person goes through five stages of immense shock: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance.
Ming Ying jumped directly from the first stage to the last. He had nowhere to direct his anger, couldn’t bargain, and as for depression… objectively speaking, Classmate Ming Ying found it hard to get depressed, so he skipped that stage too.
However, after he finished speaking, Silas remained silent for a long time.
Ming Ying’s heart pounded.
Then, the man opposite him spoke: “What nightmare scared Ming so badly?”
Holy
How did this man always manage to pick out the most important keyword from a pile of other elements?
Ming Ying said, “Nothing, just… some scary dreams.”
The man across from him was quiet for a moment. “I respect your decision.”
Ming Ying looked at him.
Then he saw Aston furrow his brow. “But there are some points I must correct. First, this is not a mistake.”
Ming Ying froze.
“Second, Ming, you don’t dislike me, do you?”
Ming Ying subconsciously said, “…Our… relationship is a little… inappropriate.”
Silas tapped a finger on the table, and hearing this, he smiled. “Mhm. Well, if one day you feel it is appropriate, contact me then.”
Ming Ying: “…”
Damn, he was an idiot for coming all this way. He should have just sent a message informing him: Yo, Mr. A, your old man here is a straight man!!!
That was the fantasy. Reality was always much harsher than fantasy. Classmate Ming Ying stood up, said goodbye, grabbed his bag, and left.
Sadly, his Straight Man Proclamation failed to launch successfully.
…
After returning to his apartment from school, Ming Ying lay on his bed for a while.
It was over. It was all over.
Whoever goes for online dating again is a dog, he swore to himself.
But when Ming Ying picked up his phone, he hesitated for a long time over XI’s friend button. In the end, he still couldn’t bring himself to delete it.
Just kept it as a memento. Besides, they probably wouldn’t chat again anymore anyway.
Ming Ying was right about that.
From that day on, XI indeed never contacted him again.
Out of touch online, even less so offline.
They were people with no overlapping circles to begin with.
Ming Ying sent a message to Sophie, saying he would no longer tutor Benjamin. This time, Sophie didn’t ask him for a reason like she did the last time.
Sophie only replied ‘Okay,’ and said she was very glad to have met him.
Ming Ying looked at the message and laughed. See? XI really was just messing with him. Since the other party was so straightforward, what reason did he have to be lingering and unwilling to let go?
So, the time Classmate Ming Ying spent on his phone visibly decreased. Even Mark was astonished: “Ming, you’ve kicked your phone addiction? How’d you do it? I’m trying to quit drinking lately, want to share some tips.”
Ming Ying was wiping the table. “Hmph. You said the same thing a month ago.”
Mark clicked his tongue, then circled back around, suddenly all mysterious: “Ming, my classmate, June. Have you two been in contact?”
Ming Ying tossed the rag away. “Mark, I appreciate the thought, but I’m not interested.”
“Oh?” Mark swayed back and forth. “You don’t like June?”
Ming Ying didn’t speak.
“Well, I have other Girls,” Mark bustled with enthusiasm. “Or… maybe you want a Boy?”
“Mark!” Ming Ying narrowed his eyes.
“OK,” Mark made a zipping-his-lips gesture and retreated to his room.
That night, after losing five games in a row, Ming Ying’s urge to rant was at its peak. Subconsciously, he opened his phone. He didn’t become fully alert until he had already navigated to his chat window with XI.
Shit.
So scary.
Ming Ying hurriedly backed out. After calming down for a moment, he chose to toss the screenshot into his childhood friends group.
But the usually active sons were silent this time. Only then did Ming Ying remember those two bastards were away at a competition. They were probably even busier than him.
Ming Ying ruffled his hair. Sitting on the floor, he was filled with lingering fear that he’d almost sent the message to XI again.
But over the following days, this kind of lingering fear happened more than once.
Ming Ying soon realized this reaction was called withdrawal.
Because of his long-term habit of chatting with XI, now whenever he saw something novel, or something novel happened, his first instinct was to switch to XI’s chat window. Then, a split second before sending the message, he’d curse, quit the app, and turn off the screen.
This cycle repeated itself basically every day.
Fortunately, no habit survives the test of time. After about half a month, the symptoms finally disappeared.
—Because Ming Ying was simply too busy!
A week earlier, Ming Ying had been assigned by Thomas to a laboratory. That meant, on top of regular classes, he had to research a topic with a group of completely unfamiliar foreigners.
Since he was squeezed in later, Ming Ying mostly kept to himself, except when the project required interaction.
He finally made it to this Saturday afternoon. Everyone else had left, but Ming Ying still had project tasks to finish. He had to stay behind and work ‘overtime’ to meet the DDL. He typed furiously, frowning deeply, his brow furrow enough to crush a mosquito.
Meanwhile, in Manhattan.
It was the two-party election cycle transition. Silas had just returned from Washington. He’d been working non-stop for this past half month. The moment he got back, there was still a remote meeting to attend.
The screen lit up. Silas swept his gaze over the participants and paused slightly when his eyes landed on Thomas’s face.
The meeting lasted over an hour. After it ended, Silas tapped a finger on his desk, then reached for his phone.
His contact list was very short. He barely needed to scroll to see that the eye-catching little white dog avatar was showing [Offline Status].
Come to think of it, the kid hadn’t contacted him for a long time.
During that conversation in the office, Silas actually completely understood Ming Ying’s reservations and fear. So, he also understood Ming Ying’s attitude of choosing to temporarily run away.
Young, you always had to give them some time, right?
Silas called Thomas.
“Silas?” Thomas was clearly surprised. “Was there an issue in the meeting just now?”
“No.” Silas got straight to the point. “What has Ming been busy with lately?”
“Ming?” Thomas seemed to pause and process for a moment. “Oh. You mean Ming? He’s been working with Max on a material stress test model lately. He should be in the lab right now. You need him for something?”
“Now?” Silas checked the time. It was already 8 PM. He said, “Thomas, it’s Saturday.”
…
Ming Ying knew nothing about this, because he had fallen asleep on his computer.
But it wasn’t a peaceful nap; he was finally woken up by the vibration of his phone.
Ming Ying rubbed his hair, yawned, and swiped open his phone. The moment he did, a pile of messages and missed calls flooded in.
Ming Ying froze.
Before he could even see who sent what, Mark’s call popped up again—who knew how many times the guy had called him.
“Mark?” Ming Ying answered, his voice weary.
Mark let out a huge gasp on the other end. “Ming! You scared me to death! Where are you?”
“I’m in the lab.” Ming Ying flipped open his laptop screen. “Probably won’t be back until tonight.”
“Ming, look at the time. It’s almost nine o’clock already!”
“Hah?” Ming Ying pulled up the computer time. “This…”
Before he could finish his sentence, a message suddenly popped up at the top of his screen.
XI: Ming, still at the lab?
In an instant, Ming Ying’s eyelids and heart both jumped violently.
“Mark, thank you. I’ve got something here, gotta go. I’ll call you back later.”
After hanging up on Mark, Ming Ying sat at his desk, staring at this message. For a moment, his feelings were indescribable.
Why was he asking if he was at the lab? Did Thomas tell him?
How to put it… strangely, he actually felt like he’d won somehow.
Ming Ying planned to read-and-not-reply to this message, but fate was not on his side. Unexpectedly, the moment his ‘read’ signal was sent, the other party’s call invitation jumped right onto the screen!
Damn. Damn.
Ming Ying facepalmed, sighed, and answered the call.
“Ming?”
It had been so long since he’d heard this voice (actually just half a month), Ming Ying blinked. It felt a bit unfamiliar.
“Are you still at the lab?”
“—No.” Ming Ying refuted reflexively. “I’ve already left.”
“Where to?”
Shit, where the hell could I go!
Probably because he was tormented by this crappy project, a demonic fire surged within Ming Ying. His tone was particularly flippant. “Went to a bar to pick up girls. What’s it to you?”
A second of silence on the other end.
“Ming, you have a little sister?”
“…”
At this moment, Ming Ying was utterly certain he was talking to someone ten years older than him. He felt slightly defeated.
He said, “I’m busy, I’m hanging up now.”
Silas gave an “Mm,” and said, “Go home soon. It’s not safe being out too late.”
Silas: “Be good.”
“…”
“Mr. Aston.” Ming Ying let out a hollow laugh. “I’ll be straight with you—I never planned on going home tonight.”
With that, he snapped the phone shut.
Damn, that felt good.
After hanging up, Ming Ying ruffled his hair again. He couldn’t afford to dwell on what he’d just said, fearing for his academic standing. So, he hurriedly packed his things, left the building, and made a beeline to find a bar to hang out in.
Whenever he told XI a lie, Ming Ying subconsciously had to make that lie true in the shortest time possible, otherwise his heart always felt a bit restless. —Damn, this was outright insane!
The bar Ming Ying found was very close to school. He didn’t even get a clear look at the name on the sign outside. Hearing the sounds from within, he walked right in with his backpack on.
Even back in Shanghai, Ming Ying rarely went bar-hopping; he found it too noisy. He actually preferred gaming over clubbing.
But since he was already here, Ming Ying found a spot at the bar counter, sat down, ordered a light cocktail, and listened to the music while sipping.
Not long after he sat down, someone suddenly said to him, “Hey, how’s it going.”
Ming Ying turned his head. A white man with curly hair had taken the seat beside him.
“Hello.” Ming Ying nodded politely.
“Where are you from?”
“China.”
“Oh, I love Chinese people.” Curly Hair raised his glass and clinked it against Ming Ying’s. “Cheers? To our meeting?”
Ming Ying had long gotten used to such off-the-cuff remarks from foreigners. He smiled slightly and clinked glasses with him.
Then, like newly met friends, they chatted about other topics.
As it turned out, Curly Hair was also a student at N University, in the Law School.
“What a coincidence,” Ming Ying said.
“How so? You too?”
“Oh, no. I’m in Architectural Design.”
“Then where’s the coincidence?”
Ming Ying paused. Right, why had he said it was such a coincidence?
“Hahaha, you’re adorable,” Curly Hair said.
Ming Ying didn’t really like that term, so he changed the subject. “Do you watch football?”
“Wow.” Curly Hair’s eyes widened again, and he held out his glass. “Cheers? To us being football fans in this godforsaken American football country?”
Ming Ying laughed out loud and clinked glasses with him.
It had to be said, Curly Hair was incredibly talkative. They hit it off smashingly, topics ranging from football to comics, from comics to sci-fi novels. Ming Ying could barely remember the last time he’d talked so much with anyone.
Until—Curly Hair grinned and said, “Chinese sweetheart, come home with me tonight. We have so many things we can chat about.”
Ming Ying was startled, his smile vanishing instantly.
Fuck, what’s this?
He quickly recovered his wits. “Uh, that… I-I have a girlfriend.”
For some reason, hearing this, Curly Hair burst out laughing. “You definitely don’t. Come home with me, I have countless bottles of alcohol at my place. Look, you’ve had a bit much to drink, you can’t go home alone.”
Ming Ying touched his nose and glanced at Curly Hair’s brawny muscles. “I, uh, I need the restroom.”
Curly Hair stood up as well. “I’ll go with you?”
“No need.” Ming Ying waved him off. He’d drunk quite a bit, his mind was a little messy. He forced himself to stay calm. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, sweetheart, I’ll wait right here for ya.”
Ming Ying gave him a tight smile. Using the bar counter for support, he headed towards the restroom.
The moment he entered, he heard some distinctly audible, slap-happy, NSFW sounds coming from one of the stalls.
“Mmm～ Ah～”
“Doing so good!”
“Fck me!”
Ming Ying frowned. This live action scene sounded like it was between two men.
Had he left his house without checking the almanac today or something?
So Ming Ying quickened his pace, chose the stall furthest inside, and locked himself in. Sitting on the toilet lid, he pulled out his phone and started trying to hail a ride.
However, the signal in this godforsaken place was abysmal. The web page just kept spinning and wouldn’t load.
Ming Ying smacked his phone, trying to physically restore the signal. Unsurprisingly, he failed.
Ming Ying sighed. Just as he was about to go out and find a spot with reception, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pair of black leather shoes appear in the gap beneath his stall door.
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