Chapter 50: Ming Ying’s Avengers Plan

Older people cannot understand the strange ideas of young boys, and young boys are unwilling to concede.

The fragrant cookies and butter cake were out of the oven, but Ming Ying’s mood was not high.

Holding a fork to cut the cake, Ming Ying looked up and stole a secretive glance at the person across from him.

The Old Man was mixing drinks. His eyes were always downcast, his long fingers moving between several tall glasses.

Watching him, Ming Ying tossed the fork aside and said, “I’m not eating anymore.”

Silas looked up, then glanced at the barely touched dessert on the plate in front of him. “Ming, you’ll be hungry this afternoon if you do this.”

Ming Ying retorted, “Then I’ll starve to death.”

Hearing this, Silas put down the glass in his hand. “I’ll go get the toolbox.”

Ming Ying asked, “Why—”

Why get the toolbox? Because last night, classmate Ming Ying had said he wanted to build a swing on the lawn in the yard.

Ming Ying clearly remembered, but he froze for a moment. He had just said it casually.

Before long, the person delivering the swing frame arrived.

Silas changed his clothes and carried the toolbox out to the yard. Ming Ying instinctively followed behind him. The two of them walked down the path in the yard, bathed in the setting sun, to the gate.

When they pulled the door open, a white delivery guy stood outside. He smiled at Silas and said, “Hi, sirs, the item you requested has arrived in perfect condition. Shall I drive it in?”

Silas had the guy unload the swing frame in the yard, then shook his hand. “Thank you.”

Ming Ying stood where he was, watching Silas give the guy a generous stack of tips before the man left.

Ming Ying asked, “He’s just gone? Can you handle this?”

Silas put on gloves, glanced at him, and said, “Ming, if you don’t install it yourself, you lose a bit of a special kind of fun.”

Ming Ying: “Like what?”

Silas curved his lips but said nothing.

Under the setting sun, the man’s shirt collar was open, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his solid forearms. Ming Ying’s heart skipped a beat.

How should he put it…

He didn’t know if all old men were this charming, or if it was just the one in front of him.

Damn it.

[Rule 2] stirred within him: See if the other party has a special regard for you…

At the very least, Mr. Aston’s yard only had this one swing, right?

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting on the lawn in the yard, starting to assemble the swing.

“Twist the screw like this,” Silas demonstrated.

Ming Ying frowned. “That’s not right.”

Silas: “Just try it first.”

With a snap, Ming Ying instinctively covered his face and yelled, “Damn.”

Silas, thinking a screw had hit him in the eye, hurriedly bent down to look. “Ming, let me see. Did it hurt your eye?”

But the moment he pulled Ming Ying’s hands away, he saw a pair of curved, mischievous eyes.

Silas: “Ming?”

Ming Ying couldn’t stop laughing. He rolled around on the lawn, eventually rolling onto someone’s thigh. “My bad, my bad. Hey, what are you doing?”

Silas patted the kid’s hair, frowning. “Don’t move. You have wood shavings in your hair.”

Ming Ying deliberately rubbed against him even more.

It was a perfect, beautiful afternoon in the Western US.

Someone walked their dog on the path outside; the dog was barking. In the distance, you could hear a car engine starting, as if someone was throwing a party. Faint jazz music drifted into the yard.

Two figures sat side by side on the lawn, shoulders touching. The huge swing frame lay on the ground in front of them, and the bright afterglow of the sunset fell behind them.

Ming Ying coughed, swung his arm to lightly bump Silas, and said very casually, “So, um, can we… always be like this?”

This was the closest thing to a confession that classmate Ming Ying, with twenty-two years of being a straight man, could come up with.

Silas tapped the piece of wood in his hand, then turned his face and glanced at him upon hearing this. “Like what?”

Ming Ying cursed, jabbing him. “You know what I’m talking about.”

Silas took off his gloves, pulled the person over, and curved his lips in a smile. “Mm, are you happy?”

“What?”

“Right now.”

“Happy!”

Silas rubbed his head and asked, “Happy is good. What were you angry about earlier?”

“What?”

“Just now.”

He meant before dinner.

Ming Ying pouted. “I wasn’t.”

Silas narrowed his eyes at him. “Ming, be a little honest.”

Ming Ying: “Fine, I was a bit upset just now, but I’m not anymore.”

Looking at the young boy who had experienced a complete emotional reversal in less than half a day, Silas felt he still needed to further his studies on education-related topics.

In truth, Ming Ying’s inner anxiety had indeed mostly vanished. He hadn’t expected Silas to say anything earth-shattering, after all. Given the age gap, if the Old Man really started saying mushy things, the first one who wouldn’t be able to stand it would definitely be himself.

This was enough.

Silas gave an “Mm,” then suddenly seemed to remember something. “Ming, don’t come home so late in the future.”

“Oh, you’re bringing this up again.” Ming Ying couldn’t help but add, “I said last night, I thought you weren’t coming back yesterday.”

As he spoke, Ming Ying got up from the lawn. “I’m going to get my camera!”

“Camera?”

Ming Ying hummed affirmatively. “I have to record Mr. Aston in his carpenter mode.”

Silas shook his head as he watched him bounce and run away.

…

From then on, classmate Ming Ying began to deeply practice those five laws.

So that evening after dinner, Ming Ying snatched Silas’s book away, forcing the Board Member to look at his childhood photos.

He had gone through considerable trouble to get these photos from his grandma.

“Ming, is this you?” Silas pointed at the little white dog in the photo and asked.

Ming Ying protested, shifting his finger away from the dog to the little boy hugging it. “This is me.”

Silas: “Mm, so this dog is your profile picture?”

Ming Ying laughed. Although Mr. Aston’s topic kept lingering on a dog, classmate Ming Ying would not get jealous of a dog. “Yeah, my grandpa brought him home to raise when I was just born…”

Ming Ying suddenly shut his mouth.

Silas: “Ming?”

Ming Ying came back to his senses. “Sorry, I need to send a message.”

Ming Ying sat up and bombarded his grandpa with several messages, asking if Little Bai was still there.

It wasn’t until he received a photo of Little Bai eating, sent by the old man, that Ming Ying crawled back into Silas’s arms.

Silas looked down at him. “Ming, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Ming Ying said, “Tell me about yourself.”

Silas picked his book back up, finding the spot where his bookmark had been. “What?”

“You.” Ming Ying said, “Do you have photos from when you were a kid? Hey? I don’t even know, how many people are in your family?”

Silas: “That’s a bit difficult to explain.”

Ming Ying clicked his tongue. “What, is it a state secret or something?”

Silas laughed. “No, it’s just too complicated.”

“Oh.” Ming Ying thought to himself, rich people have so many problems. He said, “Then tell me about your work. What do you usually do?”

Silas looked down at him. “Ming, if you want a bedtime story, just say so.”

His work was all messy, boring matters. The kid would definitely not want to hear about it.

Ming Ying burrowed around under the blanket.

Silas: “Ming.”

“What.”

The voice came out from under the blanket, muffled.

“Come out.”

“No.”

“You’ll suffocate.”

“No.”

“Then don’t move around so much.”

“Oh.”

Another moment passed.

Silas suddenly frowned. “Ming?”

“What?”

Out of options, Silas put the book down and flipped over to dispense on-the-spot justice.

…

Ming Ying had only seen photos of Silas when he was around twenty years old. He’d never seen what he looked like as a child. The Old Bastard refused to say anything, which only made him more curious.

The next day, Ming Ying came home early from the laboratory. As soon as he was back, he dug out Ben’s contact info.

This little boy was the only family member of Silas’s whose contact information Ming Ying had.

Mingo: Little Ben, do you have any photos of Silas as a kid?

Little Ben must have been slacking off, because he replied very quickly.

Ben: Ming! I miss you so much!

Mingo: If you miss me, why didn’t you message me?

Ben: It’s all because of that big villain Silas! He said I’m not allowed to send you random messages!

Ben: Silas can’t see your phone, right?

Mingo: Don’t worry, he doesn’t have the guts.

The moment the message was sent, Silas came in from outside. “Ming, come help me with something.”

Ming Ying guiltily put his phone away.

“Cough cough, coming.”

And so, Ming Ying helped Silas pass tools and fix the swing while chatting with Ben.

Ben: I don’t have photos of Silas, but Evelyn should.

Mingo: Who’s that?

Ben: Silly Ming! That’s Silas’s mother! Silas’s father is Julian!

Mingo: Ben, I don’t know them [laughing-crying emoji]

Ben: It’s okay! You’ll meet them very soon!

Mingo: ? What do you mean

Ben: The day after tomorrow is Silas’s birthday party, they’ll be there!

Birthday party… and the day after tomorrow???

Ming Ying was dumbfounded.

He raised his head to look at the person in front of him, eyes unblinking. Ten thousand little horses galloped through his mind. He couldn’t possibly have gotten his birthday wrong, could he?

This was too absurd…

Silas looked back. “Ming?”

Ming Ying gathered his courage. “Cough, uh, Boss, your, what’s-it-called, your birthday was yesterday, right?”

Silas frowned. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

“…Nothing.” Ming Ying rubbed his chin.

But it was normal for rich people to throw a belated birthday party or something…

The problem was, he had class the day after tomorrow…

The next day, Ming Ying worried about this all day.

When he came home from class and passed through the yard into the living room, he didn’t see Silas, but his shoes were still there, meaning he was home.

Ming Ying circled around and finally found him at the study door.

Silas was clearly on the phone. A stream of English floated past Ming Ying’s ears; it seemed to be work-related.

After hanging up, Silas turned around and saw Ming Ying leaning against the study doorway. He walked over, touched his face, and asked, “Ming, what do you want to eat? Here or out?”

Ming Ying smiled. “Boss, I’m not very hungry.”

Seeing his expression, Silas narrowed his eyes. “Ming, is something the matter?”

Damn, what X-ray vision.

Ming Ying coughed. “I, uh, can I take the day off tomorrow?”

Silas looked at him.

Before the other man could even ask, Ming Ying voluntarily confessed. “Don’t worry, I’ve already got enough credits this semester. And yesterday I showed my N-Cube competition piece to Thomas. Thomas even praised me. I’ve also followed up on things at the lab. No problems, I won’t cause any delays!”

Listening to Ming Ying’s long string of words, Silas said, “If you want to go play, then go play. You need to report this to me?”

After all the previous trouble the Little Bastard had stirred up, Silas fully understood the pedagogical truth that damming is not as good as dredging.

Ming Ying cheered, “YES!”

Just as Ming Ying was about to pull Silas to the walk-in closet to see what he should wear, Silas’s phone rang again.

Ming Ying waited for him on the spot. After all, this was the first time meeting Silas’s parents, so he definitely needed to ask Silas’s opinion.

While waiting, he caught a few keywords from the phone call—Manhattan, banquet, guests.

Soon, Silas returned from the call. “Ming, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Ming Ying smiled brightly. “Mm-hmm, mm-hmm.”

Silas looked at him and instructed, “I’ll be away tomorrow for something. After you finish playing soccer, come home early. Don’t stay out too late. It’s unsafe if it’s too late.”

The smile on Ming Ying’s lips stiffened. “Huh?”

Silas: “What’s wrong?”

Ming Ying: “…Nothing.”

Silas: “Mm, let’s go eat. What do you want?”

Ming Ying pressed his lips together. “I want… I want to smoke a cigarette.”

Silas frowned at him.

Ming Ying coughed, shoved his hands into his pockets, walked around the man, and then lowered his head to go downstairs.

But before going down, Ming Ying turned around and asked, “What’s your business tomorrow?”

Silas said succinctly, “Work.”

Not only was he not taking him… he was even lying to him…

Ming Ying continued downstairs without looking back.

Silas called after him again.

But Ming Ying didn’t hear. As he walked, his mind was once again filled with those damn laws, drifting like a curse.

[Rule 5] said: A person who likes you will want you to understand his past, participate in his future, and share his world with you.

So when a person doesn’t want you to understand his past, doesn’t want you in his future, and doesn’t want to share his world with you…

What does that mean?

Ming Ying felt like a clown. What the hell was this?

Just the day before, he had confessed to the guy. Confessed, his ass.

He walked very calmly to the sofa and sat down. His phone was right by his hand.

A voice said: Maybe Ben was fooling him. Maybe there was no damn birthday party at all.

Another voice said: Didn’t you just hear it?

Ming Ying was having a bit of difficulty breathing.

He’d been mischievous since he was little, not obedient enough, but because his grades were good and he was good-looking, he’d never really had anything truly worth being sad over.

Damn it, speaking of which, even when his biological parents left him home alone as a left-behind child in those early years, he hadn’t felt as bad as he did now…

That Old Bastard was actually worse than his parents…

That night, Ming Ying went to sleep very early.

So early it was abnormal. Silas thought he was sick and brought the medical kit over.

Ming Ying didn’t resist. He just let the man touch his forehead and take his temperature with a thermometer. The result was, of course, normal.

Unfortunately, except for the temperature, everything seemed abnormal—Ming Ying actually got up early.

This was simply unimaginable.

Silas stood by the bed, watching him crawl up, get dressed, wash up, and grab a piece of bread, ready to head out the door.

Watching the person reach the door, Silas, who was walking toward the garage, called out, “Ming?”

Ming Ying stopped, turned around, and looked at him.

The two of them looked at each other across a small part of the yard. Silas said, “Didn’t you take the day off today?”

Ming Ying kicked a pebble at his feet. “Oh, I forgot.”

Silas glanced at him, suddenly changed direction, and walked toward him. Ming Ying endured it and didn’t move.

After walking up to Ming Ying, Silas reached out and touched his forehead again, frowning. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Ming Ying: “…I don’t have a fever.”

Silas put his hand down. “Seems so. I haven’t heard of anyone waking up early from a fever either.”

Ming Ying: “…”

Silas: “Heading to school? I’ll take you.”

Just then, the sound of brakes screeching came from outside the gate.

Silas frowned and glanced outside the door. A car had actually stopped at the entrance.

He withdrew his gaze and looked at Ming Ying, his expression seeming to ask, “Did you call a car?”

Ming Ying coughed. “I forgot about you this morning too.”

After saying that, he slung his bag over his shoulder, turned, pulled the door open, and jogged toward the waiting ride-share car.

He didn’t know what he was afraid of, but after getting in the car, he couldn’t help but cast a glance behind him.

Subconsciously, Ming Ying hoped Silas would drive up again, so he could ask why he wasn’t taking him…

However, behind the car, it was completely empty.

His phone buzzed with a notification.

XI: Ming, don’t stay out too late.

Heh heh heh heh.

Go away.

Ming Ying directly exited the interface. He thought about calling Luck, but his hand hesitated. After thinking, he decided to call Bruce instead. “Bro, all-night session today.”

Who cares about an old man, studying is the true meaning!

Ming Ying thought fiercely, When I reach the peak of my life, you’ll regret it!

Thus, full of rage, Ming Ying looked ready to kill studying.

When Bruce saw Ming Ying, he was shocked. “Ming, are you preparing for revenge?”

Ming Ying grinned at him. “So you actually found out.”

However, classmate Ming Ying’s revenge plan nearly collapsed halfway just three hours later.

The cause was that Bruce had been assigned by Thomas to an art gallery construction project team in the suburbs of New York.

Ming Ying followed him to the site. Moving through all the steel and concrete, he accidentally cut his hand, drawing a bloody gash.

Blood gushed out like a fountain. Ming Ying’s first reaction wasn’t pain, but a strong urge to call Silas.

But a minute later, he held back.

Let God be his witness, he was going to learn from Mr. Aston and not share his studies or work with him, let alone in a miserable moment like this.

He was going to make the Old Man properly regret it after he succeeded!

Young people’s thoughts are just that simple, direct, and brutal.

In the evening, Bruce took Ming Ying to eat. After eating, they continued to record data.

The last time Ming Ying had been on a construction site was back in his undergrad in China for an internship.

Now, stepping on the ground, kicking up dust, it felt, not to mention, strangely familiar.

The two walked and talked. As it was almost dark, Bruce asked him, “Ming, are you going back tonight? Your hand… do you really not need me to take you to the hospital?”

Ming Ying looked down at his hastily bandaged paw. “What could happen? Going back is too much trouble. Don’t you have a place to stay here?”

He just didn’t want to go back.

Annoying.

Bruce was a bit helpless. “Ming, lodging here costs your own money. Didn’t you go bankrupt?”

Damn.

Truly ugly capitalism.

Ming Ying said, pained, “It’s fine. The N-Cube prize money can still save me.”

That night, lying in the motel room, Ming Ying even took the initiative to send Aston a message.

Mingo: I’m not going back tonight.

No. Too long. Makes him lose face.

Mingo: Won’t be back tonight.

No, the tone is too wishy-washy.

Mingo: Not back tonight.

Mm, coldness mixed with a trace of mystery.

Send. Shut down phone. Sleep.

From this day forward, his life and emotions shall only be dedicated to the great study of architectural design!