Chapter 19: Tutor Ming Reports for Duty Part 1

A whirlwind of crazy thoughts rolled through Ming Ying’s mind before he finally decided to toss the question back.

Mingo: How would Teacher like me to thank her? ^^

Ming Ying sprawled across his desk, waiting for a reply. But after sending that line, the other party vanished again.

Ming Ying sent another coquettish sticker.

XI: Busy.

Mingo: Okay~

XI: You think about it.

Ming Ying: “…”

Ming Ying let out a dry laugh. He picked up his phone, pulled down his eyelid, stuck out his tongue, made the ugliest face possible, and then click—he sent it off.

After sending it, Ming Ying got up in a great mood and went to take a shower.

Obviously, this supposedly scary selfie from Ming Ying couldn’t frighten Mr. Aston. Instead, it made the man smile with amusement, clicking open the photo, zooming in, inspecting it, and then saving it.

When Ming Ying came back from his shower, he saw a reply waiting on his screen.

XI: Could be included as a chapter in the thesis outline.

Pffthahaha. Ming Ying laughed with glee as he dried his hair.

The next day, Ming Ying called the number XI had sent him. A woman with a very crisp, professional voice answered the phone.

“Hello, I’m Sophie,” Sophie said with a smile. “Miss Catherine already briefed me. When are you free? Shall we meet?”

She was so exceedingly polite that Ming Ying was very surprised. Who was Miss Catherine? Could it be XI?

Ming Ying said, “Sure, I’m free today! Sophie, thank you!”

“Excellent. I’ll arrange a car for you. Please give me an address,” Sophie said.

Arrange a car?

Ming Ying was dumbfounded. Was tutoring really such a high-spec affair?

“Wait,” Ming Ying frowned and asked, “I wanted to clarify first — am I going to be tutoring Chinese?”

“That’s correct.”

“Then the pay…”

“Three hundred dollars an hour. If you have any issues with that, we can discuss further.”

Three hundred bucks. That figure definitely wasn’t low, but it wasn’t outrageously high either. It was within Ming Ying’s acceptable range.

Probably just how rich people did things. In a place like New York City, there were more wealthy people than hairs on a cow.

Ming Ying gladly accepted.

About half an hour later, a low-key German minivan pulled up downstairs at his apartment building.

Mark glanced at it and said, “Ming, I’m a little scared. Why don’t you just go shake coffee at a campus café instead?”

Ming Ying frowned, looking at him: “Mark, tell me where you can find a coffee server job that pays 300 dollars an hour?”

Mark shrugged.

Ming Ying sighed, patted Mark’s shoulder, and left the apartment.

As he approached the car, a seductive woman in a pencil skirt got out and extended her hand to Ming Ying. “Hi, I’m Sophie! You must be Ming!”

Ming Ying shook her hand as well. “Hello, I’m Ming. Nice to meet you.”

Sophie winked at him. “As cute as Cherry described. Get in the car.”

Wait, WAIT!

Who the hell was Cherry?

And what did ‘cute’ mean???

Ming Ying felt like a lot of people seemed to know him (?)

Though inwardly puzzled, Ming Ying managed a laugh and got in. He didn’t forget to snap a photo of the license plate and send it to XI.

Mingo: [Picture]

Mingo: I’m going! If I get kidnapped! Remember this license plate number!

Buzz.

XI: Mm, noted.

Ming Ying smiled. Strangely enough, his heart suddenly felt completely at ease.

After about twenty minutes, weaving through the crowded streets and streams of cars past Times Square, Ming Ying watched the view outside the window shift from clusters of high-rises to… even taller high-rises!

Well, at least they were still in the city center.

Ultimately, the car came to a stop in the underground parking lot of a skyscraper.

Sophie led Ming Ying upstairs, taking the elevator all the way to the 48th floor.

Yes, the 48th floor.

Ming Ying had never been anywhere so high. Sophie noticed the young man’s slight unease and said with a smile, “Relax, kid. Compared to Cherry, Benjamin is very well-behaved. He’s a great kid. Just relax.”

Benjamin?

Was that his student-to-be?

Ming Ying’s guess was spot on.

Benjamin was an adorable little boy with blond hair and blue eyes, under seven years old. He was incredibly cheerful and enthusiastic—enthusiastic enough to rush up and hug Ming Ying’s leg the moment he saw him. It reminded Ming Ying of his Little Bai back home.

Benjamin’s IQ at this age seemed about on par with Little Bai’s as well.

So the question was, how was he supposed to teach that Chinese?!

“That’s it, good job!” Sophie gave Benjamin an encouraging pat on the shoulder, then looked up at Ming Ying. “Ming, this lovely boy is in your hands for today! I’ll have lunch sent over at noon!”

“But…”

Ming Ying felt this was all too sudden.

“Is there a problem?”

Ming Ying scratched his head. “I thought today was just to meet. I didn’t prepare anything.”

Sophie laughed. “Don’t worry, Benjamin is very bright. He already has a basic grasp of Chinese vocabulary. You just need to practice conversational Chinese with him and help him build fluency.”

As if to confirm Sophie’s words, the little boy clinging to Ming Ying’s thigh chirped cheerfully, “Ni hao! Wo shi Ben Jie Ming! Hen gao xing ren shi ni!” (Hello! I’m Benjamin! Very happy to meet you!)

“…” Was he here as a tutor or a babysitter?

“Oh, did I forget to mention? Two tutoring sessions a week, three hours each. That’ll be Wednesday and Sunday. I’ll come pick Ben up around lunchtime after the session,” Sophie said, noticing his expression and asking with concern, “Today’s Wednesday—I hope it doesn’t conflict with your class schedule.”

Ming Ying snapped back to attention and shook his head. “I don’t have class on Wednesdays—”

Wait… How did Sophie know his class schedule?

Mingo: XI! Did you tell Sophie my schedule?!

Over five minutes with no read receipt. The other party was busy.

Ming Ying pocketed his phone, smiled to bid Sophie farewell, and once he’d gotten Benjamin settled, he turned and surveyed the apartment.

This was a luxury apartment right in downtown Manhattan with an excellent view. Standing by the window, you could take in the entire grayish haze of New York’s skyline.

However, judging from the decor, Ming Ying was more inclined to think this was a hotel room. Because when a person or a family settles in, stops, and lives in a place, they inevitably leave traces. Yet here, whether it was the interiors or the furniture, there wasn’t a single personal touch or style. It felt very much like a model hotel room.

But Ming Ying wasn’t overly concerned. Just as Sophie had said, all he had to do was help Benjamin practice Chinese.

Benjamin was indeed quite bright and very well-prepared, equipped with all sorts of Chinese materials and workbooks. Ming Ying actually felt a little ashamed—he’d even applied for his graduate studies with a ‘cram at the last minute and hope for the best’ mentality. Honestly speaking, he wasn’t nearly as diligent as a seven-year-old.

However, Ming Ying’s shame lasted only a second before a touch of impatience crept in.

Although Benjamin was smart, his questions were incredibly numerous and oddly complex. Tell him how to read one character, and he’d ask why it was read that way.

Good heavens, how was he supposed to know why a Chinese character was pronounced a certain way?

While answering, Ming Ying thought to himself, being a teacher was just too hard. He really wasn’t cut out for this.

After enduring the three-hour session, Sophie had lunch delivered. After they ate, Ming Ying finally got a chance to glance at his phone.

XI had sent him a message an hour ago!

XI: Yes. Is there a problem?

Ming Ying paused, then scrolled up. Ah, this was replying to the class schedule question.

Ming Ying glanced over at Benjamin, who had moved on to video games. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he sat up straight and began his sob story.

Mingo: Teacher, you have no idea how exhausting it has been! Been busy all morning, didn’t even have a second to look at my phone…

Mingo: [Puppy collapsing from exhaustion.jpg]

Silas’s brow lifted just a fraction when he received the message. He switched screens and opened the remote monitoring system.

When it loaded, he saw the two figures in the living room—one big, one small—huddled over a game console, playing video games with great excitement.

And the bigger one, having just won a round, was now holding the smaller one and spinning him around the living room in celebration.

“That’s what we call a Triple Kill!”

Silas heard Ming Ying’s instructive tone ring out through the speaker: “Benjamin, Triple Kill. How do you say that in English?”

“…”

Silas watched the surveillance feed for a moment, then picked up his phone and sent Ming Ying a message.

Ming Ying didn’t see XI’s message until after two more rounds of games.

XI: How exhausted?

Ming Ying sat cross-legged and replied.

Mingo: Super mind-blowingly earth-shatteringly exhausted!

Mingo: [Spitting blood]

XI: Ming, the apartment has monitoring.

?! WTF! Ming Ying was stunned.

He shot to his feet and started looking around, scanning everywhere.

Monitors?

Where were the monitors?

Ming Ying spun in a circle, Benjamin trailing behind him, also spinning. Eventually, Ming Ying spotted the white surveillance camera on the ceiling above the living room.

Ming Ying frowned. Now he understood why this family felt comfortable just leaving Benjamin with a stranger.

—Wait.

Mingo: Can you see me?

XI: Why else?

Mingo: How can you see me??!

Buzz.

XI: The apartment is mine.

Ming Ying’s eyes widened in disbelief once again.

The-apartment-is-hers?

This was downtown Manhattan!

Was XI really that loaded…? So, what did that make him? Some kind of kept boy?

Mingo: Is Benjamin your little brother?

XI: Nephew.

Oh, I see. Ming Ying ruffled his hair. But wait, didn’t this mean another lie of his had failed?

Ming Ying still chose to salvage it first.

Mingo: Okay, fine… but I was working hard this morning!

Mingo: Playing games is my way of resting tvt

Mingo: Teacher, believe me tvt

XI: Mm.