Ming Ying immediately withdrew his hand and retreated, wanting to start being a good student. Unfortunately—
It was already too late.
Comrade Ming Ying was disciplined to the point of wanting to cry and laugh at the same time, and deeply appreciated the truth of Mr. Aston’s “three strikes and you’re out” rule!
“I was really wrong, big bro!”
“The study is yours, all yours!”
Struggling, Silas pinned Ming Ying’s wrists and steered him toward the door.
Ming Ying froze, the smile still lingering on his face before fading. Just like that, he was bound and led away by the hand. As he walked, he asked, puzzled, “Where are we going? Baby, give me a word.”
Silas stopped in his tracks, looked back at him, and smirked.
The moment he smiled, Ming Ying’s own grin vanished.
…
That was also the day Ming Ying discovered for the first time that the screening room on the third floor of this old pervert’s house actually had such a huge mirror…
…
On Monday, Ming Ying burrowed in his blankets for a long while again.
Not until someone patted his face did he nuzzle against that hand and burrow a little more.
Only after burrowing did he realize something was off. Opening his eyes, he found the bedside already empty.
He hurriedly checked the time. Damn it, he had that competition lecture today and couldn’t be late!
Speaking of which, it really pissed Ming Ying off.
He absolutely hated participating in these kinds of activities. He felt they were even more annoying than class. Classes, whether they were useless or not, at least allowed him to learn something. But in his mind, these activities had zero substance—just an opportunity to go and clap for others.
At this very moment, Ming Ying sat in bed hugging his blanket. After dawdling and procrastinating for a while longer, he finally managed to drag himself up.
By the time he got dressed, Silas was already waiting for him at the dining table.
Ming Ying looked up at the clock, then down at him, surprised. “When did you get up?”
How come every time he got up, he never saw a trace of the man!
Silas glanced at Ming Ying’s crookedly worn clothes and said, “Think for yourself.”
Ming Ying scoffed. “I won’t think. I’m up too, alright.”
Silas also let out a short laugh. “Mm, impressive.”
Ming Ying rubbed his waist before sitting down. “Stop mocking me. Let me tell you, it’s all your fault. If you weren’t such a pervert, I’d have been up ages ago, damn it.”
Silas, hearing this, curved his lips. He looked at his wristwatch again and said, “8:12. Time to get out of bed: twenty minutes. Brushing teeth, washing face, getting dressed: one minute. Total time: twenty-one minutes. You’re improving.”
Ming Ying replied, “Thank you for the praise, Teacher. I’ll continue to work hard.”
Silas: “Mm.”
Silas: “There’s still time. Eat breakfast first.”
Ming Ying looked at the breakfast on the table. Having learned his lesson from last time, he pulled out a chair, sat down, and started eating.
His mouth wasn’t idle while he ate either.
Ming Ying took a sip of milk and said, “Why does this lecture have to be on a Monday? So annoying.”
Silas didn’t speak.
Ming Ying bit into his sandwich and said, “I bet it’ll be another bunch of empty, formulaic nonsense. I don’t even want to go.”
Silas didn’t speak.
Ming Ying wiped his mouth and said, “Are you going to the school today? Should I come find you for lunch after I’m done listening to that lecture?”
Silas: “Okay.”
Ming Ying touched his face and said, “I’m full.”
Only then did Silas’s gaze shift from his phone to him. He reached out and pulled a napkin, wiping a milk stain from the corner of Ming Ying’s mouth that he’d missed. Then he stood up and said, “Mm. I’ll go get the car.”
Ming Ying, meanwhile, was touching the corner of his own mouth, momentarily stunned.
He thought to himself, Ah, under the tyranny of this old man, the path back to being a straight guy was getting further and further away…
…
After Silas drove to the school, Ming Ying looked out the car window and asked, “Where are you parking this time?”
Silas: “Your college.”
Ming Ying raised an eyebrow. “Oh, not parking at the Law School this time?”
Silas looked at him, frowning slightly. “Do you need me to drive over there?”
…Damn. This old man, so annoying.
Ming Ying threw down a harsh threat: “You’re dead meat if you dare drive over there.”
Silas laughed, rubbed his head, and said, “Get out.”
After getting out of the car, Ming Ying still said, “I’ll go first.”
Silas: “Mm.”
And so, the two of them walked out of the parking lot one after the other. The weather in Manhattan was exceptionally fine today—blue sky, clear breeze.
Ming Ying clutched his messenger bag. As he walked, he slightly turned his face, and there, over a dozen meters behind him, he caught a glimpse of the corner of the man’s suit jacket.
Mingo: Why are you still following me?
Mingo: [Puppy spinning in circles.jpg]
Half a minute later, his phone buzzed.
XI: I’m not.
Mingo: Since when did Baby learn to lie?
Ever since unlocking the privilege of calling Aston “Baby,” Ming Ying had been somewhat unstoppable. It seemed like only in this aspect could he reclaim a tiny bit of his straight-guy dignity.
As expected, those words prompted a two-character reply from the other side.
XI: Ming Ying?
Ming Ying chuckled to himself. However, after walking a bit further, he tilted his face again. In his peripheral vision, that suit jacket corner was still there.
Mingo: Hey, Boss, stop following me. I have serious business this morning, you know that… can’t fool around with you.
Mingo: [Puppy wagging tail.jpg]
Mingo: [Puppy sighing.jpg]
The message wasn’t replied to. One minute later.
Mingo: [Puppy baring teeth.jpg]
Heh.
This “puppy baring teeth” message was sent just as Ming Ying walked into the main lobby of the teaching building. He ran into a few familiar classmates, and the group of them walked together.
However, the moment he turned around, that old man Silas was still following him!
Damn it, in broad daylight, he truly had to hand it to this guy.
Being older just made him clingy… Ming Ying decided in his heart that he had to go back and search for some kind of strategy guide on this later…
This couldn’t go on…
So he fell behind his group of classmates, slowed his pace, and took out his phone again.
Mingo: Boss, if you miss me this much, how about you talk to that ‘someone’ from our college and tell them to schedule fewer of these worthless lectures on Mondays, okay? Zero people want to listen…
Mingo: [Puppy fainting.jpg]
This time, the message was read but not replied to.
Mingo: I’m gonna be late!
…
Ming Ying put away his phone. Just as he was about to hurry into the classroom, his peripheral vision couldn’t help but glance behind him again.
No way… following him into the teaching building wasn’t enough? Looking at this posture, was he going to follow him into the classroom too—wait?
Wait a minute…
The next second, Ming Ying stood at the classroom door, slowly looking up, only to see the suit-clad (sanctimonious) Mr. Aston pass right by him… pass by… and then, enter.
He walked into the classroom…
Ming Ying froze at the doorway, staring at the man’s back. The assistant following behind Silas called out to him, “Sir? Sir? Are you not coming in? The lecture is about to begin.”
“Ha?” Ming Ying instinctively let out a puzzled sound.
Silas also turned his head. His composed expression and immaculate attire looked utterly proper.
He frowned slightly, looking at Ming Ying, and said in English, “This gentleman, if you come in now, you won’t be counted as late yet.”
A ripple of soft laughter came from the crowd around him.
Ming Ying: “…”
I f—
Ming Ying looked at Silas, ten thousand little ponies stampeding through his heart. “…Sorry.”
Ming Ying clutched his bag, hurriedly lowered his head, and walked in, not daring to look at Silas’s face. He jogged all the way up the steps.
Luckily, his good brother Bruce was there to receive him. He had saved him a seat, preventing him from being too embarrassed.
The moment he sat down, Ming Ying bent over, hand on his forehead.
Bruce saw this and asked kindly, “Hi Ming, is ok?”
Ming Ying waved his hand, thinking: S, he was absolutely fing ok!
However, Bruce said, “Ming, I am very not ok.”
Ming Ying heard this and asked, “What’s wrong with you?”
Bruce: “This lecture is actually a spot-check/’pop quiz’ assembly.”
“Ha?” Ming Ying was dumbfounded. “What do you mean?”
Bruce quietly explained, “This is a traditional event for our college. Mr. Aston is one of the founders of the N-Cube. He holds a lecture every year, and occasionally he asks questions to increase interactivity. This is probably Mr. Aston’s most unpopular lecture because he actually asks questions.”
I f—
Ming Ying thought to himself, so he’d come to class first thing in the morning?
…And what’s more, he’d been fooling around at this guy’s house for three whole days, and he hadn’t breathed a single word that this damn lecture was hosted by him! That unhurried look he’d put on this morning, pretending to wait for him—who was that act for?! This old bastard!
“What happens if you can’t answer?” Ming Ying suddenly remembered hearing Thomas talk about someone being punished by running a marathon around the Manhattan district…
How did that go again? Was it related to this old bastard?
Bruce frowned. “I have heard that a senior of ours was once punished by running a marathon around Manhattan…”
WTF… it’s real…
Ming Ying was uneasy inside. He took out his laptop and looked up towards the stage.
Under the giant projection screen, Aston was talking with Steve. The two seemed to be discussing some issue. Silas had a faint smile on his face. Soon, Steve whispered a few more words to him, then turned and went back to his seat.
Now, only Aston was left on the stage.
Seeing Aston’s gaze sweep over, Ming Ying subconsciously lowered himself a bit more on his desk.
He silently despised himself. Ming Ying, oh Ming Ying, so useless. You’ve even climbed into his bed, and you’re still afraid of this?
Aston leaned against the lectern, adjusted the microphone a little, his posture relaxed, and smiled. “Ladies and gentlemen, good morning.”
Perhaps it was because Mr. Aston was simply too handsome, but Ming Ying actually found himself listening with rapt attention to what was originally an extremely boring lecture about the competition schedule.
Unlike his usual style, at the very start this time, Aston introduced the basic history and schedule of the competition. His tone was gentle, his voice magnetic and clear, sounding quite pleasant.
—Of course, it would have been even better without that bizarre professional Q&A segment!
Aston leaned on the podium and swept his gaze across the room. “Alright, for this question, I’ll call on someone to answer.”
Ming Ying’s heart skipped a beat.
He hunched his upper body a little lower.
As a result, once he hunched down, he saw everyone around him doing the same.
Ming Ying: “Bruce, why are you bending over?”
Bruce: “Ming, don’t ask me why. I advise you to bend over too.”
Ming Ying figured Silas was definitely out to mess with him, so he immediately followed suit.
The next second, the voice came through the microphone from a corner of the room: “That gentleman, the gentleman sitting in the fourth row, wearing the blue necktie, please answer the question.”
Ming Ying’s heart had risen to his throat from the moment he heard Silas’s voice. He only secretly breathed a sigh of relief when he heard “wearing a blue necktie.”
He never wore clothes with a tie to class.
Then, Ming Ying felt the person beside him shift—Bruce put down his tablet.
Ming Ying: “Hey? Bruce, why are you standing up—”
No sooner had he spoken than Ming Ying’s gaze circled between Bruce, now on his feet, and the smiling man on the stage.
F.
Ming Ying immediately lowered his head.
Bruce didn’t really want to be questioned; after all, no one present wanted an in-class exam. But since he was already standing, he wasn’t faint-hearted and answered very fluently.
As Ming Ying listened, he suddenly felt Bruce had made a mistake. He tugged on Bruce’s hem and whispered a reminder.
Bruce couldn’t quite hear him, so he leaned his head down slightly, his expression asking: Ming, what did you say?
Guided by the principle of saving his brother, Ming Ying lowered his voice and repeated his words.
Right at that moment, Aston raised a hand to interrupt him, saying, “It seems the gentleman beside you has a deeper insight. Why not stand up and share?”
Ming Ying: “…”
Was this fing asking for it or what?
Ming Ying’s first reaction was to wave his hand dismissively.
However, the man on the stage folded his arms and frowned. “This gentleman, do you mean you intend to answer while sitting?”
Ming Ying: “…”
Before Ming Ying could even cry out ‘I’m innocent!’, he heard the man on stage speak again: “That’s fine too. Then I’ll come over.”
I f—
In an instant, Ming Ying felt like countless gazes were pressing down on him.
This old son of a…
Ming Ying didn’t dare let the Board Member come over. He hurriedly stood up. “Ahem, Mr. Aston, I, uh, I’ll stand up. No need for you to trouble yourself.”
Aston then halted his steps off the stage.
He even smiled slightly. “Thank you for your consideration.”
Ming Ying: “…”
Ming Ying mentally scoffed at him, then cleared his throat and elaborated his thoughts smoothly and perfectly.
After he finished, silence fell over the classroom.
Ming Ying thought to himself, I’m truly a little genius. Let’s see how you mess with me now, you old bastard. I study this hard for moments like this, to hold my head high! Heh heh heh.
Sure enough, the man on stage didn’t refute his answer.
“Very good.” Aston asked, “What is your name?”
Ming Ying thought, Why pretend you don’t know? But he still answered politely, “I am Ming Ying.”
Aston smiled slightly. “Then, this fellow student, Ming Ying, could you repeat the question I just asked?”
Ming Ying froze. “Regarding the theoretical discussion of design boundaries…”
“Mm.” Aston looked at Bruce and said, “This gentleman, please repeat for Ming the question I asked you.”
Bruce felt like his curly hair was about to straighten from the shock. “Regarding the technical discussion of ‘Design Reconstruction’…”
Ming Ying’s smile froze at the corner of his mouth, his expression about to crack.
…Why were the two questions different?
…Why?
The world went quiet for a second.
Like deathly stillness.
In this stillness, Mr. Aston had already walked over to Comrade Ming Ying’s desk.
Ming Ying didn’t dare move.
He heard Aston rap his knuckles on his desk and say, “Which is to say, Ming, you are still stuck on my previous question, is that correct?”
Is… that… correct…
Ming Ying was dumbfounded.
Was this something a human being would do?!
What had he been doing just now? Oh, he’d been figuring out how to bend over. How could he have noticed the question had changed!
…
Ming Ying swore, he absolutely, positively never wanted to engage in this teacher-student cosplay with this old bastard again!!!
“Sorry, Silas,” Ming Ying casually pulled an excuse out of his ass, “I was just bending down to pick up my pen, so I didn’t really hear.”
Aston frowned.
The moment the words left his mouth, Ming Ying felt like the world got even quieter.
Even Professor Steve in the front row looked back.
In this silence, Ming Ying suddenly realized what he had just blurted out. The corner of his eye twitched instantly. He wanted to rip out his own tongue…
Damn it.
Next, Aston didn’t comment on his form of address. He simply gestured for him to sit down, then turned and walked back to the podium.
As Ming Ying sat down, he thought somewhat hopelessly: Could he still walk out of this classroom in one piece…
At this moment, Aston had returned to the stage, his expression very serious. “Ladies and gentlemen, I think I must emphasize one more point. The competition within the N-Cube is extremely brutal. Your opponents come from universities all over the world. Correspondingly, of course, the rewards will also be very generous. The students representing N University in the competition are necessarily selected. They are absolutely outstanding, exceptional students. I do not wish to see you face this competition with such an attitude—evidently, some of you here may not even be able to meet your graduation requirements.”
“…”
Sitting in the audience, Ming Ying felt this person was somewhat making innuendos.
Fortunately, perhaps to lighten the mood, Aston added, “However, even if you fail the competition, I won’t punish you by making you run a marathon around the Manhattan district. You can rest assured on that point.”
He laughed and added, “At most, a run around the school.”
A wave of laughter and wails rose from below.
Ming Ying, however, wiped a cold sweat in his heart. What was this sudden ominous feeling…
It reminded him of the first time he’d encountered this old man at the ASTON Restaurant…
…
After the lecture ended, Ming Ying prepared to sneak away with Bruce. But the moment they walked out the back door of the classroom, his phone suddenly started buzzing violently.
Ming Ying picked it up and looked. Caller ID: XI
F.
Ming Ying was now in a state of both fear and anger. Angry that Silas hadn’t told him the speaker was him, and afraid that he’d fing embarrassed himself again and was definitely going to get scolded.
But Ming Ying really didn’t dare hang up on Silas’s call. He could only answer.
Ming Ying: “Hello.”
Silas: “Where are you?”
Ming Ying: “What’s up?”
Silas: “Return to the classroom.”
Ming Ying didn’t dare go back, so he hurried Bruce along, then said into the phone, “Uh, well. I’m right in the classroom. Didn’t you see me?”
There seemed to be a pause on the other end. “Ming, I did not see you.”
No s, of course he didn’t see him.
So he could stay and be lectured? Comrade Ming Ying only accepted being disciplined in bed.
Ming Ying chuckled. “Well then, Boss, you should buy a pair of glasses. Maybe then you’ll see.”
