Silas stopped walking, shifting his gaze from the phone screen to the young man scratching his head on the sidewalk.
The young man clutched his phone, occasionally looking left, occasionally looking right, as if wanting to follow the crowd but hesitating. He looked completely unable to tell east from west.
Silas frowned, seemingly harboring a faint concern for Thomas’s upcoming teaching tasks.
He looked down at his watch. It was nearly eight o’clock.
His date with Rachel was at eight-thirty.
On the sidewalk, Ming Ying zoomed in on the restaurant sign Alan had sent him. He stared at it for a long time. The letters “ASTON” were very bright, it should be very conspicuous. How could he circle around and still not see where it was? It couldn’t be that he was slightly nearsighted, could it?
The tendency to get lost must be innate, Ming Ying thought.
Back in China, when he went out with his dorm mates, someone planned the routes, someone planned the hotels, and he did nothing but follow behind them. Generally, his only role was needed when it was time to pay.
His friends always said: “It’s fine, bro, as long as you can tell the difference between east and west.”
Even so, he still couldn’t tell east from west when out.
Let alone now, abroad, he was even more hopeless.
Just as Ming Ying was about to call Alan, a message popped up on WhatsApp.
XI: Where are you headed?
Ming Ying was dazed for a second. For some reason, he felt like XI was right there beside him, so much so that he almost instinctively wanted to reply: Are you coming to find me?
Tsk. Ming Ying laughed at himself.
Mingo: Aston Restaurant.
Ming Ying thought for a moment and added another line.
Mingo: Supposedly a stupidly expensive restaurant, but they can’t even be bothered to make their sign bigger. (｀∧′)
The ASTON sign, standing in the opposite direction from where Ming was and shining brilliantly: “…”
After sending the message and seeing no reply for a while, Ming Ying sighed, ready to follow the crowd and cross at a traffic light.
But at that exact moment, XI replied.
XI: Turn around. Walk to the left of the fountain.
?
???
Ming Ying subconsciously turned around. About eight hundred meters away, in the center of a plaza, there really was a fountain.
Ming Ying was shocked.
He hurriedly sent a follow-up message: What? Are you here too?
Mingo: [Puppy Peeking Sticker]
No read reply. No reply at all.
Ming Ying sent two more [Puppy Peeking] stickers in a row. No read reply on any of them.
In that instant, Ming Ying desperately wanted to just call her. But it was just a fleeting thought. Calling someone without their consent was too rude.
He instead walked towards the fountain. The area was bustling and noisy, men and women with black hair, blonde hair, different hair colors, different languages, even different accents.
Ming Ying circled around but didn’t see that remembered silhouette.
It defied logic, completely defied logic!
Just then, Alan’s call came through.
He picked up and instinctively started with a “Hello.”
After saying it, he belatedly realized he needed to speak English with this guy.
Luckily, Alan didn’t seem to mind: “We’re already here, but we don’t see you.”
Ming Ying paused. Alan’s voice didn’t match Ming Ying’s expectation. It sounded very young, even a little boyish.
“Oh, oh, sorry. I just got lost. I’m on my way now.” He pulled his gaze away from the fountain, quickened his pace, and said very apologetically: “I’ll be there in five minutes. Has Professor Thomas arrived yet?”
“Professor Thomas isn’t here yet. Just hurry. I’ll meet you at the door.” Alan asked again, “By the way, what are you wearing?”
The question was very abrupt.
Ming Ying walked and let out an “Ah.” “Just, normal clothes.”
As he said this, he finally spotted the glass high-rise with “ASTON” on it among the forest of skyscrapers in Manhattan.
So the sign wasn’t too small. It was just very high up, and he hadn’t looked up…
Alan said over the phone: “Then you probably won’t be able to get in.”
“?”
“ASTON has a dress code. Formal wear required.”
“…”
Ming Ying braked urgently at the hotel entrance.
He looked down. Well, well. The outfit he’d thought was so trendy leaving home looked like a college student’s casual stroll suit.
However, it was too late to turn around and leave. Both his feet were already at their doorstep. As soon as he looked up, the security guard at the door locked eyes with him.
“…”
Ming Ying’s mind had already played out the embarrassing scene of being politely escorted away by security eight hundred times.
If he dropped Professor Thomas’s name now, would he joyfully receive the award for N University’s fastest expelled student?
Whatever, he was here. Solving the immediate problem was more important. If he was going to be expelled, it would have to wait until after he actually enrolled.
Unexpectedly, the crisply dressed attendant at the door just smiled and nodded at him, smoothly pulling the door open for him.
The gesture was so respectful, as if his “college student stroll suit” was tonight’s special dress theme.
…What’s going on?
More shocked than Ming Ying was Alan, who was standing in the hotel lobby. The boy watched with his own eyes as the stern-faced security guard opened the door for the ridiculously dressed Ming Ying. This was absolutely unheard of at ASTON.
In America, such places designated as high-end social venues were the most stratified. Someone dressed like Ming Ying should have been escorted away by ASTON staff from a dozen meters away.
How did he get in?
…
“Good evening, Mr. Aston.” Ms. Rachel stood up.
Silas handed her the flowers, then took his seat. He was relaxed. “Good evening, Ms. Rachel.”
Ms. Rachel was a truly stunning beauty, a black strapless dress, bright red lips, her smile rivaled that of a Hollywood movie starlet.
“I heard that.” Rachel smiled, putting the flowers down. “You just gave a free pass to some kid who wandered in — ‘There will be an Asian young man in a white hoodie with a chest bag coming soon. Don’t stop him.’ Those were your words, weren’t they? May I know why?”
Silas chuckled. “Sounds like Ms. Rachel has a lot of free time.”
“I’m curious.” Rachel shrugged.
“He’s a student at N University.” Silas added, “Also, a student of Thomas’s.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Rachel clearly didn’t believe it. “Mr. Aston, do you know what people outside are saying about you? That at your age, unmarried, you’re either impotent or gay…”
She deliberately said some unpleasant things, but Silas just raised an eyebrow, his tone flat. “When life is smooth sailing, there’s no need to complicate things. Marriage is not a necessity for me. That’s all.”
Rachel took a sip of her wine and said, “I’ve grown calluses in my ears hearing that spiel.”
The life of Mr. Silas Aston here was, of course, smooth sailing. With his exquisite looks, exceptional intelligence, and prominent family background, one could say he’d reached the endpoint most people couldn’t attain in a lifetime from birth. Expecting someone like that to settle down for another person was too difficult.
“To be honest,” Rachel raised her glass, her red lips curving. “The only reason I’m sitting here is simply to admire your face. I really don’t care about anything else.”
She offered to pour Silas some wine.
Silas raised a hand and said, “I drove here, so I won’t drink. I hope you’ll understand, Ms. Rachel.”
Rachel clicked her tongue. “You really haven’t changed at all.”
Clearly having countless subordinates he could delegate to, yet he insisted on doing unnecessary things.
Silas pursed his lips. “Can’t help it. It’s a habit.”
Rachel seemed a little displeased. “Fine. Then could the low-key Mr. Aston please define the nature of our dinner tonight, so I can report back properly?”
Silas raised an eyebrow. “A reunion of old friends?”
Rachel thought for a moment and smiled. “It really has been a long time.”
The two then switched to other topics. Rachel began talking animatedly about the ongoing congressional election.
Once it had nothing to do with matters between men and women, the conversation flowed smoothly and freely. Even if Silas didn’t drink wine but tea, it didn’t disturb Ms. Rachel’s mood.
…
“How did you get in?” Alan asked.
Ming Ying was baffled. He walked alongside Alan and said, “Just… walked in?”
Alan stopped, re-evaluating the person before him. His gaze swept from top to bottom, making Ming Ying uncomfortable.
“What are you looking at?” Ming Ying tilted his head, trying to diffuse the tension with a joke. “I bought these clothes at a physical store in China. No links.”
“…”
Alan was speechless. He reminded him, “Look around. Nobody’s dressed like you.”
Ming Ying followed his words and looked at the people passing by. Without exception, they were all sharply dressed in suits, dashing and heroic. Even Alan, this boy who looked even younger than him, was the same.
Ming Ying felt like a stupid student who’d accidentally wandered into a tailor shop.
“Sorry.” Ming Ying was a bit embarrassed too. He let out a scoff. “I didn’t know there were so many rules before coming.”
Alan swept him with that look again, then turned and walked straight towards the innermost table.
Looking at his back, Ming Ying belatedly thought, ‘Damn.’ Was this what it felt like to be discriminated against?!
Ming Ying took a silent breath. Forget it.
Arriving at the reserved table, there were five people total, including Ming Ying. Thomas hadn’t come yet, but everyone else was there. Three men, two women. Two Asians, two Americans, one European.
After brief introductions, unsurprisingly, the few of them snickered upon seeing Ming Ying’s attire. But unlike Alan, their laughter held no malice.
For instance, the French guy with curly hair named Bruce — Ming Ying couldn’t remember their faces, so he used distinguishing features as nicknames.
Bruce smiled and said, “Ming, I like your look. Seems comfy.”
Ming Ying felt this guy’s personality was a lot like Mark’s. He leaned over and asked, “Professor Thomas shouldn’t mind, right?”
“How could he!” Bruce clapped him on the shoulder. “Professor Thomas couldn’t care less about what you wear, unless you’re streaking.”
“…”
Ming Ying: Thanks. Don’t plan on that yet!
Despite hearing this, Ming Ying still felt a bit down about the whole fiasco for a while.
So before Professor Thomas arrived, he excused himself to the restroom.
In the toilet stall, Ming Ying ruffled his hair and frowned as he sent XI a message.
Mingo: This hotel has a dress code for guests. I wasn’t in formal wear.
Mingo: Pretty embarrassing.
Mingo: [Puppy Autistic Sticker]
Soon, two little blue checkmarks lit up simultaneously.
