Ming Ying suddenly became nervous.
He had sent the message casually; now that it had actually been read, he felt a bit at a loss.
What if XI thought he was being meddlesome?
The enclosed space of the bathroom stall amplified this feeling. A buzz sounded; XI had replied.
XI: The location for the dinner was decided by your advisor. His lack of clear advance notice on the requirements is not your concern.
She really has a way with words. Ming Ying smiled.
The very next second, a second message arrived.
XI: But not understanding the location in advance and making proper judgments—that is your problem.
On the surface, Mingo replied: TvT
But in truth, Ming Ying, who had grown accustomed to the other’s Dean of Students-like tone, automatically interpreted it as: Look, she cares about me.
So, Ming Ying also automatically played along as a well-behaved student who corrects his mistakes.
Mingo: Okay, Teacher, I will remember the lesson and correct it next time (＞_＜)
As soon as he sent it, he was amused by his own antics.
After about two minutes.
XI: Mn.
He didn’t know why the other party only replied with one word, but Ming Ying was stifling laughter in the bathroom stall.
Too interesting.
Mingo: hhh… Can I call you that? Teacher XI?
XI: Whatever.
Ming Ying rested his chin on his hand, chatting so happily he didn’t want to stop. His earlier displeasure had vanished completely.
Mingo: Thank you, Teacher XI ^ ^
Mingo: [Puppy making a heart sign.jpg]
The moment the puppy heart emoji was sent, he immediately retracted it and replaced it with [Puppy cupping fist.jpg]
That was a close call; he’d almost seemed like a frivolous playboy.
Laughing, Ming Ying remembered the earlier question. How did XI know where he got lost?
Unless, at that time, she was also at the fountain and had already seen him.
Then why didn’t she come over to find him?
Ming Ying ruffled his hair again, then tapped away on his phone, deleting and retyping. After some deliberation, he sent: Teacher XI, are you also in Manhattan?
This question shouldn’t be abrupt, right?
Ming Ying waited for a while, perhaps five minutes. The message remained unread.
That’s how online chats are. Someone online one second can disappear the next. No one ever knows if the other person really didn’t see it, didn’t want to look, or just couldn’t be bothered.
Ming Ying touched his own face. He planned to go back and search academic databases to see if there were any papers specifically studying this psychology—at least more professional than his childhood friends group chat where they peddled movies.
Seeing the time was about right, he finally slowly moved out of this bathroom, which could be considered a deluxe private room with its own fragrance. If he weren’t afraid of missing Professor Thomas, he felt he could play a game of something in here before leaving.
The bathroom Ming Ying was in was at the innermost part of the floor. The bright lights along the way dazzled his eyes. Because he had specifically memorized the route, he didn’t take a wrong turn on his way back.
However, just as he passed the entrance to a spiral staircase, his steps were stopped dead by a mural on the wall.
It wasn’t just one mural, but a series of them hung along the ascending spiral staircase.
As a standard STEM student, could ordinary art murals attract him? Of course not. The issue was, these were no ordinary murals. They were architectural design sketches.
Starting as line drawings, they became increasingly detailed, from various angles and in various colors, finally presenting the silhouette of this very building.
They say peers are each other’s worst critics. It was the first time Ming Ying had seen a restaurant whose walls were decorated with architectural sketches. It could only be described as bizarre.
Damn, wouldn’t this give someone nightmares? Ming Ying thought to himself.
Yet, Ming Ying’s craving for bizarre things was genuinely piqued. He really wanted to go over and take a look, but considering Professor Thomas was arriving soon, he had to give up.
At the same time, in the high-level parking garage.
“You’re not leaving yet?” Rachel blinked. “Does Mr. Aston have another date today?”
Silas politely stepped aside and stated concisely, “Thomas will be coming.”
“Understood.” Rachel said humorously, “So you were just seeing me in passing while meeting Professor Thomas.”
Silas still stood in place, a faint, shallow smile on his lips. “It’s truly a pity Ms. Rachel doesn’t become a talk show host.”
“If you were to come watch, it wouldn’t be impossible.” Rachel said with a smile. “Then would I have the honor of getting Mr. Aston’s personal number? So I can send you an invitation?”
Silas curved his lips. “Send it to Catherine.”
“Hmph, fine, keep it to yourself then.” Rachel turned with a flourish and left.
After Rachel left, his assistant was about to press the elevator button for Silas and asked where he wanted to go. Silas raised a hand, signaling he didn’t need to be followed.
With his hands in his pockets, he walked out to a terrace, lit half a cigarette facing the wind, and then opened his phone. There were a few messages.
Apart from Catherine’s work messages, the most incongruous one was from that person with a silly, grinning Little White Dog avatar.
Mingo: Teacher XI, are you also in Manhattan?
Mingo: [Puppy with starry eyes.jpg]
Silas chuckled softly.
Such a student-like tone and question. A bit helpless.
XI: I’m right here at ASTON Restaurant.
When he received the message, Ming Ying was eating. To be precise, eating with everyone else.
Professor Thomas arrived late. To apologize, he specifically allowed everyone to order extra dishes, saying not to worry about the cost.
His advisor was generous and didn’t seem to mind his somewhat inappropriate attire. Looking at the amiable little old man with a mustache, Ming Ying thought he wasn’t quite like the legend said. At least, he didn’t look like the type who would make people run a marathon as punishment.
Thomas then very solicitously asked Ming Ying and Alan about their living arrangements. Alan, full of confidence, chattered away about a bunch of academic plans. As for Ming Ying… he continued his tradition from his days as a top student back in China: it was better to talk as little as possible with teachers.
After a brief self-introduction, as expected, no one bothered him anymore.
Listening, Ming Ying slid open his phone. The moment the screen unlocked—!!!
XI was really at ASTON!
Ming Ying put down his knife and fork, wanting to ask her where she was, but immediately gave up. No, that would be impolite. He’d better just state his own situation. The main thing was to keep the conversation going, couldn’t let it die.
Mingo: Really? Then did you see me? I’m eating with my professor 😀
XI: Mn.
XI: Eat your meal properly.
Mingo: But Teacher, this food is really bad…
Ming Ying was getting addicted to the act. Now he understood the psychology of those people who enjoyed cosplay.
But he hadn’t lied either; he genuinely wasn’t used to the food in these fancy foreign restaurants.
However, after sending the message, as Ming Ying was grinning foolishly, he suddenly realized: Crap, what if she likes this kind of food?!
So he hurriedly tried to salvage the situation.
Mingo: Of course, I meant I personally can’t get used to it. [Smile]
The reply came after a while.
XI: That’s normal. Everyone has different tastes.
Ming Ying clicked his tongue. Mulling it over, he sent the photo he’d taken of the design sketches he saw when passing the spiral staircase.
Mingo: Then have you been here? It’s quite interesting [Photo]
This was how a straight guy usually looked for topics. Send something boring.
Still, compared to sending other things, Ming Ying had a little ulterior motive for sending this spiral staircase.
Since they were both in the same restaurant, if he sent a very obvious landmark, would the other party also go over and look?
If she did, could it be that…
“Ming,” Thomas called him, “What are you pondering?”
Ming Ying smiled. “…I was thinking this building is quite nicely designed.”
Thomas put down his knife and fork upon hearing this, tilted his head back, and looked around. The others all turned their gazes over, thinking this industry heavyweight was about to give some professional speech. But Thomas only said, “Just plenty of money.”
The whole table: “…”
Alright then.
That was an honest statement. With money, any design can be realized. There’s a saying in the industry: a truly great architect is one who can build the most beautiful structure with the lowest cost. But Ming Ying couldn’t agree with that; being able to secure funding so others would choose your design was also a skill.
While the others were talking to Thomas, Ming Ying stole another glance at his phone.
XI’s message was unread and unreplied.
Ming Ying stabbed another piece of steak and shoved it into his mouth.
He had sent XI pictures of the cat downstairs at his apartment, the rain in Brooklyn, and the sunset glow of Manhattan. The other party sometimes replied, sometimes didn’t. Previously, when there was no reply, Ming Ying hadn’t felt dejected, because even though they had only known each other for a short time he could sense from between the lines that she was a very considerate person. No reply definitely meant she was busy with other things.
This time, it was mainly because he was hoping they could meet in person.
Just as he thought this, the second little blue checkmark suddenly appeared on the screen.
XI: These are the design plans for this ASTON Tower. What do you see?
Ming Ying was slightly shocked. She could also tell these were the building’s design plans? Could she be from the same major?
Mingo: I see plenty of money.
XI: Good eye.
Mingo: Thank you for the praise, Teacher [Hands clasped in prayer]
Mingo: [Puppy throwing confetti.jpg]
Unexpectedly, XI suddenly asked another question.
XI: If you were given this much money, how would you design it?
Ming Ying pondered this. Was she asking how he would design this building? He bit into his steak and, without thinking, directly replied: Hotpot [Puppy with starry eyes.jpg]
Mingo: I’m craving hotpot. A dual-flavor hotpot would be best. The south side uses an industrial-feeling red glass curtain wall, the north side clean, with white stone and glass that reflect the clouds in the sky, and a curved S-shaped corridor connecting them in the middle, hahaha.
Mingo: Teacher, have you ever eaten hotpot?
The message showed as read but XI didn’t reply.
Only then did Ming Ying realize what nonsense he had just been spouting.
Crap, a great chance to chat and he was talking about hotpot!
Damn it, there must be some foreigners who like hotpot too, right?
So he tried to salvage it again.
Mingo: I was rambling nonsense again. Actually, it’s impossible to build anyway, there’s no suitable material. Please ignore my words.
Mingo: [Puppy riding a scooter.jpg]
At that moment, Thomas suddenly stood up, hugging the students around him. It looked like he was about to leave.
Ming Ying was stunned. “Is it… over?”
Bruce said, “The professor said he has to meet a friend temporarily, so he needs to leave early.”
Ming Ying was curious. “What kind of friend?”
Bruce shook his head, smiling. “Seems like a friend from some Law School? I didn’t quite catch it.”
…Being a professor really is great, you can arrive late and leave early.
Ming Ying sighed inwardly, also getting up to bid farewell to Thomas. As he left, the little old man patted his shoulder very kindly and said, “Good boy, see you when school starts.”
Ming Ying put on his signature good-student smile.
After Thomas left, the others lost interest in continuing their meal. Ming Ying felt the same.
He checked his phone again. No messages. The subsequent messages to XI were still unread.
So Ming Ying hastily filled his stomach, then got up to say goodbye to the others. But he didn’t leave the restaurant; instead, he headed towards the spiral staircase.
He still harbored a sliver of hope. What if XI was there?
ASTON Restaurant was an upscale social venue with strong privacy. Apart from the public dining area, you barely saw anyone, and everywhere you went, it was very quiet.
This also meant that when Ming Ying approached the spiral staircase, he could very clearly hear someone talking.
At first listen, it wasn’t even English. He stood still for a while before realizing it was German.
In that instant, Ming Ying realized the person standing there might be Professor Thomas!
Good lord, if it’s not XI, forget it, but why does it have to be Thomas? But he was also worried—what if XI was there too?
So Ming Ying shifted his steps forward to get closer. He squinted his slightly nearsighted eyes. Besides Thomas, there was also a tall man standing on the staircase.
Aside from these two people, there was no third person.
Ming Ying turned around, wanting to leave immediately. Who knew that at this moment, someone suddenly called him.
“Ming, come over here for a moment.”
Ming Ying: ???
