I Want To Marry My dad, Not My Uncle - Chapter 4

Jizuo fired off a series of questions: “No way? Is it really necessary to go this far? Are you sure you want to sacrifice so much?”

Xingchen was silent for a moment. “My current status limits what I can do. No matter how I try to bridge the class gap, I cannot speak to him as an equal. Time is tight; there is no other way.”

Xingchen rinsed his mouth with ice water and returned to the restaurant. Inside, the manager had finished his reprimand, but the female employee continued to argue, infuriating him before she reluctantly went back to work.

Annie pulled Xingchen aside. “Did you know she would make a fool of herself?”

Xingchen shook his head. “How could I have known?”

Annie giggled. “Well, the manager said if she messes up again, she is fired.” She looked dejected afterward. “As if there will be another time.”

The next opportunity came sooner than expected. The following day, the girl spilled an entire plate of pasta onto a customer’s face. It was a young girl on a date, and she shrieked immediately. Luckily, it was a white sauce pasta, which had cooled slightly in the cheese, preventing a facial injury. The manager apologized, offered gift cards, and spent hours smoothing things over until the girl was eventually fired.

Annie hugged Xingchen’s neck, watching the girl pack her things. She whispered, “You really are my lucky star. Since you arrived, all the eyesores have disappeared.”

Xingchen kept cleaning his shoes without looking up. “It is just your imagination.”

Once the girl was gone, the mess remained. Xingchen and Annie went to clean the seating area. The pasta was everywhere, and the oily sauce was difficult to remove. Some had dripped into the seat crevices. Because Annie was wearing a skirt, it was hard for her to bend down, so Xingchen knelt to reach the gap with a rag.

Vincent arrived just as this was happening. The young man’s vest and shirt bunched up, revealing a slender waist and two dimples. His skin appeared even whiter against the clothing, and his slim waist looked like it could be gripped with one hand. Beneath the standard suit trousers, his small, round, perky buttocks looked as plump as a peach.

Xingchen felt a gaze that seemed to want to burn through him. He knew who it was, but he did not turn around, continuing to scrub the floor intently. When Annie looked up, she was startled by Vincent. He was usually as gentle as a spring breeze, but with his expression cooled, his eyes appeared cold and filled with the scrutiny of someone in a superior position.

Annie followed his gaze and tugged at Xingchen. “Cipher, stop scrubbing. Leave it to me.”

Xingchen looked up, meeting Vincent’s eyes, and gave a sweet smile. “Sir, you are here.”

In Vincent’s mind, he pictured Xingchen kneeling on the ground waiting for him to come home, ideally wearing nothing at all. Xingchen was puzzled by the look; it did not seem lustful, but rather like he was looking at food. Vincent withdrew his gaze, sat in his usual seat, and composed himself.

Xingchen stood up and grabbed his order pad. “Sir, will it be the same three items?”

Vincent nodded. Xingchen provided attentive, professional service. When serving, he subtly adjusted the cutlery for a left-handed person. Vincent hesitated for a moment, looked at Xingchen, and continued eating. After he finished, he gestured for Xingchen to come over.

“Sir, is something wrong?” Xingchen asked after finishing his rounds.

Vincent pointed at the plate. “Where is the chickweed?”

Xingchen was nervous. “Did I do something wrong?”

Vincent shook his head. “I do not like it, but how did you know?”

“I could just tell,” Xingchen replied lightly. Chickweed was usually mixed into the sauce and could not be picked out, and Vincent never revealed his preferences to anyone.

Vincent ate slowly, intending to chat further, but Xingchen arrived with the POS terminal they had tampered with. Vincent almost laughed out loud. Was the kid really targeting him? Vincent paid with Apple Pay but left a 50 percent tip this time. Before Xingchen could thank him, Vincent asked, “Why are you only like this toward me?”

Xingchen was stunned. “Only toward you?”

Vincent shook his head. “Why are you so attentive only to me?”

Xingchen replied, “Because you are a good man. The first time I served you, you smiled at me.”

Xingchen watched for a reaction, hoping Vincent would be touched. But Vincent remained calm, smiling gently. “Work hard.”

“Of course, sir.” Xingchen gave a sweet smile. At this rate, he would clear that debt in 666 days.

As Vincent stood up, Xingchen dodged a passing food cart and stumbled into his arms. Vincent felt warm, and his woody perfume was pleasant. Xingchen started to pull away, but the arm around his waist tightened.

“Cipher, I paid the protection fee yesterday.”

“What?” Xingchen looked up in confusion.

Vincent steadied him. “Nothing.”

Still no progress, and no personal connection. Vincent sat in his car and rubbed his temples. “Schedule an appointment with that psychologist.”

Xingchen watched the car drive away, his expression turning cold. He went to the restaurant’s back door, where a young Asian man was shivering in the cold. It was Jizuo.

Xingchen held up his hand. “Jizuo.”

Jizuo stepped closer, stretching his neck to confirm it was him. “You are incredible. I never recognize you when we meet.”

“That just means my technique is good,” Xingchen said, leaning against the railing. “Did you bring it?”

Jizuo pulled a tiny, fingernail-sized object from his pocket. “Be careful not to get caught.”

Xingchen held it in his palm. “Don’t worry.”

Jizuo scratched his head. “Maybe I should go instead? He has not seen me.”

Xingchen looked toward the building behind them. “No, you are not cut out for this. Just manage the support team.”

He could not just remain a waiter; he needed to run into Vincent outside. He could not track Vincent’s life, but he knew where he worked. Putting a tracker on his car was safer than putting it on his person.

Xingchen asked, “What about that license plate?”

Jizuo scratched his head. “The car is registered to a shell company. I do not get it.”

Xingchen had met his match. After several attempts, he had no progress. But if Vincent suspected something and still returned to the restaurant, did that not mean he was at least somewhat interested? It was just moving too slowly.

After his shift, Xingchen put on his cotton jacket and went to the office building. The car had been repaired in just two days. Xingchen found it easily, as it was quite prominent. He crawled under the car to place the tracker where it would not get wet.

As he moved from the front to the back door, the window slowly rolled down.

They locked eyes.

Vincent smiled. “What are you looking for?”

Xingchen thought to himself that the phrase “he is my nemesis” was very fitting for Vincent.

Xingchen gave a sweet smile. “I was checking if the car was repaired. I remembered a long scratch here.” He gestured toward the door.

Vincent nodded. “Going to the convenience store again?”

Xingchen nodded obediently. “Yes.”

Vincent opened the door. “Get in. I will give you a ride.”

“Thank you, sir,” Xingchen said excitedly.

The car was warm and smelled of wood and paper. As Xingchen attached the tracker under the seat, he asked, “Are you going home, sir?”

“Yes.” Vincent put down his documents. The driver returned, and Vincent instructed him to head to the convenience store. Xingchen caught a glimpse of the papers and saw one word: “Psychology.” Was Vincent a psychologist? Did psychologists make that much money? Xingchen knew better than to ask, especially with someone as cautious as Vincent.

When they arrived, Xingchen thanked him and got out. Vincent lowered the window, his eyes dim and unreadable. “Uncle Li, go get something done for me.”

Xingchen bought another pack of cigarettes. When he exited, the black car was gone. As he walked home through the night, the streets became lively with the homeless, needle syringes, and trash.

Outside his apartment, the trash can was knocked over. Xingchen skipped the stairs and went into the alley next door. A few Black men in headscarves assumed he was a customer, but they stopped when they saw the men following behind him. The men realized what was happening and pulled out guns. “Hey, this is Two Point Gang territory.”

The men behind Xingchen, who looked Latino, spoke in a Spanish accent: “We want him.”

Xingchen leaned against the wall and emptied his pockets onto the ground. “I only have this. You decide who gets it.”