TuxedoTranslations

Chapter 45

Had this been the Xia Tong of yesteryear, freshly run away from home, he might have believed it outright.

But now? No! He was Xia Tong of the House of Niu Hulu! Hardened by the storms of life and well-seasoned in the ways of the world, he wasn’t so easily fooled anymore!

“Is that really true?” Xia Tong squinted, skeptical. “If that’s the case, Uncle, why don’t you go beg yourself?”

The stall owner glared at him, eyes bulging. “You dare talk back to me now, huh?!”

Xia Tong whimpered, “Eek!”

Mimicking him in a mocking, high-pitched voice, the stall owner drawled, “Didn’t you just say, ‘Uncle, teach me what to do, and I’ll learn right now!’”

Clearly irked, Xia Tong pouted in frustration. “I don’t sound like that…” He sighed helplessly, turned around, and resigned himself to his fate. “Fine, I’ll go then.”

“Hey! Don’t stray too far! Beg right here where I can keep an eye on you. Don’t even think about sneaking away, got it? I might be old, but these legs of mine can outrun even the city inspectors!” The stall owner raised his voice, barking instructions. “Twenty bucks! Come back when you’ve got it!”

Dutifully, Xia Tong nodded, dragging a small stool over to a spot not too close yet not too far from the stall. He placed the large metal bowl in front of him and officially began his begging venture.

It was late at night, and the streets were bustling. Business was good, but the stall owner, well-versed in the art of frying skewers, had moments to spare between orders. During one such lull, he cast a glance at the young boy sitting nearby.

Perched on a small stool with the metal bowl before him, Xia Tong said nothing. He merely observed the passersby with his large, expressive eyes, his gaze innocent and pure. Those who noticed him either smiled at his cuteness or blew him a kiss, unsure what he was doing there. The scene was both pitiful and absurdly endearing.

The stall owner, a streak of mischief suddenly lighting up his heart, abandoned his frying station. He rummaged under his cart for a whiteboard and some markers, strolling leisurely toward Xia Tong.

Unsurprisingly, the bowl in front of Xia Tong was still empty. The stall owner snorted. “With that silent act of yours, you won’t make twenty bucks even if you sit there till morning.”

“Silent act?” Xia Tong looked up at him, confused.

“Yeah. If you’re begging for money, you need a story, right? People don’t just hand over their hard-earned cash for no reason,” the stall owner explained.

After a moment’s thought, Xia Tong nodded in agreement. “You’re right. Should I tell them I didn’t bring money to pay for fried skewers?”

“Do you think that excuse sounds punchable or not?” the stall owner retorted.

Xia Tong thought again and wilted even more. “Punchable, because not bringing money is my own fault.”

“Exactly.”

“So what should I do?” Xia Tong asked helplessly.

“You need to make up a compelling reason! Something to make them willingly part with their money,” the stall owner said. “Haven’t you watched historical dramas?”

“No,” Xia Tong replied.

“Well, there’s this classic scene…” The stall owner, suddenly animated, dragged over another stool to sit beside Xia Tong and began gesturing. “In the middle of a bustling street, there’s a poor girl in mourning clothes with a straw sign on her head. In front of her, there’s a white cloth with four large red characters: ‘Selling Myself to Bury My Father!’”

Xia Tong blinked in confusion. “?”

The stall owner added, “Oh, but don’t worry—I’m not cursing your father or anything.”

Xia Tong shook his head. “It’s fine. I don’t have a father.”

The stall owner froze. “Ah…”

Xia Tong continued, “I don’t have a mother either, so you don’t need to worry.”

The stall owner’s mouth twitched. “Kid, how come your life is so… rough?”

Xia Tong didn’t seem bothered. Instead, he pressed on with curiosity, “So after the ‘Selling Myself to Bury My Father,’ what happens next?”

“Then, a gallant hero passes by, takes pity on her plight, and pays for the funeral expenses. And thus, a touching story unfolds!” the stall owner explained.

Xia Tong’s face was a picture of blank bewilderment. “So?”

“So, the essence of begging is in two words—playing pitiful!” the stall owner declared grandly. “And look! I’ve even brought props!”

He gleefully pulled out a whiteboard and a set of colorful markers like a magician unveiling a trick.

“What are those for?” Xia Tong asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

“Play the pity card! Come up with a tragic backstory.” The vendor dramatically flourished his pen, scribbling flamboyantly on the whiteboard with a flourish. “This way, when people see how miserable you are, they’ll naturally give you money!”

Xia Tong asked hesitantly, “But… isn’t that lying?”

The vendor paused mid-stroke before shamelessly declaring, “How can starting a business be called lying?”

Xia Tong was baffled. “…Wait, how did this turn into starting a business?”

“I’m saying—paying off debt! Paying off debt!” The vendor coughed awkwardly. “You’re supposed to pay me back, remember?”

From across the street, the owner of the spicy hotpot stall let out a loud, mocking laugh and called out sarcastically, “Hey, kid! This old scoundrel is full of schemes! Don’t let him fool you!”

“Get lost, you gutter oil hotpot peddler!” the vendor roared back before patting Xia Tong on the head. “What’s your name?”

“Xia Tong—Xia as in ‘summer,’ and Tong as in ‘pupil.’”

“You really do have beautiful eyes,” the vendor said, in a rare moment of uncharacteristic sincerity. Then, he began writing furiously again, filling the whiteboard with a lengthy “obituary.”

“All that’s left is a title,” he said, tapping the empty space at the top. “So, you don’t have a dad or a mom. Who’s the person you’re closest to?”

“The closest person…” Xia Tong tapped his chin thoughtfully before answering, “Our team captain!”

“Ohhh, your captain!” The vendor seemed inspired and promptly scrawled, in bold letters, ‘Selling My Body to Bury My Captain!’

“From now on, you must wholeheartedly believe it! Your beloved captain—he’s passed away!” The vendor shoved the whiteboard into Xia Tong’s arms, speaking earnestly. “You need to immerse yourself in the grief. Only then will people believe you’re genuinely in pain and not just out to scam them. The acting must be real! Natural! Convince yourself first, then you can convince your audience!”

Xia Tong: “…”

The vendor continued passionately, “Think about it! Your captain, who cared for you so deeply! He was there when you needed help the most, comforting you when you were sad. He was your safe harbor, your guiding star! But fate was cruel! He succumbed to a sudden illness and passed away! From then on, you’ll never see his vibrant smile again, never hear his deep, magnetic voice, never hold his warm, strong hands—”

For some reason, as the vendor’s words grew increasingly vivid, Xia Tong couldn’t help but think of Lin Mingfei. He recalled the scene from that night when Lin Mingfei sat alone at the table, about to use eye drops.

At that moment, Lin Mingfei seemed to be standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering dangerously. Yet, an insurmountable distance separated them—mountains, rivers, and an unbridgeable chasm. No matter how hard Xia Tong tried, he couldn’t reach him. Stopping him felt futile.

He couldn’t find a way into the Alpha’s heart or do anything to help. If he continued being this useless, he might actually lose the Alpha he liked so much.

The more he thought, the more real it felt, and the more sorrowful he became. The hollow ache of loneliness and helplessness became unbearable, and before he knew it, tears started streaming down his face. “Waaah—!” He burst into sobs, tears falling like broken strings of pearls.

The vendor was thrilled. “Yes, yes! That’s the spirit! Those genuine tears are exactly what we need. Quick, sit back down, hold the sign tight—you’re the next star of the silver screen!”

–

Lin Mingfei carried a heavy gas cylinder through the bustling snack street and stopped in front of the “Old Guo’s Fried Skewers” stall. Skillfully, he unloaded the cylinder and replaced the empty one for Guo Dongsheng.

Guo Dongsheng was a retired film director Lin Mingfei had met in his youth, someone he’d cheekily adopted as a godfather. Guo had once been a celebrated director, known for producing critically acclaimed films. Brilliant but eccentric, his fiery personality had earned him plenty of enemies in the industry. Eventually, he’d left the film world in a fit of rage and taken up selling fried skewers, citing “freedom” as the reason.

It was a kind of freedom—freedom to argue with anyone on the street at any time.

Tonight, this unorthodox godfather had locked himself out of his house and run out of gas mid-shift, leaving him no choice but to call Lin Mingfei, who’d just gone to bed, for help. It was absurd, even by a filmmaker’s standards.

With a toothpick in his mouth, Guo Dongsheng leaned against the wall, watching Lin Mingfei swap the cylinders. “Remember all the times you snuck out of school and got caught by me? Back then, I had to whip you into shape. Now look at you—skills for life! The old saying is true: raise a child well, and they’ll take care of you in your old age!”

“You should stick to directing films instead of selling skewers,” Lin Mingfei shot back with an eye roll. “And next time, bring your keys. I won’t always be free to help with stuff like this.”

“Got it,” Guo Dongsheng replied nonchalantly.

Lin Mingfei glanced toward a crowd gathered a short distance away. “What’s going on over there? Trouble?”

“No, no!” Guo Dongsheng’s eyes sparkled with excitement. He elbowed Lin Mingfei. “Hey, Zero, I caught a kid trying to dine and dash today. He’s got this silly, clueless vibe but is really good-looking. I decided to teach him a lesson and whipped up a tragic little drama. The kid cried so convincingly—you’ve gotta see it! Guaranteed crowd-pleaser!”

“Are you out of your mind?” Lin Mingfei gave him a look of disbelief, but Guo Dongsheng pushed him toward the crowd.

“Make way! Make way!”

The crowd parted, the buzz of excited chatter filling the air. Some were speculating whether it was performance art, others marveling at the boy’s delicate, tear-streaked face, and a few suggesting calling the police. Then Lin Mingfei spotted a familiar figure sitting on the ground.

“Xia Tong?!” he blurted, his pupils contracting in shock.

Amidst the clamor, the little Omega hadn’t heard him. He sat there, sniffling earnestly, clutching a whiteboard plastered with slogans and a tin bowl in front of him.

The large characters “Sell Myself to Bury the Captain” loomed boldly into view!

Lin Mingfei: “………..???”

“Look at that! Such amazing crying skills!” Gu Dongsheng clicked his tongue in admiration beside him. “This kid is a natural-born star, Zero! I’m almost convinced he actually has a dying captain!”

Lin Mingfei: “……”

No need to guess; naive Xia Xiao Tong must have been tricked again.

And his godfather truly lived up to his reputation.

Not only would he con others, but he wouldn’t even spare his godson.

–

Author’s Note:
Lin Mingfei: Truly dead on the spot.

Feel free to donate for earlier/bonus chapter releases! Thanks for supporting me and enjoy reading 😀