Everyone is an individual, and people have different preferences—it’s completely normal to have differences.
Just like how Meng Xin loves cilantro, Huang Wenjie pinches his nose and avoids it like the plague, while Gao Yinghang can tolerate it as a seasoning but would never eat it willingly.
Meng Xin couldn’t quite understand—what exactly did Bian Ting like about him?
He figured this might just be one of the differences between straight guys and gay guys.
Taking advantage of the moment when the other roommates weren’t paying attention, Meng Xin quietly walked up to the mirror in their dorm.
He looked at his own reflection.
He was wearing a casual jacket he had randomly bought off Taobao, paired with a simple T-shirt underneath. The style was plain, nothing special—just the typical outfit of an average male college student.
As a straight guy, Meng Xin had never put much effort into his appearance. He never aimed to be a trendy, stylish guy who turned heads. As long as he looked clean and presentable, that was enough for him.
Bian Ting probably wouldn’t be interested in these cheap goods on his body.
Meng Xin thought for a moment, then took off his jacket and placed it on the edge of the sink.
He rolled up one sleeve and raised his arm in front of the mirror.
Quietly, he flexed, trying to make his arm muscles bulge a little more.
He reached out and pinched the slightly raised area, but still wasn’t satisfied. Shaking his head, he let his arm drop.
Next, Meng Xin lifted the hem of his shirt and looked at his flat abdomen.
Once again, he tried to make his abs stand out.
After struggling for a while, he stared at his reflection with a sense of resignation and let out a sigh.
He couldn’t say he had none, but they definitely weren’t obvious.
At that moment, Bian Ting suddenly came to mind.
They were both college students, yet Bian Ting had those enviable abs.
“He already has his own,” Meng Xin thought. “He probably wouldn’t be interested in my meager offering, right?”
He was so focused on his thoughts that he didn’t even notice when Bian Ting had walked up beside the mirror.
Leaning against the wall, Bian Ting watched him check himself out with great interest.
Meng Xin wanted to check his back, so he grabbed the hem of his shirt, turned around, and tilted his head to look in the mirror.
The moment he turned, his gaze met Bian Ting’s reflection.
“……”
Meng Xin quickly let go of his shirt, spun around, grabbed his jacket, and hurriedly threw it on.
“……When did you get here?”
“Probably when you lifted your shirt to show off your abs?” Bian Ting thought for a moment before adding, “Or maybe when you first rolled up your sleeves to flex your biceps.”
“……”
Great. So he had seen the whole thing.
Meng Xin was so embarrassed he wanted to disappear into the floor.
“Why didn’t you say anything…?”
“I was breathing.”
Bian Ting shrugged and said, “Maybe you were too focused to hear it.”
Meng Xin: “……Breathing doesn’t count as making noise!”
Bian Ting was very cooperative and immediately admitted his mistake. “My bad, I’ll be louder next time.”
Then, he politely asked, “By the way, will there be a next time?”
The way he said it made it sound like he was trying to make a reservation in advance, and Meng Xin was afraid the next thing out of his mouth would be, ‘If there is, be sure to call me over.’
He quickly cut him off before he could say anything else. “No, there won’t be!”
“Oh, alright.” Bian Ting looked regretful.
Then he asked, “Why are you checking yourself out in the mirror all of a sudden?”
The mirror in their dorm room was rarely used. The group of guys barely spent two minutes in front of it each day on average.
But today, Meng Xin had already been standing there for five minutes.
“I was just…” Meng Xin started, but then got stuck. He quickly finished with, “I just felt like it.”
Meng Xin couldn’t figure it out no matter how hard he thought about it, so he decided to look for answers on the gay forum that night.
On the forum, he found a ton of posts about finding a partner.
There were even more of these posts than the little gay stories he had been reading recently.
And they were all very similar.
Meng Xin clicked on a few at random and quickly identified a pattern.
Each post started with “Looking for a top,” followed by height and weight requirements, and then a length measurement in centimeters that Meng Xin didn’t quite understand.
Then, there would be a sample image attached.
The sample images were usually of ridiculously muscular men, their arms bulging with veins, looking like they could knock out ten people with a single punch—absolute beasts.
From the looks of it, the preferences of straight guys and gay guys weren’t all that different. They both liked well-built bodies.
Meng Xin thought back to how he had looked in the mirror that day.
—How should he put it? His figure was okay. He wasn’t out of shape, but compared to the muscular guys gay men seemed to like, there was still a considerable gap.
Meng Xin messaged Fan Da:
[Why do you gay guys all like muscle men? No originality at all.]
Fan Da replied:
[Who doesn’t like muscle men?]
Meng Xin:
[So do you like them too?]
Fan Da responded with a cryptic four-word answer:
[It’s human nature.]
Meng Xin:
[Then what about people who don’t like muscle men?]
Could it be that Bian Ting was an outlier among gay guys?
Fan Da:
[The gym by the school entrance gives a 10% discount if you use a student card. You can get a trial class for ¥9.9. Pick Coach Kevin, he has the best reviews.]
Fan Da:
[Bro, this is the best I can do for you.]
The topic shift was so drastic that Meng Xin was caught off guard.
[Why are you suddenly bringing this up?]
Fan Da:
[Aren’t you just worried that you’re not good enough for Bian Ting?]
Meng Xin:
[.]
Meng Xin:
[Who said that? I’m not!!!]
Fan Da:
[A good body isn’t built overnight. Don’t be insecure.]
Fan Da:
[Besides, you don’t actually need to worry about this.]
Fan Da:
[Bian Ting clearly likes your type. You two are a perfect match, top-tier, heaven-sent.]
Meng Xin:
[…………]
What did he mean by “likes your type”? That made Bian Ting sound like some kind of pervert.
Meng Xin sent Fan Da a “Get lost!!!” and added:
[Fan Da, you’ve changed. When we first met, you weren’t like this. I’m really hurt.]
Fan Da:
[Oh, really? Maybe back then, I hadn’t started shipping you two yet.]
Meng Xin flipped the table in rage:
[WHAT ARE YOU SHIPPING?! STOP SHIPPING US!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Fan Da was unfazed and sent a sticker of someone stuffing their face with food while crying tears of joy.
Then he said:
[This is too good. I need more.]
Meng Xin:
[.]
Meng Xin:
[I hate gay people!!!]
So what exactly did Bian Ting like about him?
Meng Xin searched around, comparing himself to the so-called desirable traits in the gay community, and felt like he was nowhere close.
After a few days of thinking, he came to only one possible conclusion.
—Bian Ting might really be different from other gay guys.
Using studying together as an excuse, Meng Xin grabbed his vocabulary book and sat down next to Bian Ting.
This gave him the perfect opportunity to secretly observe him.
To make it less obvious, he would pretend to memorize two words before sneaking a glance at Bian Ting.
He thought to himself:
“Bian Ting already doesn’t look like a typical gay guy. If he didn’t say anything, who would even know he was gay?”
“Bian Ting really isn’t like other gay guys. He doesn’t even like muscle men.”
“What exactly does Bian Ting like about me?”
Just as he was thinking this, a hand tapped on his book.
Bian Ting reminded him, “You’ve gone over these two words ten times already.”
Meng Xin hadn’t even noticed which words he was memorizing. Even after being reminded, he still had no clue. He responded with an “Oh,” flipped the page, and picked two new words to memorize.
He only got through them twice before he couldn’t focus anymore.
“Bian Ting.”
“What’s up?”
Curiosity was about to overflow from his chest. Meng Xin couldn’t hold back any longer and blurted out,
“Actually, among gay guys, your taste is pretty unusual, isn’t it?”
Bian Ting’s hand slipped. His pen streaked across the page, leaving a long, abrupt mark.
There was a brief silence.
“I don’t think… I am?” Bian Ting said slowly.
Meng Xin was skeptical. “You’re not? But from what I’ve seen, most gay guys like muscular men.”
“Most gay guys?” Bian Ting immediately caught onto the key phrase. “Who?”
“No one specific, just something I read online.”
Meng Xin didn’t have the guts to admit he had been secretly browsing gay forums for the past few days. Even though he always deleted his browsing history right after, he still felt weirdly guilty.
Bian Ting chuckled. “You actually searched for that kind of stuff?”
“I was just curious.” Meng Xin defended himself. “Can’t a straight guy be curious about what gay guys like?”
“Of course,” Bian Ting said. “But don’t you already know what I like?”
“…Do you want me to say it out loud again?”
“No, no need!”
Before, he hadn’t known who Bian Ting liked. But now that he did, hearing it directly was too embarrassing.
“I get it! I get it…”
Even though he knew, he still didn’t understand why Bian Ting’s taste was so different from other gay guys’.
At the end of the day, it probably just meant that Bian Ting had peculiar taste.
“Seriously though, you really don’t think your taste is unusual?” Meng Xin asked, completely serious. “Don’t try to fool me just because I don’t know much about gay people.”
“…”
Bian Ting still answered, “No, I don’t think so.”
Meng Xin wanted to argue more, but Bian Ting suddenly spoke again.
“You once said that if I told you who I liked, you’d help me throw a sack over them, knock them out, and deliver them to my bed.”
He paused, looking directly into Meng Xin’s eyes.
“Does that offer still stand?”
Meng Xin: “…”
Honestly, if Bian Ting had liked Huang Wenjie, Meng Xin wouldn’t have hesitated to grab a sack. If, worst-case scenario, Bian Ting had a thing for their weird-ass academic advisor, Meng Xin would have grimaced but still gone through with it.
But the person Bian Ting liked… was him.
And that made things awkward.
…How was he supposed to throw a sack over himself, knock himself out, and then deliver himself to Bian Ting’s bed?
Meng Xin groaned and buried his face in his vocabulary book. “Can you just forget I ever said that? I’m begging you.”
“Nope.” Bian Ting said firmly. “I’ll remember it forever. If I die, I’ll have it engraved on my coffin lid.”
“When I turn into a ghost and someone asks me if I have any unfinished business, I’ll tell them: Meng Xin once promised me something.”
“He said—”
Seeing that Bian Ting was about to repeat it again, Meng Xin let out a few distressed “ah ah ah” sounds and quickly reached out to cover Bian Ting’s mouth.
Bian Ting looked at Meng Xin, his eyes brimming with amusement.
Meng Xin sighed in defeat. “…I hate you.”
Bian Ting replied, “But I don’t hate you.”
Meng Xin hid his face behind his book, deciding that until the invention of a disguise technique, he would not show his face to anyone.
–
Bian Ting’s words successfully shut Meng Xin up for ten minutes.
But after a while, Meng Xin lifted his head from his vocabulary book again.
He called out, “Bian Ting.”
“Hmm?” Bian Ting responded.
Meng Xin lay on Bian Ting’s desk, tilting his head and asking, “What do you like about me?”
He had been curious for days. If he didn’t ask now, he might explode.
Bian Ting said, “A lot.”
“For example?” Meng Xin pressed. “Can’t you give me one example?”
“No.” Bian Ting glanced at him. “Don’t be nosy. I’m in the middle of a secret crush.”
“What’s the big deal about letting me hear it?” Meng Xin deliberately provoked him. “Are you afraid I’ll change?”
Bian Ting wasn’t afraid at all. He said, “You can’t change.”
Meng Xin had intended to tease Bian Ting, but instead, he was the one provoked by Bian Ting’s confident response. He huffed, unconvinced. “What makes you so sure? What is it about me that I can’t change?”
“Well, you asked for it.”
Bian Ting wasn’t planning to hold back anymore. He even added, “If you can successfully change, I’ll stop having a crush on you.”
Meng Xin sat up straight, ready to take on the challenge. “Go ahead.”
“First, I like people who drink brown sugar boba fresh milk with regular sugar, less ice, and extra mochi.”
Meng Xin: “…”
That was a tough one to give up. He really couldn’t change that.
“Second, I like people who love eating small-pot rice noodles.”
Meng Xin: “…”
Damn, the difficulty level just shot up. He couldn’t change that either.
“Stop,” Meng Xin cut him off. “You’re not allowed to list my food preferences anymore. If you have guts, pick something else.”
Bian Ting actually had guts. He immediately switched it up.
“Third, I like straight men.”
Meng Xin: “…”
Now that was something he couldn’t change—or not change. It was even trickier than food preferences.
Bian Ting asked, “Can you change that?”
Meng Xin reluctantly admitted, “…No.”
“See?” Bian Ting chuckled. “Neither can I.”
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