Since even a gay guy like Bian Ting said it was normal, then it had to be normal.
Meng Xin took those words as absolute truth and continued video calling Bian Ting without hesitation.
Eventually, he didn’t even need the stray cat excuse anymore.
But since they called so frequently, it was only a matter of time before he got caught—by his mom, no less.
That day, just as Meng Xin said “bye-bye” and ended the call, he looked up and saw his mother, Xu Ruoying, leaning against his doorframe with an amused expression.
She let out a playful whistle. “Son, got yourself a boyfriend?”
“Mom, what are you talking about? No way! I’m not even interested in dating, okay? That was just my bro!” Meng Xin protested. “Seriously, don’t say stuff like that!”
Xu Ruoying raised an eyebrow. “I only said one sentence.”
“Even if you were dating, it’s no big deal,” she added casually. “You’re in college now—if you want to date, then date.”
“It’s really just my bro,” Meng Xin insisted. “My roommate—Bian Ting.”
Worried she might not remember, he quickly added, “The really smart one I told you about before.”
“Oh, Bian Ting? The 0.04% one?”
“Yeah, yeah!” Meng Xin had mentioned before that Bian Ting was in the top 0.04% of students at their university.
“Not bad,” Xu Ruoying said, recalling that Meng Xin’s roommate was indeed a bright and handsome young man. She nodded approvingly. “He’s a good one.”
Something about her tone felt off, so Meng Xin immediately clarified, “We’re super pure, okay? Just bros. The purest kind of bros.”
“Sure, sure. If you say so. Why are you getting so worked up?” she said with a knowing look. Then, after a brief pause, she continued, “Male or female, it doesn’t matter. I’m open-minded. But as your mother, I have to remind you—always be safe. The rest is up to you. You’re an adult now.”
“Mom!” Meng Xin nearly choked. “I already told you, we’re just bros!”
“Alright, alright, if you say so,” she said, completely unfazed. Then, as if remembering something, she added, “Well, in that case, make sure to tell your roommate, that Bian Ting, exactly what I just told you.”
“Why are we even talking about this…”
“If you don’t bring it up, someone else will,” Xu Ruoying said. “It’s never a bad idea to listen to some advice from your elders. Just giving you young folks a little guidance.”
“Who randomly talks about this with their friends? It’s weird, okay?” Meng Xin objected. “Mom, just leave it alone. None of us are even thinking about dating!”
“Alright, alright, I won’t say anything.”
Xu Ruoying took a few steps away, then suddenly turned back and said, “But you really shouldn’t be acting like a block of wood all the time. Sigh, I guess you didn’t inherit this from me. Back in college, by my sophomore year, I’d already had one boyfriend and broken up with two.”
Meng Xin: “…Mom, didn’t you tell me Dad was your first love?”
Xu Ruoying: “That’s what I told your dad. You actually believed it?”
Meng Xin: “…”
Xu Ruoying: “Just keep that to yourself, okay? Don’t go telling your dad.”
Meng Xin: “Mom, you—”
Xu Ruoying: “It’s fine! We’ve been happily married for years. Don’t worry, we’re not about to make you a child of divorce.”
Meng Xin: “…”
As the New Year approached, Meng Xin counted the days. The 21st day of his video calls with Bian Ting happened to be New Year’s Eve.
That morning, at exactly 10 AM, Meng Xin started his video call with Bian Ting.
As soon as the call connected, Meng Xin noticed something strange—Bian Ting’s side was unusually quiet. It didn’t feel like the New Year at all.
“Why is it so quiet over there?”
Where Meng Xin lived, fireworks had already started going off as early as 6 or 7 AM. When he woke up, he almost thought he was living in a warzone.
“There’s a strict firework ban here,” Bian Ting replied.
Meng Xin let out an “Oh,” then asked, “Where’s your family? Shouldn’t you all be preparing for New Year’s dinner together?”
Meng Xin had been up early, helping his parents with a ton of chores.
But the moment he stepped into the kitchen, his parents had immediately switched into “lovey-dovey” mode, acting like he wasn’t even there. Eventually, this accidental product of their love was forcibly kicked out of the kitchen. Now, he had nothing better to do, so he stayed in his room to call Bian Ting.
“They went on a trip,” Bian Ting said. “I didn’t want to go, so I stayed home alone.”
“Huh?” Meng Xin asked. “Why didn’t you want to go?”
…
It was the first time Meng Xin had heard Bian Ting talk about his family.
Bian Ting’s parents had divorced early on, and custody had gone to his father. Later, his father remarried and had another son with his new wife.
“Ah… Bian Ting…” Meng Xin called his name, feeling a little guilty. He had unintentionally brought up a painful topic. If he had known, he wouldn’t have asked so many questions out of curiosity.
No wonder Bian Ting had never mentioned his family before. Suddenly, Meng Xin remembered—when school started, Bian Ting had arrived alone, too.
“What’s wrong?” Bian Ting didn’t seem bothered. His voice even carried a hint of amusement. “Did you just realize my backstory is a lot like Snow White’s?”
“Why would you bring up Snow White now…” Meng Xin pouted. “How is it the same?”
Snow White had it way worse—she was hunted down, forced into exile in a forest, poisoned by an apple, and almost died twice. Bian Ting definitely shouldn’t be comparing himself to her.
“Alright, maybe not exactly the same,” Bian Ting joked. “I don’t have a prince, after all.”
Meng Xin pressed his lips together and stayed quiet.
Through the phone, he couldn’t tell if Bian Ting was really as indifferent as he seemed. But on a festive day like this, being alone must feel lonely, no matter how much he tried to downplay it.
If it were him, he’d definitely be upset.
“It’s okay, Bian Ting,” Meng Xin said with determination. “I’ll keep you company all day.”
“All day?”
“Yeah, the whole day.”
“You’re really going to let me take up that much of your time?” Bian Ting shook his head with a slight smile. “You should spend time with your family. Tonight is supposed to be a reunion night.”
“It’s fine, they don’t need me.” Meng Xin glanced toward the kitchen, where his parents were busy calling each other “honey” and “darling” in the most nauseatingly affectionate way. The cringe was unbearable—he quickly shut the door to block out their voices.
“Anyway, I’ll keep you company!” Meng Xin declared. “No refusing. I’ve got nothing else to do, anyway!”
Bian Ting was slightly taken aback, then let out a genuine smile. “Alright.”
Meng Xin and Bian Ting stayed on the call from morning until night without once hanging up.
Even during New Year’s Eve dinner, Meng Xin secretly kept his phone in his pocket, still connected to the call.
Though he couldn’t talk to Bian Ting while eating, at least Bian Ting could still hear his voice, could still feel his presence.
The only time the call was briefly interrupted was when Meng Xin had to take a shower. But he rushed through it as fast as possible and immediately called Bian Ting back the moment he was done.
That evening, while his family gathered in the living room to watch the Spring Festival Gala, Meng Xin quietly slipped back into his room and continued chatting with Bian Ting.
Even when it was time to sleep, he was still holding his phone. He didn’t even bother grabbing red envelopes from the family group chat—his conversation with Bian Ting stayed open the entire time.
Snuggling under the blankets, drowsiness soon crept in. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
“If you’re sleepy, go to sleep,” Bian Ting said.
“I’m not! Not sleepy at all!” Meng Xin forced his eyes wide open, stubbornly refusing to admit defeat. “Besides, it’s way too noisy outside to sleep.”
“Keep talking, I’m listening,” he insisted. He promised to keep Bian Ting company all day—at the very least, he should stay awake until Bian Ting fell asleep first.
“We’ve talked plenty today,” Bian Ting chuckled. “Besides, you can barely keep your eyes open.”
“That’s not true!” Meng Xin protested, forcing his eyes even wider. “They’re just naturally small, okay?”
Bian Ting smirked. “They’re basically slits now.”
When widening his eyes didn’t work, Meng Xin resorted to using his fingers to pry his eyelids open.
“I was just born this way, okay? Genetics. Stop worrying about it.”
“Don’t worry, I pull all-nighters all the time,” Meng Xin boasted. “I could stay up talking with you until 3 AM, no problem.”
And honestly, he wasn’t exaggerating—he’d had plenty of sleepless nights at school before.
But barely two minutes later, his eyelids betrayed him, slowly closing shut.
Right before they shut completely, he stubbornly mumbled, “I’m not asleep. Really, I’m not…”
Bian Ting chuckled. “Just close your eyes.”
“Fine, I’ll just rest them for a second,” Meng Xin said, finding an excuse for himself. “Just resting, that’s all. I’ll open them again in three seconds. Count out loud, okay? Make sure you count loud enough.”
Bian Ting humored him. “Three.”
“See? Easy. I’m totally awake.” Meng Xin sounded smug.
“Two.”
“Told you, I’m still here. I was just resting my—” His voice trailed off, getting softer.
“One.”
Silence.
Meng Xin had fallen asleep.
At some point in the night, the deafening fireworks outside woke him up. Half-asleep, he barely opened his eyes, muttered a groggy, “Happy New Year, Bian Ting,” and immediately dozed off again.
“You asleep?” Bian Ting asked.
Only soft, steady breathing answered him.
Listening to the thunderous fireworks in the background, Bian Ting was amazed that Meng Xin could sleep through all the noise.
He let out a helpless, affectionate smile. “You really are just a little pig—eat well, sleep well.”
Still holding his phone, he gently poked the screen, right where Meng Xin’s face was. As if this tiny action could somehow reach through the screen and actually touch him.
The glass of the phone was smooth and unyielding, but strangely, it felt like Meng Xin sensed it. In his sleep, he instinctively turned over in the direction Bian Ting had “tapped.” A small, peaceful smile tugged at his lips, as if he was dreaming about something pleasant.
“Meng Xin?”
Bian Ting softly called Meng Xin’s name.
He didn’t wake up. He must have already fallen into a deep sleep.
After a while, Bian Ting called again, “Meng Xin.”
Still no response.
Bian Ting stared at the screen, his gaze tracing every detail of Meng Xin’s face.
For a long time, he was silent. Then, all of a sudden, he spoke.
“Meng Xin, I really like you.”
Just then, a series of loud bangs erupted from Meng Xin’s side—probably a massive, dazzling firework exploding in the night sky.
Against the backdrop of such joyous sounds, people smiled and exchanged blessings, hoping for happiness and peace in the coming year.
“I hope you’ll always be happy.” Bian Ting paused for a moment before adding softly, “Even if it’s not with me.”
“I’m hanging up now. Goodnight.”
The call ended.
As soon as it did, Meng Xin’s phone screen lit up. The glow cast a soft outline on his sleeping face, illuminating his peaceful expression.
On the screen was their chat history.
For the entire day, there were only two messages—one white, one green. Two call logs.
One lasting 607 minutes, the other 472 minutes.
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