The next morning, Meng Xin woke up.
His first thought was: Haha, a gay guy just woke up.
His second thought was: Great, the world now has one more gay guy.
His third thought was to lift his bed curtain and look for Bian Ting.
After scanning the room and not finding him, he grabbed his phone and opened WeChat.
Sure enough, Bian Ting had sent him a message before leaving.
Bian Ting: [Went to the library.]
Meng Xin was impressed.
Bian Ting truly lived up to his title as the most self-disciplined person in their dorm.
After staying up so late, he still managed to wake up early and go study.
Meng Xin’s first class was at 10 AM, ending at noon. After a short break, he had to head out again for another class.
Since his schedule was tight, he instinctively typed a string of numbers into the chat—something only Bian Ting would understand.
[1123]
Right before hitting send, he hesitated.
Would just sending this string of numbers feel too cold and distant?
He had never thought so before, but now, it felt different.
Had he always been this kind of self-proclaimed super in-sync with his bros yet actually a bit inconsiderate, straight-guy type?
Meng Xin hesitated for a moment, then deleted the numbers in the input box and reworded his message:
Meng Xin: [Bian Ting, can you bring me a meal when you come back? ovo]
Bian Ting: [Okay.]
Bian Ting: [Typing so much today?]
Meng Xin: [I just feel like always sending numbers isn’t good.]
Bian Ting: [What’s bad about it?]
Meng Xin: [It feels disrespectful to you.]
Bian Ting: [It’s not.]
Meng Xin: [Really?]
Bian Ting: [Really.]
Meng Xin was relieved.
Well, if even a senior gay like Bian Ting said it wasn’t disrespectful, then it wasn’t.
Meng Xin: [In that case, then—]
Meng Xin: [1123!]
Bian Ting: [1]
See? Meng Xin thought smugly.
Even if he had become gay, his connection with Bian Ting was still rock solid. Their friendship remained unbreakable.
On the second day of being gay, Meng Xin felt that… it really wasn’t a big deal.
His life was the same as before—nothing had changed just because he became gay.
In fact, being gay was even more convenient.
When he was straight, his curiosity about gay things had to be hidden, masked with excuses.
Now? Completely different.
If he wanted to observe a gay person, he could just stare at Bian Ting.
If he was curious about gay stuff, he could just ask Bian Ting directly—no need to awkwardly add, “What, straight guys can’t be curious?” afterward.
This realization filled him with an unexplainable sense of confidence.
So much so that when he browsed gay forums last night, reading little gay stories, he didn’t even bother turning on incognito mode.
But at the same time, he felt a subtle dissatisfaction.
How could gay life be exactly the same as straight life?
That didn’t seem right. That couldn’t be right.
Besides, when Bian Ting said last night, “Now it can be more obvious, right?”—he had replied, “You do whatever you want.”
He had only responded that way because he felt too shy to directly say, “Yes, I’ve bent, I’m gay.”
But what if he had been too vague?
Now he kind of regretted it.
If he had known earlier, he would have been more direct.
Like just gritting his teeth, closing his eyes, and typing:
“Yes, I am gay.”
After regretting it, he found himself baffled—why does it even matter so much to me whether Bian Ting knows I’m gay?
Fan Da: [No way. With the way you are now, any gay person could tell you’re gay at a glance.]
He was replying to a question Meng Xin had asked earlier—would Bian Ting still think he was straight?
Although Meng Xin didn’t want Bian Ting to misunderstand, Fan Da’s response was so exaggerated that he had to push back a little.
Meng Xin: [I’m not that gay, okay?!]
I mean, he had only been gay for one day!
Fan Da: [At least 70%.]
Meng Xin (bargaining): [60%.]
Fan Da (unmoved): [70%.]
Meng Xin continued negotiating: [Sixty-five, okay?]
Fan Da reluctantly took a tiny step back: [At minimum, 69.99%. Round it up, that’s 70%. Round it up again, that’s 100%.]
Meng Xin: […]
Meng Xin: [Can you be reasonable? I’ve only just become gay.]
Fan Da: [Not true. You’ve only just admitted it, but from my perspective, you’ve been gay for a long time.]
Meng Xin kept backing down: [Sixty-seven! Sixty-seven, okay?!]
Fan Da refused to budge: [69.99%. Any lower, and it’s a no-go.]
Meng Xin sent a few smiling emojis and a sarcastic hehe in response.
Fan Da: [It’s been three days since you bought me Xinjiang fried rice noodles and told me you were gay. I just want to ask… have you guys done it yet?]
Meng Xin: [.]
Meng Xin: [Can you not be such a pervert? I’m scared.]
Fan Da: [Okay, actually, I didn’t really want to ask that question.]
Meng Xin: [Then don’t ask it! 🤪]
Fan Da: [What I really wanted to ask was something else.]
Fan Da: [When’s the next time you’re buying me Xinjiang fried rice noodles?]
Meng Xin: [In your dreams. :)]
The very next day, Meng Xin asked Fan Da if he wanted to go out for Xinjiang fried rice noodles—his treat.
Fan Da happily agreed and ordered the most expensive deluxe double-combo rice noodle set with naan, which even came with a drink.
This time, the moment Fan Da got his noodles, he immediately grabbed a pair of chopsticks and started eating—his movements swift and seamless, without the slightest hesitation.
Meng Xin was stunned and asked, “Didn’t you say you never eat Xinjiang fried rice noodles when you still have doubts in your heart?”
“I did,” Fan Da nodded. “But I don’t have any doubts now.”
Meng Xin: “…”
“You’re not even gonna ask me what I wanted to tell you first?”
“Your problems are either about being gay or Bian Ting. Just get on with it,” Fan Da said as he slurped another bite of noodles. “Besides, your problems always go well with food.”
Meng Xin: “……”
Seeing as he was getting a free Xinjiang fried rice noodles meal, Fan Da became much easier to talk to. He kindly said, “Go ahead, ask.”
So Meng Xin asked the question that had been bothering him for a long time:
“How do you guys know when you really like someone?”
Fan Da corrected his wording: “You guys?”
“…Fine,” Meng Xin amended, “We.”
If fictional characters didn’t count, Meng Xin had never liked anyone before—not girls, and certainly not boys.
He wasn’t sure… if he really liked Bian Ting.
“That’s easy,” Fan Da said with certainty. “The person who made you realize you’re gay? That’s who you like. Simple. You like Bian Ting.”
Then, as if to prove his point, he stuffed another big bite of noodles into his mouth, wordlessly saying, See? I told you your questions go well with food.
“That’s not necessarily true,” Meng Xin argued. “Wouldn’t anyone react like that if they were confessed to so directly?” Even back in kindergarten, when a girl loudly confessed to him, he had blushed—so that didn’t really mean anything, right?
Fan Da pulled out two napkins and wiped his mouth with practiced elegance.
Then he looked Meng Xin dead in the eyes and said, “I like you.”
Meng Xin: “……”
Horrified, he dragged his chair backward three full steps. “Are you sick? Was the stir-fry undercooked? Are you poisoned?!”
Fan Da gave him a sarcastic smile. “Heh. See? That’s the difference.”
Did he really like Bian Ting?
What is liking someone?
With zero experience in romance—not even a one-sided crush—Meng Xin was completely at a loss. He could easily tell which weapon he liked best in a game, but when it came to Bian Ting, he felt a little… unsure.
Bian Ting was a really good person. If he was going to answer him, he wanted to be absolutely sure. If Bian Ting was giving him 100%, then he should respond with 100% too.
No room for uncertainty—he didn’t want to hurt Bian Ting.
Like an old monk in meditation, Meng Xin sat deep in thought all the way until evening.
When Bian Ting came back from the library, he saw Meng Xin sitting at his desk, staring blankly into space.
He set a piece of bread down on the table—Meng Xin’s favorite kind, the one he had specifically stood in line to buy.
Although Bian Ting had decided to be “more obvious,” he wasn’t going to force Meng Xin to give him an answer right away. He wanted to take things slowly.
That’s why Meng Xin still felt like nothing much had changed after realizing he was gay.
Faced with his favorite bread, Meng Xin simply let out a small “Wow,” his reaction much weaker than usual. He thanked Bian Ting, saying, “I’ll have it for breakfast tomorrow,” and carefully put it away.
Then, with a serious expression, he said, “I have something to ask you.”
The first question: “You know I’m not that straight anymore, right?”
Bian Ting nodded. “Yeah.”
Seeing him nod, Meng Xin’s first thought was, Good.
Though he wasn’t sure why it was good.
The second question was much harder to ask. He hesitated multiple times before finally saying,
“Bian Ting,” Meng Xin spoke slowly, carefully considering every word, “what does it feel like… to like me?”
“Why are you suddenly asking that?” Bian Ting asked.
“I just want to know what liking someone feels like.”
Bian Ting thought for a moment, then said, “Seeing you makes me happy.”
“If that’s the case, then…” Meng Xin faltered slightly, hesitating before he continued, “Does that mean I like you too? Because I feel happy when I see you.”
The moment he said it, he realized what he’d just asked. Panicking, he immediately added, “Forget it, pretend I didn’t ask.”
Asking the person who likes him—and the person he might like back—this kind of question… was that too weird?
Bian Ting blinked, then quickly reacted. He grabbed Meng Xin’s wrist. “What do you mean?”
“No meaning! No meaning at all!” Meng Xin denied, raising his voice. “I said—just pretend I never asked!”
Bian Ting shook his head. He replayed Meng Xin’s words in his mind, quickly catching the key point. Then, he calmly concluded:
“You just confessed to me.”
Bian Ting had planned to take things slow.
But now… it looked like he didn’t need to take it that slow anymore.
His sharp gaze locked onto Meng Xin, eyes so piercing it felt like he could see straight through him.
Meng Xin started looking around frantically, pretending to cough twice.
Awkwardly, he muttered, “That… counts?”
“It counts.”
“…Wasn’t that a question?” Meng Xin said.
“Was it?” Bian Ting straightened his posture slightly, as if preparing himself for something. “Then ask it again.”
“……”
“Ask anything,” Bian Ting insisted, determined not to waste a single opportunity. “I’ll answer every question you have—seriously.”
Meng Xin opened his mouth, hesitated for a long moment, and finally broke his question into several fragmented parts, barely managing to get it out.
And just as Bian Ting had promised, he provided a response for every single sentence.
Meng Xin: “I’ve never liked a guy before…”
Bian Ting: “You can think of me as a girl if that helps.”
Meng Xin: “…That’s not something you can just decide to do.”
Bian Ting: “Doesn’t matter. As long as you like me.”
Meng Xin: “I don’t know if I actually like you—”
Bian Ting, like an authoritative specialist in a hospital, took less than five seconds to deliver his diagnosis: “Kiss me once, and you’ll know.”
The prescription was way too strong. Meng Xin’s eyes widened. “That’s not how it works…! Did you figure out you liked guys by kissing another guy or something?”
“No. I’ve never kissed another guy. I’ve only ever liked you,” Bian Ting said. “So what now? Should I kiss you instead?”
“……”
“……”
They both fell into silence at the same time.
Bian Ting patiently waited for his answer.
This time, Meng Xin found it difficult to use his usual tricks to muddle through—because Bian Ting was still holding onto his arm and hadn’t let go.
Who knows how much time passed before Meng Xin finally stammered out a response.
“Uh, how about… how about you give it a try… But just to be clear, I’m only testing the feeling. It doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to date you right away.” After saying that, Meng Xin felt like he was making too many conditions, so he anxiously added, “…Is that okay?”
Bian Ting was silent for a moment.
Then he said, “Of course it is.”
Meng Xin was the kind of person who only bought things on Taobao if they had free return shipping.
So what could he do? If you like someone, you just have to spoil them.
“Alright then, go ahead.” Meng Xin nervously shut his eyes.
He stood ramrod straight with his back against the wall, like a soldier being punished to stand still. Realizing how stiff he looked, he deliberately shoved his hands into his pockets and spread his legs apart, striking a casual, rebellious pose.
Unexpectedly, this posture left just enough space for Bian Ting to step in. With an aggressive move, he slotted his leg between the gap, effectively trapping Meng Xin in a confined space.
Bian Ting lowered his gaze to Meng Xin’s lips and slowly leaned in.
“Wait a second.” Meng Xin suddenly snapped his eyes open and interrupted him.
Bian Ting paused and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Let me get ready first.”
Meng Xin took several deep breaths, looking extremely tense—so much so that if someone didn’t know better, they might think he was about to march to his doom.
He was really nervous—he had never kissed anyone before, let alone kissed a guy!
“……”
“Alright, go ahead.” Meng Xin shut his eyes once more.
Bian Ting held his position and gradually leaned in.
In the span of just a few seconds, Meng Xin’s mind was flooded with a barrage of chaotic thoughts.
“Is this real? Am I really about to kiss Bian Ting?”
“Damn, I really am a guy who likes guys!”
“What if my 70% certainty turns into 100%?”
“And what happens after this? Am I really going to date Bian Ting?”
“Did he kiss me yet? Why is he so slow…?”
“Shit, am I actually feeling shy? This isn’t cool at all, ahhh!”
“Now that I think about it, why is he hesitating so much?”
“Crap, I really want to open my eyes!”
“Maybe I should just sneak a peek…”
Just as Bian Ting was about to kiss him, Meng Xin abruptly opened his eyes and shouted, “Wait, wait!”
The Borderlands Stopped Patiently.
“What’s wrong?”
Meng Xin reached for the switch and flicked off the light with a sharp click.
Darkness swallowed the room, leaving only vague silhouettes of each other.
But that was enough. Meng Xin decided to keep his eyes open for the kiss. With the lights off, Bian Ting wouldn’t be able to tell anyway. At least this way, he wouldn’t overthink things.
“Mm… I think this is better,” Meng Xin said after a moment. Then, as if worried about being misunderstood, he quickly added, “Not because I’m treating you like a girl or anything.”
He lowered his voice. “Is this okay with you?”
Bian Ting: “Yeah.”
Hearing the confirmation, Meng Xin finally felt at ease. He nodded firmly. “Alright! This time, I’m really ready. Go ahead.”
Taking advantage of the darkness, Meng Xin didn’t shut his eyes.
Bian Ting leaned in again.
The next second, Meng Xin grabbed the fabric of Bian Ting’s shirt at his waist and yanked on it twice. “Ahhh, wait—wait a second!”
Bian Ting, ever patient, stopped again.
“What is it this time?” he asked.
Meng Xin, voice laced with nerves, mumbled, “I still think it’s too—”
Before he could finish, his words were completely cut off. Bian Ting pressed a hand to the back of his neck and leaned in, kissing him without another word.
Bian Ting’s breath lingered near his nose, his soft lips pressing gently against Meng Xin’s. For a moment, Meng Xin had no idea how to react. He just slightly parted his lips and froze in place, like he had been hit with a paralysis spell—so obedient that it felt like Bian Ting could do whatever he wanted to him.
Maybe he shouldn’t have turned off the lights.
With his vision obscured, his other senses sharpened. He could hear Bian Ting’s steady breathing and feel the gentle brush of his fingertips against his neck. He even thought he could hear a heartbeat—though he wasn’t sure whose it was.
It wasn’t a long kiss, nor was it particularly intense. Their lips and teeth merely touched for a brief moment before Bian Ting pulled away, keeping a respectful distance.
Meng Xin’s face burned with embarrassment.
His mind replayed the words Bian Ting had whispered beside his ear as their lips parted.
“I already knew this, but I was reminded again just now.”
“Meng Xin, I really like you.”
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