Before Bian Ting was his boyfriend, Meng Xin never cared about how long it took Bian Ting to reply to his messages.
Not only did he not mind, but he would even come up with thoughtful excuses for him: Ten minutes? Probably walking somewhere. One hour? Must be studying. Two hours? Must be sleeping…
Unlike now. If Bian Ting didn’t reply within five minutes, Meng Xin would start wondering if he had fallen out of love.
Meng Xin: Just got together, and he’s already ignoring my messages.
Meng Xin: Men are all the same. Once they get you, they stop cherishing you.
He sent several dramatic crying emojis.
At the moment, he was stuck in a boring elective class, feeling like a prisoner. Since he couldn’t leave, he resorted to spamming Bian Ting.
After waiting another two minutes with no response, Meng Xin copied a dramatic post from the internet and sent it:
Meng Xin: Husband, by the time you see this message, I’ve already gone out to work the streets. Sorry for choosing this path while you were ignoring me, but it’s okay. When you finally reply, I’ll charge you double.
Bian Ting replied ten minutes later.
Bian Ting: How much?
Then he added:
Bian Ting: Just got to the cafeteria. Hot pot rice noodles?
Meng Xin huffed and replied coldly with an outrageous price:
Meng Xin: Twenty!!!
Then followed up with:
Meng Xin: I want the deluxe version. And bring me bubble tea. 🥺
Bian Ting transferred 200 yuan over.
Bian Ting: Dorm. Waiting for you.
Meng Xin had only sent that message for fun, but he didn’t expect Bian Ting to actually transfer the money. He didn’t return it, though. Instead, he deposited it into their “little wallet.”
—A new feature they had recently discovered that let couples save money together for relationship expenses. Meng Xin was the wallet’s manager.
Meng Xin had recently become obsessed with these kinds of couple-oriented mini-games. He was even planning to adopt two virtual chickens with Bian Ting as their relationship pets—something he had looked up earlier in class when he was bored.
—
When Meng Xin returned to the dorm, he didn’t immediately start eating. Instead, he excitedly reached into Bian Ting’s pocket and fished out his phone.
“What’s your password?” Meng Xin asked casually.
“0636,” Bian Ting said after a brief pause, then added, “4946.”
“Zero-six-three-six… four-nine-four-six…” Meng Xin repeated the numbers while typing them in. The screen unlocked. Then, suddenly, it hit him.
“Wait… isn’t that my student ID number?”
Bian Ting nodded. “Yeah.”
Meng Xin instantly forgot all about the virtual chickens. He blinked in confusion. “Why would you use my student ID as your password…?”
“I changed it when I had a crush on you,” Bian Ting explained.
Meng Xin’s mouth opened slightly. “For how long?”
Bian Ting thought for a moment. “About a year.”
“Huh?” Meng Xin was dumbfounded. “But we’ve only known each other for a little over a year…”
“Yeah,” Bian Ting said. “I started liking you pretty early on.”
Meng Xin turned to look at him in shock.
He had always thought there was a long, pure brotherhood between them before Bian Ting ever developed feelings for him. He hadn’t realized that Bian Ting had liked him that early.
“…Oh.”
Meng Xin pursed his lips. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Bian Ting chuckled. “Back then, you were still a very proud straight guy.”
Bian Ting was laughing, but Meng Xin didn’t feel like joining in.
His emotions were complicated.
Bian Ting had secretly liked him for so long while he was still convinced he was straight. That kind of one-sided, hopeless feeling—the quiet suffering that came with it—wasn’t something that could just be laughed off now.
Meng Xin felt a small ache in his heart. He couldn’t help but wrap his arms around Bian Ting.
Such an active gesture of affection was rare from him. Bian Ting seemed to understand what he was thinking and asked, “You feel bad for me?”
With his face buried in Bian Ting’s shoulder, Meng Xin mumbled, “A little.”
“There’s no need to feel bad,” Bian Ting reassured him, patting his back lightly. “Just like me.”
Meng Xin lifted his head slightly and said seriously, “Even though I haven’t liked you for as long as you’ve liked me… my feelings aren’t any less than yours.”
“I like you just as much. A lot. So much.”
Fan Da hadn’t seen his usual meal buddy for an entire week.
His meal buddy was too busy being in love to eat with him lately.
While Fan Da was eating a plate of Xinjiang stir-fried rice noodles alone, he received a message from Meng Xin.
Meng Xin: Sigh. You know what? Bian Ting’s phone password is actually my student ID number.
Meng Xin: He’s been using it for so long, and I only found out today. 😭
Fan Da: Say it a little louder—soon, the whole school will know that Bian Ting’s phone password is 06364946.
Meng Xin: .
Meng Xin: Wait… how do you know my student ID number?
Fan Da: Looked it up on the school app. Just need to enter a name and major.
Meng Xin: ………………
Right. That was a thing. But honestly, what kind of normal person goes to the school app to look up someone else’s student ID?!
Meng Xin: WHO even does that??? That’s just creepy!
Fan Da: Well, you said it.
Fan Da: Bian Ting did it. So, Bian Ting is a creep.
Meng Xin: That’s completely different.
If Fan Da went searching, it was just because he was being nosy. But if Bian Ting did it? Well, back then, Meng Xin was still a straight guy. Bian Ting had no other way to get close to him, so he had to resort to looking up his student ID to cope with his secret crush. How could that be a crime?
Thinking about it now, Meng Xin suddenly recalled all those gay love stories he had read on the LGBTQ+ forums before.
And just remembering them made his heart ache all over again.
Unrequited love stories often had the same kind of bittersweet sorrow. The kind of emotions that had made Meng Xin, just an outsider reading them, feel heartbroken—Bian Ting must have felt something similar, if not worse.
—If time machines were real, he would definitely go back a year, grab his straight self by the shoulders, shake him violently, and yell, “YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO BE STRAIGHT! GET TOGETHER WITH Bian Ting RIGHT NOW!!!”
Meng Xin, feeling guilty, messaged Fan Da with a confession:
Meng Xin: Sigh… I’m the worst.
Meng Xin: He liked me for so long, and I just treated him like a buddy.
If only he’d realized earlier. If only he’d started liking Bian Ting sooner.
Fan Da: If you feel bad about it, I’ve got a great idea.
Now, Fan Da’s ideas were usually garbage. But hey, a bad idea’s better than no idea at all. So Meng Xin replied:
Meng Xin: Let’s hear it.
Fan Da: Give yourself to him as a reward.
Fan Da: It’s simple. Just take a shower, get squeaky clean, and lie down on his bed.
Meng Xin: ………………
Yeah, definitely garbage. Totally inappropriate and absolutely unworkable. Meng Xin regretted asking the second he saw the message.
—
Lately, Bian Ting had noticed his little boyfriend acting like he’d swallowed a whole bottle of “adorable pills.” He’d become super attentive, constantly coming up with new ways to show affection.
One morning, Bian Ting woke up to find Meng Xin already up and crouched by the edge of his bed, gripping the rail and staring at him like he was some rare species.
That afternoon during class, Bian Ting opened his textbook and found a pencil doodle tucked between the pages.
It said: I like you soooo much ^_^
Then there was that one time—normally, just a peck would make Meng Xin go mute—but out of nowhere, in broad daylight, with people passing by, he straight-up planted a kiss on Bian Ting’s cheek.
Bian Ting touched the spot he’d been kissed, raised an eyebrow, and asked,
“What was that supposed to mean?”
Was this guy really high on cute pills or something?
It wasn’t just like randomly finding two hundred bucks on the ground anymore.
No—this was more like walking down the street and suddenly having a bunch of aliens kneel at your feet chanting “Welcome, Supreme Leader of Earth!”
Meng Xin replied, ears turning red before the words even fully left his mouth:
“It means I really like you.”
Then, quickly grabbing Bian Ting and steering him toward the dining hall, he awkwardly changed the subject.
“Let’s go, let’s go—I’m starving.”
Most recent incident? Just yesterday.
Meng Xin had excitedly suggested they go out for a date over the weekend.
Meng Xin: Dun dun da-dun! Guess what I got!
He whipped out two tickets with a flourish.
A music festival, held on a beach at the edge of the city.
Meng Xin: Wanna go? C’mon, let’s gooo.
Bian Ting could rarely say no to Meng Xin anyway.
“Alright,” he said.
Nothing unusual about that—they’d gone on plenty of dates before.
But then Meng Xin added,
“Um, well, it’s just… this place is kinda far.”
That’s when Bian Ting realized—this wasn’t just a normal date.
“So,” Meng Xin said, words stumbling out like beans spilling from a bag,
“we might need to stay overnight… Is that okay with you?”
Bian Ting kept his expression cool, playing it totally chill:
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
—
The whole weekend date had been orchestrated by Meng Xin himself.
The music festival? Not really the main event.
The real highlight?
A massive firework show on the beach, right after the festival ended.
…
At the end of the music festival, fireworks lit up the sky above the beach. Multicolored bursts of light flickered across their faces, casting ever-changing shadows.
This—this was what Meng Xin had been waiting for.
He remembered that Bian Ting hadn’t gotten to see any fireworks this past Lunar New Year. So now he was making up for it. Better late than never.
The explosions overhead were loud, and the crowd around them was noisy and shifting. Meng Xin had to raise his voice to be heard.
“Bian Ting!”
Bian Ting turned his head at the call.
With a few thunderous booms, the biggest, brightest fireworks of the night shot into the sky, lighting up the beach in a blaze of color. Trails of sparks fell like shooting stars across the dark.
Under the brilliant sky, Bian Ting thought Meng Xin’s smile outshone even the fireworks.
“I like you,” Meng Xin said, arms spread wide as if to draw a huge circle in the air, his affection spilling out from it like it couldn’t be contained, “soooo much! Like, super like you!”
—
It was already 10 p.m. by the time they made it back to the hotel from the beach.
They’d been out all day, covered in sand and sweat, so the first thing they did was hop in the shower.
The room—booked by Meng Xin—had two 1.5-meter beds.
When he made the reservation, Meng Xin hadn’t thought too hard about it. In his mind, they were roommates. Two beds in one room? Same as sharing a dorm. No need to book separate rooms.
Fan Da, upon hearing this, roasted him without mercy.
Fan Da: Wow. Very smart move.
Fan Da: Is the second bed for me or what?
Meng Xin: What do you mean “second”? It’s just one bed each.
Fan Da: No no. Two beds in one room doesn’t mean “one for each.”
Meng Xin: Then what does it mean??
Fan Da: It means—one bed’s for sleeping. The other one’s for… sleeping.
Meng Xin could instantly tell something was off and got suspicious.
Meng Xin: What’s that supposed to mean?
But Fan Da refused to elaborate.
Fan Da: Some things can’t be explained—only understood. You’ll get it eventually.
—
Meng Xin tried to make sense of Fan Da’s cryptic wisdom.
It felt like trying to decipher some famous quote by Lu Xun. Deep, confusing, possibly important.
When Bian Ting walked out of the bathroom, he found Meng Xin waiting awkwardly near the door.
The look on Meng Xin’s face was… complicated. It was like twenty-four different personalities inside him were all fighting for control.
When he saw Bian Ting, he seemed to reach some kind of internal decision and marched over with the solemn resolve of a warrior heading into battle.
But he didn’t say anything. He just trailed behind Bian Ting like a shadow, following step for step.
When they got to the beds, Meng Xin finally couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“Bian Ting.”
“Hmm? What’s up?”
“Are we… are we gonna, uh… do that?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Meng Xin wished he could take them back. The second he asked, he felt even more embarrassed.
“……”
“……”
Bian Ting suddenly coughed twice—he hadn’t expected that to be what Meng Xin had been working up the courage to say.
Meng Xin lowered his head, the tips of his ears glowing red beneath his hair. If Bian Ting didn’t say something soon, he felt like he might just combust on the spot.
“Say… say something,” Meng Xin urged, voice barely above a whisper.
Snapping out of his stunned silence, Bian Ting shook his head. “Not tonight… We don’t have anything.”
It wasn’t just about the lack of supplies—those could be dealt with. He just felt like his shy little boyfriend might not be completely ready for that step yet.
…Although, lately, someone had been unusually bold.
“There’s a supermarket nearby,” Meng Xin offered quickly. “We could go get stuff.”
He realized too late that Bian Ting was now staring at him with an amused, intrigued look.
“I’m not saying I want to,” Meng Xin stammered, his face turning bright red, “I just meant… if you wanted to. That doesn’t mean I—! I mean, I don’t really want to…!”
God, why had he even said anything?
Flustered under the weight of Bian Ting’s gaze, he reached up to cover his face. “Stop staring at me like that…”
Bian Ting took his hand, and with a smooth motion, pulled him gently toward the bed.
“W-what are you doing?” Meng Xin gasped, feeling Bian Ting’s hand slip under his shirt, fingers brushing just above the waistband of his underwear.
The touch sent a tremble through him, his voice quivering. “I thought you said we didn’t have anything…”
“We don’t,” Bian Ting said softly, “but we can still do a little something.”
His hand brushed lightly over Meng Xin’s lower back. “Just relax. Let me help you.”
“N-no, I told you I don’t—ah!”
The moment Bian Ting’s hand moved more deliberately, Meng Xin felt like his entire body was surrendering—like he was handing himself over completely.
He’d held Bian Ting’s hand plenty of times before, but never had he noticed the roughness of the calluses with such intensity.
“Wait!” Meng Xin’s voice cracked a little. “You’re going too fast, I’m not ready—”
Bian Ting glanced down, fingers shifting slightly. The only answer was the way Meng Xin’s breathing hitched and grew uneven.
“Now you’re ready,” Bian Ting murmured.
Meng Xin knew what his body was saying, but his pride wasn’t ready to admit it. “Wait, wait, just—”
Bian Ting, somehow always a step ahead, reached over and switched off the bedside lamp.
“I turned it off,” he said gently.
“Wait, Bian Ting, just—” Meng Xin’s voice softened, laced with pleading, as he grabbed Bian Ting’s arm, trying to use his usual tricks to get out of it.
Normally, that would work. Bian Ting would back off with just one look from him.
But tonight was different.
This time, instead of stopping, Bian Ting only leaned in closer, continuing to tease him with maddening calm.
Meng Xin made one last, desperate attempt: “Just wait a little—!”
“But,” Bian Ting murmured, his fingertips grazing a particularly sensitive spot, “I don’t think it wants to wait anymore.”
………
There was now a tightly wrapped human cocoon on Bian Ting’s bed.
He knocked gently on the “shell.”
“Come out. You’ll suffocate in there.”
No response. The person inside just stayed curled up under the blanket like a stubborn little silkworm.
“I’m gonna start pulling if you don’t.”
The lump under the blanket shifted slightly.
Right then, Bian Ting’s phone buzzed twice.
Meng Xin:
【Don’t you DARE move!!!!!!!】
“Are you hungry? Want a midnight snack?”
Bian Ting pulled up a food delivery app, took a screenshot of the menu, and sent it to him.
Meng Xin:
【Stop trying to tempt me!!!!!! I won’t fall for it!!!!!!】
Bian Ting wasn’t phased. He knew how to deal with this.
He sent another message:
“Let’s order from the BBQ place downstairs. Chicken wings, press 1. Grilled oysters, press 2. Grilled squid, press 3. Chicken feet, press 4. Grilled chives, press 5. Toasted bread, press 6. Sweet potato noodles, press 7. Potato slices, press 8. Grilled baby bok choy, press 9…”
At first, Meng Xin stayed completely still as Bian Ting read off the BBQ menu like a human vending machine.
Ten seconds later, he cracked and started punching numbers into the chat.
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9…
He hit every single number.
But Bian Ting followed up with:
“If you want them all, say it out loud.”
“…”
“No? Not hungry? Alright then.” Bian Ting sighed.
“Eating alone isn’t much fun anyway. I’ll cancel the order.”
Panicking a little, Meng Xin suddenly blurted out, “…Wait.”
“You said something just now?” Bian Ting tugged lightly at the thick blanket that Meng Xin had wrapped tightly around himself.
“It’s too muffled under there. I couldn’t hear you.”
“…”
Meng Xin stretched his limbs a little, then slowly peeked out from under the blanket like a criminal revealing his face.
And the moment he poked his head out—he locked eyes with Bian Ting.
“…”
In a flash, Meng Xin yanked the blanket back up.
But Bian Ting was faster. He grabbed his hand, not letting him retreat.
Then, he gently cupped Meng Xin’s chin and tilted it up, leaning down for a kiss.
“Go on. Try hiding again.”
“…”
With the blanket trapped under Bian Ting, there was nowhere to hide. Meng Xin gave up and sat up in bed.
Bian Ting poked him in the cheek and chuckled.
“Why do you blush so easily?”
Meng Xin slapped his hand away—just the sight of Bian Ting’s hand now reminded him of… things. Things that had never crossed his mind before. Hands that once held lab equipment now doing that…
Oh my god. He really used his hand just now…!
“Where the hell did you learn to do that…”
Then he suddenly narrowed his eyes, looking suspicious.
“Wait, do you have an ex?!”
“No,” Bian Ting replied calmly. “You’re my first love.”
Hearing “first love” made Meng Xin involuntarily happy—but he quickly put his grumpy face back on and pressed,
“Then how do you know how to do that?”
Bian Ting gave a very convincing answer:
“Gay guys are just naturally self-taught.”
“…Well I’m gay too. Why don’t I know?”
If it was so instinctive, why wasn’t he enlightened?
“You don’t need to know.” Bian Ting said casually.
“You just need to enjoy it.”
“Ahhh! Don’t say that kind of thing!”
Meng Xin’s face turned beet red. He quickly slapped a hand over Bian Ting’s mouth to shut him up.
He didn’t realize how hard he smacked him until it made a sharp slap!—echoing in the room.
The sound startled him.
He quickly let go.
“Uh… you okay?”
“You’ve got quite the arm.”
Bian Ting rubbed his cheek, but for some reason, he was laughing.
Then he added, tying it back to their earlier conversation:
“See? Good thing you don’t know how to do it.”
“…”
Yeah… if it were Meng Xin, he probably wouldn’t be able to control his strength at all. Especially when he’s nervous—then it’s even worse. No chance he could manage that gently.
–
After they finished their late-night snack and Meng Xin had washed up, he slowly inched toward the bed… and suddenly froze up again.
There were two beds in the room.
Which one was he supposed to sleep on?
—If I’d known this would happen, I wouldn’t have booked a twin room.
Meng Xin mentally kicked himself.
I should’ve either gotten two rooms, or just one big bed. Then I wouldn’t be dealing with this now.
Out of nowhere, Fanda’s voice echoed in his brain.
And his thoughts started spiraling:
“Which one should I sleep on? Should I sleep with Bian Ting?”
“We’re dating now… sleeping together is normal, right?”
“But there are two beds…”
“Would it seem too forward if I tried to squeeze into his bed even though there’s an empty one?”
“Crap, would Bian Ting think I’m coming on too strong?!”
“What if he thinks I want to do stuff?!”
“…Not that I’d mind, though.”
Just remembering the earlier incident made his body shiver instinctively—and he immediately shut down that line of thinking.
“Nope nope nope! Not happening!”
Meng Xin swore up and down—he wasn’t having any inappropriate thoughts.
He was seriously, purely, just trying to figure out the sleeping arrangement.
So he stood there, frozen between the two beds, like a monk in deep meditation. For a full minute.
Eventually, he just picked one bed at random and lay down.
His new plan: leave it to fate—specifically, leave it to Bian Ting.
If Bian Ting wanted his own space, he’d stay in the other bed.
If Bian Ting wanted to share… well, Meng Xin wouldn’t stop him.
Lying there, Meng Xin watched Bian Ting out of the corner of his eye, tracking his every move.
Alright. Let’s see what he picks—
While Meng Xin was spiraling once again, Bian Ting walked over to the other bed.
Meng Xin turned his head just enough to watch as Bian Ting pulled back the covers and got in.
Then he turned his head back, silently.
Okay… that was fair. There were two beds.
It’d be weirder not to use them both.
Still, he couldn’t help feeling a little… disappointed.
And then that disappointment brought on another wave of self-interrogation:
“Oh god. Am I actually hoping for something weird to happen?”
Meng Xin prided himself on not being overly lust-driven, so the thought alone made him stop himself right there.
Forget it. Just sleep.
He shut his eyes.
But no matter how many times he tossed and turned, tried different positions, or fluffed the pillow… ten minutes went by and he still wasn’t the least bit sleepy.
…He couldn’t fall asleep.
Then, suddenly, Bian Ting spoke up:
“Do you feel a little cold?”
“Huh?” Meng Xin opened his eyes. He focused for a second.
“Not really, no.”
But Bian Ting sounded so convincing, Meng Xin pulled out his phone and checked the weather.
The lowest temp tonight was 22°C (about 72°F).
Then he glanced at the window—it was barely cracked open, no breeze coming through.
Still skeptical, he looked at the AC unit—completely off.
There was no way it was cold.
But Bian Ting still insisted:
“I feel kinda cold.”
As if to prove his point, he reached out his hand to Meng Xin.
“Here. Feel it.”
The moment Meng Xin touched him, he knew something was off—Bian Ting’s hand wasn’t cold at all. If anything, it was warmer than his own.
He looked up to meet Bian Ting’s eyes… and saw the faintest smile playing at the corners of his lips.
Like a fishing hook.
And he was the fish.
“Cold” was such a lame excuse—but Meng Xin didn’t call him out on it.
Bian Ting looked straight into his eyes and asked again:
“Are you cold?”
Meng Xin gripped Bian Ting’s warm hand, nodded solemnly, and said,
“…Yeah, maybe a little.”
“Well then, I’ll come over and warm you up,” Bian Ting said, dragging out his words, “Can’t have you catching a cold after coming all this way.”
Bian Ting smiled faintly. “Alright.”
Now that Meng Xin had a proper excuse, this little fish knowingly took the bait. Hugging his pillow, he crawled into Bian Ting’s bed.
He found a comfortable spot beside Bian Ting, adjusted his pillow, and lay down. Then he reached up and turned off the light.
…But just like two beds came with their own set of dilemmas, so did one bed.
As soon as he lay down, Meng Xin went stiff as a board. Like, literally corpse-stiff.
The last time Meng Xin had shared a bed with someone was in elementary school when his younger cousin came over to visit.
Other than that? Never.
Eventually, nerves got the better of him, and he rolled over to face away, grabbing his phone and sending a stream of *“AAAAHHHHH”*s to Fanda, filling the entire chat screen.
Fanda, woken up in the middle of the night and blinking at his phone with sore eyes, messaged back:
What the hell?
Meng Xin didn’t answer. Just kept screaming in all caps.
Fanda:
What, did you guys fuck or something?
Meng Xin immediately spammed a dozen reaction stickers to cover up that sentence.
Meng Xin:
Dude!! Can you please be more refined?!
Fanda instantly switched up the wording:
You slept together?
Another round of frantic sticker-spamming.
Meng Xin:
AHHHHHH I SAID BE CLASSY!!!
But this was Fanda—his vocabulary was as vast as the ocean.
He tried again:
Did you two “triple-fold”?
Meng Xin:
.
Seriously. Can gay guys stop being so freaking weird?!
Fanda:
So? Did you?
Meng Xin:
NO!!!
Fanda:
Then what are you freaking out for?
Fanda:
Come back when you’ve actually done something. I don’t talk to virgins with rounded shoulders 🙂
Meng Xin, feeling like he just touched something filthy, yeeted his phone to the foot of the bed.
But the second it hit the blanket, he remembered—there was someone else in this bed.
Those awful chat logs could not be seen by Bian Ting.
Like a thief in the night, he scrambled to grab his phone back, hurriedly backed out of the chat, and locked the screen.
As he lay back down, Bian Ting gently patted his back.
Meng Xin was still stiff with nerves, so he didn’t turn around—just said,
“Hm? What’s up?”
Bian Ting asked,
“Does it hurt?”
Meng Xin was confused.
“Hurt? No? You didn’t use any strength.”
“Oh, I just thought maybe I had thorns or something since you’re lying so far away.”
Bian Ting glanced at his own hand.
“Guess not, huh?”
“…”
“…”
“No, it’s not that… I just, um, it’s like… well…”
Meng Xin was too embarrassed to admit he was nervous, so he tried to play it cool:
“I can’t fall asleep when someone’s too close.”
Bian Ting:
“Is that so? Alright then.”
Meng Xin:
“Mhm.”
A moment passed.
Bian Ting sighed.
Meng Xin:
“…”
Another minute later, Bian Ting sighed again.
Meng Xin:
“…”
One more minute passed.
Bian Ting sighed for the third time.
And that’s when Meng Xin had a flashback—
The last time he heard Bian Ting sigh this often was last semester.
Back then, he’d overheard him muttering:
“Someone like Meng Xin… only suitable as a friend. Definitely not boyfriend material.”
Bian Ting sighed again, and Meng Xin started feeling like the worst kind of scoundrel—like that jerk who has the perfect girl by his side but acts like a block of wood, totally clueless about showing affection. Definitely not the boyfriend material type.
Meng Xin couldn’t take it anymore. Not long after, he gave in.
“…Alright, alright, I’ll get closer to you!”
He turned over like a well-behaved rice cake, scooting from the edge of the bed to the middle, then climbed into Bian Ting’s arms.
“This okay?”
Bian Ting wrapped his arms around this self-aware little rice cake, not letting him squirm anymore.
“Mhm.”
“Sleep.”
Meng Xin wasn’t tired at first.
But for some reason, lying next to Bian Ting, with his breath filling the air, that reassuring scent of his—Meng Xin felt a sudden wave of comfort and peace.
The drowsiness came almost instantly. His eyelids started to feel heavy, and before he knew it, he was fast asleep.
Meng Xin didn’t even know when he closed his eyes. It was like he fell into a deep slumber in the blink of an eye.
Bian Ting, listening to the steady rhythm of Meng Xin’s breathing, couldn’t help but look down at his face.
Just five minutes ago, Meng Xin had said he couldn’t sleep. But now, he was snoring away like a little pig.
And as he slept, Meng Xin had no grace or restraint. He didn’t even care about being “nervous” or “shy.” At some point, he had thrown his leg over Bian Ting’s, snuggling him like an octopus and sleeping soundly.
Bian Ting gently lifted Meng Xin from his arms by the back of his neck, looking down at his sleeping face.
The lights had long been turned off, but Bian Ting could still make out his features by the moonlight streaming through the window.
The last time he had watched Meng Xin sleep was on New Year’s Eve.
Bian Ting stretched out his finger, gently poking Meng Xin’s cheek—just like he had done through the phone screen last time. But this time, the touch was warm and soft, unlike the cold, hard screen.
Bian Ting’s movements were gentle as he kissed Meng Xin’s brows, eyes, nose, and lips—treating him like the precious treasure he was.
Once he was done, he pulled Meng Xin back into his arms.
It was a perfect and happy night.
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