No wonder Bian Ting said he wasn’t boyfriend material, Meng Xin thought.
He was straight. Of course he wouldn’t make a good boyfriend — at least, not from a gay guy’s perspective!
But at this point, the fact that “Bian Ting talked bad about him behind his back” didn’t seem as important anymore.
The real shocker was — Bian Ting was gay!
By the time Meng Xin fully processed what Bian Ting had just admitted, his body reacted before his brain could catch up. He instinctively took a big step back, eyes wide in disbelief.
Meng Xin couldn’t even explain it.
Learning that his meal buddy was gay? No big deal.
Learning that Bian Ting was gay? Earth-shattering.
In his mind, Bian Ting was just like him — a model “Triple Straight” guy: upright, honest, and, well, straight. The word “gay” had never even brushed past that image.
Meng Xin quickly racked his brain but couldn’t think of a single instance where Bian Ting had shown any special interest in men.
He hesitated, then asked, “You… really?”
Bian Ting nodded. “Really.”
The walk back was filled with an awkward, lingering silence.
Meng Xin was still drowning in shock, his thoughts spiraling, with the phrase “Bian Ting is gay” looping endlessly in his mind.
When they reached the library entrance, Bian Ting finally stopped.
Meng Xin, still in a daze, almost followed him inside.
Bian Ting held him back. “It’s almost two.”
Meng Xin blinked, confused.
Bian Ting reminded him, “Don’t you have class this afternoon?”
“Oh, right.” Meng Xin finally snapped out of it. “I’ll head to class, then.”
“Mm.”
At first glance, it seemed like a normal exchange.
But later, when Meng Xin thought back, something felt off.
That “mm” was colder than usual.
And when he left, Bian Ting hadn’t even said goodbye.
It wasn’t until much later that Meng Xin realized — that subconscious step back of his might have been hurtful.
What if Bian Ting thought he was homophobic?
Meng Xin was drowning in regret.
Every time the feeling flared up, he punched his own leg, hitting himself so hard his knee reflex kicked in.
Someone next to him asked, “Meng Xin, is your leg okay?”
“No.” Meng Xin’s voice carried a faint sadness. “I just… kind of hate it right now.”
He couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t focus on class.
Good thing he sat in the back row — he pulled out his phone and started frantically searching for answers.
At first, he typed: “What to do if your friend mistakenly thinks you’re homophobic.”
Then, that escalated to: “What to do if a gay friend starts hating you.”
After digging through forums and finding nothing useful, he decided to make his own post.
The title? “My good friend is gay, and now he hates me. What do I do?”
It didn’t take long for replies to roll in.
User: Are you a guy?
Meng Xin: Yeah!
User: Are you gay?
Meng Xin: No!
Meng Xin thought this user seemed reliable.
They were thorough, like a doctor taking a patient’s history before prescribing medicine.
So, he eagerly asked what he should do next.
He waited, heart pounding, hoping for a golden solution.
Instead, the reply was shockingly indifferent:
User: Then let him hate you. Why does it matter if a straight guy gets hated by a gay guy?
Meng Xin frowned.
Meng Xin: But he’s a really good friend of mine.
The user’s response was dripping with disdain:
User: So what? He’s gay. GAY!!!
Meng Xin didn’t like this person’s tone.
Meng Xin: Wtf? Are you homophobic?
The user didn’t even hesitate:
User: Yeah, so what? Nothing good ever comes from gays.
Meng Xin immediately snapped back:
Meng Xin: My friend is a great guy, and he’s gay!!!
The user responded with an eye-roll emoji:
User: Lol. Why don’t you kiss him, then?
User: Honestly, hanging out with a gay dude and still calling yourself straight? Hilarious.
Meng Xin stared at the screen, dumbfounded.
What kind of person was this?!
The internet was so messed up.
Meng Xin angrily blocked the toxic user.
If random internet people couldn’t help, then he’d turn to his other gay friend — his meal buddy who wasn’t Bian Ting.
Meng Xin texted Fan Da: “Can straight guys not be friends with gay guys?”
Fan Da replied: “What, did you think it over all night and decide to cut me off?”
Meng Xin: “No, I just found out my good friend is gay.”
Fan Da immediately switched gears: “What, did you think it over all night and decide to cut him off instead?”
Meng Xin (guilty as hell): “No, it’s just… I kind of overreacted when I found out today.”
Fan Da: “It’s Bian Ting, isn’t it?”
Meng Xin (panicking): “WTF, how do you know?!”
Then, desperately backpedaling: “AAAAHHHH I’m not saying Bian Ting is gay!!!”
Oh no.
Oh no no no no.
He’d ruined Bian Ting’s reputation!
Meng Xin frantically deleted both messages.
Then carefully typed out a new one:
Meng Xin: “No, not Bian Ting.”
At the exact same time, Fan Da sent:
Fan Da: “It’s fine. I already know Bian Ting is gay.”
Meng Xin: “……”
Fan Da: “………………”
Fan Da: “Dude. Stop pretending.”
Meng Xin: “Okay.”
Trying to play it cool, Meng Xin asked:
Meng Xin: “How did you know?”
Fan Da: “The day he came to find me, I just knew.”
Meng Xin: “How do you know before me??? Did he tell you???”
Fan Da: “Didn’t need to. I could just tell.”
That sounded… familiar.
Come to think of it, when they saw that gay couple on the dorm balcony, Bian Ting had said the exact same thing.
Could gay people really just sense other gay people?
What kind of sixth sense was that?
Meng Xin didn’t get it.
Fan Da told him he’d understand if he turned gay.
Meng Xin said no thanks — what use would he have for that skill?
Meng Xin: “If you knew Bian Ting was gay, why didn’t you tell me??”
If he’d had a heads-up, maybe he wouldn’t have freaked out so much.
Fan Da: “You never asked.”
Meng Xin: “What do I do now?”
Meng Xin: “He’s not gonna think I’m homophobic, right? RIGHT?? I swear I’m not!!!”
Fan Da: “What exactly did you do?”
Meng Xin: “When he said he was gay… I took a step back.”
Meng Xin: “I swear I didn’t mean anything by it — my leg just moved on its own!”
Fan Da: “Lol, that’s nothing. Chill.”
Fan Da: “Real gays won’t take that personally.”
Fan Da: “But if you’re really worried, just apologize.”
That evening, Bian Ting returned to the dorm and was met with top-tier hospitality.
Everyone else was out. Only a certain someone was waiting for him.
The moment he walked in, that certain someone pulled out a chair, handed him a cup of hot water, and presented a carefully arranged platter of fruit and snacks.
Bian Ting glanced up — the guy even had a tiny, hand-made name tag taped to his chest.
It read: “Bian Ting’s Exclusive Personal Assistant, Xiao Meng.”
Bian Ting’s first thought: Is coming out some kind of monumental cause for celebration?
Bian Ting’s second thought: If it is, he’s willing to come out every day.
“I’m sorry, Bian Ting! Please don’t misunderstand — I swear I’m not homophobic.” Meng Xin pressed his hands together, bowing his head in apology. “If I tell you I stepped back because my foot slipped, would you believe me…?”
Even he thought that excuse was ridiculous.
He lowered his head, voice turning pitifully soft. “Please believe me. Pretty please…”
Bian Ting didn’t seem bothered. He calmly said, “I know. It’s fine.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Thank god,” Meng Xin sighed in relief. “We’re still friends, right?”
Bian Ting nodded.
Meng Xin finally let go of all his stress. “Oh, thank god…”
“By the way,” Meng Xin suddenly remembered something and asked, “Did you just recently become gay, or have you always been?”
“Always.”
“Even before I met Fan Da?”
“Yeah.” Bian Ting didn’t quite get why the timeline mattered. “Why?”
Meng Xin looked genuinely surprised. “Bian Ting, that means you’re the first gay person I’ve ever met.”
After saying that, he couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Bian Ting.
Then a second glance.
Then a third…
Bian Ting raised an eyebrow. “Is there something on my face?”
“No, I just… haven’t really seen many gay people before,” Meng Xin admitted.
He started inspecting Bian Ting carefully.
He leaned in so close that Bian Ting, looking down, could clearly see the soft pink hue of Meng Xin’s lips — full, well-shaped, and, honestly, kind of inviting.
Bian Ting’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
Luckily, Meng Xin straightened up and put some distance between them.
“You’re really gay? But you seem just like me — I don’t see any obvious differences.”
Bian Ting lifted his eyes. “You like guys too?”
“Oh, no, not that. I mean in other ways.” Meng Xin started counting on his fingers. “Like, we like the same books, the same games… oh, and we both love that little noodle shop!”
Bian Ting nodded but stated calmly, “But I like guys.”
“…” Fair point. That was a pretty significant difference.
“You really like guys? Why?” Meng Xin was still confused.
“What’s so great about guys?”
Bian Ting casually dropped, “I’m a deviant.”
“But you don’t look gay,” Meng Xin said earnestly. “And you definitely don’t seem like a deviant.”
Bian Ting chuckled. “What does ‘looking gay’ even mean?”
Meng Xin had no clue.
Honestly, he’d never even imagined Bian Ting liking anyone, let alone guys.
Bian Ting usually seemed equally uninterested in all humans, regardless of gender.
Now Bian Ting was claiming he was gay… it felt like a polar bear suddenly announcing he was in love with a penguin.
Meng Xin’s curiosity flared up again. “So, what kind of guys do you like?”
This question was easier to answer. Bian Ting barely had to think. “I like cute ones.”
“What counts as cute?”
This one was trickier for Meng Xin. In his mind, “cute” meant girls with big eyes and sweet smiles.
Unexpectedly, Bian Ting went silent and started quietly looking him up and down.
Meng Xin felt a shiver run down his spine under the scrutiny.
“Uh… you’re not gonna say…”
Bian Ting broke eye contact and said flatly, “I don’t like anyone right now.”
Meng Xin let out a breath of relief.
Then immediately wanted to slap himself.
Why was he relieved?
Did he really just act like one of those self-obsessed straight guys worried their gay friend would fall for them?
He didn’t know much about the gay community, but he was pretty sure they didn’t just like any guy who came along.
And besides, Bian Ting literally said he liked cute guys.
What did that have to do with him?
Feeling awkward, Meng Xin busied himself by pouring Bian Ting another cup of hot water.
Then, with gritted teeth, he blurted out, “I’m really sorry, Bian Ting. Please don’t get the wrong idea — I swear I’m not full of myself…”
“I know,” Bian Ting sighed, voice soft. “It’s fine.”
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