There are many secrets in this world, and once you know one, you have to take responsibility for keeping it.
Like the fact that Bian Ting is gay.
Meng Xin used to be a carefree, happy straight guy. But after accidentally finding out Bian Ting’s secret, he felt morally obligated to protect it.
It was exhausting.
He’d become hyper-sensitive to anything remotely related to the topic of being gay — like a trigger-happy NPC who just had to insert himself into the conversation whenever the word came up.
One day, Huang Wenjie and Gao Yinghang were in the dorm talking about a gaming streamer.
“This guy’s skills are insane,” Gao Yinghang said, watching the replay on his phone. “His reflexes are god-tier. He can clutch with 1 HP for like an hour. Only downside is he’s gay, and he’s been fake-flirting with another streamer lately for clout.”
Meng Xin, who was memorizing vocabulary words, immediately perked up.
“Still, his gameplay’s insane,” Gao said, showing the screen to Huang. “Nobody else could pull off these moves.”
“Yeah, he’s cracked,” Huang Wenjie agreed.
“Right? I even showed Bian Ting, and he said the same thing.” Gao looked over. “Isn’t that right, Bian Ting?”
Before Bian Ting could even nod, Meng Xin shot up like a spring.
“What are you guys even talking about?! We’re all straight here!”
“Bian Ting is, too!”
“Huh?” Gao Yinghang blinked in confusion. “Uh… nobody said we weren’t?”
Once Huang Wenjie and Gao Yinghang finally left, Meng Xin dragged a chair over and plopped down next to Bian Ting, eyes gleaming with self-satisfaction.
“Bian Ting,” he declared proudly, “in that life-or-death situation just now, I heroically defended your privacy.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll never let anyone find out you’re gay.”
Bian Ting thought about telling him it wasn’t that serious. But when he saw Meng Xin’s eyes, blinking up at him like an eager puppy, he decided to humor him.
“Okay,” he said, lips curving into a faint smile. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me!”
Meng Xin had been waiting for those words — because now that the formalities were out of the way, he could get to the point.
“As repayment, can you answer a question for me?”
Bian Ting nodded easily. “Shoot.”
Meng Xin, who’d been burning with curiosity for days, finally asked the thing he’d been dying to know:
“What’s your definition of cute? Can you be specific?”
Bian Ting chuckled.
“You’re stealing from the vault?”
“You guard my secret, but you want to peek inside?”
“I can’t help it!” Meng Xin admitted, shameless. “But I swear I won’t tell anyone!”
“Is it hard to answer? Should I make it easier?”
Ever helpful, Meng Xin started listing people.
“Is Huang Wenjie cute?”
“…”
Nope.
“Gao Yinghang?”
“…”
Also nope.
“What about Zhang Yiming? Is he cute?”
“…”
Still no.
“Then no one’s cute?!”
Meng Xin was dumbfounded. He’d gone through every guy he knew and hadn’t gotten a single yes. Shaking his head, he turned to Bian Ting, looking suspicious.
“Do you even like people?”
Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in Meng Xin’s brain.
“Wait, Bian Ting — I’ve got it.”
“What?”
“Maybe you don’t actually like men.
“Maybe you’re just pretending to be gay to cover up the fact that you don’t like anyone at all.”
“You’re not into guys or girls — you’re just completely uninterested in humanity. Isn’t that right?”
This theory had been circling around in his head for days, and the more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.
But Bian Ting shut it down in one second.
“No.”
“…”
Bian Ting asked casually, “Why don’t you ask if you’re cute?”
“Me?” Meng Xin waved his hand dismissively. “I’m pretty self-aware, you know.”
In Meng Xin’s mind, he saw himself as a righteous, upright, and gentle little stud — not someone who could be called “cute.”
“Don’t worry. I’m definitely not one of those narcissistic straight guys — wait, why are you sighing?”
Bian Ting, ever the voice of reason: “Shouldn’t you be studying? Get back to your book.”
“Okay, okay.” Meng Xin reluctantly turned his attention back to his English textbook.
Meng Xin’s path to academic success was… treacherous, to say the least.
Because when he saw the letter “g,” he thought of “gay.”
When he saw the letter “h,” he thought of “homosexual.”
When he saw the letter “l,” it looked like the number 1.
And when he saw the letter “o,” it looked like a 0.
He tried to focus, clutching the book and pretending to study for a few minutes.
Meanwhile, Bian Ting was quietly working through his advanced math homework, scribbling equations on scratch paper.
But before long, he felt a fuzzy presence creeping up beside him — a head slowly rising over the edge of a book, revealing a pair of curious eyes.
The stare was so intense it was impossible to ignore.
Without looking up, Bian Ting paused his pen.
“Just say it.”
Meng Xin grinned, inching closer like he’d been waiting for this moment.
“Bian Ting, are you a 0 or a 1?”
Bian Ting finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. “I’m impressed you even know what that means.”
“Eh, it’s nothing,” Meng Xin said modestly. “I Googled it.”
“So, which one are you?”
Instead of answering, Bian Ting shot back with a question of his own:
“What do you think?”
“How would I know?” Meng Xin thought for a second and asked, “How do you guys usually tell if someone’s a 0 or a 1?”
Bian Ting smirked, offering the most ridiculous response possible:
“If you like spicy noodle bowls, you’re a 1.”
“…That makes no sense.”
“By that logic, I’d be a 1 too.”
“Mm, yeah. I’m messing with you,” Bian Ting admitted smoothly. “You’re not a 1.”
But for some reason, that answer made Meng Xin even more dissatisfied.
“Why not?! What’s wrong with me being—”
“I mean, I’m not gay,” Meng Xin quickly corrected himself.
Bian Ting chuckled. “Then you’re a 2.”
“…”
That didn’t seem right either.
But Meng Xin didn’t argue. He was too fixated on getting an answer.
“Be serious. Tell me already.”
“You really want to know?”
“Yes!” Meng Xin’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.
Under that earnest, expectant gaze, Bian Ting finally spoke — slowly, deliberately:
“If you buy someone a spicy noodle bowl, you’re a 1.”
“…So you’re just trying to say you’re a 1?”
Bian Ting nodded without shame. “Exactly.”
Meng Xin tilted his head, falling into deep contemplation.
After a while, he straightened up and patted Bian Ting’s shoulder, looking solemn.
“That’s great, bro. I support you.”
Bian Ting squinted. “Support me how?”
“Obviously, I support you being a 1.” Meng Xin said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I just can’t picture you being on the bottom.”
Having a gay bro? Fine.
Gay bro being the bottom? Absolutely not.
His best bro deserved better than that!
“…”
“Thanks… for your support?”
“No need to thank me,” Meng Xin said magnanimously. “We’re bros. That’s what bros do.”
Bian Ting resisted the urge to sigh. “Now that you’ve asked everything you wanted, can you please study?”
“Got it, got it.”
Less than five minutes later, Meng Xin’s head popped up from behind his book again.
“Can I ask you one more question?”
Bian Ting coldly rejected him.
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Please?” Meng Xin refused to give up, pulling out his trump card: “I’m begging you.”
“…Fine. Ask.”
“If you don’t even like anyone, how do you know you’re a 1?”
“Why are you so obsessed with gay people?” Bian Ting stared at him. “Aren’t you straight, Curious George?”
Meng Xin argued back: “Why can’t straight guys be curious about gay people?”
And just like that, Meng Xin launched into an impassioned speech:
“If Newton wasn’t curious about apples falling, how would he have discovered gravity? If Watt wasn’t curious about steam lifting a kettle lid, how would he have improved the steam engine?
If the Wright brothers weren’t curious about birds flying, how would they have invented airplanes? Curiosity drives scientific discovery and human progress.”
He finished, righteously declaring: “I’m just a straight guy with a thirst for knowledge!”
“…”
Bian Ting calmly picked up the vocabulary book and stood it back up in front of Meng Xin.
“‘Abandon,’ day one. Thirsty-for-knowledge straight guy.”
Meng Xin looked at the dense pages of English words and immediately wanted to die. His thirst for knowledge evaporated on the spot.
He pushed the book away, clutching his head. “My head hurts.”
“Your exam is at the end of the month.”
“I said, my head hurts.”
“Last time, you failed by one point.”
Meng Xin couldn’t keep up the act anymore. He grabbed the book in frustration.
“…Bian Ting, you’re a bad gay.”
Bian Ting nodded in agreement. “Yep, I am.”
“…You don’t care about me. I hate you.”
“Okay, hate me.”
Since Bian Ting wouldn’t give him an answer, Meng Xin turned to Fan Da that night.
Meng Xin: [Fan Da, are you a 1?]
Fan Da: [Meng Xin, do you eat Xinjiang-style fried rice noodles?]
Meng Xin: [But you don’t even like anyone.]
Meng Xin kept going on his own: [I really don’t get you guys. It’s weird enough that you can know you’re gay without liking anyone, but how do you even know if you’re a 1 or not?]
Fan Da: [Bian Ting is obviously a 1.]
Meng Xin’s eyes widened: [I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT BIAN TING!!]
Fan Da: [Every word you typed screamed Bian Ting.]
Fan Da sent the same meme for the third time — a grinning, muscular guy with the caption “Hi, you’re so gay.”
Meng Xin: [.]
Meng Xin: [Can’t I just care about you for once?]
Fan Da: [I appreciate your concern, but there’s a small problem.]
Fan Da sent a laughing emoji and added: [Did I ever say I’m a 1?]
Meng Xin: [Didn’t you?]
Fan Da: [Nope.]
Meng Xin: [Are you sure?]
Fan Da: [Yes, I’m sure.]
Meng Xin: [Okay, fine. You didn’t say it.]
Meng Xin: [Then are you a 1 or a 0? I’m just checking in on you.]
Fan Da: [Why are you only seeing 1s and 0s now?]
Fan Da: [Do you want to eat 1 bowl of fragrant Xinjiang fried rice noodles? It’s on the 1st floor of Hall 2, Shop 10, only 11 yuan per bowl! Add meat for 1 yuan, extra toppings for 0 yuan, completely free! It’s so delicious you’ll want to call 110 to report it!!]
Meng Xin: [………]
Fan Da: [So? Does this world full of 1s and 0s live up to your expectations?]
Meng Xin: [……………]
Frustrated, Meng Xin went on the attack: [Ugh, you gays are all the same — not a single decent one among you.]
Fan Da calmly countered: [Insulting your brothers is fine, but maybe don’t drag yourself into it too.]
In the end, Meng Xin still went to eat Xinjiang fried rice noodles with Fan Da.
He didn’t have a choice — Fan Da had been craving it for days. If they didn’t go soon, he might lose his lunch buddy forever.
Fan Da finally got his long-awaited bowl of noodles. He was so moved he nearly cried. With delicious food in front of him, he turned into a much gentler person — even when Meng Xin brought up Bian Ting, Fan Da stayed surprisingly mellow.
“Oh, by the way,” Fan Da suddenly remembered something. “Have you checked the confession wall?”
Meng Xin rarely browsed that kind of stuff, so he shook his head. “Not really. Why?”
“It’s nothing. I just saw someone talking about Bian Ting today.”
Meng Xin mentally suited up for battle in less than a second.
“What? Is someone being homophobic?”
“No,” Fan Da said, shaking his head. “They were saying they want to confess to him and asking for tips.”
The armor Meng Xin had just put on slipped right off.
He let out an “Oh.”
He couldn’t even describe how he felt.
After a long pause, he asked, very slowly: “Was it a guy or a girl?”
“A guy, I think?” Fan Da replied. “It looked like a guy.”
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