Chapter 17
The first thing Meng Xin did when he woke up the next day was check his Moments.
Unfortunately, the likes and comments were still the same as the night before. The one person he was waiting for still hadn’t appeared.
Meng Xin held his phone, feeling puzzled.
How could Bian Ting not care at all?
Was it really normal for a good bro to not react at all when he found out his friend had a crush?
Meng Xin was even tempted to ask him directly, “Did you see that I have someone I like?” But after thinking it over, that felt too much like he was trying to provoke a reaction.
So he decided to test the waters by asking Huang Wenjie first.
Meng Xin: [Did you see that I have someone I like?]
Huang Wenjie thought he was showing off: [I saw it, I saw it—both my eyes saw it!!! I can’t take this anymore. I’m not talking to you for three days, or else I might do something crazy out of jealousy.]
—That was jealousy.
Next, Meng Xin went to Gao Yinghang.
Meng Xin: [Did you see that I have someone I like?]
Gao Yinghang: [Yeah, I saw it!! Damn, you move fast.]
Gao Yinghang: [But be careful with online dating. You never know—what if they turn out to be bigger than you?]
—That was concern.
Meng Xin also asked Fan Da.
Meng Xin: [Did you see that I have someone I like?]
Fan Da: [I get it. Right now, you’re like a little stray dog that always pees in the same spot at the village entrance. Then one day, a big wolfdog comes along, kicks you out, and warns you never to pee there again. You’re mad, but you can’t do anything about it, so you just stand ten meters away and howl, ‘One day, I’ll be back!’ Right?]
—That was just plain shameless.
Meng Xin asked a few more people from his contacts and got different reactions. Whether it was jealousy, concern, or shamelessness, at least it was a response.
Only Bian Ting had no reaction at all.
Meng Xin couldn’t figure it out.
—
Since Bian Ting was in the dorm, Meng Xin grabbed his vocabulary book and sat down at the desk.
He deliberately made some noise. “Ahem.”
No reaction.
A little disappointed, Meng Xin picked up his phone and made a louder sound. “Wow!”
Then, just to make sure, he forced out an exaggerated laugh: “Ha, ha, ha.”
At this point, he felt like a cartoon villain laughing maniacally with his hands on his hips.
But despite how over-the-top he was, Bian Ting didn’t even spare him a glance.
Instead, Huang Wenjie poked his head out and asked, “Meng Xin, what the hell are you doing?”
Meng Xin’s phone screen was completely blank, but he still answered without hesitation, “Chatting.”
Huang Wenjie let out a sound filled with envy, jealousy, and resentment. “Damn, you just got a crush, and you’re already showing off!”
Meng Xin gave him a half-hearted response before turning his attention back to Bian Ting.
Still no reaction.
That didn’t make sense!
Why wasn’t Bian Ting asking who he was chatting with? Was he not the least bit curious about the person Meng Xin liked?
Meng Xin observed for a while and realized Bian Ting was busy working on that never-ending assignment of his, not even lifting his head.
Seizing the moment when Bian Ting took a sip of water, Meng Xin cautiously asked, “Bian Ting, is that assignment due today…?”
Bian Ting replied flatly, “No, I’m just doing it in advance.”
Of course.
It figured—Bian Ting was the most self-disciplined person in their dorm.
After a while, Bian Ting finally stopped writing. He stood up and tidied his desk.
Meng Xin straddled his chair backward, resting his arms on the backrest, watching as Bian Ting finished cleaning up and put on his jacket.
Only when Bian Ting looked his way did Meng Xin tilt his head up and blink. “Bian Ting, where are you going?”
“Class.”
“Oh.” Meng Xin perked up. “I’ll go with you! I’ll sit in the back and promise not to bother you.”
But this time, Bian Ting didn’t let him tag along. Shaking his head, he said, “It’s a lab class. Small group. You’ll feel awkward.”
“Ah, well, okay then.”
Meng Xin thought about it and agreed. The professor knew exactly who was supposed to be in the small group. If he sneaked in, it would be really awkward.
He plopped back into his chair and waved at Bian Ting, acting all understanding. “Alright then, go ahead. I’ll wait for you in the dorm.”
“Mm.”
Bian Ting responded as usual and left, looking completely unaffected.
Meng Xin silently watched Bian Ting’s back as he walked out, keeping his eyes on the door even after it closed behind him.
After a long while, his head drooped like a wilted sunflower.
Damn it. Bian Ting really didn’t care at all.
—
For a whole week, no matter what little tricks Meng Xin pulled, Bian Ting’s reactions remained unchanged.
He went to class as usual, studied in the library, hung out with Meng Xin, and even brought him food occasionally.
Eventually, Meng Xin ran out of ideas.
He had no choice but to vent to Fan Da.
Meng Xin: [Why isn’t he reacting?]
Fan Da: [What kind of reaction do you want?]
Fan Da: [Like, he gets all red-eyed, throws you onto a big bed, unbuttons his shirt while pinning you down, and growls, ‘Without my permission, how dare you like someone else?’—that kind of reaction?]
Meng Xin never knew Chinese words could be arranged in such a way. He felt like his eyes had been tainted.
Meng Xin: [WTF, what kind of stuff do you usually read?]
Fan Da: [Don’t pretend. You’re actually hoping for this exact scenario, aren’t you?]
Meng Xin: [NO, I’M NOT!!!!!!!]
Meng Xin: [I just think he should’ve at least said something, right? We’re so close.]
Fan Da: [Should he?]
Meng Xin: [Shouldn’t he?]
Meng Xin: [Like, if I told you I really had someone I liked, at the very least, you’d say, ‘Whoa, really? Who? Since when?’ Right?]
Fan Da: [Wrong.]
Meng Xin: [What’s wrong with that?]
Fan Da: [I wouldn’t say that much. I’d just say, ‘Wow, that’s so gay,’ and then make you and Bian Ting treat me to Xinjiang stir-fried rice noodles.]
Meng Xin: […………]
A sudden realization struck Meng Xin.
Meng Xin: [I shouldn’t have come to you for advice, should I?]
Fan Da replied mercilessly with two words: [That’s right.]
Meng Xin: [Such a cold-hearted gay.]
Fan Da agreed enthusiastically. [That’s right, that’s right. If you became gay, the world would have one more warm-hearted gay.]
Meng Xin: [Get lost, get lost, get lost. I refuse to turn into such a cold-blooded creature.]
After venting to Fan Da, Meng Xin opened his chat with Bian Ting again.
Their last conversation was still stuck on Bian Ting saying he was going to class that afternoon, with no new messages after that.
Meng Xin repeatedly clicked into the chat and back out, even disconnected and reconnected to the internet, but Bian Ting really hadn’t sent him anything new.
And now, it was already nighttime, but Bian Ting was nowhere to be seen.
As far as Meng Xin knew, Bian Ting’s class had ended at 5 p.m. If he wasn’t at the library, he should have been back at the dorm by now.
But Bian Ting hadn’t mentioned going to the library either.
After thinking it over, Meng Xin sent a message: “Where did you go?”
He waited a long time but still got no reply. Puzzled, he even double-checked which account he was using—no, he hadn’t accidentally messaged from an alt.
By 11:30 p.m., there was still no response, and Bian Ting still hadn’t returned.
“Hey, it’s almost curfew. Why isn’t Bian Ting back yet?” Huang Wenjie asked Meng Xin. “Do you know where he went?”
Normally, if anyone had a question about Bian Ting’s whereabouts, they’d ask Meng Xin. Among their roommates, he was always the one who knew best.
But this time, Meng Xin was just as clueless. He shook his head in confusion. “I don’t know.”
Bian Ting hadn’t responded to his messages, and he had no idea where he could be.
Something didn’t feel right. Without hesitation, he grabbed his phone. “I’ll call him and check.”
Meng Xin stepped onto the balcony and dialed Bian Ting’s number.
The call connected, but instead of hearing Bian Ting’s voice, all he could hear was loud background music and the buzz of conversation.
Meng Xin hesitated, then tried calling out, “Bian Ting?”
For some reason, Bian Ting’s response was slower than usual. After a brief pause, he finally murmured, “Mm.”
Just from that one syllable, Meng Xin could tell it was definitely him. He asked urgently, “Where are you? Why haven’t you come back?”
But Bian Ting didn’t answer the question.
Instead, Meng Xin heard a quiet chuckle through the phone. “Were you waiting for me…?”
“Of course, I was waiting for you,” Meng Xin said. “I’ve been waiting for a long time, and you haven’t even replied to my messages.”
“You sent me a message? I wasn’t looking at my phone just now.” Bian Ting sounded sincere as he apologized. “Sorry…”
Meng Xin vaguely heard him mutter something else—it sounded like bubble or hug, or maybe he just repeated sorry again. It was such a quick whisper that Meng Xin couldn’t quite catch it.
“It’s fine, it’s fine. Why are you apologizing? I just wanted to ask when you’re coming back. The dorm is about to close—hey, Bian Ting, are you listening?”
Then suddenly—BANG!
A loud noise burst through the speaker, as if the phone had dropped to the floor.
The next thing Meng Xin heard was a familiar voice yelling through the phone: “Meng Xin! It’s me, Zhang Yiming!”
“Zhang Yiming?” Meng Xin was confused. “Why do you have Bian Ting’s phone?”
“I just snatched it from him! Forget that for now—this is bad! Really bad! Don’t let him fool you into thinking he sounds normal. He had two drinks, and now he’s completely lost it!”
Zhang Yiming’s voice grew even more frantic. “He’s literally turned to stone! He’s just lying here like a statue and won’t move no matter what I do! You have to come get him—I can’t handle this alone!!”
Bian Ting… had gone drinking?!
Meng Xin didn’t have time to be shocked. He quickly asked, “Where are you guys?”
Zhang Yiming rattled off the name of a bar, practically screaming, “Get here as fast as you can!”
When Meng Xin arrived, he immediately spotted Bian Ting slumped over a table, head buried in his arms, completely motionless—just like Zhang Yiming had described.
Zhang Yiming was next to him, trying everything he could to get this human statue to move. He tried lifting his collar, pulling his arm—nothing worked.
After multiple failed attempts, Zhang Yiming gave up and resorted to rambling at the “statue.”
“Kid, I get it, you want to keep your innocence, but if you won’t let me touch you, how am I supposed to get you back to the dorm? Do you even know what time it is? I invited you to drink to ease your troubles, not to knock yourself out! If I knew you’d pass out after just two drinks, I never would’ve brought you here. You still have class tomorrow…”
“Bian Ting? Bian Ting? Bian Ting!!”
He let out a deep sigh and started listing famous statues.
“Oh god, is this what we’re doing now? David? The Thinker? The Statue of Liberty? The Venus de Milo? The Heartbroken Man Who Jumped? I’m begging you, O Great Statue, can you move just a little?”
“I know you’re feeling down, but listen—there are plenty of fish in the sea. No need to waste your time on—”
Mid-sentence, Zhang Yiming caught a glimpse of Meng Xin entering. His eyes lit up, and he immediately turned to yell into Bian Ting’s ear:
“Guess who’s here?! Someone’s here! He’s here!!”
“Oh thank god,” he sighed in relief. “You take him home. I’m done.”
Meng Xin stepped forward, looking at Bian Ting with concern. He turned to Zhang Yiming and asked, “What happened to him?”
“He drank too much,” Zhang Yiming said. Seeing Meng Xin’s expression darken, he quickly added, “But not that much! Just two drinks.”
Zhang Yiming raised both hands in defense. “I swear, this isn’t my fault. Maybe those two drinks had a higher alcohol content, or maybe he’s just really bad at holding his liquor… But I didn’t corrupt him, I promise!”
No wonder Bian Ting hadn’t responded to his messages—he was drunk.
Meng Xin frowned. “Why did you guys suddenly decide to drink?”
“Well…” Zhang Yiming gave Meng Xin a complicated look, then let out a heavy sigh. “He got his heart broken.”
“I can’t say much more than that. Just take him back.”
Zhang Yiming tugged at Bian Ting’s sleeve. “Hey, Bian Ting, Meng Xin is here.”
Upon hearing a certain someone’s name, Bian Ting finally lifted his head—albeit reluctantly.
“Unbelievable. I’ve been calling him forever and he wouldn’t move…” Zhang Yiming muttered. Then, without hesitation, he grabbed one of Bian Ting’s arms and shoved it into Meng Xin’s hands. “He’s all yours now. I’m heading out. Call me if anything happens!”
Meng Xin pulled Bian Ting up. “Come on, let’s go back.”
—
The entire way back, Bian Ting was quiet and obedient. He followed wherever Meng Xin led without any resistance.
Meng Xin had no trouble supporting him all the way to their dorm building.
By now, it was already 12:30 a.m.—well past curfew.
Cautiously, Meng Xin peered through the glass doors, hoping to find a way to sneak in unnoticed.
Unfortunately, his plan was doomed to fail. The dorm supervisor—a sharp-eyed auntie—was still sitting in the lobby, wide awake.
The moment Meng Xin pushed open the glass door, her keen gaze locked onto him.
“Sorry, Auntie, my roommate is, uh… not feeling well,” Meng Xin lied through his teeth. “We just got back from the hospital.”
The dorm supervisor sniffed the air and scoffed knowingly. “Not feeling well? I can smell the alcohol from here. You lost track of time while you were out playing, didn’t you?”
She slid a pen and a register book across the table. “Write down your names and student IDs. Keep your voices down when you go up.”
“No, really, Auntie, you must be mistaken! That’s probably just the smell of medical alcohol. And look at my roommate,” Meng Xin let go of Bian Ting with one hand and lifted his chin, presenting his face. “This is Bian Ting!”
“Oh, he’s good-looking,” the dorm supervisor commented. “Which characters?”
Meng Xin puffed up his chest proudly. “Bian as in ‘border,’ Ting as in ‘courtyard.’”
“Auntie, just hearing his name should tell you—he’s not the kind of person who goes out drinking! My roommate, Bian Ting—Bian Ting! He’s an outstanding student, a top ten youth awardee, a first-class scholarship recipient, the most disciplined person in our dorm, one of the top 0.4% of students in the entire school! Auntie, do you know what 0.4% means—”
As Meng Xin rambled on, the dorm supervisor had already pulled the register back toward herself, uncapped her pen, and written down two characters. Then, without looking up, she asked, “Student ID?”
“…”
“…Forget it, Auntie. Just put my name down instead,” Meng Xin said, his face drained of hope. “Meng Xin. Meng as in Mencius, Xin with a vertical heart radical. Student ID 06364946.”
The dorm supervisor jotted it down, then waved them off. “Alright, go on up.”
Meng Xin dragged Bian Ting upstairs.
He lifted Bian Ting’s arm over his own shoulder, letting him lean against him. His other hand gripped Bian Ting’s waist, supporting him as they climbed the stairs.
Bian Ting seemed like the type to have good drinking manners. Even after drinking too much, he wasn’t loud or troublesome—just quiet and obedient, following whatever Meng Xin told him to do without making things difficult.
By the time they reached the third floor, Meng Xin freed one hand and fished his phone out of his pocket.
He opened WeChat, planning to message Huang Wenjie and ask him to help unlock the dorm room.
But just as he was about to type, Bian Ting, who had been completely silent and well-behaved, suddenly let go of his grip on Meng Xin’s shoulder. Instead, he placed his palm over Meng Xin’s phone screen.
Meng Xin thought maybe the alcohol was finally kicking in, making Bian Ting act up. He patted him lightly and coaxed him in a soothing tone, the kind used for comforting little kids:
“Let me just send a quick message, alright? Be good.”
“No,” Bian Ting murmured. “Don’t send it.”
His hand stayed firmly over Meng Xin’s phone. His eyes locked onto Meng Xin’s, and though his voice was quiet, there was a hint of grievance in it.
“Don’t message her, okay?”
“It’ll be quick, just one message,” Meng Xin said, brushing Bian Ting’s hand aside as he opened the chat with Huang Wenjie. “See? I’m just going to tell him to—”
“Stop.”
Without even looking at the screen, Bian Ting suddenly turned his hand and pressed it against Meng Xin’s lips, silencing him before he could finish speaking.
With that motion, he pushed Meng Xin against the wall.
His voice didn’t match the strength of his actions—it wasn’t forceful, but soft, almost pleading.
“Meng Xin, I don’t want to hear it…”
Meng Xin froze, still holding his phone. For a moment, he completely forgot about the message he had been about to send.
“…Bian Ting.”
His voice was slightly muffled as he spoke against Bian Ting’s palm.
Bian Ting felt the softness of Meng Xin’s lips moving against his hand as he spoke, the warmth of his breath brushing against his skin. The sensation made his palm itch.
He couldn’t help but lean in closer.
Meng Xin stammered as he called out again, “Bian… Bian Ting…”
Hearing Meng Xin call his name, Bian Ting paused, exhaling a faint, alcohol-tinged hum from his nose.
Meng Xin hesitated for a long moment before slowly speaking.
“You drank too much… because of that straight guy you like?”
“Mm.”
Again, because of that straight guy.
Since Meng Xin had known Bian Ting, he’d never seen him drink. When they went out for meals, Bian Ting always had lemon tea or soy milk—never a drop of alcohol.
But now, because of that person, Bian Ting had broken his own principles, acting nothing like the person Meng Xin knew.
Meng Xin felt indignant. “I already told you not to like him—mmph—”
Apparently, Bian Ting didn’t want to hear that. His fingers tightened, pressing down to completely seal Meng Xin’s lips shut.
“Don’t talk.”
Bian Ting lowered his head, gaze fixed on his own hand.
He leaned in, bit by bit, as if handling something precious.
They had lingered in the stairwell for too long. The motion-sensor light suddenly went out, leaving them in still and utter darkness.
In the blackness, their noses brushed together, breaths mingling in the narrow space. Then, Bian Ting’s lips barely, barely touched the gap between his own fingers—just the ghost of a misplaced kiss, restrained and fleeting.
“…Bian Ting?”
The stairwell light flicked back on at the sound of his voice.
Bian Ting had already withdrawn, resting his head against Meng Xin’s shoulder.
Meng Xin, caught off guard, instinctively wrapped his arms around Bian Ting, hesitantly patting his back, as if offering comfort.
He didn’t dare bring up the straight guy again. Instead, he lowered his voice and gently asked, “Are you feeling bad?”
“Mm.” Bian Ting buried his face in Meng Xin’s shoulder, his voice muffled. “A little.”
