Chapter 2
Meng Xin froze in place, his hand still raised.
By the time he snapped out of it, Bian Ting was already far ahead.
It took Meng Xin a long while to digest the fact that Bian Ting was talking bad about him behind his back.
No wonder Bian Ting kept sighing around him lately.
It wasn’t just his imagination — Bian Ting really did have a problem with him!
…What did he mean by not suitable as a boyfriend?
Meng Xin quickly connected the dots to that dorm room late-night chat.
Sure, he’d said dating sounded tedious and troublesome — but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do all those things in a relationship!
Why would Bian Ting just decide he wasn’t fit to date?
And what did he mean by “someone like Meng Xin”?
What kind of person was he, exactly?
“A hopeless straight guy.”
Zhang Yiming doubled over laughing, nearly unable to walk.
He wiped his tears and steadied himself before asking, “Hey, what about that idea I gave you a few days ago? The one about flipping through a gay magazine in front of him as a hint? Did it work?”
“…”
“He asked me why I suddenly started reading sports magazines.”
“And what did you say?”
“Nothing.” Bian Ting rubbed his temples. “What else could I do but sigh?”
Zhang Yiming gasped. “He didn’t notice all the shirtless muscle guys?”
“He noticed.”
“And? What did he say?”
“He thought I was planning to start swimming.”
“…”
“He even said the dark blue swim trunks looked nice and recommended them.”
Zhang Yiming laughed so hard he almost collapsed.
“You and your terrible ideas.”
Zhang Yiming raised his hands in surrender, still laughing. “My bad! I shouldn’t have given you that swimwear edition.”
“I’ll swap it for a firefighter-themed one next time, okay?”
Bian Ting shot him a look.
Zhang Yiming immediately mimicked Meng Xin’s voice in a ridiculous tone:
“Bian Ting, are you training to fight fires?”
“You’d look good in red. I recommend it.”
Bian Ting set the milk tea on a nearby chair, calmly cracked his knuckles, and said, “Come here.”
“Hell no! You’ve trained before — I’m not fighting you!” Zhang Yiming clutched his head and bolted. “I was wrong, okay? I was wrong!”
Bian Ting didn’t chase him. He just loosened his neck, joints popping as he stretched.
Zhang Yiming, in full retreat, circled back, grabbed the milk tea like a lifeline, and wailed, “Milk tea! The milk tea you bought for a certain someone! Are you just gonna let it melt?!”
“…Get lost.”
“The ice is melting!”
Meng Xin dragged himself back to the dorm, looking like a ghost.
He’d planned to sleep as soon as he got back, but now he couldn’t sleep at all.
He didn’t even feel like ordering takeout. Instead, he dug out a long-expired pack of instant noodles — a rare sight, since Bian Ting usually brought him food whenever he didn’t have classes.
“Told you the academy events are soul-sucking. Look at you, drained dry.” Huang Wenjie glanced at the “Braised Beef” label on the noodles and pointed at it with mock seriousness. “Wow, going all out with the premium stuff, huh?”
Meng Xin was almost done with his noodles when Bian Ting returned.
“I thought you’d swing by the cafeteria,” Bian Ting said. “Why didn’t you let me know?”
He would’ve brought food back for him otherwise.
“It’s fine.” Meng Xin slurped up the last mouthful of noodles, voice muffled. “It’s okay to eat instant noodles once in a while.”
But the words Bian Ting said earlier echoed endlessly in his mind.
Hearing Bian Ting’s voice now only made him feel more upset and wronged.
He didn’t even really want to talk to him.
Bian Ting silently placed the milk tea on Meng Xin’s desk.
“Oh… thanks.”
Meng Xin didn’t feel like drinking milk tea, but since Bian Ting had brought it, he figured he should just finish it.
He mechanically unwrapped the straw, stabbed it into the cup, drained the drink in less than a minute, and tossed the empty cup into the trash.
Then, out of nowhere, he let out a heavy sigh.
Bian Ting’s face stiffened. “The ice melted?”
Meng Xin shook his head. “No.”
No matter how cold the drink was, it couldn’t compare to how cold his heart felt.
“I’m tired. I’m gonna sleep.”
Bian Ting frowned and turned to Huang Wenjie.
Huang Wenjie shrugged and mouthed, That’s just what happens when you’re forced to be an audience member.
Meng Xin lay in bed, wide awake.
He was searching online: “What should I do if I overhear my friend talking badly about me?”
The results were all over the place, but they mainly split into two camps.
The “Cut Ties” Camp:
Just end the friendship! Why even hesitate?
If they’re talking bad about you, they’ve probably felt that way for a while. Not worth staying friends with someone like that.
If I caught my bestie talking behind my back in the morning, we’d be done by the afternoon.
The “Self-Reflection” Camp:
Most people don’t badmouth their friends for no reason. Maybe you should reflect on whether there’s actually a problem.
It depends on what they said. Maybe they just don’t know how to tell you directly, so they vented to someone else.
Sometimes, people outside the situation see things more clearly. Maybe try to make things right and rebuild your image in your friend’s eyes.
Meng Xin teetered between the two sides.
Honestly, he never thought Bian Ting was the type to badmouth people.
Bian Ting usually kept to himself and rarely gossiped. They’d been close for so long, and Meng Xin had never once heard him judge anyone.
He never expected the first time he’d catch Bian Ting talking about someone… it would be about him.
Meng Xin tossed and turned in bed.
By the fifth hour of sleeplessness, he posted a melancholic and dramatic WeChat moment:
Meng Xin: “Ah, life is full of crossroads.”
The next day, Gao Yinghang came to mess with him.
“Hey, Crossroads Bro, what kind of emo spiral were you in last night?”
Meng Xin posted on WeChat for every little thing, but artsy, late-night depression posts like that were rare.
“I have this friend—”
“It’s you, isn’t it?”
“No, seriously, it’s my friend.”
“Okay, okay. What happened to your ‘friend’?”
“My friend heard someone say he’s ‘not suitable to be a boyfriend.’ What do you think that means?”
“Probably means he’s not gentle enough, not considerate, doesn’t know how to care for others, and doesn’t think about anyone but himself. Basically, a raging straight-boy syndrome case.”
“I’m not gentle or considerate? I don’t care about others or think about their feelings…”
Meng Xin’s eyes widened like he’d been struck by lightning. “Do I have straight-boy syndrome?!”
Gao Yinghang gave him that “I KNEW you were talking about yourself” look.
But Meng Xin was too deep in shock to notice he’d just exposed himself.
He couldn’t believe that’s how Bian Ting saw him.
“Bro, no offense,” Gao Yinghang patted his shoulder, “but you kinda do.”
“No way.”
“Think back to what happened at the supermarket the other day.”
At the reminder, Meng Xin remembered.
A few days ago, he was in line to buy bread when a girl shyly approached him, clutching her phone.
“Please don’t cut in line,” Meng Xin had said, his expression serious. “There aren’t many people here right now, so you really don’t need to.”
The girl froze, blushed furiously, and walked away without buying anything.
“But cutting in line is wrong,” Meng Xin muttered, feeling a little wronged. “And there was only one loaf of the bread I wanted left. I wasn’t about to give it up.”
“You weren’t wrong. But,” Gao Yinghang said with a sly smile, “she wasn’t cutting the line. She was trying to get your WeChat.”
“…”
“No way. How do you know?”
Gao Yinghang rolled his eyes. “Come on. Who blushes that hard just from getting told off?”
Meng Xin went quiet.
He’d genuinely thought the girl was just ashamed of being called out.
…Okay. Maybe that’s why Bian Ting said what he said.
Maybe he really was a bit… like that.
At that moment, Meng Xin’s mental scale tipped decisively toward the “Self-Reflection” camp.
He should probably try to fix his image in Bian Ting’s mind somehow…
After all, he didn’t actually want to lose him as a friend.
Bian Ting was the most disciplined person in their dorm.
Every morning, without fail, he got up at seven sharp and headed to the library.
Unless they had an early class, Bian Ting would usually leave while everyone else was still asleep.
But today, something strange happened. As he packed his things, a hand slowly, painstakingly stretched out from behind the bed curtain, fingers stiffly poking him.
Good thing Bian Ting had nerves of steel — he didn’t scream despite this almost ghostly scene in broad daylight.
He turned around and met Meng Xin’s barely-open eyes.
Meng Xin whispered in a hoarse voice, “Wait for me…”
Using sheer willpower, he dragged himself out of his cozy bed and stumbled to wash up.
Ten minutes later, Meng Xin walked out the door with Bian Ting.
He was still in a daze, eyelids drooping as he fought a losing battle with sleep.
But he hadn’t forgotten the reason he forced himself to get up early today.
“Bian Ting.”
“Hm?”
“Good morning.”
“Hm,” Bian Ting hummed in acknowledgment, but then his brain caught up. “…Huh?”
“Just because I find some things troublesome,” Meng Xin muttered sluggishly, “doesn’t mean I won’t do them. You get me?”
“Like what?”
“Like saying good morning.”
Bian Ting raised an eyebrow. “You woke up this early just to tell me ‘good morning’?”
“Yep.” Meng Xin nodded earnestly.
“I’m actually very gentle and considerate,” Meng Xin added, tilting his head. “Don’t you think so?”
Bian Ting had no idea where this was coming from, but he went along with it anyway. “…I guess?”
“What do you mean ‘I guess’? Be more confident.”
Bian Ting, obediently: “Yes.”
Satisfied with the answer, Meng Xin finally let it go. “That’s more like it.”
He yawned nonstop as they walked, looking like he could fall asleep standing up. At one point, he even leaned against Bian Ting, discreetly offloading some of his weight to steal a bit of rest.
Seeing Meng Xin nodding off every few steps, Bian Ting couldn’t help but say, “If you’re tired, just go back to the dorm. You don’t have class today, right?”
“I’m not tired, not tired.” Meng Xin straightened up a little. “I want to go to the library with you.”
It felt like someone had slipped two hundred bucks into Bian Ting’s pocket out of nowhere.
“What’s up with you today?” he asked, baffled.
Meng Xin only ever went to the library during exam week for some last-minute cramming.
“I care about you,” Meng Xin declared.
Bian Ting forgot to breathe for a second.
Then Meng Xin went straight for the kill — grabbing Bian Ting’s arm and looking up at him. “I’m really good at caring for people, right?”
Meng Xin’s light-colored eyes were especially clear when he tilted his face up, like honey-soaked amber catching the light.
It wasn’t even that sunny today, but somehow his eyes sparkled.
“…Right.”
Faced with those eyes, Bian Ting physically couldn’t say no.
He turned his gaze away.
Only after getting Bian Ting’s firm agreement did Meng Xin finally release his arm, satisfied.
When they reached the library, Meng Xin plopped down across from Bian Ting, grabbing a random mystery novel to keep up the act.
It took less than five minutes for Meng Xin to fall asleep face-down on the book.
He had already fallen asleep late last night, and waking up so early today had drained him completely — he was exhausted.
But it didn’t matter. He was just here to keep Bian Ting company while he studied, so he dozed off without a shred of guilt.
What Meng Xin didn’t know was that the moment he opened the first page of that mystery novel, Bian Ting had already stopped studying.
Meng Xin’s cheek was squished against the paper, soft flesh spilling out at the edges, making it irresistibly tempting to reach out and give it a pinch. The morning sunlight slanted through the glass window, casting a gentle glow over his long eyelashes.
As if sensing the brightness, Meng Xin scrunched his brows slightly.
Bian Ting quietly stood up and pulled down the blinds.
After sitting back down, he pulled out his phone and messaged Zhang Yiming:
Bian Ting: Why is he suddenly so clingy today?
