Meng Xin was inconsistent with his studying—three days of effort followed by two days of slacking. He hadn’t memorized many vocabulary words, but he had somehow managed to expand his knowledge of random LGBTQ+ facts.
By the time his exam rolled around at the end of the month, the three words he was most confident in were: Gay, Homosexual, Abandon.
Regardless, he had to make do with his less-than-impressive knowledge and head into battle.
Since he was the only one in their dorm with an exam that day, the entire room turned out to see him off, creating a dramatic farewell scene at the entrance of the teaching building.
Huang Wenjie and Gao Yinghang gazed at him with exaggerated fondness.
“When you’re done, we’ll go eat something nice,” Huang Wenjie said.
Meng Xin knew perfectly well that his two sons had only tagged along because Bian Ting was coming. But he didn’t bother arguing.
“Fine. When I’m done, dinner’s on me.”
“You’ve grown up,” Huang Wenjie patted him on the shoulder, looking proud. “We’ll be waiting.”
“I’m going in.”
Meng Xin took the earbuds from Bian Ting and walked into the exam hall.
—
The exam lasted over two hours, and Meng Xin hadn’t used a single one of his carefully memorized low-frequency words. But at least it was over.
“How’d it go?” Bian Ting asked.
Meng Xin sighed dramatically, shaking his head.
Bian Ting’s expression shifted slightly.
“Gotcha!” Meng Xin bumped his shoulder against Bian Ting’s, grinning confidently. “Of course, I did great. I’m passing for sure.”
“Good to hear.”
Seeing Bian Ting’s obvious relief, Meng Xin was suddenly reminded of anxious parents waiting outside college entrance exam halls. He almost wanted to laugh.
“Why are you so worried? I’m a genius, okay?”
“Mm.” Bian Ting nodded and said casually, “A very smart straight guy.”
Bian Ting changed the topic. “Huang Wenjie wants hotpot. He and Gao Yinghang went ahead to order. They sent the location in the group chat.”
—
By the time Meng Xin and Bian Ting arrived, the dishes were already served. Huang Wenjie only started cooking once they got there.
The meal wasn’t just to celebrate Meng Xin finishing his exam—it also marked the end of the semester, as their dorm had a tradition of going out together before the break.
Huang Wenjie had spent the entire semester trying to get into a relationship, yet he still ended up single. He sighed dramatically. “Dating in college is so damn hard.”
The conversation naturally shifted to everyone’s preferences.
“I know, I know!” Gao Yinghang enthusiastically chimed in. “Meng Xin likes Snow White! Hahahaha!”
“What’s wrong with that? You questioning my taste? Snow White is kind and beautiful, okay?” Meng Xin defended himself while scooping food into their bowls, trying to shut them up with meat.
“What about you, Bian Ting?”
Bian Ting casually responded, “I like double eyelids.” He glanced in a certain direction and gestured with his hand. “And someone with hair down to about here.”
Gao Yinghang was stunned. “Damn, that’s specific.”
Meng Xin, meanwhile, had gone completely silent, staring at the piece of tripe he was dipping into the broth. He had been holding it in there for nearly a full minute—long enough to turn it into the texture of a leather shoe.
Bian Ting, with a subtle smile, added, “I also like people who love eating small-pot rice noodles.”
“Dude, you’ve been obsessed with that for almost a whole semester,” Huang Wenjie said, equally stunned.
Meng Xin’s hand trembled. The piece of tripe slipped from his chopsticks and disappeared into the hotpot, lost forever.
He put his chopsticks down and sat back.
“AHHHHHH!!!!”
Huang Wenjie suddenly let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Gao Yinghang jumped. “What the hell? Why are you screaming?”
Huang Wenjie’s face contorted in pain. He threw his head back like his soul was about to leave his body. Through gritted teeth, he hissed, “Which one of you just stomped on my foot?!”
Meng Xin: “….”
Meng Xin quickly pulled his foot back.
Shit. Wrong target.
“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized, his face burning. “I thought it was… the table.”
Huang Wenjie was on the verge of tears. “Even if it was a table, you didn’t have to go that hard!”
“My bad, bro,” Meng Xin pressed his hands together in a sincere apology. “Next time, I’ll be more careful.”
After apologizing, he turned and shot a glare at Bian Ting.
Bian Ting, ever the considerate one, immediately grabbed two pieces of meat, cooked them in the hotpot, and placed them directly into Huang Wenjie’s bowl. “Eat more, you need to recover.”
Fortunately, Huang Wenjie wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. After a while, he completely forgot about it.
But Bian Ting, taking advantage of the moment when the other two weren’t paying attention, leaned in and whispered to Meng Xin, “That aggressive, huh?”
Meng Xin shot him another glare. “That’s what you get for talking nonsense.”
“I wasn’t, though,” Bian Ting said, expression innocent. “I was just being honest.”
“Even so, you’re not allowed to say it…!”
…………..
Once December passed, time seemed to speed up.
During finals week, Meng Xin clung to Bian Ting, following him to the library every day for some last-minute cramming. It was a painful week, but they made it through and finally welcomed the winter break.
At first, Meng Xin had been excited for the holiday.
What kind of student doesn’t love vacation?
But on the very day he dragged his suitcase out of the dorm, he felt an unexpected pang of reluctance.
By the third day of break, he was actually… kind of bored.
He opened his chat with Bian Ting, stared at it for a while, then closed it.
Then he opened it again.
And closed it.
Repeatedly.
Back at school, they could see each other every day. Even if their class schedules didn’t align, they could still chat on WeChat and complain about lectures.
But being home was different. He didn’t need Bian Ting to bring him food. There were no classes to rant about. He couldn’t even find a decent excuse to message him.
Before, this wouldn’t have been a problem. If he wanted to talk, he’d just talk.
But now, things were a little… complicated.
—If Bian Ting were just a regular friend, it’d be fine. But Bian Ting wasn’t just a regular friend. He was gay. And not just gay—he was gay and had a thing for Meng Xin.
Which made everything a lot more… delicate.
Meng Xin hesitated, overthinking the situation.
Could he even message Bian Ting? Was it normal for a straight guy to actively chat with a gay friend during break? If he ignored perfectly good video games just to text a gay dude, would that seem weird? Suspicious? Would Bian Ting misinterpret it as him flirting? And if Bian Ting did think that, how the hell was he supposed to explain that he just wanted to chat like bros?
With too many concerns clouding his mind, Meng Xin decided to harass Fan Da first.
Meng Xin: “Do you think a straight guy can text a gay guy first during break?”
Fan Da: “No.”
Meng Xin: “Seriously? Why not?”
Fan Da: “First, I’m gay.”
Fan Da: “Second, I’m gay.”
Fan Da: “Third, I’m gay.”
Meng Xin: “Dude, I know you’re gay. You don’t have to say it three times.”
Fan Da: “So yeah.”
Fan Da: “Straight guys cannot text gay guys first during break.”
Fan Da: “I’m busy, okay?”
Meng Xin: “Not okay.”
Meng Xin: “What are you busy with? It’s break.”
Fan Da: “Busy writing fanfiction about you two.”
Fan Da: “Includes non-con, waterboarding, hypnosis, mpreg, dirty talk, 18+ content only.”
Fan Da: “Wanna read it?”
Meng Xin, a certified straight dude, was not prepared for this. His eyes practically popped out of his skull.
Meng Xin: “WTF IS THIS?!”
Meng Xin: “Fan Da, you’re a freak!”
Fan Da casually sent back a smiling emoji.
Fan Da: “All gays are freaks. Now you know.”
—
Ten minutes later.
Fan Da’s phone lit up again.
Meng Xin: “Are you sure I can’t?”
Fan Da: “Just say what you wanna hear.”
Meng Xin: “Nothing, I was just asking.”
Fan Da: “Then no.”
Meng Xin: “Why not though? For real.”
Meng Xin: “I’ve asked twice now.”
Fan Da let out a cold, amused laugh.
Fan Da: “You just wanna hear me say you can text Bian Ting, don’t you?”
Fan Da: “If you wanna text him, just text him.”
Fan Da: “Don’t hold it in too long. I need you alive for school so I’m not eating Xinjiang fried rice alone.”
Meng Xin, still stubborn, put up one last struggle.
Meng Xin: “I don’t want to. I was just asking.”
Fan Da: “Oh yeah, totally believe you.”
Meng Xin: “…That bad?”
Fan Da: “So bad it’s unreal.”
Meng Xin went quiet.
Then, after a moment, he typed:
Meng Xin: “So can I?”
Fan Da had officially had enough. He sent three simple words:
Fan Da: “Yes. Go. Now.”
Finally, with a gay man’s official blessing, Meng Xin felt at peace.
Meng Xin: “Fine. Since you put it that way.”
Meng Xin hesitated for a moment, then tapped on Fan Da’s profile picture again.
Fan Da coldly replied with a single word: “Stop.”
Meng Xin voiced his concern: “If I text him first like this, won’t he overthink it?”
Fan Da, deadpan: “Do you see me overthinking?”
Meng Xin protested—”That’s different! Your mind is only filled with Xinjiang fried rice!”
Fan Da: “Yeah, yeah, and Bian Ting’s mind is only filled with you. I’m living for this.”
Meng Xin, horrified, threw his phone onto the bed.
For a full minute, the phone sat in solitary confinement.
Then, its sentence was up. Meng Xin reluctantly picked it back up and typed:
“Fan Da, stop shipping us. You’re scaring me.”
Fan Da: “If you’re scared, go talk to Bian Ting already. If you don’t, I swear I’ll write a 2,000-word explicit fic and post it on the campus forum.”
—
With that kind of threat hanging over his head, Meng Xin had no choice.
He clicked open his chat with Bian Ting, ready to type—then suddenly froze.
…What was he even supposed to say?
Looking back on the past three days of his break, Meng Xin realized there was nothing worth mentioning. His routine had consisted of eating, sleeping, and… that’s it.
By Day Three, he had already achieved enlightenment, realizing the ultimate truth of a college student’s winter break.
“Damn. Am I a pig?”
A second later, he corrected himself.
“No, seriously—I am a pig.”
The thought made him want to slam his head into a wall.
“God, I’m so boring…”
There wasn’t a single interesting event he could share with Bian Ting. What was he supposed to say? “Hey, I ate two giant bowls of rice today.”
That would be so stupid.
Meng Xin gave up.
Maybe he should just send Bian Ting some random meme video?
He scrolled through his feed absentmindedly, looking for something chaotic enough.
But for some reason, nothing seemed abstract or funny enough today.
Meng Xin had high standards for the memes he sent—if they weren’t weird enough, they weren’t worth sending. He had a reputation to uphold. If he sent mid content now, next time no one would fall for his cursed videos.
So, he gave up on that too.
After a long moment of deep, serious consideration, he finally typed out the safest, most neutral opening possible:
“You there?”
Meng Xin knew—this was a conversation killer.
But it was polite, neutral, and most importantly, wouldn’t make Bian Ting overthink.
It also bought him time. He could figure out what to say after Bian Ting responded.
Yet, despite such a dry opener…
Bian Ting replied instantly.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
Meng Xin couldn’t believe it.
Even such a boring question got a reply from Bian Ting!
“Man, not all gay guys are the same,” Meng Xin thought.
If he had sent that to Fan Da, Fan Da would’ve definitely said, “Nope.”
Still, since Bian Ting had replied, Meng Xin kept going.
Meng Xin: “I’m so bored. Just wanted to see what you’re up to.”
Bian Ting sent a picture in response.
In the image, two stray kittens were curled up inside a foam box. Bian Ting had placed some old clothes in there to keep them warm. One of the kittens was rubbing its head against Bian Ting’s hand.
Meng Xin: “Wow, so cute!”
After sending that, he fell into deep thought.
What should he say next?
How could he make himself seem like an interesting straight guy?
Before he could come up with an answer, his phone suddenly vibrated violently.
— Bian Ting was calling him. A video call.
Meng Xin stared at the screen for two seconds, completely stunned.
Then—like a cat whose tail had been stepped on—he launched himself into his blanket with insane agility. In one smooth motion, he rolled over three times, tightly cocooning himself like a human burrito.
Inside the blanket fortress, Meng Xin clutched his phone with both hands.
Taking a deep breath, he finally pressed the green button to accept the call.
The video connected.
But instead of Bian Ting’s face, the screen showed a kitten’s face.
For some reason, Meng Xin felt a tiny bit disappointed.
Bian Ting’s voice came through: “Why is it so dark on your side?”
“Oh… right.”
Meng Xin had completely forgotten—he had no reason to be hiding under his blanket.
It was just a video call with another dude.
It’s not like answering a gay guy’s call would suddenly turn him gay.
Taking a deep breath, he threw off the blanket and sat up. Then he brought his face close to the camera to get a better look at the kittens.
“Where’d you find them?”
“Strays near my place,” Bian Ting adjusted the camera so both kittens were in view. “Here, look.”
The two tiny creatures were huddled inside the foam box, completely relaxed as Bian Ting stroked their heads.
“Damn, they’re so cute.”
Bian Ting picked one up with one hand and flipped the camera with the other. For a split second, Meng Xin caught a glimpse of half of Bian Ting’s face.
It had only been three days since they last saw each other.
But for some reason, it felt like way longer.
The kitten was blocking most of the screen, and before he could think, Meng Xin said:
“Bian Ting, move the camera up a little.”
Bian Ting obediently raised his hand a bit. “Like this?”
And just like that, Bian Ting’s entire face appeared on the screen. The kitten, meanwhile, was now just a tiny fluffy head at the bottom.
That tiny bit of disappointment Meng Xin had felt earlier?
Completely gone.
“Yeah, that’s good.”
—
They ended up on that video call for over an hour.
At first, they just talked about the stray kittens. But eventually, the conversation drifted to completely random topics.
By the time both kittens had curled back up to sleep, Meng Xin watched as Bian Ting poured some cat food for them and gave them a final head pat.
“Are you heading back now?” Meng Xin asked.
“Yeah,” Bian Ting glanced at the darkening sky. “It’s getting late.”
Meng Xin looked up and realized—at some point, the sky had turned completely black.
“Alright, hurry up and get home. Be careful on the way.”
“Got it. I’m hanging up.”
But right before Bian Ting could end the call, Meng Xin suddenly blurted out—
“Wait.”
“What?”
Meng Xin opened his mouth. But after a short pause, the only thing he said was—
“Are you going to see the kittens again tomorrow?”
Bian Ting stopped for a second. Then he asked: “You wanna see them?”
Meng Xin’s eyes lit up.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Bian Ting chuckled. “Alright. I’ll call you again tomorrow.”
A week into winter break, Zhang Yiming still hadn’t managed to get Bian Ting to hang out.
It didn’t make sense. They were high school friends, lived close, and knew each other too well for this to be difficult. Yet every time Zhang Yiming tried to make plans, Bian Ting shut him down.
Frustrated, he fired off a message.
Zhang Yiming: “What are you even doing? It’s winter break—you better not be studying. That’d be insane.”
Bian Ting’s reply was short.
Bian Ting: “Busy.”
Zhang Yiming wasn’t buying it.
Zhang Yiming: “Busy with what?”
Bian Ting: “Watching stray cats.”
Zhang Yiming stared at the message for a solid three seconds.
Then he exploded.
Zhang Yiming: “EXCUSE ME? You have time to watch stray cats but not to hang out?!”
A second later—
Zhang Yiming: “ARE YOU EVEN HUMAN?!”
Bian Ting, completely unbothered:
Bian Ting: “Why do you think you’re that important?”
Zhang Yiming: “OH, COME ON!!!”
Zhang Yiming: “At school, fine. I get it. There’s someone more important than me. But NOW? Even stray cats outrank me?!”
Zhang Yiming: “ARE WE EVEN FRIENDS?!”
And then, as if pleading his case in court, Zhang Yiming furiously typed:
Zhang Yiming:
“Do you even remember who it was—”
“—who stayed up late, wracking his brain, coming up with plans just so a certain someone would notice you?”
“—who drank with you until you were wasted, and then somehow managed to drag that certain someone over?”
“—who, when that certain someone asked about you, hyped you up so much they actually started thinking about you more?”
Dramatic pause.
Then he hit send.
And waited.
Zhang Yiming: “SAY IT OUT LOUD—WHO WAS IT?!”
Bian Ting: “……”
A second later, Bian Ting sent over an address.
Zhang Yiming: “Oh? Suddenly remembering your dear brother now? Let me tell you, I’m not someone you can just summon at will. My schedule is packed. :)”
Bian Ting: “6:30. I’ll treat you to dinner.”
Zhang Yiming did a full 180.
Zhang Yiming: “Oh, most honorable Bian Ting, may you and a certain someone be perfectly in sync, destined for each other, and blessed with eternal happiness! I shall arrive promptly at 6:30. You can come whenever—just remember to pick up the check. ^_^”
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