In broad daylight, Meng Xin curled up beside Bian Ting under the covers, ready to sleep—just sleep. He was too exhausted to do anything else.
Pressing his cheek against Bian Ting’s chest, breathing in Bian’s scent, sleep threatened to overtake him—until the unmistakable click of the front door unlocking snapped him awake.
That sound was all too familiar to him: as a child, nothing terrified him more when he was secretly on the computer.
Meng Xin’s expression shifted. In an instant he was fully alert. He sat up in bed and called out, “Stay here—let me go check,” then dashed to the front door in a flash.
After all these years, his skill at recognizing people by sound was as sharp as ever. The person stepping inside was indeed his beloved mother.
“Oh, you came out to meet me?” Xu Ruoying raised an eyebrow in surprise at seeing him.
He felt like he’d been caught in a compromising position, though they’d done nothing wrong. Flustered, he stammered, “Mom—why are you home so early?”
“What do you mean? My own home—why shouldn’t I come back?” Xu Ruoying replied casually. “And what’s this about ‘so early’?”
“But I wasn’t prepared yet…!” Meng Xin blurted, thinking of Bian Ting still inside!
Thought for a second
Meng Xin’s mother frowned. “I told you—I even sent you a WeChat message last night,” she said. “You’ve been glued to your phone chatting with people all day since vacation started. How could you have missed my message?”
Meng Xin fell silent. Guilty, he pulled out his phone. Sure enough, his mother’s message had arrived last night—but he’d been wrapped up with Bian Ting and never checked it.
“Why are you so flustered? What, are you hiding someone at home?” Xu Ruoying chided as she slipped on her shoes. “Go pour me a glass of water.”
No sooner had she spoken than a cup of warm water appeared in her hands.
“Auntie, here you go.”
Xu Ruoying froze for a moment, then slowly turned her head toward the person serving the water.
Meng Xin followed her gaze—and there stood Bian Ting, holding the cup with perfect posture, every hair in place: the very image of “someone else’s child.”
Meng Xin gaped inwardly. Had his friend gone too far with this act? Even his own mother’s stunned expression seemed to think Bian Ting had already outshone her biological son—she looked as if she wanted to stuff him back in her womb and start over.
—Of course, Bian Ting was delivering the rare air of a top 0.04% honor student right now. Yet last night there’d been no sign of such decorum.
“Oh—Bian Ting, right? Hello, nice to meet you.” Xu Ruoying accepted the tea cup. She’d just come in thirsty, ready to gulp it down, but glancing at Bian Ting she held back, lifting the cup with refined grace and taking a dainty sip.
Meng Xin lowered his head and rubbed the tip of his nose. “See, Mom? You think so too.”
“What do you mean by ‘not the right time’?” Xu Ruoying looked him over. “I said I’ve been out and about and dressed casually—I didn’t mean anything by it. What did you mean? Were you doing something behind closed doors that I shouldn’t see?”
Meng Xin bowed his head even further. “No—of course not!”
“All right if you say so,” Xu Ruoying murmured, uncertain whether to believe him. “Have a seat while I change.”
Ten minutes later she emerged in a bright, elegant red dress, jeweled earrings glittering at her ears—the pair Grandma had given her on her wedding day, destined to become family heirlooms.
Meng Xin glanced at Bian Ting, who didn’t even have ear piercings—if he did, there was no way he could wear earrings this ostentatious. The heirlooms would surely end with his mother.
Still, was this dress too much for the occasion?
“Mum, you look…” Meng Xin squirmed. “Maybe a bit—over the top?”
Xu Ruoying shot him a warning look. “Over the top how?”
“Too—you’re too beautiful,” Bian Ting chimed in sincerely.
Meng Xin winced. That was way too flattering!
Xu Ruoying’s face lit up. She smoothed back her hair and invited Bian Ting into the tea room. “Come in, have a seat.”
“Would you like tea?”
“I don’t,” Meng Xin interjected. “I’ll have a Coke.”
“Don’t interrupt—I wasn’t asking you. Get whatever you like,” she replied, turning back to Bian Ting. “Tea for you?”
Meng Xin tried to interrupt again, “He doesn’t—”
“I’ll have some,” Bian Ting said, nodding politely. “Thank you.”
Meng Xin watched as his mother stood on tiptoe to reach the very top shelf in the cabinet, carefully extracting his father’s prized tea leaves hidden in the back. She measured out a pinch, rinsed them with just-boiled water—and then, rather haphazardly, brewed the tea. If his father found out, he’d be furious at the waste.
Despite her rough technique, she made sure to observe all the proper formalities.
Thought for a second
“Please forgive my humble home and this simple tea,” Xu Ruoying said.
Bian Ting bowed slightly. “I apologize for the intrusion, Auntie, and for bringing no formal gift. I hope you’ll forgive my impertinence.”
“Not at all,” Xu Ruoying replied warmly. “You haven’t been any trouble to my son these past days, have you?”
“Your son is so outstanding,” Bian Ting said sincerely. “It was my honor.”
Their polite banter was so formal it made Meng Xin squirm. He couldn’t help blurting out, “…Could you two stop acting like this? It’s the twenty‑first century—can’t you speak normal modern Mandarin?”
To be in love with Bian Ting meant dealing with a mother and a boyfriend both as old‑fashioned as characters in a classical drama. If anyone else heard them, they’d laugh them right out of town.
Xu Ruoying smiled. “Fine—if you won’t stop, then why don’t you put on your Ultraman pajamas so Bian Ting can see them.”
In an instant, Meng Xin snapped into character: “Preposterous! I am a man of dignity—how could I possibly wear such…garb?”
These past two days, with Bian Ting staying at his house, Meng Xin had agonized over his choice of sleepwear—anything as goofy as Ultraman pajamas had been discarded in the first round. In the end, he’d selected two soft, stylish shirts from his wardrobe and designated them as makeshift pajamas.
…Whatever, he thought. He was full of affectation, so was his family, so was his boyfriend—they were a family of pretenders, and that was that.
—
Bian Ting only stayed two days before catching the high‑speed train home. Meng Xin’s entire family saw him off at the station, making a grand, boisterous affair.
Xu Ruoying piled gift after gift into Bian Ting’s hands, nearly hanging bags from every finger, urging him over and over to visit again soon.
Meng Xin watched Bian Ting’s receding figure until he slipped through the fare gate. Only then did his mother chide him gently, “Enough—your eyes are practically glued to his back.”
But Meng Xin sighed, “You don’t understand, Mom—goodbyes are always so bittersweet.”
“Don’t make it sound like a long‑distance romance,” Xu Ruoying pointed out. “You’ll be back at school together in a few days.”
“…You’re right.”
Still, Meng Xin couldn’t help feeling a pang of longing. He pulled out his phone and opened WeChat just as a new message popped up: a simple “Miss you” from Bian Ting.
He cleared his throat and pretended to adjust his posture a few times, then turned his body to shield the screen and quietly typed back, “Miss you too.”
…
After Bian Ting returned home, Meng Xin resumed clinging to his phone every day, chatting away through the holiday.
Bian Ting was generally quick to reply—except once, when Meng Xin asked which new game skin he should buy. Bian Ting didn’t respond right away, and Meng Xin pouted in the chat: “What are you doing?!!!”
Bian Ting finally answered, “Busy, baby—wait a moment.”
True to his word, he did get back to the original question: “Choose the top one.”
But Meng Xin didn’t care about skins anymore—he was far more curious: “What are you busy with?”
And Bian Ting only replied: “Something’s come up.”
Thought for a second
It sounded like something serious, so Meng Xin pressed on: [What’s up? What’s going on?]
Bian Ting’s reply was brief: [Personal matter—don’t be curious.]
Meng Xin wouldn’t let it drop: [A personal matter? I’m not allowed to know?]
No reply.
He grumbled: [Fine—after being together so long, we each have our little secrets.]
Still nothing.
Could Bian Ting really have secrets from him?!
Exasperated, he demanded: [Why won’t you tell me what it is?!!]
[Heh, you don’t love me anymore—men are all the same.]
[Bian Ting, you’re a terrible boyfriend!!!!!!]
A minute passed before Bian Ting finally answered: [Answer video call]
Moments later, a video call invitation popped up.
“You wanted to know what I was busy with,” Bian Ting said as soon as Meng Xin answered. “Watch me.”
When the screen came on, Meng Xin’s face instantly flushed crimson.
All he saw were men… Meng Xin needed no more clues to know exactly what Bian Ting was doing.
“I—I’ll let you get on with it,” Meng Xin stammered, and abruptly hung up, flinging his phone onto the bed.
He pressed his face to the desktop, trying to cool the heat in his cheeks.
Suddenly, his face‑down phone vibrated twice.
Cautiously, he lifted a corner to peek—and thank goodness, it was a normal text.
Bian Ting: [Why’d you hang up?]
Meng Xin sent a flurry of angry stickers: [Ahhh, stop teasing me!!!]
No sooner had he sent that than Bian Ting placed a voice call.
Frantic, Meng Xin found his earphones and clipped them on, then answered.
“You weren’t busy… so why call me?” His voice sounded soft and small, as though he’d just been overwhelmed.
Bian Ting’s reply was urgent: “Don’t hang up.”
Through the earphones, Bian Ting’s voice was different—he sounded breathless, still not quite finished. It made Meng Xin want to scream, “Stop breathing so… seductively!”
On the other end came a pitiful plea: “Please don’t hang up, okay?”
Meng Xin: “…”
He knew Bian Ting was doing this on purpose, yet he couldn’t resist.
“Ah, fine! Fine!” he conceded. Since he couldn’t see anything anyway, he’d pretend it was a normal call.
…
But, of course, Meng Xin couldn’t treat it as a normal call—just Bian Ting’s voice alone made it feel like an adult scene, the way it pressed in on him, turning his face bright red.
“Are—you—done?” Meng Xin asked, nearly trembling. “Don’t take too long, hurry…”
“All right, I’ll try,” Bian Ting cooed. “Now say a few more words.”
“What do I say…?” Meng Xin’s voice was shrimp‑pink with embarrassment. “I don’t know what to say…”
“Then call my name.”
He stumbled out: “Bi—Bian Ting.”
“Good. Keep going.”
“Bian Ting…”
He heard Bian Ting’s breathing catch—faster, closer.
Though he couldn’t see, Meng Xin’s mind painted the rest of the scene.
“Bian Ting, Bian Ting, hurry… please…”
…
With a sharp “click,” he hung up again.
The flush crept up to the back of his ears, and he felt as if he might combust. He dashed to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face.
At last, his face cooled—until he remembered Bian Ting’s final, low moan just before he hung up:
“Baby, I want to fuck you so much.”
And once again, Meng Xin’s cheeks flared to life.
……………………………
Thought for a second
That afternoon in the dorm, Meng Xin plopped down beside Huang Wenjie, cleared his throat, and rapped on the desk.
“Hey,” Huang Wenjie looked up. “What’s up?”
“Could you ask Bian Ting where he’s gone?” Meng Xin asked, feigning casualness.
“Why don’t you just ask him yourself? Did you two have a fight?”
Meng Xin gritted his teeth. “No—not a fight. He just…won’t tell me where he’s going.”
Huang Wenjie raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that your boyfriend? You’re mad at him for being private?”
“He’s not just private,” Meng Xin muttered, “he’s driving me crazy.”
Huang Wenjie chuckled. “Fine, I’ll text him. But don’t blame me if he just says, ‘Busy.’”
Five minutes later, Huang Wenjie showed Meng Xin his phone. Bian Ting’s message read simply: “At the university library.”
Meng Xin’s eyes widened. He hadn’t even thought to check there. The library was the only place Bian Ting might go where cell‑service was weak—and where he could indulge his…private matters undisturbed.
“Thanks,” Meng Xin said. He dashed out of the dorm room so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet.
In the library’s hushed stacks, he found Bian Ting sitting at a corner table, head bent over a stack of books and his phone playing music. A single earbud rested in his ear; his other hand idly turned a page.
Meng Xin approached quietly. From behind, Bian Ting looked perfectly studious. Yet Meng Xin’s heart thudded—he still remembered that video call.
Bian Ting glanced up at the sound. His eyes sparkled with mischief. “You found me.”
Meng Xin stammered, “I…just wanted to see what you were up to.”
Bian Ting patted the seat beside him. “Stay and study with me?”
Meng Xin sat down, stomach fluttering. “Sure.”
As they opened books side by side, neither spoke—but Meng Xin’s mind raced. He would never stop being curious about Bian Ting’s private world… and, deep down, he didn’t really want to.
Meng Xin: “No. I just wanted you to ask for me.”
Huang Wenjie raised his eyebrows knowingly. “You want me to check up on him for you? I’ll handle it.”
Meng Xin: “And ask him what he’s up to.”
Huang Wenjie patted his chest. “No problem.”
Meng Xin: “And ask him why he hasn’t come back yet.”
Huang Wenjie kept typing while saying, “Okay, it’s on me.”
“Did you ask him?”
“I did.”
“What did he say?”
“He didn’t say anything. Just replied with ‘1.’”
“…He replied with ‘1’?”
Meng Xin furrowed his brows.
What does a reply of “1” mean? How is that different from answering a “yes or no” question with an “or”?
Could it be that Huang Wenjie asked too vaguely? Or maybe Bian Ting is too busy to reply to Huang Wenjie?
Or perhaps Bian Ting is secretly doing something that Huang Wenjie isn’t supposed to know about?
— What exactly is Bian Ting doing?
Meng Xin was dying of curiosity, wanting to message Bian Ting right now to ask him what he was up to.
But no, he had promised not to be curious anymore.
Meng Xin regretted it deeply, repeatedly banging his head on the table.
If only he’d set a time limit for his vow, like “I’ll stay curious for no more than three days.”
Ten minutes later, Bian Ting returned.
Meng Xin asked, stunned, “How are you back?”
“Wasn’t it you who said so?”
“I said that?” He hadn’t said anything at all!
“You had Huang Wenjie say that,” Bian Ting added.
Meng Xin thought for a moment.
He pulled Bian Ting’s phone from his pocket, skillfully entered the password, and opened WeChat.
Huang Wenjie: [Uncle, are you there?]
Huang Wenjie: [Meng Xin said he misses you.]
Huang Wenjie: [Meng Xin asked where you’ve gone and if you can come back soon.]
Huang Wenjie: [Meng Xin said every second without you feels like years, like a long separation.]
Huang Wenjie: [Meng Xin said if you don’t show up in 15 minutes, he’ll hang himself at the dorm door.]
Huang Wenjie: [Oh, and by the way, Meng Xin also said to bring him a large salted pepper fried chicken cutlet when you come back.]
“…”
“Huang Wenjie!!!” Meng Xin shoved the phone back into Bian Ting’s pocket and turned to shout at the culprit. “Do you have to pass on messages like this?!”
“What’s wrong? These are all the truth, right? You just wanted to see him but were too shy to say it. And besides,” Huang Wenjie said confidently, “a little embellishment can make your relationship more intimate. It’s the art of language.”
Meng Xin didn’t buy his excuse. “Heh, and what about the fried chicken cutlet?”
“Of course, the middleman has to make a little profit,” Huang Wenjie grinned and snatched the bag of fried chicken cutlets from Bian Ting’s hand. “Next time there’s an event like this, remember to come to me.”
“…”
Huang Wenjie happily went off to eat his fried chicken cutlet, leaving a very awkward Meng Xin and Bian Ting staring at each other.
Bian Ting handed over a milk tea with the other hand. “This one’s for you.”
Bian Ting knew that fried chicken cutlets were Huang Wenjie’s favorite, not his.
Bian Ting asked, “Curious?”
“No.” Meng Xin sat back down in his chair, straightening his back, showing Bian Ting a determined profile. He said firmly, “I just asked him to ask. I’m not curious.”
Bian Ting spoke slowly, “I could tell you…”
“Really?” Meng Xin instantly teleported to Bian Ting’s side, sitting up straight in front of him. “Then tell me.”
“But what if you become even more curious after I tell you?” Bian Ting asked.
“I won’t.” Meng Xin said, “First of all, I’m not curious. I’m just a boyfriend who knows how to listen. Secondly, my mind is as calm as still water, nothing can stir my curiosity. Lastly, I’m the type of person who knows when to stop and never digs too deep.”
“Alright.” Bian Ting waved him over, “Come closer.”
Meng Xin immediately leaned in and presented his ear to Bian Ting.
Bian Ting whispered in his ear, “I’m preparing your birthday present.”
“Ohh, oh!!” Meng Xin’s eyes lit up. His birthday was indeed coming up, and he hadn’t expected Bian Ting to start preparing so early.
Well, Meng Xin decided to reluctantly forgive Bian Ting for the moment.
He kept his position, waiting for Bian Ting to continue.
However, after a long pause, Bian Ting didn’t say anything more.
It wasn’t until Bian Ting gently adjusted Meng Xin’s slouched body that Meng Xin realized Bian Ting wasn’t planning to say more.
“And then?”
“What do you mean ‘and then’?”
“That’s it?”
“Yep.”
Meng Xin raised his eyebrows, raising his voice, “You’re not going to elaborate?”
“Of course not,” Bian Ting said. “If I say more, how can it be a surprise?”
Meng Xin widened his eyes. “You, you, you…”
Well, now he was even more curious.
Bian Ting, that mischievous guy, was definitely doing this on purpose!!!
Bian Ting pinched his cheek. “Don’t be curious.”
Meng Xin couldn’t hold back his curiosity any longer by evening.
He trailed after Bian Ting like a shadow, even following him into the bathroom, sidestepping the door to enter alongside him.
Bian Ting glanced at him and asked, “Do you want to come in?”
Meng Xin pointed to the door, reminding him, “Huang Wenjie and the others are still outside.”
But after thinking for a moment, he added, “Never mind, you can be quiet.”
“It’s not… I don’t want to join you!”
“Then why are you following me in?”
Meng Xin gritted his teeth, “Tell me right now what you’re preparing, or I’ll do some very unpleasant things to you right here.”
Bian Ting, surprisingly, seemed somewhat intrigued. “Like what?”
“Like beating you up right here.”
Bian Ting replied, “Go ahead.”
“…”
Look at this, look at this, this is what happens when you spoil someone. He had completely spoiled Bian Ting! Now Bian Ting was so sure that he wouldn’t beat him up!
“Not going to beat me up? Then I’m going to shower,” Bian Ting said, beginning to unbutton his shirt.
“… You go ahead. I’m leaving!” Meng Xin hurriedly opened the door and bolted out, slamming it shut behind him.
When Bian Ting came out of the bathroom, Meng Xin was waiting for him with a hairdryer in hand.
Meng Xin, acting like a professional stylist, guided him to sit down and enthusiastically offered, “Let me dry your hair.”
Bian Ting had already warned him, “I won’t tell you.”
“…”
Meng Xin dropped the act, gave him a glare, and shoved the hairdryer into his hands. “You do it yourself.”
However, after a brief pause, Meng Xin couldn’t resist and went back to Bian Ting’s side, apparently coming up with a more subtle, roundabout new tactic.
This time, he didn’t mention his curiosity, instead, he began giving Bian Ting a shoulder massage with great care.
As he gently massaged, he also blew air near Bian Ting’s ear. “You know, I read a great article today. It said that the key to maintaining a relationship is honesty…”
Bian Ting saw right through him. “Just say what you want to say.”
Meng Xin, using a pleading tone, said, “Tell me, please. I’m begging you.”
Bian Ting asked, “Didn’t you say you wouldn’t be curious anymore?”
“I’m not curious, I just care about you.” Meng Xin leaned closer and asked, “What are you up to lately? Are you tired? Tell me and I’ll help share the load.”
Bian Ting shook his head. “I’m fine. Not tired.”
“… You’re tired.”
“I’m really not tired.”
“You are!”
“Really not.”
“… Tell me! I promise I’ll still act surprised when you reveal it. I swear.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then—?”
Meng Xin looked at Bian Ting with an expectant gaze.
Seeing Bian Ting’s contemplative expression, Meng Xin immediately redoubled his efforts, massaging Bian Ting’s shoulders and back with even more care.
But Bian Ting just slightly curved the corners of his lips before saying, “I’m not telling you.”
“……”
The thoughtful massage therapist, Little Meng, immediately transformed into a violent punching king, throwing a few heavy punches at Bian Ting’s shoulder, no longer holding back.
“You stone-hearted, unmovable guy!”
The increasing curiosity was almost swallowing Meng Xin whole.
Every time he opened his eyes in the morning, his first thought was “What is Bian Ting preparing?” At this rate, he was going to die from curiosity before his birthday even arrived.
Meng Xin felt that he couldn’t go on like this.
Since Bian Ting’s lips remained sealed, Meng Xin decided to take matters into his own hands.
— He was going to stick to Bian Ting 24/7. He was determined to find out what Bian Ting was doing.
However, the 0.04% of people at the school who were impossible to crack weren’t easily overcome. Despite following Bian Ting around from morning to night, Meng Xin still couldn’t figure out what Bian Ting was preparing.
He followed him all day, from the teaching building to the library, and then from the library to the laboratory.
Other places were manageable, but the laboratory was a no-go. Meng Xin didn’t have permission to enter and had to wait outside.
After waiting for a long time, Bian Ting still hadn’t come out, but another student emerged.
That student walked up to Meng Xin with a smile and asked, “Are you the Meng Xin who’s going to have a birthday soon?”
“Huh? How do you all know?” Did Bian Ting tell everyone outside that it was Meng Xin’s birthday soon?
“We could tell,” the student chuckled, a sly, teasing sound to the laugh. “It was obvious.”
Meng Xin scratched his face, feeling a bit embarrassed. “How could you tell?”
It wasn’t like he had a sign on his forehead saying “My birthday is coming up!”
“Bian Ting has been busy preparing your birthday present whenever he’s free. We’ve all seen it. The way he does it… tsk, tsk, so considerate.”
Meng Xin immediately understood after hearing this. No wonder he hadn’t seen Bian Ting preparing any gifts—Bian Ting had been secretly working on them in the laboratory, a place Meng Xin couldn’t access.
In just one second, Meng Xin concluded that this student must be someone who knew the inside scoop, a potential breakthrough point for him.
He quickly asked, “What’s he preparing? Did you see it?”
“Oh, I can’t say,” the student replied. “Bian Ting told us in advance that if you ask, we definitely can’t tell you.”
Meng Xin was stunned.
Was Bian Ting some kind of secret agent? Not only did he keep everything so tightly under wraps, but he even preemptively warned everyone else not to spill the beans?
Under Bian Ting’s strict guard, Meng Xin anxiously awaited his birthday.
This year, Meng Xin’s birthday happened to fall on a Saturday. After finishing classes on Friday, he and Bian Ting planned to go out and stay overnight, not returning to the dorm that evening.
This suggestion had come from Meng Xin himself.
The reason? He didn’t want to suddenly climb into Bian Ting’s bed at midnight and ask for his birthday gift.
On Friday evening, Meng Xin waited anxiously for midnight. The moment the clock struck twelve, he grabbed Bian Ting’s arm and shook it desperately like someone seeking an antidote to a poison. “It’s my birthday now! Hurry, give me my gift! Hurry!”
…Who asks for a gift right as the clock strikes midnight?
But Bian Ting was well-prepared. He pulled out a large box and handed it to him.
“Happy birthday, baby.”
Meng Xin hugged the box tightly, and before even opening it, he felt tears welling up—after so many days, he was finally getting his gift, openly and justifiably!
He opened the box with reverence.
Inside, there lay a pair of brand-new shoes.
“Wow!” Meng Xin exclaimed in surprise.
His reaction wasn’t fake. He had wanted these shoes for a long time but had never bought them because they were too expensive.
Is it really this wonderful to have a boyfriend? If he’d known, he would’ve made Bian Ting his boyfriend from the first day of school!
Just as he exclaimed, he noticed something else in the box.
Two hand-sewn dolls, holding hands. Both dolls had magnets on their hands, so when they were close enough, they would touch, appearing inseparable.
The craftsmanship wasn’t exactly exquisite, but it was more than passable. The person who made them, however, must have put a lot of effort into it—Bian Ting had made them himself in the laboratory, learning step by step.
“Wow…” Meng Xin marveled.
“It’s my first time making this,” Bian Ting coughed lightly. “They’re a bit ugly.”
“They’re not ugly, not ugly at all! I like them!” Meng Xin pointed to the doll on the right, holding a sunflower. “Is this me?”
“Yes.”
“Then the one over here is you?”
“Mm.”
“Why does yours have a little rolled-up flag?” Meng Xin squeezed the other doll’s hand holding the flagpole, slowly unrolling the flag.
As he did, the words on the flag gradually revealed themselves.
— You are the kind of person who’s perfect to be a boyfriend.
Meng Xin read the words over and over again.
Then, he turned and planted a kiss on Bian Ting’s face. Holding Bian Ting’s face, he smiled with eyes full of warmth. “How is my boyfriend so wonderful?”
Bian Ting smiled and replied, “My boyfriend is also wonderful.”
“No, my boyfriend is a little better.”
“My boyfriend is even better.”
“You can’t say that,” Meng Xin said arrogantly. “What I say goes.”
“Alright,” Bian Ting nodded. “I’ll listen to you.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Meng Xin kissed the other side of his face with equal force.
“My boyfriend is the best!”
At 3 a.m., Meng Xin was still lying in bed, too excited to sleep.
Bian Ting had received a message from Meng Xin.
Meng Xin: [Bian Ting, what do you think of Meng Xin as a person?]
Bian Ting pulled Meng Xin closer, wrapping his arms around his waist and drawing him into his embrace.
Meng Xin smoothly turned over to face Bian Ting. He poked him and motioned for him to reply quickly.
He already knew the answer because for nearly three hours, he had been asking Bian Ting, “Who is the most perfect person in the world to be a boyfriend?” Each time, he was satisfied with the answer: “It’s you.”
But he still wanted to hear Bian Ting say it again, personally.
Even though they had already said it countless times today, Bian Ting pressed the voice message button, holding it down to record.
“This kind of person, Meng Xin,” Bian Ting laughed as he spoke, “isn’t suited to be a friend. He’s only suited to be a boyfriend.”
Meng Xin: “No, I just wanted you to ask for me.”
Huang Wenjie raised his eyebrows in understanding, “Are you using me to check on him? I’ll do it.”
Meng Xin: “Also, ask him what he’s doing.”
Huang Wenjie patted his chest, “No problem.”
Meng Xin: “And ask him why he hasn’t come back yet.”
Huang Wenjie typed away while saying, “Okay, it’s on me.”
“Did you ask?”
“Yeah.”
“What did he say?”
“He didn’t say anything. Just replied with ‘1.’”
“…He replied with ‘1’?”
Meng Xin frowned.
What does replying with “1” even mean? How is that any different from answering a “yes or no” question with just “or”?
Could it be that Huang Wenjie’s question was too simple? Or maybe Bian Ting is too busy to respond to him?
Or is Bian Ting secretly doing something that Huang Wenjie shouldn’t know about?
—What exactly is Bian Ting doing?
Meng Xin was dying of curiosity, almost wishing he could text Bian Ting right now and ask what he was doing.
But no, he had promised himself he wouldn’t be curious anymore.
Meng Xin regretted it bitterly, repeatedly knocking his head against the desk.
If he had known, he would have added a time limit to his vow, like “no curiosity for three days.”
Ten minutes later, Bian Ting came back.
Meng Xin asked, incredulously, “Why are you back?”
“Didn’t you say so?”
“I said so?” He hadn’t said anything!
“You told Huang Wenjie to say so,” Bian Ting added.
Meng Xin thought for two seconds.
He took Bian Ting’s phone out of his pocket, easily entered the password, and opened WeChat.
Huang Wenjie: [Godfather, are you there?]
Huang Wenjie: [Meng Xin says he misses you.]
Huang Wenjie: [Meng Xin wants to know where you are and if you can come back early.]
Huang Wenjie: [Meng Xin says every second without you feels like a year, like being apart for ages.]
Huang Wenjie: [Meng Xin says if you’re not in front of him in 15 minutes, he’s going to hang himself at the dorm door.]
Huang Wenjie: [Oh, and Meng Xin also says bring him a big portion of fried chicken cutlet, with a salt and pepper flavor.]
“…”
“Huang Wenjie!!!” Meng Xin shoved the phone back into Bian Ting’s pocket and turned to yell at the culprit, “Is this how you pass messages?!”
“What’s wrong? Aren’t those all facts? You wanted to see him but didn’t want to say it. Besides,” Huang Wenjie said confidently, “a little embellishment can make your relationship closer. That’s the art of language.”
Meng Xin wasn’t buying it, “Oh, and what about the fried chicken cutlet part?”
“The middleman’s gotta make a profit, right?” Huang Wenjie grinned as he snatched the bag of fried chicken cutlet from Bian Ting’s hand. “Next time, remember to come to me for stuff like this.”
“…”
Huang Wenjie happily went off to eat his fried chicken cutlet, leaving an awkward Meng Xin and Bian Ting staring at each other.
Bian Ting handed Meng Xin the milk tea he was holding with his other hand. “This is yours.”
Fried chicken cutlets were definitely something Huang Wenjie liked, Bian Ting knew that very well.
Bian Ting asked, “Curious?”
“No,” Meng Xin sat back down at his desk, sitting up straight and showing Bian Ting a determined back. He said firmly, “I just asked him to check. I’m not curious.”
Bian Ting spoke slowly, “I could tell you, though…”
“Really?” Meng Xin immediately teleported in front of Bian Ting, chair and all, “Then tell me, let me hear it.”
“But what if telling you makes you even more curious?” Bian Ting asked.
“It won’t,” Meng Xin said, “First of all, I’m not curious; I’m just a boyfriend who knows how to listen. Secondly, my heart is like still water; nothing will stir my curiosity. And lastly, I’m the kind of person who always knows when to stop and leave things well enough alone. I hate prying too deeply into things.”
“Fine.” Bian Ting waved him over, “Come a little closer.”
Meng Xin immediately leaned in, offering his ear to Bian Ting.
Bian Ting whispered in his ear, “I’m preparing a birthday present for you.”
“Oh, oh, oh!!” Meng Xin suddenly understood; his birthday was indeed coming up, and he hadn’t realized that Bian Ting had started preparing so early.
Alright, Meng Xin decided to reluctantly forgive Bian Ting for one minute.
He stayed in his position, waiting for Bian Ting to continue.
However, no more words came for a long while.
Finally, Bian Ting gently straightened his tilted body.
Meng Xin realized that Bian Ting truly had no intention of continuing.
“And then?”
“What ‘and then’?”
“That’s it?”
“Yep.”
Meng Xin raised an eyebrow and raised his voice, “Aren’t you going to elaborate?”
“Of course not,” Bian Ting said, “How can it still be a surprise if I tell you?”
Meng Xin widened his eyes, “You, you, you…”
Great, now he was even more curious.
This damn Bian Ting was definitely doing this on purpose!!!
Bian Ting pinched his face, “Don’t be curious.”
—
Meng Xin couldn’t hold back anymore by evening.
He followed Bian Ting like a shadow, even following him into the bathroom.
Bian Ting glanced at him and asked, “You want to come in?”
Meng Xin pointed at the door, reminding him, “Huang Wenjie and the others are still outside.”
But then he thought for a moment and said, “Forget it, you can be quiet if you want.”
“No… I’m not coming in!”
“Then why are you following me?”
Meng Xin gritted his teeth, “Tell me what you’re preparing right now, or I’ll do something bad to you right here.”
Bian Ting seemed to slightly look forward to his words, “Like what?”
“Like giving you a beating right here.”
Bian Ting: “Go ahead.”
“…”
Look at him, look at him, this is what happens when you’re spoiled by preferential treatment. Bian Ting was absolutely certain that Meng Xin wouldn’t hit him!
“Aren’t you going to do it? Not going to? Well, I’m getting in the shower,” Bian Ting said as he began to unbutton his shirt.
“…You go ahead, I’m leaving!” Meng Xin quickly opened the door and slipped out, slamming the bathroom door shut behind him.
…
When Bian Ting came out of the bathroom, Meng Xin was waiting for him at his spot with a blow dryer in hand.
Meng Xin, looking like a professional stylist, led him to the chair and eagerly offered, “Let me dry your hair.”
Bian Ting preemptively warned, “I’m not going to tell you.”
“…”
Meng Xin stopped pretending and glared at Bian Ting before shoving the blow dryer into his hands, “You dry it yourself.”
But after a brief pause, Meng Xin moved closer again, clearly coming up with a new, more subtle strategy.
This time, he didn’t mention his curiosity at all. Instead, he very politely began massaging Bian Ting’s shoulders.
While gently kneading, he blew air near Bian Ting’s ear, “You know, I read an article today that was really well-written. It said the most important thing in maintaining a relationship is honesty…”
Bian Ting saw right through him: “Just say what you want to say.”
Meng Xin pleaded, “Tell me, please, I’m begging you.”
Bian Ting asked, “Didn’t you say you’d never be curious again?”
“I’m not curious, I’m just concerned about you.” Meng Xin leaned in and asked, “What have you been up to lately? Are you tired? Tell me, I can help share the load.”
Bian Ting shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I’m not tired.”
“…You’re tired.”
“I’m not tired.”
“You are!”
“Really, I’m not tired.”
“…Come on, tell me!” Meng Xin urged. “Even if I know, I’ll still act surprised when the day comes. I promise.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then—?”
Meng Xin looked at Bian Ting with expectant eyes.
When Bian Ting showed signs of hesitation, Meng Xin worked even harder, giving him a shoulder massage and patting his back.
However, Bian Ting simply smiled faintly and said, “I’m not telling you.”
“…”
The considerate masseuse Meng Xin immediately transformed into a violent boxing champion, hitting Bian Ting’s shoulder hard several times in frustration.
“You heartless, stubborn, unmovable boyfriend!”
—
Meng Xin’s growing curiosity was almost driving him mad.
Every morning, the first thought in his head was, What is Bian Ting preparing? At this rate, he would be curious to death before his birthday even arrived.
Meng Xin realized this couldn’t go on.
Since he couldn’t pry the information out of Bian Ting, Meng Xin decided to take matters into his own hands.
—He would stick to Bian Ting 24/7. Surely he’d find out what Bian Ting was up to.
However, Bian Ting was just too hard to crack. Despite Meng Xin’s constant presence from morning till night, he still had no clue what Bian Ting was preparing.
He followed Bian Ting all day long, from the teaching building to the library, and then from the library to the lab.
Other places were fine, but the lab was a problem. Meng Xin didn’t have access, so he had to wait outside.
He waited for a long time, but Bian Ting didn’t come out. Instead, another student exited.
The student walked up to Meng Xin with a smile and asked, “Are you the one whose birthday Bian Ting is preparing for?”
“Ah? How do you all know?” Was Bian Ting telling everyone about his birthday plans?
“We could tell,” the student chuckled, a teasing, mischievous grin on his face. “The way Bian Ting’s been acting… tsk tsk, so thoughtful.”
Meng Xin scratched his head awkwardly. “How could you tell?”
It wasn’t like he had “I’m about to have a birthday” written on his forehead.
“The way Bian Ting’s been preparing your birthday gift when he has free time. We’ve all seen it. The look on his face? Tsk tsk, so sweet.”
Meng Xin immediately understood upon hearing this. No wonder he hadn’t seen Bian Ting preparing the gift—it was being done secretly in the lab, a place he couldn’t access.
In just a second, Meng Xin judged that this classmate knew the inside story and could be his breakthrough point.
He quickly asked, “What is he preparing? Did you see anything?”
“Oh, I can’t say,” the classmate replied. “Bian Ting told us in advance. If you ask, we can’t tell you.”
Meng Xin: “…”
Had Bian Ting been an undercover agent? Not only had he kept everything secret, but he had also warned others not to spill the beans?
—
Under Bian Ting’s strict guard, Meng Xin waited eagerly for his birthday to arrive.
This year, his birthday happened to fall on a Saturday. After finishing their classes on Friday, he and Bian Ting planned to go out and stay the night, not returning to the dorm that evening.
This suggestion came from Meng Xin.
The reason was simple: he didn’t want to suddenly climb into Bian Ting’s bed at midnight and demand his birthday gift.
On Friday, Meng Xin waited for midnight, and as soon as the clock struck 12, he grabbed Bian Ting’s arm like a person desperate for an antidote and shook it vigorously. “It’s my birthday! Give me my gift, hurry up!”
…Who asks for their gift the moment the clock strikes midnight?
But Bian Ting was prepared. He took out a large box and handed it to Meng Xin.
“Happy birthday, baby.”
Meng Xin hugged the box tightly, already tearful even before opening it—after all this time, he was finally getting his gift in broad daylight, rightfully and openly!
He reverently opened the box.
Inside was a pair of new shoes.
“Wow!” Meng Xin exclaimed in surprise.
His joy wasn’t fake. He had wanted these shoes for a long time but had hesitated to buy them because they were too expensive.
Having a boyfriend was such a wonderful thing. If he had known it would be like this, he would have made Bian Ting his boyfriend on the first day of school!
After his “wow,” Meng Xin noticed there was something else inside the box.
It was a pair of hand-stitched dolls, each holding hands, with magnets on their hands that would pull them together when close, making them seem inseparable.
The craftsmanship wasn’t perfect, but it was passable. However, the person who made them definitely put in a lot of effort—Bian Ting had made them himself in the lab, learning little by little.
“Wow…” Meng Xin marveled.
“It’s my first time making these,” Bian Ting coughed lightly. “They’re a bit ugly.”
“They’re not ugly, not at all! I love them!” Meng Xin pointed to the doll holding a sunflower. “Is this me?”
“Yes.”
“Then this one is you?”
“Mm.”
“Why does your doll have a little rolled-up flag in its hand?” Meng Xin gently squeezed the flagpole in the “Bian Ting” doll’s hand and slowly unrolled the flag inside.
As he did, the words on the flag slowly revealed themselves.
—You are the perfect person to be a boyfriend.
Meng Xin stared at the words, reading them over and over again.
He then turned and kissed Bian Ting on the cheek, cupping his face as he smiled with a joyful glint in his eyes. “How is my boyfriend so perfect?”
Bian Ting smiled faintly and said, “My boyfriend is great too.”
“No, my boyfriend is even better.”
“My boyfriend is even better.”
“You’re not allowed to say anything,” Meng Xin said domineeringly. “What I say goes.”
“Fine,” Bian Ting nodded. “I’ll listen to you.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Meng Xin gave him a hard kiss on the other side of his face.
“My boyfriend is the best!”
At three in the morning, Meng Xin was still lying in bed, too excited to sleep.
Bian Ting received a message from Meng Xin.
Meng Xin: [Bian Ting, what do you think of Meng Xin as a person?]
Bian Ting pulled Meng Xin’s waist closer and guided him into his arms.
Meng Xin turned around, facing Bian Ting. He reached out and poked Bian Ting, signaling him to reply quickly.
He already knew the answer, because for the past three hours, he had been asking Bian Ting, “Who is the best person in the world to be a boyfriend?” Each time, he would be pleased to hear the answer, “It’s you.”
But he still wanted to hear Bian Ting say it again, directly.
Even though he had already heard it many times that day, Bian Ting still pressed the voice message button and sent it.
“Meng Xin,” Bian Ting said with a smile, “isn’t suited to be a friend—he’s only fit to be a boyfriend.”
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