Meng Xin stared at the two fresh messages on his phone and shattered, just a little.
— “Not suitable,” again with the not suitable!
Meng Xin started to get mad.
Lately, he had been nothing but gentle, caring, and attentive to Bian Ting. He’d never treated anyone, besides his parents, this well in his entire life.
And yet, Bian Ting still had an issue with him.
Why?
Meng Xin stormed out of bed, seething.
He couldn’t take it anymore — he was going to confront Bian Ting right now!
The moment his feet hit the floor, Bian Ting came over.
“Perfect timing,” Bian Ting shoved his phone into Meng Xin’s hand. “Some random person tried to add me. They said they know you — check it out yourself.”
Holding Bian Ting’s phone, Meng Xin suddenly felt like it was burning hot.
In his mind, smartphones were incredibly private belongings. It was best not to touch someone else’s phone, and if you had to, you should get permission and only look at it with the owner present.
Why was Bian Ting so casual about handing his phone over?
And the screen was already on the WeChat page — wasn’t he afraid Meng Xin would snoop?
Meng Xin tilted the phone slightly, making sure Bian Ting could still see the screen.
Bian Ting seemed to understand his hesitation and said, “It’s fine. Look through it if you want.”
Even with that reassurance, Meng Xin didn’t dare scroll.
He didn’t move a single finger and just asked, “Who’s this random person?”
“Some ‘Xue’ something.”
Meng Xin glanced down and instantly understood — Bian Ting was talking about his alt account, It’s Little Snow~!
Bian Ting frowned slightly. “Do you know her?”
Of course, Meng Xin wasn’t about to admit it was his carefully crafted fake account. He quickly shook his head. “Nope.
What did she say to you?”
Bian Ting didn’t really want to repeat the ridiculous conversation, so he simply said, “Just check the chat. I didn’t change the notes.”
Meng Xin pretended to click into the chat and even paused for a couple of seconds to fake reading through the messages.
Then, he cut straight to what he really wanted to know: “Why did you tell her I’m not boyfriend material?”
Bian Ting paused for a beat, avoiding the question.
He pressed his lips together, then asked instead, “Do you want to be her boyfriend?”
“No.” Meng Xin denied it without thinking. “I don’t even know her.”
What he cared about was Bian Ting’s opinion.
“Exactly,” Bian Ting said. “So I didn’t want you two to meet.”
Meng Xin blinked. “Why not?”
“Because she’s weird,” Bian Ting replied flatly.
“Is she?”
“Yes.”
“In what way?”
“Her name, her way of talking, and the random threats.”
“What threats? I didn’t see any threats.”
“She said her cousin was your high school classmate, your childhood friend’s childhood friend. And if I didn’t add her, she’d make her cousin badmouth me to you.”
“…Okay, fair.”
“Not weird?”
“…Weird. Super weird.”
Turns out, his alt account was just too suspicious.
No wonder Bian Ting was wary — most people wouldn’t want their friends being harassed by some bizarre stranger.
Bian Ting really was his closest friend in the dorm, always looking out for him.
Meng Xin’s anger melted away.
“So,” Bian Ting changed the subject, “did her cousin badmouth me to you?”
“No. I don’t even know who her cousin is.”
Meng Xin had made the whole thing up — there was no cousin.
“That’s good.”
Bian Ting tapped a few times on his phone and, right in front of Meng Xin, deleted It’s Little Snow~.
“If her cousin comes looking for you,” he said, voice laced with an oddly victorious tone, “tell him I snitched first.
He’s already too late.”
Meng Xin’s mission to test Bian Ting with a fake account had failed, leaving him no closer to knowing if Bian Ting’s opinion of him had changed.
So, he decided to stick to his plan — continuing to be gentle and attentive, hoping persistence would pay off.
But honestly, Bian Ting was really thoughtful. Ever since Meng Xin agreed to teach him how to swim, Bian Ting told him he didn’t need to tag along to the library every day.
At first, Meng Xin refused. “No way, I have to go with you.”
Bian Ting stated a simple fact: “You’re so tired you can barely stand up.”
Meng Xin shrugged it off. “I can sleep in the library.”
Bian Ting raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t sleeping in your bed be better?”
Maybe it was the sleep deprivation talking, but Meng Xin blurted out, “Yeah, but you’re not in my bed.”
Bian Ting froze for a second, then smiled faintly. “Do you want me to be?”
“…” “……”
What kind of conversation is this?!
Meng Xin’s rusty brain practically short-circuited. He quickly backtracked, flustered. “No, no, that’s not what I meant! I just think we should get to know each other better. But if you’re always at the library, how am I supposed to get to know you?”
“And I still need to say good morning to you.”
“You’re teaching me how to swim, right? We can talk then,” Bian Ting said calmly. “Sleep time is for sleeping. Don’t push yourself.”
“Just tell me good afternoon instead.”
“Good afternoon, Bian Ting.”
“Good afternoon.”
Thanks to Meng Xin’s patient coaching, Bian Ting could now hold his breath underwater for a full minute.
It didn’t really have much to do with Meng Xin, but he still felt ridiculously proud.
During a break, Meng Xin lounged at the pool’s edge, testing the waters with a casual question.
“Bian Ting, what do you think I’d be like in a relationship?”
Bian Ting looked into Meng Xin’s eyes. The sunlight reflected off the rippling water, casting shimmering patterns across Meng Xin’s gaze.
After a long pause, Bian Ting finally said, “I don’t know.”
“Just take a guess.”
“It’d probably be great,” Bian Ting looked away, his voice soft. “Anyone you like would be really lucky.”
Bian Ting truly lived up to being his closest friend in the dorm.
Look at that — only a true brother knows how to say the right things.
“Right? I think so too!”
Meng Xin, reassured by Bian Ting’s words, felt like his plan was working.
Having gotten the validation he wanted, Meng Xin dropped the subject and switched to talking about other things.
Bian Ting, as usual, responded normally — as if nothing had happened.
And just like that, the conversation passed without incident.
Until they were almost ready to head back.
Out of nowhere, Bian Ting asked, “What kind of girls do you like?”
The question completely stumped Meng Xin.
He’d never given it much thought, so he didn’t have a clear ideal type.
He wracked his brain for an answer but came up empty.
“Uh…” Meng Xin said hesitantly. “Someone like Snow White, maybe?”
Bian Ting messaged Zhang Yiming:
Bian Ting: What type of girl is Snow White?
Zhang Yiming: Holy crap, Snow White?!
Zhang Yiming: Man, of course it’s you.
Zhang Yiming laughed uncontrollably for ten minutes straight.
Zhang Yiming: “For a typical straight guy, answering ‘Snow White’ might just mean he likes kind, pretty girls — basically, any girl.”
Zhang Yiming: “But for that particular straight guy…”
Zhang Yiming: “Maybe he just likes apples.”
Bian Ting replied with a single word:
Bian Ting: “Scram.”
Meng Xin hated any fruit that required peeling.
So, when Gao Yinghang handed out a box of apples his family sent from home, Meng Xin only took one out of politeness.
He pulled out the fruit knife he’d bought in freshman year — still in its original packaging — and decided to tackle the apple the way he’d descale a fish.
The four roommates quietly focused on peeling their apples.
Meng Xin was the least serious about it. After a while, he started glancing around.
His gaze briefly lingered on Gao Yinghang and Huang Wenjie before landing on Bian Ting.
Bian Ting peeled with practiced ease, producing a smooth, plump apple. Even the skin came off in one continuous spiral, like he was showing off.
Meng Xin leaned over and marveled, “Bian Ting, your apple looks amazing.”
Bian Ting’s hands paused mid-motion, as if something had crossed his mind.
“This one’s for you.”
“No, no, you eat it,” Meng Xin said, not expecting anything.
“It’s fine. I’ve got two more,” Bian Ting said, referring to the extras Gao Yinghang had shoved at him, calling it a tribute to their “dorm dad.”
Meng Xin hesitated. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, if you insist.” Meng Xin beamed, eyes curving into crescents. “Thanks!”
Watching this unfold, Huang Wenjie decided to join in. “Respected dorm dad, your apple is so pretty.”
Before Bian Ting could respond, Meng Xin cut in. “Alright, my dear son, you can have my apple.”
Huang Wenjie eyed the jagged, lopsided apple in Meng Xin’s hand and grimaced. “…I’ll pass.”
“What? You’re picky now?” Meng Xin snorted. “Forget it, I’m keeping it.”
Meanwhile, Bian Ting finished peeling his apple. He even split it in half, carefully removing the core and stem.
By the time he handed it to Meng Xin, all that was left was the clean, juicy fruit.
Meng Xin looked at him like he’d just witnessed a miracle. “Bian Ting, you’re the best!”
Meng Xin hated fruit that needed peeling.
But there was a second half to that statement:
If someone peeled it for him, he loved it.
Of course, he wasn’t about to freeload entirely.
He handed his ugly, uneven apple to Bian Ting.
“It’s a little rough around the edges, but hear me out,” Meng Xin said, sounding like a salesman.
“I only peel fruit like once or twice a year, so this is a limited edition piece.”
Little salesman Meng Xin even raised his voice for emphasis. “Hurry up and take it — no complaining allowed!”
Bian Ting accepted the apple without hesitation.
“I won’t complain,” he said, voice steady.
While they were busy exchanging their limited-edition apples, Huang Wenjie had already finished peeling his and slipped out to the balcony to eat.
As a certified single guy, Huang Wenjie’s favorite pastime was standing on the balcony, enjoying the breeze, and observing the bustling world below — especially the clingy couples lingering under the dorm building.
Their dorm’s balcony was a prime viewing spot, offering a panoramic view of all the lovebirds below.
He glanced at the couple on the left and let out a duck-like “Aiyoo!”
Then he peeked at the couple on the right and followed it up with a goose-like “Oh-ho!”
Alone, Huang Wenjie single-handedly provided the full soundtrack of a poultry farm. His impeccable animal impressions were so ridiculous that Meng Xin kept glancing over at him.
With a mischievous grin, Huang Wenjie watched a couple below as they shyly intertwined their fingers. He took a loud, satisfying bite of his apple and said, with a tone dripping in irony, “Damn, that’s sweet!”
But then, as the couple turned around —
Huang Wenjie gasped, nearly choking on his apple. “Holy crap, both guys?”
Meng Xin, puzzled by his outburst, tilted his head. “What’s the big deal? Couples usually consist of a guy and a girl.”
“…”
“No, I mean,” Huang Wenjie sputtered, “It’s two guys!”
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