The activity center at Taipei Central University, with its weathered brick facade and sprawling palm trees, has been the home to decades of student life in the city's and in Taiwan's eventful history. Inside, the student newspaper office buzzed with energy. Around the large conference table, editors argued, debated, and pitched ideas for the first summer issue of 2010.
"What about the Tainan University student who had attempted to take his own life for love? We can travel to that university and interview that student's cohort," someone else in.
"Too far away," the organizer replied, his tone dismissive. "How would we even get interviews? Who cares about Tainan?"
The room fell silent for a moment. Then Fan Chih-wei, the editor-in-chief, leaned forward, his sharp eyes scanning the group. He had the kind of face that made people sit up straighter. He was a little intimidating.
"I have an idea," he said, his voice cutting through the chatter. "College bi guys and the sex they are having."
The room went quiet. The editors exchanged uneasy glances.
"The rough, quick and dirty sex the bros are having with each other," he adds.
Fan smirked. "Yeah! It's taboo and a hot topic, at least ever since Brokeback Mountain!"
"That's... controversial," one editor admitted, his voice hesitant. "Isn't that smut, and who's going to handle it?"
Fan's gaze landed on Chang Junhao, a freshman editor with short, messy hair and a look of wide-eyed determination. "Junhao," Fan said, his tone final. "You'll take the lead. And for making sure we are tasteful and respectable to the funders, let's be euphemistic and stay classy."
Junhao blinked, surprised. He hadn't expected to be singled out. "Me?"
"Yes, you," Fan replied, leaning back in his chair. "You're new. You're fresh. You don't have a girlfriend yet, do you?"
Junhao shook his head, his cheeks flushing. "No, sir. I've only been in college for two months."
"Good," Fan said, his smile widening. "You are single and not distracted by the demands of having a partner. That's exactly why you're perfect for this. It'd be... just right."
Fan thought, it takes a kind of inexperienced, innocent and sweet guy to get bi closeted guys to open up.
Junhao nodded, his heart racing. "Yes, sir."
Junhao's friend Kitty tipped Junhao off about the school park, particularly the place colloquially called sex garden by naughty students. She said that the chances of meeting gay male students -- her tribe -- there at night aren't actually that high.
"You'd be surprised," Kitty would emphasize, to know that the closeted guys and the out guys lead very different lives. Kitty gave Junhao's shoulders and pecs a nonchalant yet objectifying thumbs-up as she was sizing him, up and down.
"Junhao, my little one, my sources tell me that openly gay university students would not go to this park as there may still be straight men taking their girlfriends here. The students go to the arts studio showers and the old non-students cruise here. In recent years though, I hear that the closeted bi guys are in the west side of the garden. And they are cruising for gay sex! Hun, you have to be aloof and street-smart there, so you don't look a deer caught in headlights. Break eye-contact and walk swiftly away, until you find a bush to hide and observe from afar. It's too bad I can only tell you so much for your little project. Even I know whatever I have is just full-on a wannabe girl gay-mayor's little cruising book of knowledge. All of this is to say, c'est la vie -- get out there and get some experiences!"
Junhao let out a nervous little moan.
***
The next evening, Junhao stood in the heart of Taipei Central University, in the tranquil 'Uni Phys Ed Park'. The Taiwan Provincial Junior College of Physical Education opened in June 1961, the first school in Taiwan focused only on sports. At the center of its garden stood the tomb of Principal Tsiung, a Taiwanese patriot whose leadership shaped the school.
His memorial plaque was carefully placed beside a row of trees, their branches swaying gently in the breeze, while vibrant flowers bloomed in an orderly display. The arrangement, harmonious and dignified, symbolized the respect and reverence the community held for his legacy. Junhao straightened up walking past it.
Principal Tsiung grew up under Japanese rule and believed a strong body was key to survival. He was 170cm, an average height for men of his time, and broad-shouldered, with powerful arms and a firm stance that made people respect him. He was highly regarded as an educator with a strong grasp of how to bring upon cohesion and harmony for the Taiwanese locals, the benshengren, and the incoming KMT-affiliated students from across mainland coastal cities, the waishengren.
He taught his students to build their strength through hard work and training, saying it was as important as learning in class. During his time, Taiwan's culture celebrated men who were fit and tough. Physical training was seen as a way to form a proud national identity.
The school garden reflected these ideas. It was not just a peaceful place but also a space where men's strength were on display. The college hired healthy strong men as arborists and landscapers, believing their vigor helped the garden thrive.
Students often trained in this park, running laps and lifting weights under the banyan trees. Many believed Principal Tsiung's spirit watched over them, urging them to push harder and, on the rare special occasion, to celebrate their hard trophy bodies by wearing revealing tank tops. His legacy was not one where men of Sodom are frolicking under the blazing sun. His legacy was more gentlemen, with a college sensibility. Very homo-social focused.
The scent of osmanthus flowers in the evening is always an aphrodiasiac. The sweet scent drifted through the air, the evening warm breeze that tingled Junhao's balls.
The university was not just a place of education--it was a symbol of the values that had shaped Taiwan's elite for generations.
In the dark, Junhao spotted cranes at rest, the only time the campus wasn't busy building lavish monuments. There are always building advancements on campus, and the city's infrastructure is improving. Junhao thought about how his relatives who had been here just years ago may fail to recognize this place. Many of the university's wealthiest donors had ties to the old Kuomintang, their names attached to the very buildings they funded. Junhao found it strange that the university, once a beacon of inclusivity, physical excellence, and intellectual camaraderie, seemed to be shifting. It had become more of a playground for corporate interests, reinforcing superficial cultural norms dictated by a fleeting and turbulent market.
Junhao went back to thinking about the men. These men who worked on campus, with well-defined arms and tanned skin kissed bronze by the relentless Taipei summer sun, worked with a rhythmic grace that echoed the pulse of the island itself. The garden desired the yang vitality of these men. The earth itself was nourished not only by their labor but by the strength of their bodies, the power of their spirit.
Lost in thought, Junhao became startled when he heard two guards -- one man, one woman -- pull down up the partition rod from the ground. It was almost as if one of the guards saw him in the bush, Junhao sensed. Suddently, Junhao felt not only out of place but feel defeated by this journalism project. And very nervous.
All of a sudden, Junhao felt a bump on his right side, jolting him slightly. He turned to see Dejun, his broad frame outlined in the dim light, a grin spreading across his face.
"Dejun!" Junhao called out, surprised but pleased.
"Hey, Junhao," Dejun said, his voice warm and casual, though his grin lingered like he enjoyed being caught off guard.
Junhao glanced up at him, feeling his cheeks flush faintly. "Didn't see you there."
Dejun chuckled, a low, easy sound. "Guess I gotta stop bulldozing people," he grinned, reached out his muscular arm with showmanship and then patted Junhao's shoulder lightly before stepping back. "You good, man?"
"Yeah, yeah. You?"
"Better now. Hey going to get a snack--" Dejun said, his tone bright, like he wanted to linger but wasn't quite sure how to make it happen.
"Now?" Junhao asked, half-hopeful.
"Nah, not now. I'm headed to practice." Dejun motioned toward the gym bag slung over his shoulder, his fingers tightening briefly on the strap like it was a tether. "But soon, for real."
Junhao smiled, nodding. "Right. Basketball's keeping you busy, huh?"
Dejun hesitated for a moment, his grin softening into something quieter. "Yeah. Gotta stay on top of it. You know how it is--discipline and all that." He paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, "How about you? What's going on?"
