◎So, what do you think our relationship is now?◎

The elevator reached the twelfth floor. It was a two-elevator, three-apartment layout, and X’s place was at the end of the hallway.

His apartment was big.

And empty.

It seemed that this minimalist “wabi-sabi” style was quite trendy these days. There wasn’t a single unnecessary object in sight, and even the furniture was as simple as possible.

I could deal with the emptiness, but why didn’t he even have an extra pair of slippers at home?

I took off my ankle boots and, like X, walked around in just my socks. The floor wasn’t exactly cold, but the moment I stepped on it, I instinctively let out a small “hiss.”

X turned at the sound, glanced down at my curled toes, and realized what had happened. He apologized, “I’ll get a pair of slippers for you next time.”

Afraid I wouldn’t believe him, he even added, “I didn’t expect you to come today.”

That statement made me a little nervous, like he was implying that I’d be coming over often in the future.

I pressed my lips together, stopping any surprised words from slipping out.

But he seemed to want a response. He walked up to me, his tone playful. “How about ten pairs, so you can switch them up whenever you want?”

Now I had no choice but to respond. I waved my hand. “That’s too much. No need, haha.”

I laughed it off, avoiding a direct answer.

Since I didn’t outright refuse, X didn’t push the matter further. He gave me a meaningful look but eventually just took my hand and led me into the living room.

“Make yourself comfortable.”

He guided me to a dark leather couch and gently pushed me to sit down before heading into the open kitchen. He opened the fridge, then turned to ask, “Want something to drink?”

I glanced briefly inside and saw mostly bottled water and energy drinks.

I had slight nearsightedness, and staring too hard wouldn’t be polite, so I quickly looked away and casually asked, “Do you have tea?”

X seemed a bit surprised and glanced at the wall clock. “It’s late.”

I looked at my knitted cardigan draped over the couch. The pocket contained the large box I had bought earlier.

I touched my face a little sheepishly and gave him a not-so-subtle look. “You never know when it might come in handy.”

X followed my gaze, his ears turning slightly red as he picked up his phone.

Right, why didn’t I think of that? In a home as minimalistic as his, how could there possibly be something like tea leaves?

Thank goodness for the convenience of delivery services. These days, you can order anything you need through an app—except love.

The modern water purifier dispensed hot water at the perfect temperature for brewing tea.

As the fragrant tea aroma slowly filled the air, X and I both stared at the steady stream of water, restraining ourselves as we endured the agonizing wait.

Earlier, when I boldly suggested coming over to his place, my intentions couldn’t have been more obvious. But now that I had actually stepped through his door, I suddenly felt too embarrassed to be too straightforward.

Trying to act natural, we each sat at opposite ends of the sofa, deliberately keeping our distance. We brewed the tea, sipped on it for a while, and somehow, our conversation circled back to push-ups.

Back at the gym, X had done them with effortless ease, which made me eager to try. He pulled a solid black yoga mat from behind the sofa and rolled it out on the floor. I got into position, ready to give it a go—only to realize something was very wrong. Were my arms built differently from his? How come I could go down but not push myself back up? And when I finally managed to rise, I couldn’t go back down smoothly.

I held myself up on the yoga mat, frozen like someone who had been hit with a pause button. My arms trembled violently, but I couldn’t move an inch. Left with no choice, I turned to my professional onlooker for help. “Why can’t I go down?”

X had been watching for a while, arms crossed, suppressing a smile. “Tighten your core first.”

Playing the role of a clueless beginner, I blinked at him in confusion. “Where’s my core?”

He narrowed his eyes slightly.

I immediately surrendered. “Okay, okay, I was messing with you. Of course, I know.”

He nodded knowingly. “So, were you lying about not being able to do a single push-up too?”

I let out a dramatic sigh and held up my trembling arms as evidence. “No, look at this! See how badly my arms are shaking?”

X leaned down and gave my “evidence” a few squeezes. Not gonna lie, the way my arm felt in his grip was almost comically fragile. I was honestly worried that if he applied just a little more pressure, he’d snap my arm in half. I quickly pulled away.

“There’s no way I can compare to you! You must be insanely strong, right?”

I looked up at him with wide, admiring eyes, fingers twitching in mid-air.

“So, which muscles do you use when doing push-ups? Can I feel them for reference?”

X took a dramatic step back, feigning alarm. “You’re at it again?”

I cupped my chin with both hands, forming a flower shape, and beamed at him. “That’s right, my dear. Exactly what you’re thinking.”

“Oh.” X curled his lips into a smile. “Not happening.”

So ruthless.

I gave him a thumbs-up. “Teacher X, I’ve come to realize that you are truly heartless.”

Before he could defend himself, I scooted closer to him. “No way, I have to check again.”

X seemed both surprised and unsurprised as he grabbed my eager hands, questioning me, “Didn’t you already get hands-on downstairs?”

“Come on, you can’t assess a person’s heart through their clothes.”

With that, I lunged at him like a playful predator.

X humored me, putting up a fake struggle. There was something so hilariously off about the role reversal that I suddenly paused. “…Don’t you think this feels weird?”

X fell silent for a moment. “A little.”

Straightening up, he even adjusted his clothes and gave me a wary look, as if worried I might do something improper.

I glared at him, strongly condemning his baseless accusations.

Left with no choice, he raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, my bad. How do I make it up to you?”

I pointed at the yoga mat. “Simple. Do it again.”

Exercising was exhausting. Watching others exercise? Much more fun.

X let out a long, amused sigh, as if resigning himself to fate, then lowered himself down and effortlessly did the push-ups I couldn’t even complete one of.

I crouched in front of him, hugging my knees, just casually watching—but wow.

Friends, if you ever get the chance to watch a well-built man do push-ups right in front of you, I highly recommend this viewing angle. And that’s with clothes on. If he wasn’t wearing any… oh my god, I might just die of happiness.

By the time he finished a set of visually delightful push-ups, I was beyond hyped. Practically buzzing with energy, I cheered, “That was so cool! I want to learn too!”

Honestly, all I wanted was an excuse to build up some tension, a natural lead-in for a bit of physical contact. But who could have predicted that X would actually take it seriously?

He said I needed to work on my stamina first, starting with improving my cardiovascular endurance. Before I knew it, he had an entire warm-up routine planned out for me.

I was doomed. I hadn’t even done anything yet, and I was already exhausted.

Collapsing onto the yoga mat, I rolled back and forth, gasping for breath. But X, ever the merciless trainer, wasn’t moved in the slightest. Maybe he thought I wasn’t dead yet? He grabbed my hand, trying to pull me up. “Come on, get up. Just two more jumping jacks.”

I wailed, “If I jump even half a more, I swear your apartment value is gonna plummet.”

X raised a brow, amused. “Oh? How so?” He looked at me with that familiar expression—the one that said, ‘Let’s hear what nonsense you come up with this time.’

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes (not cute enough), and said, “If I die young from exhaustion, your place becomes a haunted house. That’s real estate 101. Buyers hate that.”

That actually made him laugh, and it seemed to convince him to abandon his plan of dragging me up. Instead, he crouched in front of me, grinning. “Oh? But your name isn’t even on the deed, and you’re already worried about my apartment value?”

My heart did a stupid little freefall. I quickly averted my gaze. “What can I say? It’s a nice place. If the price dropped in half, I’d be the first to buy it.”

I tossed out a casual remark and swiftly changed the subject. Flopping back onto the mat dramatically, I let out exaggerated groans. “God, I’m dying here.”

X looked down at me from above with a face full of regret. “Your stamina is really lacking. This was just the warm-up.”

I admitted defeat and cupped my hands in salute. “Your professionalism is terrifying. Even my actual trainer, who’s miles away, isn’t this ruthless with me.”

I knew my habits weren’t great. The moment I felt tired, I would start acting spoiled and refuse to train properly, cutting corners wherever possible. My trainer didn’t mind either—he was happy to take it easy, say a few words, and call it a day. We both slacked off together, and with that, my training fees went down the drain along with my efforts.

X, however, had a stronger sense of professionalism. Instead of criticizing my trainer, he simply said, “Because to him, you’re just a job.”

“Oh…” I tossed back a playful question. “And what about you?”

I swear, I was just flirting out of habit, but X took it seriously and asked, “So what do you think our relationship is right now?”

No wonder men are afraid of women asking this question. The moment I heard it, I nearly lost my composure.

Sensing my reluctance to answer directly, X’s expression grew more serious.

To stop him from saying something that would ruin the mood, I used the last of my strength to jump into his arms.

It was exhausting. I hung onto his neck, panting, my lips and nose grazing the side of his neck, leaving traces of heat wherever they landed. In a soft whisper, I murmured, “I don’t want you to teach me like this.”

I’m not exaggerating—when it comes to foreplay, I am truly gifted. My skills are top-tier. Given my lack of physical strength, I’m very self-aware of my own limits, yet X let me push him down onto the sofa without resistance.

Lying beneath me, his face tilted upward, I had the perfect vantage point to admire the curve of his throat and the way his Adam’s apple shifted.

“How do you want me to teach you?”

Ah, I loved the way his eyes looked at this moment—hazy yet focused.

The situation had flipped. Now, I was the one looking down at him. My hands moved restlessly across his abs, fingers roaming over the muscles I had long coveted. I mumbled breathlessly, “Does this mean you’ll teach me however I want?”

Truthfully, I had no idea what I was even saying. My mind was a mess, intoxicated by the sight of his toned body as I peeled away his clothes.

Forget the sun and moon, forget mountains and rivers, forget all the distances across the world. In this moment, everything melted into the heat of his skin beneath my fingertips.

“You should tell me first,” X rasped, his voice climbing up my spine, hoarse beyond belief.

He was still teasing me—but of course he was. In a moment like this, every word, every action was pure seduction.

My response was to hold him tightly, pressing our hearts together. His heartbeat matched mine—just as excited, just as expectant, just as full and overflowing.

With everything in place, I was eager to put him to the test. I wanted to see if his incredible physique truly lived up to its potential. My clouded mind urged me forward, leaving no room for hesitation.

I was too busy—too restless. Clenching my teeth, I declared boldly, “There’s no point in just talking about it. I’ll show you!”