◎ My appreciation for abs is purely artistic ◎

At this point, X and I had been chatting on and off for almost a month. But clearly, my skills weren’t refined enough—I still hadn’t succeeded in getting a look at his abs.

Reality was harsh. I was nothing more than a puppet being pulled by the strings of work. When I got busy, I practically disappeared from the world. And whenever I managed to steal some free time, I’d charge into X’s virtual space, running wild. I wondered if, from his perspective, I looked like some kind of expert in playing hard to get.

No matter what he thought, I had a strong suspicion that he was using his abs to keep me hooked—and I had proof. Every time I (unintentionally) gave off a hint of indifference, he would subtly drop signals that I was just about to succeed. But the moment I chased after it, I’d find nothing but a mirage.

But what could I do? His abs belonged to him, and I couldn’t exactly reach through the screen and strip him down.

This whole situation wasn’t exactly a fair exchange. It was more like an ongoing game of catch. I had to admit, I was having fun—maybe even a little too much fun.

More than once, I asked myself: why am I so drawn into this game of half-truths and playful deceptions? Do I actually want to fall in love? Do I want to go through the highs and lows, the second-guessing, the sleepless nights, and the heartaches?

The answer was obvious—

Who has the time for that?!

So, forget it. This ambiguous phase—where I could advance or retreat at will—was perfect for someone like me, constantly under mental stress. No obligations, no responsibilities. I could enjoy the thrill while freeing myself from the weight of commitment.

During the day, work drained me dry. At night, I was rejuvenated by X’s hormone-fueled fitness photos and our emotionally fulfilling conversations.

Another night before bed, I exercised the little power I had left. Lying in bed, it had become a habit to message X the moment I got comfortable.

I turned off the lights before climbing into bed. The only glow in the room came from my phone screen. Pouting, I typed:

“Teacher X, I’m really unhappy today.”

X must have gotten used to waiting for me at night because he was online soon after.

X: “What happened?”

I groaned dramatically:

“I had to take the blame for my boss today.”

X: “Want to talk about it?”

He is so nice. It feels like having a gentle and considerate boyfriend by my side, taking care of me.

I wasn’t really emotional at first, but as I complained to him, I started to feel wronged.

“During the meeting today, my boss caught a minor but noticeable mistake. I remember my manager was the last one to make changes on my computer. I don’t know if he forgot or what, but since the edit record shows my name, I had no way to explain myself. I ended up getting scolded a few times. It was really frustrating.”

X: “Do you want my advice and help, or are you looking for emotional support?”

I laughed and playfully called him out, “You’re being way too direct!”

X: “I don’t know you well enough yet. I don’t want you to think I sound too much like a nagging dad.”

Then he added, with a hint of something deeper, “But in the future, I’ll know.”

I was already grinning. Getting scolded at work wasn’t even a big deal; it wasn’t really my fault either. But I still made a big show of feeling pitiful in front of X and then acted all needy, saying, “I just want lots and lots of emotional support from Teacher X.”

X: “Is it the kind of emotional support I’m thinking of?”

I played dumb on purpose. “What do you mean?”

X: “Abs?”

I replied with a smug little emoji. “What now, Teacher X? You really do know me too well.”

X: “Here we go again, huh?”

Me: “Only those who want to take the bait will bite.”

For a moment, the chat fell silent. Then, after a while, X said, “It’s sent.”

Me: “???”

Me: “!!!”

I was absolutely shocked and spammed him with exclamation marks. “Did you send it to the wrong person?! I didn’t get anything!!!”

X: “Maybe it got removed by the platform.”

I was devastated! For the first time ever, I resented the fact that I couldn’t read his actual expression through text. Suspicious, I asked, “But I’ve seen other people send ab pics before. How come theirs didn’t get deleted?”

X: “Wait, you had other people send them to you???”

X: “???”

Oh wow, now he was the one spamming punctuation marks.

I, being a little sly, dodged the question and threw it back at him with an added twist. “Would you rather I say yes or no?”

X walked straight into my half-serious, half-playful trap and hit me with a direct answer. “I want to hear you say no, but rationally, I’d rather hear the truth.”

The moment I realized I was smiling, I quickly bit my lower lip.

No, no, no.

I must resist pure-hearted directness.

No way.

I started rambling nonsense as my escape route. “You know the statue of David?”

X: “Michelangelo’s?”

I nodded. “David is also completely nude, yet the world doesn’t find it inappropriate. That’s because it represents the beauty of a strong and confident human form—a perfect balance of power and grace.”

“Likewise, my appreciation for abs is purely artistic. So please, Teacher X, don’t project your own thoughts onto me or assume I’m thinking something improper.”

X was already used to my shameless way of turning things around. “Teacher Seagull argues so convincingly. I’m impressed, truly impressed.”

I grinned so hard my eyes nearly disappeared. “Thank you, thank you. The feeling is mutual.”

I almost wanted to give myself an award for my ability to twist words. But X wasn’t that easy to fool. Just when I thought I had successfully dodged the topic, he pulled me right back in.

X: “So you really have been looking at other people’s abs?”

Me: “Hmm… take a guess?”

X: “Guess? At this point, I feel like I’m gambling.”

See, this is the beauty of online conversations. Without face-to-face interactions, there’s no way to read microexpressions. It almost feels like, as long as I believe it, my words alone could send his emotions on a rollercoaster ride.

A moment later, X sent me a screenshot. The preview looked dark, hard to make out.

I swear, we must have some kind of telepathic connection because before I even opened the image, I had a strange feeling. My heart pounded in my ears—damn, I was actually nervous. It felt like receiving a QQ message from a boy in class, inviting me to the library to study together.

I’ve never denied that X brings waves of excitement to both my mind and body. Being mentally flustered doesn’t mean I have to remain completely rational. What’s the fun in staying detached from the start? Our motto is—indulge just a little, but don’t take it too seriously.

His WeChat ID was also X. I didn’t even get a good look at his profile picture before his messages came flooding in. The rapid notifications made it feel like an alarm was ringing in my ear.

X: “Add me now, or it’ll really get deleted.”

X: “Hurry!”

Under his repeated urging, I felt this sudden fear of missing out, like if I didn’t act now, I’d lose my chance forever. I knew platforms didn’t allow cross-app promotions, but there was no time to overthink if it was appropriate or not. I quickly saved the image, extracted his WeChat ID, switched apps, typed it in, searched, and sent a friend request.

Just like that, my real-life world cracked open a little, letting in a distant stranger.

“Can we video call?”

X asked right away.

Everything was happening so fast. The sudden leap in progress between me and X left my thoughts scattered, but it didn’t stop me from feeling wary. “But… I’m not wearing makeup.”

I softened my tone, using a bit of playful shyness to smooth over the obvious excuse.

X must have picked up on my hesitation. He didn’t push, simply saying, “That’s okay. I won’t show my face either. You can cover your camera if you want.”

I lay on my bed, looking around. Luckily, my latex pillow was thick enough to prop up my phone. I carefully pulled the edge of my blanket over the camera, stalling for time as I mentally prepared myself.

This was so embarrassing. And yet, somewhere deep down, there was an undeniable thrill, a sense of urgency like a fleeting moment that couldn’t be missed.

Even though X wouldn’t see me, I still quickly fixed my hair and pressed my lips together before sending, “Teacher X, I’m ready.”

The video call request popped up instantly.

I took a deep breath and pressed “accept.”

The other side wasn’t shrouded in darkness as I had expected. The camera kept shaking—X was probably holding the phone, seemingly trying to find the right angle. Eventually, he placed the phone on the ground, propping it against something. I guessed it was his sports water bottle.

He took a few steps back, allowing me to see his surroundings. The clock on the wall pointed to midnight, and behind him, the swimming pool was completely empty.

Surprised, I was the first to speak. “You’re still swimming this late?”

X remained silent. From the camera, I could only see his black swimming trunks reaching his ankles. I knew he was bending slightly forward, staring at me without moving an inch.

The hot steam brushed against my cheeks. Even though I knew he couldn’t see me, my mouth went dry with nervousness.

I had to hand it to myself—even in such a heart-pounding moment, I still had the leisure to think: Wow, his leg muscles are really tight and well-proportioned! So the pictures he posted on his profile weren’t edited after all!

I actually made myself laugh. With a soft chuckle, the strange, restrained atmosphere in the video also dissipated.

X let out a low laugh, cleared his throat, and asked, “Can you see me?”

Oh no, his voice sounds amazing too!

It was deep yet carried a youthful energy, making it hard to pinpoint his exact age.

As he spoke, he seemed to straighten up. Droplets of water fell from his body, hitting the ground one by one, as if they were landing directly on my heart. No—rather, I was like those water droplets, dizzy and head over heels, plunging into the abyss.

I could genuinely feel myself being captivated by his presence. My ears burned so badly that I had to rub them before forcing out a barely audible response, trying to sound composed.

“…Yeah, I can see you.”

He casually grabbed a black T-shirt from the side and pulled it over his head. His tone was light. “See?”

I pressed my hands against my face—no, I practically smothered it. Otherwise, I was afraid I might scream out loud. I’ll admit it, I’m a hopeless fangirl. Any woman with a healthy appreciation for good looks would struggle to contain the flood of dopamine and serotonin while watching a fit guy do crunches up close.

Friends, I really want to describe the scene to you in detail, but I just—

I can’t. Words fail me.

All I can say is, bless modern camera technology. The video was so high-definition that it felt like a muscular hunk was right in front of me—within arm’s reach—working out, training, dripping sweat.

Even though I didn’t get a glimpse of his abs, the visual impact was still strong enough to make my face burn and my breath hitch.