Yixing returned exactly two days later, just as his text message had promised. No early arrival, no late excuse. He landed, probably signed a multi-million-dollar deal on the tarmac, and then, poof, he was back in Seoul, ready for his post-trip debriefing and immediate return to his Logistics Officer duties.

Jisoo knew he was back even before she saw his face. His scent arrived first.

It was Monday morning, and she was already halfway through her first lecture when Sehun texted a single photo: Yixing, looking ridiculously handsome in a tailored grey suit, leaning against the doorframe of her university office with a bag of gourmet coffee and a box of pastries. The caption from Sehun simply read: HQ is back online. Send help.

Jisoo tried to keep her focus on the complex ethical theories she was discussing, but suddenly the air in the lecture hall felt stale. Yixing's return wasn't just the return of a reliable courier; it was the return of a major, unpredictable variable to her life.

She finally walked into her office, expecting the usual professional greeting, perhaps a witty comment about her new 'assessment criteria.' Instead, Yixing was just there, sitting on her visitor sofa, looking relaxed yet entirely focused, like a predator patiently waiting for its prey. The air was thick, charged with the unsaid tension left over from his "awkward hug" and her mother’s enthusiastic phone call.

"Welcome back," Jisoo said, trying to sound as neutral as a Wikipedia entry.

Yixing gave her a slow smile. "Good morning, Professor Kim. Did you miss my services?"

"I missed the lack of corporate corruption in my life," Jisoo shot back, pointing at the expensive coffee. "Also, the driver was way less likely to hit me with a sarcastic comment."

Yixing laughed, a low, easy sound. "My apologies for the no-banter policy. A major expansion push is rough, you know? It demanded absolute focus. But hey, now that my personal logistics are back in range, I plan to start catching up."

He rose smoothly, closing the small distance between them. The "functional" barrier between them felt like it was slowly crumbling, bit by bit.

Before Jisoo could process the meaning of 'catching up,' Yixing was already close. He didn't ask this time; he simply opened his arms and pulled her in. Jisoo stiffened instantly. This hug wasn't requested, it was taken. She stayed rigid and still, her hands hovering awkwardly near his chest, unable to reciprocate the embrace.

Yixing immediately felt her stiffness. He didn't linger; the warmth was there, brief and intense, but he released her quickly, taking a decisive step back. He looked slightly embarrassed, as if realizing he had overstepped a boundary that had just been newly drawn.

"Sorry," he said simply. "My bad. My internal metrics just went completely haywire. I didn't calculate for the sudden drop in formality."

Jisoo forced herself to recover. She gave a quick, dismissive wave of her hand, pretending the hug was no big deal—just a minor, irrelevant glitch in their day. Oh God, my heart rate just spiked. Don't show it.

Yixing instantly picked up the cue to move on. He quickly gestured toward the coffee and pastries on her desk, effectively breaking the tension. "Right. Since my head is clearly not straight, let's talk about more important stuff. I took the liberty of selecting the darkest roast available. I figured your caffeine level would be crashing after two weeks without my supervision."

Jisoo inhaled sharply, forcing the witty retort back into place. Her usual sarcasm resurfaced, though it felt shaky. "Is that a calculation, or just another excuse for your corporate espionage?"

"A bit of both," Yixing admitted easily, leaning against the edge of her desk, back to his charmingly relaxed pose. "But let's stick to the immediate truth: I missed the banter. It seems my emotional bandwidth suffers without consistent, high-level sarcasm."

Jisoo rolled her eyes, but a genuine smile almost broke through. Okay, that was actually smooth.

"So, here's the deal," Yixing continued, his tone shifting into one of casual negotiation. "Since my driver lacks the emotional capacity to understand your scathing wit, and since I clearly can’t trust myself to maintain the appropriate level of professional distance after a two-week absence, I propose a new arrangement."

He paused, letting the silence build, making the simple proposal feel like a major contract amendment.

"For the next few days, I will resume my duties, but with one personal caveat: I want you to be deliberately meaner to me. No holds barred. Mock my coffee choices, criticize my tie, lecture me about corporate greed. I need to re-establish a stable emotional baseline, and honestly, your unique brand of hostility is the only accurate data point I have left. Consider it necessary homework."

Jisoo stared at him. It was a request so utterly ridiculous—so Yixing—that it completely disarmed her. It was a clear invitation to flirt under the guise of therapy. And, she realized, it successfully shifted the focus away from the awkward hug.

"You want me... to deliberately insult you?" she repeated flatly.

Yixing gave her a slow, amused nod. "It's for my optimal functionality. Don't worry, my HR department already approved the emotional hazard pay."

Jisoo folded her arms across her chest, her expression shifting from confusion to mild suspicion. "Wait. Is this some kind of reverse psychology strategy? Because I’m pretty sure 'optimal functionality' doesn't require self-inflicted psychological damage. And let me guess, the 'HR department' is Minseok."

Yixing’s smile widened slightly. "Doesn't matter. The data collection is unchangable now. You can take it like it's a professional courtesy."

"I think of it as insane," Jisoo retorted, shaking her head. "But fine. If you insist on treating my office like a clinical testing environment, I expect a detailed post-analysis report every evening. With citations."

Yixing’s expression immediately became intense, switching from playful to hyper-focused professionalism. "Totally. I'll include the necessary mood stats and a plan for how to make things even better tomorrow." He paused, his gaze softening slightly as he looked at her. "Fair warning though, I find insults seriously motivating. You might find my replies... stepped up a notch."

Jisoo narrowed her eyes, recognizing the veiled challenge. The playful air was back, but there was a sharp edge underneath. "Is that a threat, Zhang Yixing?"

"A prediction," he corrected smoothly. "Based on how much I want to spend quality time with the girl who keeps distracting me. Now, coffee. I need to check your consumption rate."

He picked up the darkest roast, handing it to her. Jisoo took the mug, her fingers momentarily brushing his. She pulled back quickly, but not before she caught the faint, fresh scent of black tea and expensive cologne—a scent she had missed more than she cared to admit.

Time passed at an absurd speed. Six weeks felt like a long blur of deadlines and Yixing's constant banter. Finally, the time came to ditch the heavy boot. It felt like freedom—the kind of freedom that came hand-in-hand with excruciating pain.

Physical therapy. It was a special kind of hell Jisoo never anticipated. After six weeks trapped inside a plastic shell, her ankle felt like a rusted hinge being forced open by a licensed sadist. The first session left her in a cold sweat; the second made her want to kick her therapist.

Jisoo had to attend sessions at least three times a week, which meant sacrificing precious break time amid her already packed teaching schedule. A Professor couldn't afford to look weak, especially not in front of Ph.D. students who craved certainty. In class, she hid every wince and bit of fatigue behind her usual deadpan expression.

Still, the PT vibe was draining. Back in her office, she had to prop her leg on the sofa and consume more painkillers than she preferred. No wonder she felt more cynical than usual—and Yixing was the perfect target for all that accumulated exhaustion and frustration.

Speaking of Yixing, the six-week Meal Project finally reached its logical conclusion. The last lunch arrived with a brief note: Project complete. Final report pending.

Jisoo assumed it was over. Yixing would go back to his normal business dealings, and she would return to the miserable ritual of ordering late-night delivery. But, of course, Yixing never really left; he just switched roles.

Two days after the boot came off, Yixing texted just as Jisoo finished her late afternoon PT session.

Pain Scheduler (17:12): Warning: Commencement of Post-Recovery Observation Project. 

Mandatory data collection scheduled for 15 minutes at your location.

Jisoo restrained herself from throwing her phone. This man’s obsession is truly relentless.