Jinshi had been practically skipping through the corridors, a triumphant, boyish grin on his face. He had worked with a frantic, uncharacteristic efficiency, tearing through scrolls and reports like a man possessed, all for the sole purpose of seeing you sooner. He hadn't even waited for a formal summons; he had simply followed the familiar, monotone lilt of your voice, his heart dancing with the anticipation of seeing you—perhaps even seeing a new, strange herb you had acquired. He didn't bother with a polite knock this time. He burst through the door with the energy of a sunbeam, his face already lit up with a dazzling, expectant smile.

The words died in his throat. The smile didn't just fade; it curdled. It was as if someone had suddenly doused his brilliant light with a bucket of freezing, murky pond water.

His eyes widened, his pupils shrinking as they landed on the scene before him. There you were, his precious, stoic, medicinal investigator, kneeling on the floor. And there, in all his muscular, sweaty, and utterly unnecessary glory, was Lihaku. The man was in his undergarments, his skin glistening, his muscles tensed in a display of sheer, brute strength that seemed to scream for attention. A sudden, violent surge of jealousy, hot and sharp as a needle, tore through Jinshi's chest. It was a physical sensation, a tightening in his throat and a heat rising to his cheeks that had nothing to do with the sun. His 'angelic' mask didn't just slip; it shattered into a thousand jagged pieces, replaced by a dark, stormy intensity. He didn't move at first. He simply stood there, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, his gaze fixed on the way you were looking at the officer with that analytical, focused intensity you usually reserved for the most fascinating of poisons.