The "Color" in Color, Aroma, and Taste: Love Coach Xiao Li Is Here

Under the night sky, the streets of Qingmu City were not exactly bustling, but they were brightly lit, filled with people dressed in distinctly different styles. Though not as dazzling as Yunzhou’s night scenery, the city carried a charm unique to the southern borderlands.

According to Zhong Zhenyue, twenty years ago, Qingmu City had been nothing but a desolate, barren land. But under Uncle Qu’s governance, it had transformed into a place where doors were left unlocked at night, and people lived in peace and prosperity. Many brothers who had come from Nanguan City had even found their homes here, putting down roots.

"Boss, are you making sugar paintings again today?"

Passing by the sugar painting stall from yesterday, the stall owner’s grandson—a boy with a round, lively face—immediately recognized their ringleader.

"Want one?" Li Mo turned and asked.

The moment he spoke, he felt the delicate hand in his palm tighten slightly, her fingertips curling inward.

"I had one yesterday," Ying Bing shook her head.

"But you can have a different design today. They say a dish should be a feast for the eyes, nose, and palate—so presentation matters. A new shape makes for a whole new experience."

"How so?" Zhong Ling asked curiously. She had heard that to win someone’s heart, you must first win their stomach.

Take Li Mo and Ying Bing before her, for example.

If not for Li Mo’s exceptional cooking, would the renowned "Frost Fairy" have waited for him at the camp gates?

Honestly, Zhong Ling had been stunned when she first saw Ying Bing. The woman lived up to her title—aloof, ethereal, like an immortal untouched by mortal affairs.

"Wife-Blessing Battle Soul..." Though she had promised not to call him that in front of Li Mo...

At this moment, the two of them gave Zhong Ling the impression that...

A name might be wrong, but a nickname never was!

Li Mo smiled faintly—this was right up his alley.

"The same food, presented differently, can either whet the appetite or turn the stomach. Here’s an example."

He took a small spoonful of syrup from the stall and poured it onto the table, then gently swirled it with a bamboo stick.

"Does this look appetizing to you?"

He pointed at the twisted, coiled shape on the table—uncannily resembling a certain unmentionable thing.

"Ugh..."

Zhong Zhenyue’s involuntary gag was answer enough.

"..."

Zhong Ling thought to herself that this "Wife-Blessing Battle Soul" had quite the artistic talent.

He certainly knew how to make something look unappetizing.

Ying Bing tilted her head slightly.

"That’s a counterexample," Li Mo chuckled.

"And the positive example?"

"Let me think."

As he melted the syrup again with scorching true essence, his gaze lowered.

It was a subconscious habit when he was deep in thought.

But as luck would have it, a certain pair of jade-smooth, long legs—adorned with short boots and a glimpse of pristine white socks—entered his line of sight.

Ever had that moment in class when you zone out while taking notes, only to look down and find your notebook filled with random thoughts? Or during an exam, suddenly realizing you’ve scribbled your crush’s name in the blanks?

That was Li Mo’s current predicament.

"Brother Li, is this what you meant by ‘looks delicious’...?"

"This seems to be..."

Zhong Ling and Zhong Zhenyue exchanged glances, both seeing the same bewilderment in each other’s eyes.

Ying Bing’s peripheral vision caught the scene.

Such a paragon of virtue...

"Ah, ‘a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step’! What a profound metaphor!"

Li Mo grabbed the sugar lump and popped it into his mouth.

"But weren’t we talking about presentation? Does that sugar look particularly..."

"Sugar? What sugar?"

Li Mo feigned innocence with such conviction it was as if he’d suddenly developed amnesia:

"Oh, right, where were we? Ah, yes—the importance of presentation in cooking. How about barbecue tonight? That’ll prove my point best."

"..."

Watching him chew with puffed cheeks, lips glistening unapologetically as he rambled on, Ying Bing’s expression remained impassive. She quietly withdrew her hand from his grasp, removed her jade hairpin, and let her tied-up raven hair cascade down.

The loose strands now concealed her ears and neck.

Zhong Zhenyue looked baffled, while Zhong Ling began to question Li Mo’s culinary prowess.

Before long, they arrived at the inn.

The owner of Jiawei Tavern had once been a squad leader under the Southern Suppressing King. He recognized Zhong Zhenyue immediately and hurried over, despite missing an arm.

The two exchanged words, reminiscing with sighs.

Meanwhile, the "ice block" (Ying Bing) had retreated to her room the moment they stepped out of the carriage—her steps seeming almost... hurried?

Li Mo couldn’t fathom what had come over her.

"I’ll call you when dinner’s ready."

"...Mm."

Noticing how she paused at the doorway, as if lost in thought, before nodding faintly after a two-second delay, Li Mo couldn’t help but speculate.

Perhaps the ice block was contemplating some profound martial technique?

Much like his own lapse earlier.

After informing the owner, Li Mo headed to the kitchen. Past dinner hours, it stood empty.

Just as he was slicing ingredients with his sword, Chi Xiao, a familiar figure slipped inside—Zhong Ling, her expression torn between hesitation and unspoken words.

"Young Hero Li."

"Haha, here to learn cooking?" Li Mo twirled his sword, reducing a precious chili-like vegetable into hair-thin shreds.

Zhong Ling shook her head.

"No, I wanted to ask... in Yunzhou, what exactly happened between Zhenyue and that Heavenly Demon Saintess?"

"Ah—"

The shredded chili scattered across the cutting board.

Li Mo wondered if Zhong Ling had a habit of flipping tables.

"Did Zhong Zhenyue not tell you?"

"He mentioned some. Said the enchantress bewitched him, and you intervened to wake him. He glossed over details, focusing on your role."

Li Mo replied earnestly,

"I don’t think Young Master Zhong was dodging the issue. My actions might’ve left the deepest impression on him."

(At the time, he’d witnessed Zhong Zhenyue, fresh from his ‘near-death experience,’ frantically searching for a latrine.)

"How was he ensnared? What right did that witch have—"

Zhong Ling gritted her teeth.

She had stood by Zhenyue’s side for years. That demoness? A few meetings, and she’d swayed his heart.

If he hadn’t been tempted, how could he have been deceived?

Li Mo pondered, then asked, "Do you know what Young Master Zhong likes?"

"The strong."

"?"

"So I trained relentlessly. As kids, he never once beat me. What’s wrong with that?"

"..."

Li Mo’s lips twitched. Their current predicament wasn’t entirely Zhong Zhenyue’s fault.

He was no love guru either.

Yet Zhong Ling and Zhong Zhenyue’s dynamic made him feel like a relationship coach.

It reminded him of his younger self, tugging at the ice block’s hair.

Perhaps that’s why—

Li Mo actually gave it serious thought:

"I’m stronger than Brother Zhong too. So are countless others. His admiration stems from a desire to become strong himself."

"Then how... how did that witch do it?"

"Let me think..."

Young Li fell into contemplation.

From his own observations, the more steel-straight a man was, the more vulnerable he became to a certain... green tea strategy.

She brings you breakfast, ties your shoelaces, and even copies homework for you, yet she can't compete with a flirtatious "Hey there, big brother, you free?" from some seductive beauty.

"That enchantress must be like this..."

Little Li, the love guru, is here to help!

Yeah.

A love guru who's never tasted pork but has seen plenty of pigs run in his past life...

"Will this... really work?"

...

Not in the best shape today, dear readers. You probably don’t want to read anything dull, so here’s something light for you. Mwah!