Face-to-Face Confrontation, Then Drawing Ice Blocks

The Ying Family Manor lay under a gray, overcast sky.

"Where are Bing'er and Little Mo?"

Ying's mother scanned the courtyard but saw no sign of her daughter or the Li family's boy.

She couldn't help but worry—after all, Little Li Mo had once famously taught the young girl how to pee standing up...

"They're over there."

Ying Xuliang, who had just returned from his study, gestured toward a spot beneath a tree at the corner of the manor.

A small table, recently brought out by a servant, stood there, furnished with brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone—items Little Li Mo had requested earlier.

Little Li Mo had already unfurled a sheet of paper, letting sunlight spill across its surface as he sat with the solemn focus of a master painter.

Little Ying Bing sat beside him, grinding ink with her small hands, her crimson sleeves adding a touch of grace to the scene.

"Bing'er is interested in painting?"

"Maybe I should take up painting too in my spare time."

Ying Xuliang watched the two children, feeling a twinge of envy before chuckling at himself.

His daughter had never ground ink for him—but was he really going to be jealous of a little kid?

"The ink's ready."

Little Bing spoke coolly, her expression unreadable as she glanced at Little Li Mo from the corner of her eye.

How good could a child her age possibly be with a brush?

The thought dampened her enthusiasm slightly.

"Don’t worry, I won’t let that ‘big brother’ you called me go to waste."

Little Li Mo grinned, dipped his brush into the ink, and set it to paper. At first, his strokes were awkward—his hands were smaller now, after all.

But soon, he found his rhythm, his brush dancing across the page with effortless grace, as if bringing the scene to life.

Little Bing’s eyes gradually brightened.

"This is Qinghe County’s main street."

"During the New Year, there are lion dances, sugar-figure sellers, firecrackers..."

As Li Mo spoke, he painted, conjuring a vivid scene of New Year festivities.

If only he could still wield his spiritual intent—then he could borrow Senior Brother Ouyang’s technique and make the painting move, immersing the viewer completely.

Even so, for Little Ying Bing, who had never seen the world beyond these walls, it was already a breathtaking glimpse into a new reality.

"Well?"

Little Li Mo arched his caterpillar-like brows.

"So lively..."

Little Bing’s face softened momentarily before she composed herself, her voice quiet and measured.

"It’s... acceptable."

"Acceptable?"

The young artist’s eyes widened in disbelief. This wasn’t a divine-view painting, but as a meticulous brushwork piece, it was quite skilled, wasn’t it?

He had painted countless martial insights, after all.

Yet instead of clapping and exclaiming, "Big brother, you’re amazing!", she’d merely deemed it passable?

"Just you wait—that was just a warm-up!"

Determined, Little Li Mo snatched up his brush again.

"Here’s the Qingyuan Sect. Ever heard of it? It’s the greatest sect in Purple Sun Prefecture, and the masters there are all quite... unique."

"This is Elder Xue, a genius alchemist who once carried a lantern into an outhouse to search for a lost pill..."

"And this is Elder Qian. Never speak during meals with him—I swear he has two mouths. He can devour an entire table’s worth of food while talking nonstop..."

Landscapes and figures sprang to life under his brush.

Little Bing’s frosty gaze wavered, a faint mistiness creeping into her eyes.

"Hmm. Not bad... I suppose."

"?"

Li Mo noticed something odd. Despite her pursed lips and the shimmer in her eyes, her words remained stubbornly lukewarm—"acceptable," "not terrible," "decent."

Was she toying with him?

Tricking him into painting more by pretending indifference?

So she wasn’t turning into a mischievous little ice block—she’d always been one!

"Ah well, if my paintings are just embarrassing myself, I might as well stop."

He sighed dramatically, feigning defeat.

"?"

Realizing she’d been caught, Little Bing lowered her lashes, the sunlight gilding them with a delicate glow. A faint blush dusted her pale cheeks.

"Big brother... paint one more."

"!"

Li Mo’s entire body tingled, his soul nearly leaving his body as his brush clattered to the ground.

What kind of zero-to-hero, point-blank attack was this?!

Was this level of cuteness even legal?

Cheating! This was cheating!

...And of course, he caved instantly.

The young artist, thoroughly defeated, smacked his disobedient hands twice before picking up the brush again.

Big... brother?

Ying Xuliang, who had just approached the children, stiffened as if struck by lightning.

His carefully rebuilt composure shattered into pieces.

How?! What had this brat done to make his daughter act so adorable?!

Just by painting some mediocre—wait.

Li Mo’s brush moved, weaving a tranquil world—a moonlit courtyard, a gently flowing river, a lush banyan tree...

The plaque above the gate read:

"Autumn Water Pavilion."

Since when could a child paint like this?

"Oh, want to see what you’ll look like when you’re older?"

Li Mo sneezed mid-stroke—Little Bing had leaned in so close their heads nearly touched, her hair tickling his nose.

"Older... me?"

"Yeah."

"I want to see." ×2

Before Little Bing could answer, Ying Xuliang and his wife spoke in unison behind them.

Li Mo nearly jumped out of his skin.

You were just planning to elope with their daughter, and now you’re holding her hand while painting, caught red-handed by her parents—how is this not terrifying?!

But their attention seemed entirely fixed on the "grown-up ice block."

A pang of melancholy struck Li Mo.

What parent, gazing at their little sprout, hadn’t wondered how they’d blossom?

But Ying Xuliang and his wife would never get to see it...

Ying Xuliang fetched his finest paper and inkstick, laying them out with reverence.

"Alright."

Li Mo rolled up his sleeves and began with utmost focus.

He employed the techniques of divine-view painting, though his current spiritual intent was too weak to create a true one.

Under the banyan tree, the painter and his three spectators held their breaths.

Finally, sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the finished painting with golden flecks.

A young woman’s elegant figure graced the page—radiant yet cool, her gaze piercing through the paper as if meeting the viewer’s own.

"Bing’er... all grown up?"

Ying's mother stared, emotions swirling—shock, joy, sorrow—tears glistening in her eyes.

"Hahaha! My daughter will be a beauty, won’t she? Just like this!"

Ying Xuliang laughed heartily, certain this was exactly how his little girl would blossom.

"...Is this me?"

Little Bing felt an inexplicable strangeness.

The painting gave her the sensation of crossing time, locking eyes with her future self—a flicker of familiarity, like light scattering the mist over her heart’s quiet lake...

"It's not finished yet."

"What's missing?"

"Me, of course. I’ll grow up too—aren’t you curious about what I’ll look like in the future?"

Little Li grinned and pointed at himself.