Leaning against the doorframe, Li Mo pricked up his ears but heard nothing.
Did Ying Bing see it?
Had she already gone to rest?
Li Mo pondered whether he should slip in another note. Even Ying Bing might overlook things sometimes...
Take this analogy, for instance.
Those little ads with phone numbers slipped under hotel doors.
They always appear only after you, a lone traveler, have endured a long, lonely night, just as you're about to leave the next morning.
Their sole purpose is to remind you:
The best things always arrive unnoticed, and by the time you realize it, they've already expired...
So what to do?
If this were Zhong Zhenyue or anyone else, the genius Li Mo could whip up ten solutions in a heartbeat.
But when it came to himself?
The love guru Li Mo found himself fumbling like an amateur.
...
What he didn’t know was this:
Just beyond the door,
Ying Bing held the paper in her hands, gazing at the handwriting, her lips pursing slightly.
So, that line at Fengyue Pavilion wasn’t just Li Mo’s spontaneous musing—the poem had been complete all along.
The mention of Hua Nongying’s name in one verse was merely a coincidence.
This was written for him and her.
Ying Bing lowered her eyes, carefully folded the paper, pressed it against her chest for a moment, then tucked it into the big-headed doll container.
Only then did she push the door open.
"Huh? Ying Bing, did you see it?"
"See what?"
Ying Bing tilted her head slightly, feigning confusion.
Li Mo froze, glancing down. Had Ying Bing not seen it? But the floor was empty.
Had the wind blown it away?
He stepped into the room, scanning the corners, but still found nothing.
"Li Mo."
"Yeah?"
"The Cloud-Soaring Tower seems to have mosquitoes too. Let me... seal them for you."
Ying Bing shut the door softly, her tone deadpan as she spun this absurd lie.
"?"
Is... is that even plausible?
Li Mo looked up. The Cloud-Soaring Tower was so high even birds struggled to reach it—what kind of super-mosquito could make it up here?
But Ying Bing had already settled onto the chaise lounge, slipping off her boots. Her pale legs stretched out, her cool gaze flickering toward him, her lips parting as if to speak before hesitating.
Li Mo: "!"
Who cares if it’s plausible!
This is reason enough!
In an instant, Li Mo swept her up, cradling her in his lap. The cool fragrance enveloped him, her softness pressed against him—this logic was both lofty and unyielding.
He looked up. Moonlight bathed her face, a stray strand of hair clinging to her lips. He reached out and gently brushed it aside.
Ying Bing had meant to say something, but the warmth at her lips made her forget her words.
"Practice... let’s practice."
Ying Bing now clearly understood the disparity in their physiques.
Otherwise, why would she feel so... unsettled?
And he was so warm...
"Just a little longer."
Li Mo wore the expression of a righteous gentleman.
As everyone knows, a gentleman can be deceived by principles—meaning, gentlemen follow rules and reason. If you reason with them, they’ll inevitably yield.
And Li Mo, the gentleman, was especially susceptible.
How could he resist when this "reason" was as graceful as a startled swan, as sinuous as a wandering dragon, exuding an intoxicating fragrance and boasting astonishing elasticity...
"Fine... just a little longer."
The coolness in Ying Bing’s eyes wavered before she finally relented.
She’d snapped at him earlier today... so she could indulge him for a while.
But then...
...One incense stick’s worth of time passed.
...Half an hour slipped by.
...Nearly a full hour later.
Ying Bing gradually lost count of how many times she’d meant to call a stop, but each time the thought reached her lips, it was swallowed back by the warmth.
Like waking on a winter morning, glancing at the time, knowing you must rise for work or school.
At first, you’re determined—until the cold wind drives you back under the covers. Then it’s just one more minute, five more minutes, ten more minutes...
Until you’re lulled back to sleep, utterly sealed by the cozy embrace.
Ying Bing’s neck flushed pink.
She exhaled softly, her gaze drifting to Li Mo’s throat.
Ah, right—the seal...
"Ying Bing, do you want me to seal you too?"
"?"
Seeing the gleam in his eyes, Ying Bing averted her gaze.
"No need."
Gentleman Li Mo straightened with solemnity. "But the Cloud-Soaring Tower’s top floor has mosquitoes."
"It’s fine. Those mosquitoes don’t like ice."
The fingers of the Frost Immortal, the Phoenix Heaven Empress, curled slightly as she spoke nonsense she didn’t even understand.
Oddly, Li Mo tuned into her wavelength. Lifting a hand from her thigh, he raised a finger:
"What if—just hypothetically—there’s a mosquito that loves ice?"
"I’m quite fond of shaved ice myself..."
Ying Bing stared at him in silence, realizing he didn’t want to apply a seal.
He wanted to be that ice-loving mosquito.
"Jiejie."
"..."
Ying Bing’s heart skipped, her gaze darting away.
She said nothing, but the blush creeping down her snow-white neck laid bare her vulnerability to the gentleman’s ravenous maw.
Li Mo took a deep breath, as if preparing for a sacred ritual!
He lowered his head.
The Frost Immortal’s eyes glazed slightly. She felt no pain—only a tingling, as if the fluttering in her chest had spread from her neck through her entire body.
Her fingers tightened reflexively on his shoulders.
"Hmm?"
Li Mo lifted his head, blinking in confusion before licking his lips.
"Alright, sealing complete. Time to rest."
"Mm..."
"Good boy."
And so, under the night sky, Gentleman Li Mo reluctantly ended his ice feast. Hunched over, oozing guilty delight, he slunk back to his room.
Delicious. Loved it. Wanted seconds.
Ying Bing lay on the chaise for a long while, waiting for her strength to return.
Only then did the cool Frost Immortal rise and retreat to her bed.
What was that noise?
Oh... just her heartbeat and ragged breaths...
Ying Bing picked up the mirror by her bed, studying her neck in the moonlight. She paused.
A damp patch glistened, but no mark was left.
How considerate of this mosquito—a true ice connoisseur, savoring without draining.
"Always thinking about... those things."
"Yet such a fool..."
After steadying her pulse, she remembered something—the system’s ranking cooldown had ended.
It was time for another round.
She’d already wasted days.
[Hey hey hey~ Host, you remembered me without a reminder! How odd. You used to focus solely on strength, but lately, you’ve been initiating rankings much more eagerly.]
"..."
Ying Bing sat at the bedside, ignoring the nonsensical script.
After a pause, the system chimed again:
[Now then, let’s extract a penalty from the last winner’s mind.]
[What will it be this time?]
[Feeling a little excited?]
pression Bureau] Transported to a fantasy world overrun by demons and monsters, Gu Qingfeng becomes a jailer in the Demon Suppression Prison of the Great Yan Dynasty's Demon Suppression Bureau. From this point on, bizarre cases frequently occur in the Demon Suppression Prison, once known as hell on earth and infamous for its gloomy, terrifying atmosphere! Why do the demons and monsters in the prison wail miserably every night? Why has the corpse demon, capable of transforming into various beauties, donned black stockings and switched careers to become a foot massage therapist? Why has the eye demon, expert in soul-snatching and illusions, turned into a VR headset? Why is the fox spirit performing otaku dances? Are all these occurrences a twisted expression of demonic nature, or a descent into moral depravity? After peeling away layer upon layer of mystery, all clues ultimately point to a jailer named Gu Qingfeng. Gu Qingfeng: "Hehehe... My dear demons and monsters, whose card shall we flip today?"
. As long as he maintains the villain image and follows the plot to the grand finale, he can obtain generous rewards and return to the real world. So Gu Chen'an entered the role and began to act as a scumbag villain, but who would have expected that the female leads could hear his inner thoughts. Miss Su from the Su family was shocked: "I originally thought Gu Chen'an was a scumbag, but I didn't expect he turned out to be a gentleman! What? You said I have to call off the engagement? I definitely won't, I'll piss you off!" Bai Yuan Tian was dumbfounded: "Young Master Gu is usually unreasonable and a complete brat, but he actually calls me little sweetie in his heart? What, Young Master Gu even said he likes me?" As the female leads' images collapsed more and more, the plot also collapsed with it. Gu Chen'an looked at all this chaos. "Ladies, don't aggro me, if you keep this up the male lead really will stab me, I still need to survive to the grand finale!"
with countless casualties. As a top-tier gamer, Liu Xuan volunteered to join the fight, intending to dominate with his skills, but instead he obtained the hidden class: [Pacifist]. Unable to attack. Unable to use active skills. Fortunately, with each level gained, he acquired a new passive skill. And so, armed with a body full of passives, Liu Xuan slaughtered his way through the battlefield of ten thousand races! [You attacked Liu Xuan] [You gained the debuffs: 'Poison', 'Fear', 'Burning', 'Bleeding', 'Freeze', 'Silence', etc.] [Your attack speed has been reduced by 99%] [Your armor and magic resistance have been reduced by 99%] Warriors of the Ten Thousand Races: How the hell am I supposed to fight this?!
transmigrates into the world as the sect master of the Heavenly Yan Sect, which is on the verge of being wiped out. He binds a system that grants him cultivation power based on the number of disciples he has: for each disciple, he automatically gains a year's worth of cultivation every single day! Take one disciple: every day he gains 1 year of cultivation power. While others struggle through a year of bitter training, he gets the same just by sleeping through a single night. Take ten disciples: every day he gains 10 years of cultivation power. Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul—he breezes through all bottlenecks without lifting a finger. Take one hundred disciples: every day he gains 100 years of cultivation power. Even a Soul Transformation Venerable before him can’t survive a single blow. Take ten thousand disciples: every day he gains 10,000 years of cultivation power! With a wave of his hand, he topples empires. With a single step, he crushes the sacred grounds of the universe. ... While others fight tooth and nail for secret techniques, Lin Yan casually hands out Nascent Soul-level cultivation manuals as beginner textbooks. While others strain to find talented recruits, Lin Yan opens his doors to anyone—so long as they’re human. In just three short years, the Heavenly Yan Sect went from a backwater sect made up of three crumbling huts to a sacred land that every cultivator under heaven would kill to enter. ... One day, otherworldly demon gods invade, with a million demon soldiers pressing down upon the realm. Lin Yan, yawning, rises from his lounge chair and glances at the system panel: [Current Disciples: 1.28 million] [Daily Cultivation Increase: 1.28 million years] He waves his hand casually, and the countless demon soldiers are reduced to ashes in an instant. “So noisy… interrupting my fishing.”
