Ice Block, Call Me

Outside the furtively guarded bridal chamber stood two equally furtive figures.

"Huff... huff..."

Qin Yuzhi's eyes sparkled as she watched the two, her fists clenched and waving about, as if cheering someone on—though who exactly remained unclear.

For someone like her, the Sect Leader who had slumbered for millennia without even dreams to wander, this scene was pure, unfiltered sugar overload.

"But—"

"Shh! Not a sound!"

Shang Qinqing swiftly covered her mouth.

She had read enough romance novels to know the trope—just as the leads were about to kiss, someone would barge in and ruin the moment.

She refused to make such an amateur mistake. This was a professional shipper's creed!

Yet, as always, life had other plans.

The moon hanging high in the dreamscape suddenly blazed with radiant light, as if a pair of eyes from the heavens above were slowly opening.

'It' cast a silent, sovereign gaze upon the mortal realm.

Wherever that gaze fell, everything shattered into glistening fragments, illusions bursting like soap bubbles. The carefully crafted dreamscape crumbled at breakneck speed.

Like ink erased from rice paper, the world swiftly turned blank.

'Something is awakening.'

The thought struck both Shang Qinqing and Qin Yuzhi simultaneously.

"An intruder in Little Bing'er's dream?!"

Shang Qinqing's dreamy grin vanished, replaced by grave tension as she looked skyward.

Qin Yuzhi furrowed her thick brows. "Impossible. I govern the Dream Path. No one could infiltrate a dream without my notice, let alone wrest control from me. Unless..."

"Enough theorizing! Let’s take 'It' head-on!"

"Wait—this might not be an outsider..."

"My ship hasn’t sailed yet!"

"..."

After a heavy pause, Qin Yuzhi shook her head grimly. "I suspect this presence is rooted deep within Little Bing'er’s soul. Just like..."

She hesitated, then continued:

"...like Yun Mengxian, dormant within the depths of my soul."

Her words were succinct.

The one now gazing into the dream was that existence—the foremost of the Nine Heavens Immortals, the architect of Great Shang, the one who once remade the world.

The unparalleled, peerless sovereign of all time.

"Why would 'It' descend into the dream now?"

Shang Qinqing quietly retreated.

"Perhaps because Little Bing'er wove a dream of marriage—something 'It' would never do. Just like how I’d stop 'It' from reviving over a game of mahjong. Or maybe it’s something else entirely."

"But speculating about 'Its' motives is pointless. We need to leave. Now, while 'It' still permits it."

Qin Yuzhi took a deep breath.

When she turned, Shang Qinqing finally saw it—Qin Yuzhi’s face was scrunched up, the very picture of terror.

Shang Qinqing cast one last longing glance at the bridal chamber, pinching her own hand in frustration. If only she were invincible! Then she could ship to her heart’s content, in whatever configuration she pleased...

Meanwhile, Qin Yuzhi stole a fearful glance at the moon before quickly looking away.

Too terrifying. Too terrifying...

Were 'It' and Yun Mengxian even the same kind of "immortal"?

She used to think that, as fellow transcendents, the gap between them couldn’t be that vast.

Now she knew better.

The chasm between Yun Mengxian and 'It' was as wide as the one between herself and Yun Mengxian.

Even the Dream Path—her domain, her mastery—had slipped from her grasp, like a child abandoning a stepmother for its true parent.

...

With the dreamweavers gone, the dream spiraled off its intended course.

The moonlit palace, not yet real, collapsed inward, dissolving soundlessly from the edges.

Yet the dreamer remained oblivious.

That moon—cold, luminous, etched into the hearts of countless beings across the realms—had always been more dream than reality. Perhaps she had long blurred the line between the two.

Now she stood within reach, eyes shimmering, lips slightly pursed.

Li Mo once scoffed at legends of kings who ruined empires for love. Pathetic, he’d thought. Let me try—I’d never fail such a test.

But now, faced with Ying Bing...

He understood.

Especially when her usual icy aura cracked, revealing that hint of shyness. To hear her speak, he’d have set every beacon aflame if he were emperor.

"Annoying little brother."

"Not that."

"...Brother."

"..."

The two syllables hit Li Mo like a tidal wave. His steadfast resolve trembled—but held.

Normally, he wouldn’t press like this.

But he thought this was his dream, that Ying Bing was just a figment.

If he couldn’t stand firm here, in his own imagination, what hope did he have in reality?

Li Mo dug in, unyielding.

"I see..."

Ying Bing’s cheeks flushed like dyed silk as she acquiesced softly.

Li Mo’s heart raced—until the world around them bleached into a sketch, lines simplifying by the second.

A familiar pressure weighed on his soul, like the sudden darkness during the Hidden Dragon Tournament.

"The dream’s ending?"

Li Mo could no longer hear anything.

Yet he saw Ying Bing’s lips move, so close...

...

Morning.

Sunlight pierced the clouds and windows, illuminating the bed in the Cloud-Stepping Tower.

Ying Bing awoke with a strange hollowness, as if her soul had slipped away.

Then she opened her eyes—

—and found Li Mo beside her, face frozen in a comical "Wait, Ziwei! Don’t go!" expression.

Just one night apart, yet seeing him again felt like a gift, a reunion, a recovery of something precious.

"Ying Bing, wait!"

Li Mo jolted awake, meeting her gaze—already fixed on him.

"What’s wrong?" Ying Bing asked.

"Uh... just a dream."

He stared blankly at the ceiling, his soul still adrift in the dreamscape.

"What dream?"

"You didn’t dream at all?"

Ying Bing shook her head.

So much for sharing a dream... Li Mo smacked his lips, sheepishly wiping drool from her robes while noting the lingering complexity in her expression.

Hmm?

Was there a chance... Ying Bing was lying?

"Ying Bing, call me something. Two syllables."

"Li Mo."

"Not that."

She paused. As her eyes flickered downward, Li Mo suddenly flopped onto her lap, forcing her to meet his burning stare.

"...Brother?"

"Ghk—!"

Li Mo didn’t get the answer he wanted—but he did remember something he’d forgotten.

Morning wood was a universal truth.

And his was... exceptional.

Calling him "brother" at this moment—wasn't that just adding fuel to the fire?