The Exercise Begins, Donning the Imperial Yellow Robe

Little Li remained silent, continuing to teach the ice block how to ride a horse.

Hmm, horseback riding wasn’t as bad as he’d imagined. It had its merits—maybe he’d start traveling by horse from now on.

Mocheng was a chaotic place, after all. Losing a carriage here and there was hardly unusual.

Ying Bing pursed her lips, pretending to admire the scenery while her hands clenched weakly around the reins, too tense to even straighten her fingers.

Her expression remained cool and composed, but her usually serene gaze was flustered, her breathing uneven—sometimes exhaling long and slow, other times holding her breath in nervous anticipation.

Those familiar with horseback riding would know:

Some horses were well-trained, their gait smooth and steady.

Others were wild and unruly, galloping so fiercely that the rider was jostled mercilessly—whether they could endure it or not was their own problem. If they were thrown off, well, that was just their bad luck.

The ice block regretted buying such a wild stallion.

“S-slow down… there are too many people ahead.”

“Alright.”

Li Mo cleared his throat, reining in the snorting black-maned horse before pretending nothing had happened as he glanced at the bustling street market.

The road was congested with carriages and crowds—riding a horse was slower than walking at this point.

But Li Mo didn’t dare dismount.

Ying Bing, meanwhile, wasn’t entirely sure if she was still riding the horse.

Technically, yes—but it didn’t feel like she was sitting on it anymore…

The fairy-like sister tried to distract the hammer treasure, pointing at a nearby stall:

“Isn’t that the old lantern riddle booth? It’s been a while since we last came. The owner seems to have changed the game—no more riddles.”

“Yeah, looks like it’s arrow tossing now.”

Li Mo followed her gaze.

The spot where he’d first met the ice block in this lifetime was still lively, crowded with onlookers.

The stall owner had aged a bit but was as spirited as ever, his booming voice full of energy.

With a tug on the reins, the two came to a stop.

Now, instead of solving riddles to win lanterns and masks, one had to land arrows in a pot.

“This old man—how’s anyone supposed to land a shot blindfolded?” Li Mo muttered, eyeing the vendor counting coins.

“He gives more arrows than other stalls. With enough tries, even a fluke might hit the mark. The pot isn’t moving, after all…” Ying Bing trailed off mid-sentence.

Suddenly, she twisted around, turning sideways on the horse (and into Li Mo’s arms).

Her face was as cold as ever, but her ears burned crimson.

“……”

Li Mo opened his mouth, swallowing back his wolfish ambitions at the last second:

“Done learning how to ride?”

“For now.”

“I have a feeling our family carriage might go missing tomorrow. If we have to ride horses for a while and you still can’t get the hang of it, I’ll have to carry you around every time we go out.”

“?”

Ying Bing sensed something off but couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was wrong with the brat’s logic. She settled for rolling her eyes and reaching to pinch him.

Coincidentally, the horse stumbled over a step just then.

The hand aiming for his waist missed its mark—by a very different mark.

Ying Bing: “!”

Li Mo: “!!!”

Little Li sucked in a sharp breath, his scalp tingling.

After all, it was common knowledge that when the cold fairy was flustered or shy, her fingers and toes would curl up—even if her face betrayed nothing.

Right now, she was both shy and… utterly flustered.

“Li Mo.”

“Mhm.”

“Listen to your sister. No more mischief.”

Ying Bing narrowed her eyes, her voice soft.

The Phoenix Heavenly Empress’s hand refused to obey, so she let the mistake stand.

She might have wanted her tone and gaze to be icy.

But her voice came out feather-light, and her eyes shimmered like moonlight scattered across rippling water—not a trace of sternness to be found.

Still, Little Li behaved. With his weakness in her grasp, defiance wasn’t an option.

Suddenly, a sound burst above them.

Li Mo didn’t look up, but in those beautiful eyes, he saw a night sky ablaze with blossoms—a thousand trees in bloom, a lone star beside the moon, its reflection glimmering like shattered glass.

“The fireworks are beautiful.”

“I’ve seen them once before. These are even prettier.”

Last time, Ying Bing had watched them alone.

The image flashed in Li Mo’s mind—the ice block standing solitary on a bustling street, gazing at the dazzling lights while counting the days until she could see him again…

“Ice block.”

“Hm?”

“What did you do when I wasn’t around?”

“Waited for you.”

“Thank you for searching so long… for waiting all by yourself.”

Li Mo rested his chin on her slender shoulder, his voice softening with sincerity.

Ying Bing tucked a loose strand behind her ear, her smile more radiant than the night sky: “It wasn’t that long…”

“Why didn’t it feel long to you?” Li Mo asked.

Ying Bing paused.

To her, time had flown—perhaps because no span of years felt endless when there was a goal to cling to.

She leaned against him quietly:

“Because you were waiting for me too, in the future.”

“What if I’d changed? Become different from before?”

“You wouldn’t. You’re still the same brat.”

Was that another way of saying he’d returned unchanged, still the boy she knew?

“Hey, that’s a bit insulting. I’ve lived two lifetimes in the Phoenix Dominion.”

Li Mo’s eyes darkened suddenly, his grin turning villainous—the kind often seen in novels.

Little Li was certain his smile now carried three parts aloofness, three parts indifference, three parts coldness…

And the last bit? Sheer wicked charm.

“?”

Ying Bing frowned, poking at the corner of his mouth: “Why are you smiling like that? You look ridiculous—”

But the next second, those lips were on hers.

Ying Bing froze, her thoughts scattering like leaves in a gale—a sensation of weightlessness, as if she’d been flung into the sky amidst the fireworks.

Her lashes fluttered before she finally closed her eyes, melting into his embrace.

She didn’t need to watch the fireworks anymore. Behind her eyelids, the colors burned even brighter.

……

Outside, within the Scroll of Rivers and Mountains, the image of the two kissing under the fireworks seemed frozen in time.

“He actually went for it?”

“Are you seriously asking if he kissed her? The real question is whether he used tongue!”

“Damn it all! I’ve endured hardship without complaint, but seeing Li Mo plant one on her hurts worse than death!”

“Isn’t this supposed to be the Celestial Trial? I came here for this? Screw this, refund!”

“The Sword Saint and the Frost Fairy are a match made in heaven—what right does a gremlin like you have to object?”

After a stunned silence, chaos erupted.

Some still refused to accept it, but under the influence of a certain Azure Roc clan leader, the shippers now dominated the scene.

“Hey, where’s Qin Qing?”

Qin Yuzhi scratched her head, sensing around with closed eyes.

Ah, Shang Qing had watched the Scroll for so long that she’d finally gone back to rest—now snoring loud enough to shake the halls of Wanchun Pavilion.

She’d missed the moment entirely.

When she woke up, the world might as well have ended.

On the high platform, Emperor Jingtai coughed, turning to the Heavenly Crone:

“When’s the next auspicious date for a wedding?”

“Your Majesty, why do you ask?”

“If they truly help Great Yu win the wager, I’m not sure what to reward them with. Might as well grant them a marriage.”