For a fleeting moment, he even wondered if Xia Xinyan could read minds.

A flicker of panic brushed through him.

Then the shy virgin in him flustered: “N-no… isn’t that… unnecessary?”

The words barely left his mouth before he realized how unhygienic they sounded. After a beat, he added hastily, “I mean… this is just a game, right?”

Xia Xinyan’s smile didn’t waver. “Living in-game is still living. Sometimes you need a little ceremony in life, don’t you think?”

“Is that so?” Ling Mo hesitated, momentarily tongue-tied.

Ceremony in life? He’d never felt his life had any.

But if Xia Xinyan wanted it… maybe it wasn’t impossible.

No, no—bathing *in-game*? Way too weird. This isn’t *The Sims*.

And even *The Sims* doesn’t make *you* bathe or sleep…

“Ah…” After nearly a minute of mental spiraling, Ling Mo snapped back. “But… can this game even allow bathing? Doesn’t it have content limits?”

He’d checked the rules before—still, it felt off.

“Nope,” Xia Xinyan said, eyes slightly narrowed, a faint glint in her gaze. “In this game… you can do *anything*.”

—Too bad Ling Mo missed the hint entirely. “With that much freedom, won’t authorities flag it?”

Xia Xinyan: “….”

“Or does the game have special backing?” Ling Mo pressed, genuinely puzzled. “Isn’t this risky? Bathing could expose privacy. Don’t GMs or the devs save dungeon footage? Would they see everything we do?”

Xia Xinyan fell silent a moment, then shook her head. “You’re overthinking. The game saves *no* recordings. Players can save or stream—but only within their own visible field. Prevents cheating *and* privacy leaks.”

“Just the devs’ word?” Ling Mo frowned slightly. “I’m not accusing anyone… but how do we verify their claims?”

Xia Xinyan: “….”

*Ugh. Why does he get stuck on trivial details like this?*

Moments ago, she’d felt that flustered, virgin-like awkwardness. Now he’d vanished into logic.

What could she say? *Idiot.*

Still, she kept her tone patient: “Relax. A company that built *this* game wouldn’t pull petty tricks. Our in-game bodies? Just pre-made models. They had our avatars the second we created them. If they wanted visuals… why wait for us to ‘bathe’?”

Only players confident enough to use realistic avatars would even care.

Like Fatty.

And honestly—who knows if the devs are even *human*? Would they care about a few naked player models?

Doubtful.

Yet Ling Mo insisted: “It’s different. Them using models vs. *us* choosing to act… the intent matters.”

“…Do you *have* to dwell on this?” Xia Xinyan cut in, done. “Keep going and we’ll hit philosophy territory.”

Like whether intimate acts in-game “count.”

Just like that “invested” kiss earlier—she didn’t count it real, so she gave it freely. The game felt too detached from reality; it was meant for fun. Overanalyzing ruined it.

She hated philosophical tangents.

So did he.

…Mainly because he finally noticed her mood souring. “I was just joking… Let’s skip the bath. No clean clothes anyway. And who knows what might happen tonight?”

“Yeah, yeah… just teasing.” Xia Xinyan yawned, flopped onto the bed face-down, and went still.

*What a drag.*

Who pauses mid-tease to debate ethics?

Who checks into a room with a girl and just… *thinks*?

Trying to be Liu Xiaohui?

At least *he* got to hold a girl to keep warm.

Tch.

If *she* were Ling Mo? She’d act first.

…Okay, maybe not.

Tsk. The more she thought, the more annoyed she got.

Ling Mo had no clue what she was thinking—but he sensed her irritation. Confused.

*Did I mess up?*

*Was my question really that offensive?*

It felt reasonable…

Hiss. Women really were incomprehensible.

Half the long night passed in that awkward silence.

Ling Mo took second-watch duty—but truthfully, he’d barely slept the first half. Sharing a room with Xia Xinyan (even on separate beds) left his heart racing with every breath. The air itself seemed to carry her scent.

Less blissful. More torture.

—Mostly because he was too timid. A bolder him would’ve called it bliss.

He knew it. Couldn’t fix it. What could he do?

Sighing, he slipped quietly out of bed and left the room.

Outside, he felt lighter.

Fatty still sat dazed in the hallway. No phones, no internet—so to stay awake, he’d spent half the night practicing his ability.

When Ling Mo emerged, Fatty was rolling a crackling arc of electricity between his palms: left to right, right to left…

Like some damn circus act.

“You’re up, bro? Rest well?” Fatty killed the sparks, sidled close, and whispered slyly, “Was it… *wonderful*?”

“Don’t start,” Ling Mo shook his head. “Go sleep. I’ve got watch.”

“Nah, I’m wide awake. Perfect time to chat—keep you alert.” Fatty acted like they were still high school buddies. “Hey, college treating you good?”

“How so?” Ling Mo shot him a glance.

“This game—I busted my ass for a first-batch pod. You have *no* idea. Then second run? I find *you*, with your girlfriend? Total life winner, bro.” Fatty sighed dramatically. “So jealous. Wish *I* had a girlfriend to game with.”

He paused, then jolted. “Oh! Right!”

“What?” Ling Mo blinked.

“Almost forgot!” Fatty slung an arm around his neck, voice dropping. “Your girl’s ability—is she a catgirl? With beast ears and all?”

“…”

Fatty groaned louder. “Damn it! Why can’t *I* find a girlfriend like that? If I did, would I look this pathetic?”

“…”