If a little fondness slips through, it apparently only makes Han Ying bolder. “Would you allow me to call you Valley Master, if we did?” Wen Kexing laughs under his breath at the brazen request, tipping Han Ying’s face back with two fingers beneath his chin. Narrows his eyes and looks down at him, assuming an air of cold indifference. “Are you a ghost, Han Ying?” “I could be,” Han Ying says quietly. “If you wanted me to be.”