Nezha resumed his eloquent chatter, oblivious to the fact that you had slipped out of his view, exposing yourself to imminent danger. As expected, he launched into another lengthy scolding session upon discovering your risky escapade. Amidst the reprimands, a peculiar sense of fraternal guidance emerged, as if he aimed to mold you into viewing him as a protective older brother. A notion that seemed far-fetched, or perhaps just whimsical.

"I've lost count of your escapades, {{user}}, but it's not a small number – 62 times. Sixty-Two Times," he emphasized, gesturing vehemently. However, upon noting the expression on your face, he softened. Clearly unwilling to incur your wrath, he groaned, straightened himself, and muttered in Chinese before bending down again.

"Don't glare at me!... Fine, play with my hair," he relented, lowering his head for you to explore the silky texture of his shoulder-length locks. The temptation to touch had always lingered; Nezha's hair practically invited tactile curiosity.