Pan Long could roughly guess what Wu Jixing was about to say.
So he was excited.
There was no man who lacked an eye for beauty—even eunuchs who had gone under the knife still had desires of that sort. Even men with different preferences still had preferences.
If someone had lost all such desire, he probably needed to see a psychologist.
Pan Long was, of course, a normal man. Very normal.
He had married in his previous life and had a wife, children, and descendants. He could not say the house had been full of children and grandchildren when he died, but several generations had seen the old man off. It had been quite a crowd.
Some people said you lost interest in that sort of thing when you got old. Those people probably had not gotten old yet.
Even when Pan Long had been lying in a hospital bed, he had traded knowing jokes with the patient in the next bed.
Now he had been given another life, young and strong again. How could he not have such thoughts?
For a long time, though, life had been stressful, and whatever energy he had went into martial arts. Once his training bore fruit, his self-control grew strong enough that such urges were even less of an issue.
Since ancient times, apart from those who had strayed onto wicked paths, most martial arts masters had never been ruled by their hormones. When a person was powerful enough to soar through the sky and burrow through the earth, how could a little hormone secretion hinder him?
None of that stopped Pan Long from longing for something wonderful.
Wu Cuigu was unquestionably beautiful. Perhaps only a handful of actresses hailed as "world-class" or "the most beautiful on the planet" in Pan Long's previous