"Between you and me, is there a need to be so polite?" Wu Li gently stroked her long hair, casually tucking a few stray strands behind her ear. "Be a good girl and don't move."
Feeling his nails faintly brushing against her scalp, a fine shiver ran down Chai Xiaomi's spine.
Her intuition told her: she was doomed.
As luck would have it, Jiang Zhiyu suddenly appeared at that moment, having something to discuss with Song Yueyao, and called her out of the room.
The door gently clicked shut, and the room instantly fell silent.
The moment Song Yueyao left, the mask of innocent gentleness on Wu Li's face immediately dropped.
"What are you doing!?"
Seeing that the peach wood comb in his hand had somehow been replaced by a pair of silver scissors, Chai Xiaomi instinctively cried out.
"I told you not to move." Wu Li leaned in and whispered in her ear, his tone casual, a careless smile flashing in his eyes. "Scissors don't have eyes. If I accidentally cut your scalp, neck, or ears... I won't be held responsible."
His voice was flat, yet every word dripped with warning.
With that, he deliberately fetched the bronze mirror from the washstand and placed it squarely on the desk.
He then stood lazily behind Chai Xiaomi, admiring her furious but silent expression through the mirror.
Chai Xiaomi knew she couldn't escape. Wu Li had plenty of tricks; he could mute her and control her movements.
She met the young man's gaze in the mirror, her eyes turning red with anger, and threatened him word by word: "If you dare touch a single hair on my head, I'll never forgive you!"
"They're just strands of worldly troubles, what's so precious about them?" Seeing her exasperated look, the smile in Wu Li's eyes deepened. He half-narrowed his eyes and gently waved the scissors with his fingertips. "You have to take care of them every day. Tsk, what a hassle."
"Why don't you let me take care of them for you."
Before his words faded, he pinched a lock of her long hair, and the silver scissors snipped down cleanly.
Chai Xiaomi's heart skipped a beat, and she squeezed her eyes shut tight.
A soft snip sounded.
Not knowing how much was cut, nor where it was cut, she only felt a pang in her heart, as if something precious was shattering along with that sound.
But she didn't dare to move. What if, just as he said, the scissors slipped an inch and scratched her scalp, ear, or neck?
He was truly capable of such a thing.
Wu Li's hands were still weaving and fiddling through her hair, and she had no idea what he was doing to it.
Chai Xiaomi could only keep her eyes shut tight and squeeze words through her teeth: "Wu Li, from this day forward, you and I are mortal enemies!"
"Do you have any idea how rare it is for a modern young person to have a thick, lush head of long hair?!"
Thinking back to when she prepared for the college entrance exams, staying up late to do practice papers had cost her countless hairs. The ones left now were all survivors.
They were her comrades-in-arms who had been through the fires of war with her.
Chai Xiaomi mourned for them in silence.
Recalling the days of the college entrance exams, she couldn't help but think of her former classmates, friends, and her family far away in another world.
As she thought about it, without any warning, her body suddenly trembled and she began to cry.
Tears fell like rain on pear blossoms, her eyelids trembling slightly, the corners of her eyes and the tip of her nose turning red.
Her long eyelashes fluttered fragilely like cicada wings. Because her eyes were closed, the teardrops could only slowly seep out from her lashes, glimmering and on the verge of falling, making her look all the more pitiful.
The young man's slender knuckles paused slightly.
Immediately after, he quickly tied a knot in her hair with a ribbon, picked up the scissors again, and cleanly snipped off the excess ends of the ribbon.
Perhaps in his haste, the tip of the scissors accidentally nicked the pad of his finger. A bead of blood suddenly oozed out, but he seemed oblivious to it, merely curling his fingers calmly and quietly clenching his fist.
"What are you crying for." His voice grew a bit fainter. "Open your eyes."
Chai Xiaomi ignored him, simply raising her hands to cover her eyes, sobbing softly.
Unlike before, she never used to hide her face when she cried, but today, it was as if she was trying her hardest to hold it in.
Pressing her fingers hard against her eyelids, it seemed she didn't want anyone to see even a hint of her tears.
Wu Li suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.
He had originally found it amusing to tease her until she was baring her fangs and puffing up with anger.
But right now, it seemed... not so fun anymore.
Was it boring? If it was boring, he should have felt indifferent.
But as he took a deep breath, he couldn't dispel the heavy blockage stifling his lungs.
"If you don't open your eyes, I'll really cut it." He grabbed her wrists and pulled them aside, gathering both slender wrists into one of his hands, shackling them so she had no chance to cover her eyes again.
Huh? What did that mean?
Chai Xiaomi froze. After a moment of silence, she finally slowly lifted her eyelids.
The grip on her wrists loosened accordingly.
The young man leaned against the desk and used the back of his hand to wipe away a thin layer of dust covering the bronze mirror.
Then he placed the mirror squarely in front of her.
The girl reflected in the mirror had translucent white skin, a delicate nose, small cherry-pink lips, and a pointed chin. However, the outer corners of her eyes drooped slightly, and her long, curly eyelashes were still damp and glistening, looking fragile and innocent.
Half of her black hair cascaded down her back like an ink waterfall, while the top half was loosely coiled into a flowing cloud bun, secured with a hair ribbon. It was combed perfectly, without a single stray hair in sight.
It was completely different from the wigs she used to wear for photoshoots.
This bun was naturally smooth, elegant, and moving.
Chai Xiaomi blinked, almost unable to believe the person in the mirror was herself.
Who could understand—
High cranial top, hair framing the face perfectly, the aesthetic vibe was nailed.
Her entire face seemed to have shrunk a size.
Her tears stopped, and suddenly she wasn't sad anymore.
She only sighed softly. It was a pity she didn't have a smartphone, otherwise she really would have wanted to take a few selfies as a souvenir.
She never expected Stylist Wu to have such deft hands. No wonder the thin braids he had woven for himself and the silver ornaments he wore were also so exquisite.
Just looking at his radiant appearance now, it was truly hard to connect him with that unkempt, dirty little kid from before.
Even though she had stopped crying, what did that sigh mean?
"You don't like it?" Wu Li glanced at the jade hairpins on the table. They were all of the plainest and simplest designs, presumably given by Song Yueyao. They might suit Song Yueyao's neat bun, but they didn't match Chai Xiaomi's current flowing cloud bun at all.
Chai Xiaomi was still feeling a little awkward, but she couldn't deny that it looked incredibly good, so she replied in a muffled voice, "I like it."
Her voice was so soft it sounded like it was swallowed in her mouth; her lips barely moved, deliberately trying to make it hard to hear.
Wu Li frowned slightly, staring at her plain hair bun to examine it for a moment.
Then, he raised his hand and gently took off the silver fish pendant from his left earlobe.
Chai Xiaomi opened her eyes wide in curiosity.
She saw Wu Li pick up the plainest jade hairpin from the table. A small cluster of flames suddenly sprang from his fingertips. He roasted the ear hook until it melted slightly, and finally carefully fixed the fan-shaped earring, engraved with a delicate silver fish, onto the end of the hairpin.
When he lowered his eyes, his expression was focused, and his fingertip movements were light and steady.
He was indescribably serious.
In a daze, Chai Xiaomi seemed to see that side profile fully concentrated on drawing on a wooden plaque.
A string of fine tassels hung down from the silver piece, swaying gently with movement and rippling with faint glimmers of light.
Just like that, an ordinary hairpin was transformed into a dangling buyao ornament.
