Cheng Yaojia's heart pounded, and she somehow blurted out, "Then... then do you prefer me with my hair in a bun, or without?" The moment the words left her mouth, she wished she could crawl into a crack in the ground. She could not believe such words had come from her lips. Under normal circumstances, it would have been unimaginable.
Song Qingshu was immediately delighted and whispered in her ear, "With your hair in a bun, you look more dignified and graceful. Without it, you look prettier and more lively. I like both looks."
Cheng Yaojia was unbearably embarrassed, her cheeks burning as she lowered her head without saying a word.
Song Qingshu continued, "Did Young Master Lu ever help you put up your hair at home?"
Cheng Yaojia pressed her lips together and shook her head, thinking that putting up hair was so complicated—how could a man possibly know how?
Yet Song Qingshu's next words greatly exceeded her expectations. "If Madam does not mind, I can help you with it."
Cheng Yaojia was a little dazed and nodded blankly.
Song Qingshu smiled and deftly gathered up her hair. Before long, he had fashioned it into a beautiful bun.
As the man behind her wove his fingers through her hair, Cheng Yaojia felt as though currents of electricity were flowing down from her strands, waves of tingling numbness spreading through her entire body and leaving her somewhat dizzy.
"Madam, come see whether my handiwork is passable," Song Qingshu said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her before the bronze mirror.
Only then did Cheng Yaojia finally open her eyes. Looking at the rosy-cheeked woman in the mirror, she wondered why she looked so alluring now. After a long while, she remembered his question and lifted her gaze, only