GROWING HAIR I
SHAVING ONE'S HAIR OFF was a simple task, but growing it back was not so easy.
Feng Xiao stroked his fuzzy head. His hair was neither long nor short, and although he'd said nothing, he was quietly searching for remedies to stimulate its growth. He wished with all his might that he would wake up in the morning with enough hair to make a bun again.
Feng-er, who'd always had absolute confidence in his looks, now felt a sliver of doubt as he gazed in the mirror. He began to pay increasing attention to hair-care formulas. This had to be kept from Cui Buqu at all costs, or he'd definitely come up with some plan to mess with him.
Lately, Qin Miaoyu, too, was troubled. She'd been given a new mission: Deputy Chief Feng had tasked her with finding hair-growth formulas, demanding that his hair grow from half an inch to shoulder length in a month. At the end of that time, the Jiejian Bureau had a mission that would take them to Jiangnan, and Feng-er intended to go himself. Seeing as he'd be out in public, he couldn't look unkempt.
It was impossible—even the gods wouldn't be able to do it. Still, since her superior demanded it, Qin Miaoyu could only do her best.
Three days later, as Feng Xiao stood looking at a bewildering array of items—various herbal baths, acupuncture needles, ointments, even magical talismans—he sank into thought.
JEALOUSY
THE ENTIRE CAPITAL KNEW Princess Lanling had fallen for Feng Xiao. However, due to her reserved nature, she hadn't made her feelings overt. Out of sympathy for their daughter, the emperor and empress had repeatedly suggested marriage to Feng Xiao. Yet, despite their efforts, he remained steadfast in his refusal, leaving them with no choice but to seek another match for their daughter.
Yet Feng Xiao still felt Cui Buqu's reaction to the situation was far too mild. So mild, it was as if he didn't care about Feng Xiao at all.
The next evening, when Cui Buqu came personally to the Jiejian Bureau to discuss business, he found Feng Xiao gone. Pei Jingzhe informed him that Feng-er had left to spend the evening at Changming House.
The name was familiar to Cui Buqu, as was the nature of Changming House's business. Changming House was situated in the pleasure district, but it wasn't just any brothel—this establishment was a gathering spot for musicians and dancers from across the land, and a favorite haunt of the city's wealthy officials.
On the first and fifteenth of each month, Changming House was decorated with lanterns and filled with music so beautiful its melodious notes might have been played by the gods themselves. Why had Feng-er gone to Changming House if not to enjoy himself? Could he be investigating a case?
Cui Buqu had no love of such entertainments. He'd rather spend what free time he had at the Zuoyue Bureau, never stepping outside. But right now, he had urgent business to discuss with Feng Xiao. Sending someone to relay a message would waste valuable time, so he had no choice but to go in person.
He found Feng-er sitting with a few others as the dancers began their performance, their movements graceful and seductive. Upon noticing Chief Cui, he raised a brow.
Cui Buqu didn't acknowledge him. He settled himself in an empty seat a little distance away, as if he and Feng Xiao were strangers.
As the song and dance reached their crescendo, the guests' excitement grew. Some left their seats to dance with the performers. Yet despite the convivial atmosphere, Feng Xiao noticed that Cui Buqu's gaze never met his. His focus was entirely on the dancer. He appeared mesmerized, as if he was watching a celestial maiden descended from heaven itself, unable to tear his eyes away.
Feng-er frowned a little, refusing to admit to a twinge of displeasure.
In any case, it was only a twinge.
Once the song ended, the dancer bowed and gracefully withdrew. Feng-er took the opportunity to saunter over to Cui Buqu and sit beside him. "It's rare to see you here, Chief Cui. How fortuitous. Why don't we share a drink?"
Cui Buqu glanced at him but didn't reply. He returned to watching the dancers.
In a moment of pure impulse, Feng Xiao did something he would soon come to regret—he grasped Cui Buqu's chin and directed his gaze back to himself.
A rush of wind swept up behind them.
Feng Xiao instinctively pulled Cui Buqu into his arms and rolled aside as the surrounding guests sat stunned. Only then did realization dawn: Cui Buqu hadn't been watching the dancer at all. He'd been watching the musician behind her.
The man had drawn a sword from his zither. He swept toward Feng Xiao, intent on killing him.
Alas, Feng Xiao's martial arts had improved drastically after his battle with Xiao Lü at the tavern. He'd broken through his bottleneck and climbed even higher, achieving a grandmaster's level of cultivation. The moves of ordinary experts were obvious and clumsy to his eyes—he and this man were worlds apart.
The assassin was quickly subdued. Upon interrogating him, they learned that despite Xiao Lü's death, remnants of the Thirteenth Floors still roamed the world. The musician had been one of them, steadfastly loyal to Xiao Lü. He wanted revenge, regardless of whether it meant throwing his life away. Even injuring Feng Xiao would have been enough.
But those were all things that happened after. In the moment, Feng Xiao saw Cui Buqu give him a cold smile, as if mocking his overreaction. Silently, he mouthed a single word:
Idiot.
GROWING HAIR II
THE DAY THE JIEJIAN BUREAU went south to Jiangnan, Feng Xiao finally had enough hair to pull into a bun. This was through no effort of his own or Qin Miaoyu's, but thanks to Cui Buqu, who'd gifted him a wig.
Deputy Chief Feng, who'd always prided himself on his peerless elegance and grace, had never foreseen that one day he'd be forced to bear such an indignity. To add insult to injury, the wig was neither black nor white, but a dull gray. Feng Xiao had no idea where Cui Buqu had found the wretched thing. He accepted it with a sneer of disdain.
Yet over ten years later, Cui Buqu would discover that Feng Xiao had stored the hated wig in a box. It was carefully nestled inside, neat and proper, and still looked as good as new.