Master Chen felt a twinge of regret as he paid the silver, but his ego swelled when Nie Qinghe praised him to the young shop assistant, calling him handsome, kind-hearted, and generous.
After all, he was a scion of the Chen Family. He spent hundreds of taels a year on wine, horses, and gambling. What was a mere eight taels?
Since they had bought the hair ornament, it only made sense to wear it immediately. Cuigu paid fifteen coins for a new hairstyle. Her hair was already pinned up in a high bun with a false hairpiece, making it easy for Nie Qinghe to work.
Nie Qinghe styled Cuigu’s hair into a modified Peony Bun—less rigid than the traditional version, yet more elegantly coiled. Topped with an ornate gold hairpin, the look was one of pure opulence.
Both show-offs were delighted with the result.
Nie Qinghe saw them to the door, welcoming them to return soon. She watched them leave, their faces glowing with satisfaction, and felt a wave of happiness herself.
“I say, how does Liu’s run a business these days? Why are you letting such a disreputable woman in here?”
A woman with high cheekbones and a sharp mouth marched into the shop, followed by a man. She was clearly there to criticize, her face twisted with indignation.
Nie Qinghe recognized the woman immediately. She was here to lecture her for showing her face in public as a girl and for serving someone like Cuigu. The woman was almost certainly not there to buy anything.
Nie Qinghe didn’t take offense. Instead, she met the woman’s gaze with a polite smile.
“Madam, you are most kind. Your hair is truly magnificent—so black and glossy, I’m simply envious.”
The woman’s sharp, caustic expression instantly melted into a smile.
“Oh, you flatter me! It was much darker and thicker back in my day.”
A few well-placed compliments had completely disarmed her.
The woman’s husband’s family name was Cen, but since he had married into her family, she was known as Madam Li.
She seemed to have forgotten her original intention—to berate Nie Qinghe—and now spoke as if they were old friends.
“Listen, sister, let me give you some advice,” Madam Li said, leaning in. “You have to know who’s who. That woman you let in—the one who looks like a common whore—bringing someone like that into such a refined establishment lowers the status of all decent women. It even tarnishes our own reputations!”
Nie Qinghe neither agreed nor disagreed. She simply kept her smile fixed, letting the woman talk while she mentally appraised her.
She noticed that although Madam Li’s hair was black and thick, it was also incredibly greasy. Flakes of dandruff floated on the surface, and even in the short time they’d been talking, the woman had scratched her scalp several times.
The smell—a mixture of scalp oil, osmanthus hair oil, and elmwood shavings water—was far from pleasant.
Still, Nie Qinghe showed no trace of disgust. She remained attentive, her expression one of humble listening.
Madam Li continued her tirade against the women of the pleasure quarters. “All they do is lie on a bed and make money. When it comes that easy, they still expect us to keep running errands for them? Isn’t that just insulting?”
She turned to Nie Qinghe. “Let me tell you, a girl shouldn’t be showing her face in public so much. You know how to style hair—you should go find a job with Madam Wen. You’ll definitely get it. Staying here, you’re exposed to all sorts of unsavory characters. It’s a public disgrace. Soon, decent men and women won’t dare come here, afraid their husbands will be seduced.”
As she spoke, Madam Li scratched her scalp vigorously. She hadn’t washed her hair in days, and the combination of the oil and shavings she used daily, coupled with the sweltering heat, had made her scalp unbearably itchy.
Her words were crude and lacking in refinement, but Nie Qinghe didn’t argue.
Instead, she tilted her head, her smile warm and disarming. “Madam Li, is your scalp itchy? Our shop is preparing a special black-hair growth and itch-relief shampoo for our regular customers. Perhaps you could try it when it’s ready.”
Madam Li suffered from dandruff and an oily, itchy scalp—she desperately needed such a remedy. But she had never considered seeing a doctor for it. Why would she? It was no different from shedding skin on her feet.
A jewelry shop sells shampoo?
Her attention was instantly captured, and she began eagerly asking Nie Qinghe for more details.
“Please wait a few days,” Nie Qinghe told her. “You can come back then to buy it.”
Her words seemed to make Madam Li’s scalp itch even more, and she couldn’t help scratching it again.
Nie Qinghe continued to smile as she provoked her. “Madam Li, you see? If I weren’t here in the shop to attend to you ladies, wouldn’t your scalp just keep itching? When it gets really bad, it feels like countless tiny insects are crawling under your skin…”
“Oh, stop it! I’m itching to death!” Madam Li scratched her head fiercely, drawing blood. She urged Nie Qinghe to bring out the shampoo immediately.
“Please be patient, Madam,” Nie Qinghe said. “Come back in a few days. I noticed you have a lot of hair, and wearing it in a bun like that must get very hot, which only makes your scalp itch more. Why not loosen the bun and let your hair hang down a bit? It would be much more comfortable.”
Madam Li complained, “Let it down? But that would be so unkempt—people would laugh at me! As women, our first priority is to maintain a proper appearance.”
Nie Qinghe produced a large hairnet. “This is a custom-made net for our regular customers. It’s elastic and stretchy. You can coil the hair at the crown, tuck the rest under, and secure it all with the net. It won’t get hot or messy, and it’s much more comfortable. Why not try it?”
Madam Li took the hairnet, turning it over in her hands. It was a clever little thing. She held it up to her head, and—perfect.
“How much?”
“The large one is twenty copper coins,” Nie Qinghe replied. “The small one is twelve.”
Madam Li could easily afford twenty coins, but bargaining was a habit she couldn’t break.
Nie Qinghe met her gaze with a faint, knowing smile. This was no street stall where one could haggle over pennies; it was the most luxurious jewelry shop in Jintai City. Discounts were reserved for bulk purchases, not for a single item.
That was the shop’s policy.
Though Nie Qinghe said nothing, Madam Li’s mind raced, and a flush crept up her cheeks. She had been about to complain that the hairnets at her own grocery store were only ten coins each. But she quickly remembered that those were tiny things, barely enough to cover a small bun, and they lacked the elastic that made this one fit so snugly.
This one was clearly superior.
“Pay the twenty coins,” she barked at her husband.
Knowing Madam Li wouldn’t buy anything else, Nie Qinghe left her to browse and turned to attend to other customers.
But Madam Li had no interest in browsing. She needed to get home, wash her hair, and put on the net—her scalp was itching to death.
She tugged her husband toward the exit, pinching him hard as they walked and shooting him a fierce glare. “Don’t you dare let your soul be stolen by these women,” she hissed. “They’re all fox spirits!”
The husband, a matrilocal son-in-law, was far too timid to argue. He simply followed her out, keeping his head down.
When they reached Huang’s Shop, they slipped in through a side entrance.
Shopkeeper Huang, a short, stout man with gemstone rings adorning every finger, rushed to meet them.
“Well?” he asked eagerly. “Did you humiliate them?”
Madam Li snapped in frustration. “Cousin, do you have a shampoo specifically for itchy scalps? That girl said they’d be selling it in a few days.”
Shopkeeper Huang had noticed a new girl helping out at Liu’s the day before—a young woman who styled hair and sold jewelry. Jealousy had gnawed at him, and he’d sent someone to investigate.
His plan had been simple: send his cousin to Liu’s Shop to publicly denounce Nie Qinghe for her immodest public presence, then accuse Liu’s of lacking propriety by employing a female assistant.
He hoped to force Shopkeeper Liu to fire her, ensuring no other shop would dare hire a woman.
If Shopkeeper Liu refused, his cousin was prepared to accuse Nie Qinghe of seducing her husband, claiming the shop was unsafe with a female employee present. She was even supposed to get her hair done, find some flaw to complain about, and cause a scene to ruin Liu’s reputation.
Instead, the woman had returned without causing any trouble at all, asking for shampoo.
What shampoo? Shopkeeper Huang thought, incredulous. Does he think Huang’s is as desperate as Liu’s?
Luring women in with gimmicks, selling shampoo in a jewelry shop… what a mess!
While Shopkeeper Huang saw only chaos, Nie Qinghe saw a golden opportunity.
In this era, both men and women wore their hair long. The diligent might wash it every three or four days; the less so, perhaps not even once a week. Neglecting hygiene led to lice, itching, and dandruff—inevitable consequences.
Many who went long periods without washing used fine-toothed combs to scrape out the grime and soothe their scalps, but this was a mere temporary fix. Worse, the popular hair oils and pomades they used to keep their hair glossy left a sticky residue that was nearly impossible to remove without proper cleansing.
The available cleaning agents were limited, made from soap pods, soapberry, soapnuts, pea flour, pig pancreas, wood ash, and rice water. Wealthy families added fragrant oils to these ingredients to create bath beans, jasmine soap, and other luxuries, guarding their secret recipes with fierce jealousy.
Even rice water, a common cleanser for the face and hair, was a luxury. After all, what ordinary family could afford to eat rice every day?
If a family lived near soapberry or soapnut trees, they could gather the fruit to make their own soap. Otherwise, they had to buy simple soap bars made from those same ingredients.
Even so, many found the cost too high and resorted to washing with wood ash instead.
Under such conditions, scalp problems were common, yet few effective remedies existed.
While styling her clients’ hair, Nie Qinghe noticed that most suffered from scalp issues. They desperately needed a shampoo that could disinfect, relieve itching, remove dandruff, and moisturize.
She had already formulated a recipe—one she had brewed and used herself in her past life with great success.
Although Shopkeeper Liu had told her she could withdraw funds from the counter for any project she wished to start, she still decided to ask his permission first.
Shopkeeper Liu was reviewing the accounts with Second Shopkeeper Qian when he heard Nie Qinghe wanted to discuss a new shampoo. He immediately dropped the ledgers and hurried away.
Second Shopkeeper Qian watched his colleague’s retreating back, a bitter jealousy churning in his stomach.
Nie Qinghe hadn’t expected Shopkeeper Liu to be so eager.
She took the opportunity to speak seriously with him about scalp health, describing the conditions she had encountered while styling hair: some clients had perpetually oily scalps, others suffered from incessant itching, and some were plagued by lice and scabs.
Nie Qinghe put on an expression of genuine concern for the customers. “Head Shopkeeper, could we partner with Hua Xiangrong? We could recommend some effective hair-washing products to them.”
Shopkeeper Liu shook his head. “Hua Xiangrong doesn’t have the right remedies for this. People would have to go to a medical clinic, and even then, it depends on the doctor’s skill.”
In this era, anyone with a valuable secret guarded it fiercely, terrified others would find out. It wasn’t just their jewelry shop’s techniques; the dyers, weavers, and embroiderers did the same. Even restaurant chefs kept their recipes hidden, and breweries guarded their formulas. Naturally, physicians were just as protective, refusing to share their prescriptions or secret cures.
A doctor’s ability to treat a specific ailment depended entirely on the teachings of their master. Some could make a living for a lifetime with just a few such prescriptions.
However, most people only sought medical help when they were desperately ill. Scalp issues weren’t considered a real disease, so they wouldn’t bother visiting a clinic. Even if a doctor possessed a cure for scalp ailments, it would never become popular.
Nie Qinghe sighed with genuine pity. “Some women’s scalp conditions are truly severe.” She was thinking of Madam Li.
Shopkeeper Liu’s interest was piqued. “Did the Flower Immortal ever teach you how to treat such ailments?”
When Nie Qinghe had first described her dream, the details had been so vivid and magnificent—the ethereal landscapes, the opulent decor, the breathtaking gardens, and the exquisitely dressed immortals. It all felt so real that he couldn’t help but ask.
Nie Qinghe paused, then clapped her hands. “Head Shopkeeper, you’re a genius! I actually remember now.”
Laishun’s excitement was palpable as he clenched his fist in a silent cheer for her.
“Beside the dressing pavilion,” Nie Qinghe explained, “there was a small garden where people were preparing something. They were soaking various leaves and fruits in water, and even simmering them in earthenware pots. They produced a thick, dark, sticky substance that they used for washing their hair and bodies…”
Shopkeeper Liu’s heart raced, his beard twitching slightly. There’s still more to uncover! He fought to maintain his composure, nodding slightly. “Do you remember what ingredients they used? Are they easy to find? If they’re too rare, it won’t be practical.”
Wealthy families already had access to luxuries like bath beans infused with various fragrances and jasmine soaps. There was no need to waste money and labor on anything too extravagant.
Nie Qinghe frowned in thought, then said slowly, “I think there was something like a broad bean… Yes, soap pods. And some fruits, and ginger, and woody reishi mushrooms… There were so many ingredients, I don’t know all their names.”
Shopkeeper Liu suppressed his excitement. “Do you remember what they look like?”
Nie Qinghe closed her eyes to recall, then nodded. “I do.”
“That’s easy enough,” Shopkeeper Liu said. “Go to Shopkeeper Lin to get the funds, then take Laishun and the donkey cart to find them. Check every apothecary and general store—just get them. Once you’ve bought everything, take Dali and Zijian and try making it.”
Nie Qinghe hesitated deliberately. “Head Shopkeeper, I’m afraid I won’t do it right and will just waste money.”
Shopkeeper Liu smiled. “Don’t be afraid of failure. Nothing good is ever achieved in one go. Be bold and keep trying. If it doesn’t work the first time, try a second, until you succeed.”
Nie Qinghe felt a wave of relief. After all, she couldn’t guarantee a first-time success. If she failed, she would waste a lot of materials and surely face Second Shopkeeper Qian’s complaints.
Shopkeeper Liu offered her a supportive smile. “If you succeed, we’ll call it Flower Immortal Hair Ointment.”
Nie Qinghe adored Shopkeeper Liu. He always knew how to cover for her, making her explanations sound reasonable.
With her gentle guidance, he even helped her brainstorm a few more names based on different medicinal effects, such as Darkening and Growth Ointment, Anti-Itch and Dandruff Ointment, and Moisturizing and Refreshing Ointment.
With Shopkeeper Liu backing her, Nie Qinghe wasn’t worried about being suspected for anything too daring. Everyone would assume it was his idea, and she was simply bringing her older brother and Chen Zijian along to help.
At this early stage, while I’m still too weak, she thought, I need to borrow strength to grow quietly and build my wealth in secret.
After Shopkeeper Liu left, Nie Qinghe did the math. Thanks to those men with impure intentions, she had made a small fortune today. Though fewer women had come for hair styling, she had earned much more than usual.
Yesterday, she had made fifty-six wen. Today, so far, she had earned 253 wen!