Nie Qinghe had the two men help her pour the medicinal liquid into large bottles they’d bought from the porcelain shop. After sealing them with wooden stoppers, they had seven full bottles, totaling nearly twenty catties.
Nie Dali stared in disbelief. “We spent all day on this! We used a whole pile of herbs—several big pots of water—and we only got this much?”
Nie Qinghe couldn’t openly take notes yet, so she mentally reviewed her inventory. She had bought two donkey carts’ worth of materials, but most were still stockpiled. For the smaller quantities, they’d used them all up; for the larger ones, they had enough for several more batches. In total, they’d used about two baskets’ worth.
She smiled. “Our first attempt was such a success! You two were a huge help.”
She didn’t hold back on the praise, gushing over their contributions.
Nie Dali took the compliments in stride, but Chen Zijian’s face flushed crimson. He fidgeted, his hands hanging awkwardly at his sides.
Nie Dali leaned in and whispered, “My sister is just being nice. Don’t read too much into it.”
Chen Zijian’s face deepened in color. He stammered that he wasn’t overthinking it—it was just that being praised so directly by Nie Qinghe was… a lot to handle.
Imagine a girl—beautiful, sweet, and innocent—praising you with a face full of gratitude. How could anyone resist that?
Nie Dali rolled his eyes. He decided he would remind Chen Zijian eight hundred times a day from now on, just to prevent him from forming any unrealistic ideas about Qinghe.
After bottling the liquid, Nie Qinghe kept the leftover dregs from the decoction. Though their potency was lower, the toxins had been removed, making them perfect for brewing with fresh materials.
From now on, she would have her elder brother prepare their daily shampoo.
A blend of Round Gleditsia, Soapberry, and ginger could dispel wind and cold, stimulate scalp circulation, improve skin health, and help repair follicles to promote hair regrowth.
Adding mulberry leaves would control excessive oil production, treat follicular inflammation, and eliminate dandruff through its anti-inflammatory and antibacterial properties.
He Shou Wu would help restore white hair to black. If wild ginseng were added, the effects would be even more profound.
Platycladus leaves would clear heat and fire, combat hair loss, and leave the scalp feeling fresh and non-greasy.
Finally, tea seed cake would be highly effective against folliculitis and seborrheic dermatitis, while also treating scalp itchiness, dandruff, and psoriasis.
Of course, the name “Ginger Shampoo” only indicated its primary ingredient.
The actual formula contained over a dozen herbs, including He Shou Wu, mulberry leaves, Platycladus leaves, and tea seed cakes. To keep the exact composition a secret, she named each product after its main ingredient, a practice she applied to all her formulas.
Nie Qinghe taught her older brother the full process: which ingredients were unique, which were essential for the base, the precise measurements for each, the amount of water needed, and the exact brewing time. It was a complex set of instructions, but she had already guided Nie Dali through one batch. He was quick-witted, had a sharp memory, and was naturally handy; he grasped everything she said.
As she explained the details, Nie Qinghe didn’t hide them from Chen Zijian. She even invited him to learn the formula with them.
But Chen Zijian immediately declined.
Just looking at the dozens of ingredients made his head spin. When she started explaining the different ratios, combinations, and their specific effects, his face turned pale. He was fine with following simple instructions, but the idea of memorizing all this and then having to apply it independently was overwhelming. He knew he’d never be able to remember it all, let alone execute it.
He also knew the formula couldn’t be shared. So, he proactively refused to learn it, opting to focus on other tasks instead.
Nie Qinghe assured the workers that this job would be more lucrative than an apprenticeship in jewelry making. She promised to arrange wages through Manager Liu. Apprentices earned no pay—only meals and a year-end bonus. Even after completing their apprenticeship, they’d earn a maximum of 300 coins a month, and it would take at least a year to reach 500.
Hearing about the pay, Chen Zijian’s eyes shone with a fervor that bordered on worship.
Nie Dali, annoyed by this, immediately set Chen Zijian to work. He had him prepare new materials and check for shortages so Shopkeeper Qian could arrange for the rest to be purchased.
Just then, Laishun announced Madam Li’s arrival. Nie Qinghe invited her over to experience the powerful, all-in-one medicinal solution.
She had Madam Li’s husband bring warm water to the open courtyard and set up a small stool.
Madam Li strode over and sat astride the stool, plunging her head directly into the basin of water. “Quick, give me some of that shampoo stuff!”
Nie Qinghe opened a bottle and scooped out a dollop of shampoo with a long-handled wooden spoon, pouring it directly into Madam Li’s palm. She instructed the woman to rub her hands together in a circular motion to lather the shampoo before applying it to her hair.
Impatient, Madam Li gave it a cursory rub before slapping the shampoo onto her head and scratching her scalp with a series of harsh, grating sounds.
Nie Qinghe stared, speechless. What kind of grudge does she hold against her own scalp?
“Be gentler,” she reminded her.
Beside them, the live-in son-in-law nodded vigorously, his head bobbing like a pecking hen.
“More, more!” Madam Li demanded. “Don’t be stingy.”
She muttered under her breath, criticizing the shop’s owner for being too cheap to buy a proper copper basin for her customers. Using this heavy earthenware one was simply uncouth.
Nie Qinghe ignored the woman’s incessant complaints and focused on teaching her the correct way to wash her hair—how to massage, how to rub in circles, and how to scrub without violently pulling or scratching.
After being lectured and corrected by Nie Qinghe, Madam Li’s temper finally broke. She began massaging her scalp gently, and as a reward, she received a second dollop of shampoo.
Nie Qinghe then poured a little warm water over her head, and the shampoo immediately whipped into a rich, fluffy lather.
Madam Li let out a cry of delight. “Oh, this is wonderful! So comfortable!”
Chen Zijian and Nie Dali had already retreated to the house to work, keeping out of the way. Hearing Madam Li’s exclamations, they struggled to contain their laughter, their faces flushing red.
Nie Qinghe scooped up some warm water to rinse Madam Li’s hair before applying a third spoonful of the shampoo.
Madam Li beamed. “You’re generous, not stingy at all!”
I’d love to be stingy, Nie Qinghe thought, but your hair is so filthy I doubt it’s ever been properly washed. It’s long, dirty, and thick—it’s a miracle it doesn’t eat up the whole bottle.
After rinsing her hair clean, Nie Qinghe asked the man to bring a towel to dry his wife’s head.
Madam Li sat on the stool, panting with relief. “So refreshing! It feels like a layer of scab has been peeled off my head. I feel a thousand times better.”
She glanced into the basin. The brown water was covered in a layer of oil and white flakes. Nauseated, she barked at her husband to dump the water into the southern drainage ditch immediately.
“How much for this shampoo?” she asked Nie Qinghe urgently. “I must have some.”
Nie Qinghe smiled. “I’m sorry, Madam Li, but this is medicine, not shampoo.”
“Medicine is fine!” Madam Li insisted. “I’ll buy it as medicine. Name your price!”
Nie Qinghe shook her head. “It’s not that I won’t sell it to you, Madam Li. But medicine is three parts poison; the dosage must be precise. If used incorrectly, it could be toxic. That’s why I can’t let you take it home.”
She knew Madam Li’s type. Unless she made the situation sound dire, the woman would never let the matter drop.
The mixture contained high concentrations of Round Gleditsia and tea seed cake, along with several other Chinese herbs. Some, like the Melia azedarach seeds, were toxic and unsafe for ingestion. If she sold it to her and Madam Li—or a child—accidentally swallowed some, the shop would be held responsible.
Madam Li looked skeptical. “Poison? But… this felt wonderful. I didn’t feel any poison.”
Nie Qinghe smiled. “That’s why the dosage and application method are so critical. I just showed you how to use it properly.”
“So… how much for this time?” Madam Li asked. “And can I come back again?” Her scalp felt incredibly soothing, the itchiness completely gone, replaced by a refreshing lightness.
“This time is free,” Nie Qinghe replied.
“What?!”
Madam Li stared, stunned. She had expected Nie Qinghe to name an exorbitant price and fleece her. Was she being mocked?
Seeing the woman’s disbelief, Nie Qinghe explained, “The first treatment is free. If you find it helpful, come back in two or three days. You can pay for the first session then, and continue your treatments until your scalp improves.”
Madam Li was so anxious to ask that she completely forgot to dry the water dripping from her hair onto her clothes. “How many times will I need to wash my hair to get better?”
She’s probably just trying to trick me, Madam Li thought. What if she tries to make me come back dozens of times?
“Your condition isn’t severe,” Nie Qinghe replied. “Five washes should be enough to see an improvement.”
“And how much will five washes cost?” Madam Li asked, her main concern still being the money.
“Eighty copper coins per wash,” Nie Qinghe said. “If you commit to five washes and see no improvement, I’ll give you a full refund. I guarantee you’ll be satisfied and won’t waste your money.”
Nie Qinghe had absolute confidence in the formula.
It was an ancient remedy passed down from a master physician, refined through years of clinical practice to be more comprehensive and effective. Not only could it treat seborrheic dermatitis, folliculitis, alopecia areata, sores, and scabies, but it could also be used as a full-body wash for dermatitis and allergies.
Dandruff and oily hair were minor issues by comparison. The master physician had even taught her how to adapt the formula—reducing toxic ingredients and adding targeted herbs—to create daily-use shampoos and body washes.
Of course, in this era, a single bottle was all one needed. It served for the face, hair, and body alike.
Madam Li was stunned once again. Who does business like this? she wondered. Doesn’t this just invite people to stiff her on the bill?
Nie Qinghe gazed at her, her dark, moist eyes sparkling. She smiled but said nothing.
Madam Li’s heart sank. The young girl was starting to seem a little frightening. When she wasn’t smiling, those cool, black eyes seemed to pierce right through her.
She quickly asked the price of the shampoo, wanting to pre-order it and stock up early.
“The ingredients vary, so the prices do too,” Nie Qinghe explained. “The standard version is 500 wen per bottle, which is about a pound. There are more expensive options as well. If it’s brewed with wild ginseng, it will cost three taels of silver a bottle. You can use it for your face, hair, and body. One bottle should last about three to four months, depending on how often you wash and how much you use.”
A frugal person could stretch it to four months; a less careful one might finish it in two.
By now, Madam Li had lost all her objections. Her head felt wonderful after the wash, and she no longer found the eighty-wen service expensive, nor did she think five hundred wen for a bottle was unreasonable.
She nodded repeatedly. “Something this effective is worth having. When we go to a doctor, sometimes the most expensive medicines don’t even work. Other doctors can cure you in three doses, but of course, they charge more for that.”
Her husband, who knew his wife better than anyone, was well aware of how stingy she could be.
Even when buying a mere pound of rice for twenty-eight wen, Madam Li would fuss and complain, picking through the grains to avoid spending a single extra coin.
Is this not expensive? she wondered. Eighty coins for a single wash? Who spends eighty cents on a hair treatment? Even a visit to the physician doesn’t cost this much!
Expensive? Of course it was expensive. Rare items always were. But it actually works.
After all, what about the rouge, jasmine soaps, and rosewater used by the wealthy? Those cost several taels of silver each.
Some things were simply never meant for ordinary people. It was like the luxury clothing of the future—a single shirt costing twenty thousand yuan, one that couldn’t even be washed. A commoner would see such a garment and ask, What is this made of, gold? Who would buy it?
And yet, people still bought it.
Madam Li found herself inexplicably afraid of Nie Qinghe. She couldn’t pinpoint the source of this fear.
Perhaps it was because she had been forced to keep her head bowed while Nie Qinghe stood over her, issuing commands. Or perhaps it was because Nie Qinghe, despite her youth, dared to show her face in public and create such a marvelous product. Or perhaps it was something else entirely.
Whatever the reason, she was intimidated. She vowed never to lecture Nie Qinghe again.
For the first time, Madam Li showed genuine courtesy. She bid Nie Qinghe a reluctant farewell before leading her son-in-law to the back courtyard of Manager Huang’s shop.
The moment they stepped inside, Manager Huang pulled Madam Li aside, his voice urgent. “How’s the salve? Is it a scam? Did you wash it off? That medicinal smell… did she brew it for you? Is it poisonous? Are you feeling sick? If you’re unwell, I’ll take you to the clinic right now. We’ll sue Liu’s for attempted murder—”
Madam Li slapped him.
“You black-hearted bastard, Huang Fugui!” she snapped. “Miss Nie is as kind as she is beautiful, yet you can’t think a single good thought! You run a shop, but instead of focusing on honest business and treating your customers well, you’re always scheming.”
Hmph, she thought, that dead-beat man.
He looked down on women constantly, always muttering, What good can a woman’s hands produce?
He crafted the men’s accessories in the shop with such exquisite detail, while the women’s items were slapped together carelessly. If he weren’t a relative, she would have cursed him out long ago.
Madam Li spat at him, then grabbed her son-in-law and marched away.
“I… damn it—” Huang Fugui kicked the door in frustration, nearly breaking his own foot. He hopped around on one leg, clutching his injured foot and howling for his mother.