The shop assistants stood bewildered, unsure whose hairpins they were.
The three pins were identical in design—a simple, common style engraved with the phrase “Flowers Bloom in Abundance” and the characters “Auspicious and As You Wish.” There were no unique markings to tell them apart.
Seeing the ladies’ attention shift to the silver pins and their squabble dissolve, Nie Qinghe turned to a familiar assistant.
“Laishun,” she said with a smile. “Please invite these ladies to the back room for tea. They can tidy their hair there. I’ll bring the jewelry over so they can take their time choosing; that way, there will be no mistakes.”
Madam Fang, Madam Zhao, and the others finally realized they had caused a scene in the shop. Flushed with embarrassment and dreading the judgment of other customers, they hurried to the back room, their faces shielded by their hands.
Nie Qinghe turned to the remaining customers. “A lady’s hairpin came loose, and her hair fell out of place. We were all just helping her find the fallen beads.”
At her words, the assistants snapped back to their senses. They quickly chimed in, agreeing, knowing all too well that a rumor of a brawl in the shop would damage their reputation.
The new customers had only seen the women crouching on the floor, pulling at their hair and gathering fallen ornaments. They didn’t know the full story, but Nie Qinghe’s fair, flawless skin and clear, luminous eyes projected a natural aura of trustworthiness. They believed her without question.
Laishun and the other assistants were deeply moved. Some immediately attended to the new customers, while others hurried to help Nie Qinghe soothe Madam Fang and her companions in the back.
They knew a young woman was far better suited to handle such a delicate situation. If she hadn’t stepped in, they would have had no choice but to fetch the Third Young Lady.
Nie Qinghe took a velvet-lined tray, carefully arranging the disputed jewelry upon it. She then guided the flustered women into a quiet back room, where they could re-do their hair, fasten their ornaments, and calm their nerves with a cup of tea.
Even in the private room, the women continued to argue over who had taken whose hairpin. Though they were mortified by their own behavior, they couldn’t help but be meticulous—these were silver pins, after all, each worth a full tael.
Nie Qinghe maintained a gentle smile, but her mind was already racing. These women are the best customers I could hope for, she realized.
Madam Fang, Madam Zhao, and others from similar middle-class backgrounds might not be the shop’s biggest spenders, but they represented a formidable consumer force. They loved to dress up, were driven by vanity and competition, and tirelessly emulated the fashions of the nobility. They could bring in a tremendous amount of business.
Such families weren’t immensely wealthy; they wanted the finest things but sought to save wherever possible. Most lacked a skilled maid or old servant to manage their grooming, meaning the women had to do everything themselves. Some even returned their jewelry after a major event, accepting a restocking fee just to get some of their money back.
The social calendar was packed. There was the Flower Goddess Festival in the third and fourth months, featuring the Peony Festival and Peony Gathering. The Dragon Boat Festival came in the fifth month with its boat races, followed immediately by the prefect’s wife’s Garden Party. A few days after that, the Liu family’s wife and daughters would host their Summer Retreat Festival.
These festivals were attended by the city’s most prominent families, drawing noblewomen from all the surrounding prefectures and counties.
The ladies here couldn’t possibly miss such events.
To absent oneself would be an unthinkable loss of face. How could they ever show their faces in public again? These gatherings provided the most crucial gossip and social currency in their circles.
“Ladies, there is no need to worry,” Nie Qinghe said, her voice a model of professional poise.
Holding the silver pins on a tray, she carefully matched them against the hairstyles of the women, returning each one to its rightful owner with flawless accuracy.
“How did you know which one belonged to which of us?” the women asked, astonished.
Nie Qinghe offered a light smile. “I paid close attention to your hairstyles and the specific pins you were wearing. After a quick comparison, the distinction became clear.”
For identical styles, she thought, I only needed to identify who was missing a pin. As long as the design matched, it didn’t matter who originally owned it; they all looked the same anyway.
She then suggested they have their surnames engraved on their jewelry to prevent future mix-ups.
The women felt a flicker of resentment at the idea.
Could they really be blamed?
They had bought so much jewelry, so of course they’d try to save money wherever possible. Buying a single uniquely designed piece with a name engraved on it would cost as much as three or four ordinary ones—or even more. Even having a common design engraved with a name would add an extra twenty or thirty coppers to the price.
What did people expect? That they were so wealthy they wouldn’t miss a few coppers? Their families’ fortunes weren’t windfall profits like those of the truly great houses. Of course they’d save!
But who could have ever imagined such a situation—jewelry from everyone’s hair scattered on the ground, all mixed together and impossible to tell apart?
Nie Qinghe stepped in, offering to engrave simple marks on their jewelry for free.
Items from Liu’s Shop sometimes came with auspicious words engraved on them, while others were left smooth. All of them, however, bore the small Liu’s Shop hallmark. If a customer wanted a personal mark, they had to pay extra for a custom order.
Hearing that Nie Qinghe would do it for free, the ladies immediately perked up, eagerly asking for her help.
Nie Qinghe sent an assistant to fetch the tools from the back. She started by engraving an ancient-style square character onto Madam Fang’s unmarked piece of jewelry.
“Oh my, this young lady can read and write?” the women exclaimed in surprise.
Nie Qinghe didn’t miss a beat, quickly adding, “My father taught me. He’s a master jewelry craftsman at Liu’s Shop.”
The ladies couldn’t help but look at Nie Qinghe with newfound respect.
As she worked on engraving their jewelry, the women began re-styling their hair. Madam Fang, however, was not skilled with her hands, and her maid was even worse—clumsy and rough. The girl tugged at Madam Fang’s scalp so hard it hurt, leaving her furious.
“What use are you?” Madam Fang snapped. “Didn’t I teach you this a dozen times at home?”
The maid was a dull-witted girl bought at the lowest price for rough chores. Bringing her along was merely for show; she was never meant for delicate tasks. She could only pout in aggrieved silence.
Nie Qinghe couldn’t bear to see the young girl treated so poorly. She stepped forward to help Madam Fang.
With confident, deft movements, Nie Qinghe smoothed out the woman’s black hair. She noted that Madam Fang had thinning hair and a receding hairline. Her face was also large and square, making the elaborate Peony Bun an unsuitable choice.
She glanced at Madam Fang’s reflection in the bronze mirror. The surface was cloudy, not as clear as a silver mirror, which only made the woman’s face seem even larger.
“Madam,” Nie Qinghe said softly, “the Peony Bun requires a lot of false hair to hold its shape. Without it, the pins won’t stay secure, and it will likely fall apart. I think a Tiaoxin Bun would suit you much better.”
The hair at the center would be coiled at the back of the head, while the side locks would be combed up and then let to drape down, covering the ears. This would partially conceal the cheeks, slimming the face and softening the overall expression, making her look more feminine and charming.
Madam Fang hesitated. This girl looked only fourteen or fifteen, her beauty delicate and pure, yet she wore a coarse, patched dress of a plain color—her attire utterly shabby.
“Do you even know how to do this?” she asked, her tone skeptical.
Nie Qinghe smiled. “Why don’t I show you?”
Madam Fang gave her tacit consent.
This was all second nature to Nie Qinghe. In her past life, her own hair had been so thick and long that it reached her waist, making her a natural model for all kinds of styles. She had often streamed or made videos teaching others how to coil their hair, designing simple yet elegant gu-feng styles and accessories for young women who loved wearing Hanfu.
Once, during a stream where she had created a youthful style and then a noblewoman’s coiffure, her viewers had showered her with gifts worth hundreds of thousands of yuan. She had just sat there, stunned into a daze, with the classical hairstyle still in place, and people kept sending gifts.
That’s how visual beauty buffs are, she thought. Back when I followed some minor influencer, I’d stare stupidly and send gifts while she just drank water, yawned, or stared blankly, saying the most meaningless nonsense. I just thought she looked pretty.
Styling Madam Fang’s hair would be a piece of cake.
Though Madam Fang’s hair was on the thinner side, women’s hair was kept long in this era, providing more than enough for an updo.
As the side locks fell to conceal her broad jawline, Madam Zhao gasped in surprise. “Oh, Madam, you look quite lovely!”
The other women stared, all agreeing that she looked beautiful.
Madam Fang immediately turned to the mirror, tilting her head left and right. Though this wasn’t the high, noble bun she had envisioned, the style framed her face perfectly. She hardly recognized herself.
Nie Qinghe tidied the bun at the back, tucking in three or four small hair pads and securing them with short hairpins.
These short pins were essentially U-shaped hairpins, purely for securing the hair. If she’d had a wavy hair clip, she could have worked much faster.
The hair pads were made from a blend of real hair and silk cotton, typically crafted from a woman’s own shed or trimmed hair. The high-bun wigs sold in jewelry shops, however, were made from hair secretly sold by women in need of money, mixed with horsehair and yarn.
Madam Fang’s previous wig had been crudely made. She’d tried a Peony Bun, but her poor technique and over-accessorizing had caused it to fall apart.
Nie Qinghe secured her hair with two silver-gilt hairpins carved with peony patterns, then added her most expensive piece: a gold filigree swallow-shaped buyao hairpin with a red agate tassel and a dangling pearl.
Jewelry was all about the pairing—quality over quantity. The result was a clean, tastefully adorned look that exuded elegance and grace without being overly ornate.
“This mirror is useless,” Madam Fang lamented. “It’s too dim.”
Nie Qinghe knew how to make a mercury mirror, but the process was too dangerous. The mercury was highly toxic, and creating such a mirror would cause a sensation she wasn’t prepared to handle. She lacked the power to protect herself from the fallout.
The other women immediately began praising Nie Qinghe. They hadn’t expected someone dressed so plainly to possess such exquisite skill.
“Since you’re just going for a casual stroll, I kept the jewelry minimal,” Nie Qinghe explained with a smile. “If you were attending a flower festival banquet, of course, you’d want a more elaborate ensemble.”
That way, I could earn more money, she added silently.
The other ladies flocked around Nie Qinghe, each pleading for her help with their hair.
Madam Fang seized Nie Qinghe’s hand. “Nie family’s daughter, I’m attending an important garden party in a few days. Why don’t you come along and style my hair? I’ll pay you extra!”
Madam Fang was notoriously frugal. While she would splurge on jewelry to show off, she would haggle over the smallest engraving fees. She was harsh with servants and still harsher with hair-stylists. But Nie Qinghe’s work had truly impressed her. The style not only made her look wealthy but also several years younger and more attractive.
If I go home looking like this, even my husband will be more affectionate, she thought.
The other women, seeing Madam Fang’s eagerness, immediately vied to hire Nie Qinghe. Their competitive streaks flared as they began outbidding one another.
But Nie Qinghe knew women like Madam Fang. They seemed lavish when buying luxury goods, yet they would quibble over every copper. They’d spend three or four taels of silver on a gold hairpin without hesitation, but hesitate for a moment over twenty or thirty coins for a custom engraving.
The minimum fee for a hair-styling and accessory session at the Dressing Pavilion was twenty coins—a sum Madam Fang and her circle would never be willing to pay. Even for a garden party hosted by the prefect’s wife, they came only to buy luxury goods, not to hire a professional stylist. Their price point was inevitably low.
Anything higher would make them feel the pinch, limiting them to one or two visits. Nie Qinghe needed a price they couldn’t bear to grudge, something they’d be happy to pay for every formal gathering. This way, they wouldn’t feel the sting, and she would make a steady income.
She smiled subtly and asked, “Madam Fang, if you’re inviting me to style your hair and accompany you, how much will you pay?”
She knew they wouldn’t spare a hundred or two hundred coins for a companion—they weren’t at that stage of social needs yet. But paying for someone to do their hair was acceptable.
Madam Fang’s mouth snapped shut. She instantly regretted her impulsive boast.
At Madam Wen’s, she calculated, the cheapest apprentices cost twenty coins for a hairstyle and sixty or seventy for an escort.
Since the Nie girl wasn’t from the Dressing Pavilion, she should be cheaper. Maybe ten coins for the hair… no, five… And for the outing? No more than fifty… no, thirty or twenty should be enough.
As Madam Fang hesitated, she met Madam Zhao’s mocking gaze. The sight sent a fresh surge of impulsiveness through her.
Nie Qinghe, eager to secure them as clients, was careful not to let them feel the pinch. “Ladies, please don’t trouble yourselves. I was only joking. I don’t work for the jewelry shop—my father is the master here.”
To spite Madam Fang, Madam Zhao chimed in with a smile. “I’d say Nie Qinghe’s hairstyling is no worse than those who’ve finished their apprenticeship at the Dressing Pavilion. A single session should be at least…”
The other women immediately fixed their eyes on her, and Madam Fang’s gaze practically spat fire. If Madam Zhao dared to make her overpay, she would tear her mouth apart!
Of course, Madam Zhao wasn’t a fool. While they might squabble and compete among themselves, they were united against outsiders—especially when it came to their purses.
She chuckled. “After all, we’ve never officially gone to the Dressing Pavilion. Paying too much might attract unwanted attention. How about five coins? It won’t spark jealousy, and we can come to the young lady more often.”
Madam Fang and the others were delighted. Compared to the Dressing Pavilion, this price was a steal. It wouldn’t hurt their wallets at all. They could now get their hair styled for every gathering without the strain and ache of doing it themselves.
Nie Qinghe wasn’t disappointed in the slightest. Though five coins was far lower than she’d hoped, she had neither reputation nor status—she needed to establish herself first. She’d expected Madam Fang to be stingy enough to offer only two coins for the styling.
Now, at five coins, the ladies wouldn’t feel the pinch, and Nie Qinghe would still make a profit. More importantly, they could help her secure a position at Liu’s.
After all, earning even a few coins was incredibly difficult for women these days. Her own cousin, a skilled worker at the Embroidered Apparel Pavilion, toiled all day until her back and waist ached, yet only earned three hundred coins a month. Those who weren’t as proficient earned even less.
Besides, Nie Qinghe didn’t plan to make her living just by styling hair. She would use it to build her reputation, expand her client base, and then sell them new hairstyles, jewelry, shampoo, skincare, and cosmetics.
If you want to make real money, she thought, you can’t just keep your head down and work hard. How many employees have ever struck it rich on a salary alone?
Although the women were chattering and fussing around her, Nie Qinghe saw them only as business opportunities. In that light, she found them utterly charming.
“The head shopkeeper is here!” Laishun called out from outside, delivering the news to Nie Qinghe.