Lu Ying removed her hairpins and ornaments, his fingers threading through the girl's thick, lush black hair, attempting to braid it.
He had seen the women in the palace style their hair in front of the window.
They could effortlessly weave smooth braids, and he thought it was an easy task.
Who would have thought that Shen Yinning's hair was as unruly and defiant as the girl herself, slipping from his palms at times, tangling around his fingers at others, no matter how many attempts he made, unable to create a single elegant braid.
The man, invincible on the battlefield and politically untouchable in court, an expert in the art of swordsmanship and calligraphy, found himself fumbling and clumsy when it came to styling a young girl's hair.
