Chapter 3: Hair Ties

Morning light filtered through the slats of the blinds, weaving zebra-like patterns across the teak floor.

Yan Dong was lounging on the rattan chair in the study, legs casually propped up on the desk, while his cram school worksheets were crumpled up behind him, serving as a makeshift cushion.

“What identity should I use?”

Yan Dong didn’t seem to think it was much of a question.

Holding his phone, ready to dive into a game, he lazily chewed over my words, lips curving into a mocking smirk.

“Just say you’re the housekeeper.”

The hand I was using to wipe the bookshelf suddenly tensed, and the cloth caught on a crack in the gilded spine of the Cihai dictionary.

I stared at his nonchalant profile reflected in the glass, unable to stop a faint trace of anger from seeping into my voice.

“Young master, do you think a school would allow a housekeeper to attend a parent-teacher meeting?”

“Fair point.”

He sat up and leaned on one elbow, thinking for a moment—then quickly gave up and resorted to his usual attitude.

“Do whatever you want, just don’t say you’re my wife.”

“Sorry, young master. I currently have no plans to marry.”

“Currently? What, even like this, you’re still thinking of going after other girls?”

He suddenly leaned in closer, the wide collar of his robe slipping down a little to reveal some faint reddish scratch marks on his collarbone—likely another protest from the tabby cat after getting kicked out of his room last night.

“Don’t trouble yourself with that, young master. You just focus on your studies—I have a lot more to worry about.”

I wasn’t picking a fight with Yan Dong.

I really did have a lot to think about.

My duties here weren’t just cooking and laundry—I also had to mop the floor every single day.

Yes, every day—regardless of how clean it was, or whether constant mopping might damage the wood.

The floor had to be spotless.

According to him, ever since I started working here, he’d mysteriously developed a dust allergy and was adamant that robotic vacuums just couldn’t clean as thoroughly as I could.

Complaining was pointless.

Yan Dong did all this out of sheer pettiness—revenge because Uncle Yan had given me an additional task: supervising Yan Dong’s studies.

In fact, all of his hostility toward me probably stemmed from that.

He was convinced I’d been sent by Uncle Yan to spy on him.

Classic late-stage persecution complex.

By noon, the sunlight had shifted onto the frosted glass doors of the bookcase.

I’d finished most of my chores and raised my phone to snap a picture of Yan Dong’s perpetually aggrieved face.

“What the hell, Lin? You reporting me again?”

He was sitting across from me, halfheartedly flipping through a book, clearly annoyed by the fact that I was photographing his “study session.”

“This is part of my job. I hope you understand, young master.”

As I spoke, my camera zoomed in on the crumpled scratch paper in front of him.

A once perfectly fine trigonometry graph had been turned into a doodle of a tongue-sticking ghost.

“Uncle Yan asked me to report your study progress at any time.”

“‘Part of your job’—my ass. Did you mop the floor yet?”

“I did. While you were grinning like an idiot at your phone.”

I replied with a straight face, scrolling to the burst photos of him lying on the sofa with his phone.

“Need me to replay the footage of the cleaning process?”

Annoyed, Yan Dong grabbed a pillow and hurled it at me.

I sidestepped out of habit, and in that same moment, the phone sent off a perfect shot of his irritated, flustered face.

As for how Uncle Yan would handle him later—or why this guy could just lounge around at home without going to school—that was well outside the scope of my responsibilities. Not my problem.

If I’m being honest, I’d actually love to see Yan Dong get his arrogant ass handed to him by Uncle Yan for once.

“Lin, you turning into a girl somehow made you even more annoying. Did your housekeeping agency never teach you how to shut up and be background furniture?”

Once I confirmed the message had been sent, I turned off my phone, bent down, and picked up the pillow from the floor, placing it on the nearby chair.

“Young master, Article 42 of the Public Security Administration Punishment Law states that publicly insulting someone can result in up to five days of detention. Would you like me to schedule a legal seminar at the detention center for you?”

“Get lost! Don’t get in the way of my studying!”

…

Of course, working as a housekeeper in Yan Dong’s home wasn’t without its tiny perks.

At the very least, once I finished all my tasks, I’d get a pitiful sliver of time to sneak in a bit of reading.

The study in Yan Dong’s house had all three walls packed with books—like a miniature library.

Naturally, a place this good was the last place Yan Dong himself wanted to stay in.

Barely fifteen minutes after making a big speech about “studying,” he had already disappeared back into his room to slack off and play computer games.

I pulled a random book from the shelf and sat down by the window, finally able to enjoy a rare moment of peace.

Back home, I usually spent downtime watching roasts of New Three Kingdoms or zombie survival stockpile videos.

But that wasn’t an option here—between Yan Dong’s endless noise and the constant chores, even the funniest video couldn’t get a smile out of me.

After thinking it over, reading seemed to be the only escape I had left.

Curled up by the window, bored and aimlessly flipping through a cookbook, I watched as Mao Mao the tabby cat curled into a ball beside my leg, its tail rhythmically tapping the photo of “Braised Beef with Tomato.”

The shadow of the bellflowers by the window swayed gently over the step that read “reduce over high heat,” breaking the printed text into shimmering fragments.

“Looks like it’s about time to make lunch.”

I glanced at the wall clock, sighed, and closed the book.

After putting it back, I headed into the kitchen to start prepping the meal.

Since I’d just happened to flip to the tomato beef dish, I figured I’d make that the main.

Add a side of stir-fried water spinach and that’d be enough.

While Yan Dong constantly grumbled and nitpicked, he did always finish whatever I made for lunch.

That at least gave me some freedom in what to cook.

Once I was done preparing his food, I carried my own modest portion back to the maid’s room.

I thought I could finally relax for a few minutes and watch a quick video while I ate—but of course, that irritating guy just had to start something again.

“Lin, bring your food over here.”

Hearing his voice come from the dining area, I rolled my eyes in annoyance but still walked over to where Yan Dong was poking at his rice with his chopsticks.

“Sit across from me.”

He suddenly gestured with his chopsticks to an empty chair that had somehow been pulled out from under the table.

“Young master, according to the contract, housekeepers are required to eat in their rooms—”

“Cut the crap. Today’s a special case. I didn’t get a good look at what you look like this morning.”

Yan Dong tugged slightly at his hoodie collar, revealing those faint reddish scabbed scratch marks on his collarbone.

“This is just your employer showing concern for his staff.”

What the hell does what I look like have to do with you?

As much as I wanted to toss that line in his face and walk off coolly, I just swallowed it, kept my complaints in my head, and obediently sat down across from him with my meal.

“Take off your hat. It’s in the way when you eat.”

“No need. I’m perfectly comfortable eating like this.”

“That has nothing to do with whether you’re comfortable. I’m saying your hat is ruining my appetite.”

I shot him a silent, exasperated glare, too lazy to argue.

After a brief hesitation, I casually took the cap off my head.

The moment the hat was removed, the black hair I’d haphazardly twisted up earlier that morning came tumbling down.

Though it was still held in place by a piece of string and didn’t completely unravel, it definitely wasn’t a pretty sight.

“You…”

Yan Dong’s pupils narrowed slightly.

His expression looked… odd—like he was holding back a laugh?

I had no idea what was so funny.

Maybe it was some kind of congenital defect that made him look this stupidly spaced out.

“If you don’t like the sight, young master, I’ll just put my hat back on.”

“No. Sit still.”

I had no idea what he was up to now.

He muttered that line to himself and walked off to his room.

A moment later, he returned to the dining table holding a hair tie—an ornate one adorned with a delicate jasmine flower.

“Take off that ratty string and use this instead.”

“Why?”

“Don’t forget you’re the housekeeper here. If you go out looking like a mess, it reflects poorly on my family.”

“Then I’ll just wear the hat. Problem solved.”

“No. It looks stupid.”

I had to admit, Yan Dong really knew how to nitpick.

Guys like him—pampered and spoiled since birth—probably lived for moments like these, just to feel relevant.

The hair tie he handed me had a crystal-like white jasmine flower with two long red ribbons dangling from a green metallic calyx.

I took the hair tie and planned to get it over with quickly so I could eat.

But then came the awkward part—I had never tied my hair before.

If I knew how, I wouldn’t have ended up like this in the first place.

Clumsy and fumbling, I struggled with it for quite a while and still couldn’t get it right.

The growing embarrassment was unbearable—I could feel the heat crawling up my face.

Still refusing to admit defeat, I tried again.

But after three straight minutes of my fingers tangled up in strands and the tie slipping off yet again, Yan Dong finally had enough.

He stood up, circled behind me, and snatched the tie from my hand.

“Sit still. I’ll do it.”

His fingertips brushed the back of my neck like static-laced threads, and the breath against my ear carried a faint trace of cedar.

I straightened up and rested my hands on my knees, keeping still as he gathered my hair and carefully tied it into a low ponytail.

When he sat back down, I finally murmured a quiet thanks.

Too bad whatever good impression I had of him instantly got shattered by his next smug remark.

“Lin, you really are pathetic. Can’t even tie your own hair? What are you, some hopeless little kitchen boy who’s never even touched a girl? Listen up—if you lose that tie, I’ll toss you into the moat to feed the fish.”

“Says who?”

“Says me. That tie’s mine.”

His domineering declaration killed any urge I had to keep talking.

I lowered my head and stayed silent.

Only when Yan Dong finally picked up his chopsticks and started eating again did I begin to quietly eat my meal as well.

“Oh right, Lin,” he said suddenly, tilting his head as he studied my newly tied hair.

“Now that you look like this, should I start treating you like a girl?”

…