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di feisheng is very particular about his hair. with anyone else, li lianhua would be tempted to call it vanity, but di feisheng maintains his personal appearance the way that he maintains his dao, with a practiced and almost meditative meticulousness. there's something calming in the routines of washing and combing, in his choice of mildly fragrant hair oil, that even li lianhua is lulled by, in the evenings when it's just the two of them and hulijing snoozing by the stairs. it is not, li lianhua notes, something di feisheng does when they have visitors, not even xiaobao.
"if you like watching so much," di feisheng says one night, working his comb through the dark and shining river of his hair, "perhaps you should try it for yourself." he'd washed in the stream during the afternoon, his small assortment of stoppered bottles on a flat rock probably worth more money than most people saw in a year. and less than a handspan away, the most feared blade in the jianghu. while few have had the opportunity to be close enough to experience it, di feishing smells as expensive as he looks. li lianhua had watched that too, sunbathing on the steps and idly playing with the dog.
"combing your hair?" he says after a beat, eyes still on di feisheng's hands, seeing the sudden flash of his smile only in his peripheral vision.
"your own hair," di feisheng corrects, arching a brow. "it's a wonder you haven't gone bald with how you tug at tangles with your fingers."
li lianhua shrugs. "there are more important things to do."
"like what, fishing? napping in the sun? watering plants?"
"yes, amongst other things," li lianhua says loftily, "like cooking and gardening."
di feisheng tsks but doesn't argue, setting down the comb and deftly sectioning out his hair before braiding it back loosely for the night. there's a rhythm to it that li lianhua hasn't quite deciphered yet, to when di feisheng does or doesn't do this, his callused swordsman fingers dancing through the steps with ease. "all right then," di feisheng says, standing up and gesturing at the newly vacated vanity bench. "come over here."
"what for," li lianhua says, but sidles over despite himself. who can blame him? di feisheng is very hard to resist in his black inner robes and freshly braided hair, smelling of osmanthus and citrus. it is, li lianhua knows, a sight and scent that few have ever had the privilege to experience and, with this second chance at life, not one he intends to take for granted.
"sit," di feisheng says, pressing him down by the shoulders. li lianhua settles himself on the bench, making a face at the bronze mirror mounted on the vanity. it was a wedding gift from xiaobao, and far more expensive than pretty much any other piece of furniture in lotus tower. li lianhua had wondered a bit at the choice of gift at the time, but in the intervening days it's become obvious that it was for di feisheng more than anything. his little protege is getting better at observing people.
di feisheng pulls li lianhua's hairpin out, startling him from his tangent, loose hair falling down his back in a soft cascade. di feisheng makes a disapproving sound, smoothing out the lay of li lianhua's hair before reaching for the comb on the vanity. "really," he says, starting at the bottom, "you need to take better care of your hair."
li lianhua hums, the lulled feeling from earlier settling firmly around him. "why should i, if you'll do it for me?"
"lazy," di feisheng says, and li lianhua smiles up at him with his most winning expression.
"perhaps i simply enjoy being doted on by my husband," he says. di feisheng rolls his eyes, but his hands don't stop and li lianhua obediently turns back toward the mirror, smiling a smaller, truer smile. experiencing, it turns out, is even more soothing than watching. he could get used to this.