Jin Guangyao deftly divided Xue Yang’s hair into strands to weave into plaits, ignoring the black smoke of resentment writhing over the Ghost General's still form while the iron nails did their work. It pleased Jin Guangyao to give his new subordinate Nie braids in contravention of tradition and propriety.

“Has no one done this for you?” he asked, eyeing Xue Yang in the treasure room's mirror. He could just see the work table behind them with the Ghost General chained upon it.

“A scoundrel from Kuizhou?" Xue Yang scoffed, laughing. "Who would bother? Who would dare?” But his eyes were slitted with pleasure, like a cat’s.