Chapter Thirty-Eight: You Are the Most Beautiful

After explaining everything, Chao Xu ran her fingers through her hair with a hint of irritation.

“It’s too long. I should get it cut. Otherwise, even if I don’t care about my ID, people will recognize me.”

The original owner’s hair was the epitome of the classic look—long, straight, and jet-black, silky and smooth, radiating the aura of a well-behaved girl.

But to Chao Xu, it was just a burden.

Whether maintaining it or using it in a fight, it was troublesome either way.

The butler, who was about to tidy up the cups, nearly dropped one in shock when he heard her.

“You mustn’t, miss!”

He stepped forward at once, refusing to accept her decision.

“The body and hair are gifts from one’s parents. If you cut your hair, how am I supposed to face the master, the madam, and young master?”

Chao Xu glanced at him, unruffled. “Oh? But if I don’t cut my hair and someone recognizes me, I might end up bringing this very hair to meet my parents.”

The butler was at a loss for words.

Between the hair and the young lady’s safety, he cared more for her well-being.

Yet watching her decide to chop off the hair she’d nurtured for so many years—just like that—he could hardly bear it.

With his heart aching, the butler arranged for a hairstylist and then left, clutching his chest.

Chao Xu, without any fuss, waited patiently in her room. Soon, a renowned stylist from their social circle arrived.

Busy organizing his tools, the stylist didn’t even look up. “What kind of style would you like?”

Chao Xu considered for a moment and measured her waist-length hair with her hands. “Cut it all short. Make it about the same as his.”

She nodded toward Ci Mo, who was standing nearby.

At that, the stylist finally looked up at her, and then let out an exaggerated cry.

“My God! Such beautiful hair! Miss, are you sure you want to cut it all off?”

Caressing her hair as if he couldn’t bear to let go, the stylist’s eyes were practically glued to it.

Hair this long, sleek, and glossy was clearly the result of years of careful care. If he were to snip it off in one go… he wasn’t sure he could ever forgive himself.

He felt as if he could hear his own heart bleeding.

But Chao Xu was utterly unfazed. She nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. And make it stylish.”

Glancing around, she pulled Ci Mo closer and pointed solemnly at his face. “Even more stylish than him!”

Suddenly drawn near, Ci Mo felt a faint, elusive fragrance brush past his nose. His cheeks flushed at once, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he looked at Chao Xu seriously and said:

“Don’t worry. You’re already better looking than me—you don’t need to be any more beautiful. You’re the most beautiful.”

Complimenting others clearly wasn’t his forte; he stumbled over the words, repeating “beautiful” three times, awkward yet earnest.

“Good taste. I think so too,” Chao Xu replied, utterly unacquainted with the concept of modesty. “But I think I can look even better.”

She squinted at the stylist, her eyes narrowing in mock threat. “If it doesn’t look good, I’ll have to teach you a lesson.”

The stylist, who had been mourning her long hair, broke out in a cold sweat.

For some reason, he had a feeling she meant every word.

Hands trembling, he picked up the scissors and swallowed hard. “Then… I’ll start now.”

With a sharp snip, a cascade of glossy black hair tumbled to the floor.