Five Skills of a Manicurist

In the center of the flower rack outside the shop, a black umbrella was placed, and before long, a few kittens had curled up inside, peering out with curiosity.

“The restroom’s inside, with clean towels and a hair dryer,” Ning Zhixia pointed toward the interior. The two of them had only just met, hardly familiar, and the silence felt awkward. Once Audro went in, Ning Zhixia turned on the television.

Spring days bring frequent rain; the window sill was stained with a dark, mottled patch. Ning Zhixia frowned, took a cloth to absorb the moisture, and slowly wiped it clean. The damp earthy scent of moss drifted into his nose.

Just when the atmosphere promised a perfect night's sleep, the door rattled—something hard, striking the door with steady rhythm.

“Knock, knock.”

“Knock, knock.”

“……”

Ning Zhixia glanced at the clock—sure enough, it was the familiar seven twenty-eight. The second coming; he had no desire to open the door.

As he hesitated, the noise outside faded away. Ning Zhixia listened, curiosity finally getting the better of him. Squinting, he peered through the cat’s eye—

A figure appeared to be lounging on a beauty couch, flipping through a book, separated by a sheer silk screen. The scene outside was like a shadow puppet play.

The flickering lamp flame danced; she rose to add oil, her silhouette merging with a dark shadow behind. Suddenly, she turned as if sensing something, and uttered a piercing, miserable scream.

“Shh!”

A sharp blade pierced her chest, blood splattering against the pale screen, blossoming into a tree of crimson plum.

A jade hairpin fell, ringing crisply as it hit the floor. The woman's black hair spilled as she collapsed, half her body visible beyond the screen. She slowly turned her face, half soaked in blood, eyes wide, staring directly at the stunned young man.

“Mmm!!”

A shudder raced up Ning Zhixia’s spine; terrified, he yelled as loudly as he could, “Audro! Hurry, hurry! Someone’s been murdered outside!”

The bathroom door opened, and Audro came out calmly, clothes neat and fresh, looking comfortable and composed.

But even if he’d rolled in mud now, Ning Zhixia wouldn’t care.

He dashed over, exhilarated as if seeing a savior, but his knees buckled and he stumbled, sliding awkwardly across the polished floor.

Audro paused at the sudden performance. “Brilliant.”

“……”

The air felt suffocating, as if drained. Ning Zhixia opened his mouth, and the television blared with hearty, booming laughter—

“Hahaha, beloved, rise quickly!”

Ning Zhixia: “…………”

The awkwardness vanished without a trace. With a blank expression, he pushed himself up, dusted his knees, and inwardly muttered, “Alright.”

Audro paid no mind to his shifting expressions, only glanced toward the door. “You called me?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Ning Zhixia pulled him toward the entrance. “The connection to another dimension is open again. I didn’t dare open the door, but through the cat’s eye I saw a girl die!”

Audro nodded, softly replied “hm,” and pressed down on the door handle, opening it with casual ease despite Ning Zhixia’s startled gasp.

A cold wind swept through silver-gray hair. Outside, eerie green lights flickered; apart from a blood-stained sword lying on the ground, nothing else was there.

Ning Zhixia peeked from behind, recalling the knocking sound—the hard object striking the door—he swallowed nervously.

He murmured, “It’s true. That sword pierced her chest…”

Audro picked up the sword and closed the door. “What did you see?”

“Through a graceful folding screen, a girl reading…” Ning Zhixia gestured, describing the scene.

“Did you see the murderer?” Audro asked.

Ning Zhixia thought for a moment, then nodded hesitantly.

“What did they look like?” Audro pressed.

Ning Zhixia replied modestly, “My description might be a bit abstract.”

“How abstract?” Audro was curious.

Lowering his voice, Ning Zhixia whispered with seriousness and mystery, “Like the shadowy figure in Detective Conan.”

“…?”

Audro was silent for a few seconds, then changed the question, “What about the woman?”

“Uh…well…” Ning Zhixia scratched his head, spotted pen and paper on the workbench, and drew the scene.

Audro glanced at it and said, “She’s one of the heartless corpses—died last night.”

“Last night? Then what I just saw…” Ning Zhixia looked at the sword in shock.

He never imagined he’d be able to commune with spirits—perhaps a new side business. With this kind of ‘golden finger,’ he'd soon become a celebrity among the rich and famous, debut in the entertainment world, and reap fame and fortune!

Beautiful, truly beautiful.

Under warm, gentle lighting, no one paid attention to the stopped clock. Audro held the sword, examining it from hilt to tip; in his light-colored eyes was a cold detachment rarely seen by day—who killed whom, who committed evil, he neither cared nor was curious.

Ning Zhixia finished his mental daydream, paced over with hands behind his back, saw Audro silent for a long time, and shook his head, clicking his tongue.

Audro looked up, hesitated, then offered the sword to him, “Seen it before?”

“Oh, definitely.” Ning Zhixia countered, “You know Biluoshan?”

That was a famous mountain on the outskirts of Yucheng.

Audro squinted, unsure where this was going, but after a few seconds, nodded.

Ning Zhixia gestured at the sword, “At the Daoist temple halfway up the mountain—three for fifty yuan!”

“…………”

Of course.

Audro gave him a deep look, took the sword away.

Ning Zhixia asked, “Aren’t you going to ask me more?”

Audro shook his head, firmly, “No.”

The blood-stained short sword was ultimately taken by Audro; according to him, it belonged to Dimension 103, and was best handed to Su Qiushui for investigation.

Ning Zhixia continued his leisurely days at the nail salon. When the time for dimensional connections came at night, cold green lights paired up and wandered outside, thankfully not disturbing him.

That was a relief—less worry about being treated as fresh meat.

But just a day later, Su Qiushui returned to the shop.

Thanks to the short sword Audro gave her, she’d managed—after much effort—to capture a sword-forging demon called Mountainbone.

The sword was made by Mountainbone, but it seemed bound by someone and refused to reveal for whom it was forged.

“Where is it now?” Ning Zhixia asked.

“About to be sent to the bureau,” Su Qiushui replied, annoyed. “Its true form is a stubborn stone—there’s nothing I can do with it!”

Ning Zhixia considered, then suggested, “No need for all that trouble. Bring it here, I’ll help you interrogate.”

“Hmm?” Su Qiushui raised her brows, surprised by the young man, found he wasn’t joking, and agreed without hesitation.

She acted swiftly; not long after leaving, she returned, tail swaying as she opened the door.

Four pairs of red lights shone in the darkness. As sharp claws clicked against the floor, Ning Zhixia saw the scene at the entrance and relaxed.

At the open doorway, two fluffy white foxes tugged hard at a red cord, dragging the demon behind, while two others poked at it with their noses and crouched low, growling fiercely.

“That’s enough, right here.” With Su Qiushui’s nod, the little foxes dropped the cord, rolled happily at her feet, and when Ning Zhixia peeked at them, they shrank back, lined up and wiggled their tails as they trotted out.

Truly, the King Zhou’s joyous beasts were irresistible; Ning Zhixia nearly saw stars. Suddenly, a furious shout echoed.

“Hmph! Su Qiushui, stop your tricks! What kind of ghost place have you brought me to?”

A round-faced woman in black, bound by the red cord, twisted her head to look around.

Su Qiushui rolled her eyes, holding a pipe in one hand, pushing Mountainbone forward with the other.

The desk lamp clicked on, and a kindly smiling young man sat in the light, waving in greeting.

“Hi~ ^_^”

Mountainbone sniffed, puzzled, “Who are you? You smell strange.”

Ning Zhixia took out his tools, “Not important, just an ordinary craftsman.”

“Craftsman?” Mountainbone stared, then sneered, “Well, the foxes are getting useless—thought you’d devise some vicious trick, but instead, you’re asking a powerless mortal for help!”

Ning Zhixia shook his head, “She wants to know who you forged the sword for, but since you won’t answer, there’s nothing she can do.”

Mountainbone was smug, raising her chin, “Since you know, what’s the point of bringing me here?”

“I heard about recent events and asked Qiushui to bring you—let’s ease relations a bit.”

“So, hard didn’t work, now you try soft.” Mountainbone dismissed him, “You’re just a mortal, can’t serve me, have no treasures—what good can you offer?”

Ning Zhixia smiled, taking her hand and placing it on the soft hand cushion, “I have my own skills.”

Mountainbone was skeptical, tried to pull her hand back, but Su Qiushui pressed her shoulder.

The fingers on black fabric shimmered, exquisitely manicured. Su Qiushui laughed, “See? Boss Ning did these for me—I brought you here for this.”

Mountainbone turned away; her fingers were stout and rough, cuticles thick and darkened by sword forging, never caring for her hands.

Ning Zhixia glanced down, recognizing her habits, and put away the dazzling decorations.

They’d be useless here.

“Don’t worry—I won’t ruin my reputation,” Ning Zhixia soothed, and as Mountainbone relaxed slightly, he began filing her nails.

This demon was sensitive; to get her to relax, he couldn’t use the electric grinder. Filing was laborious but quick, and with skill, often faster than a machine.

Ning Zhixia chose a comfortable angle, gently pulling and releasing at the nail edges. The balanced touch made Mountainbone loosen her grip.

He asked, “How does it feel? Should I go softer?”

“It’s fine, don’t bother.”

Mountainbone craned her neck, watching his movements, intrigued by the file.

Before she could indulge, Ning Zhixia applied softener at the nail edges, then used a steel pusher to work on the cuticles.

Many clients fear this step—too light, it’s slow and useless; too heavy, it’s uncomfortable.

Ning Zhixia had practiced on himself and knew the exact pressure for efficiency. Using a thin steel pusher at a low angle, he rhythmically pushed back the softened cuticles, which accumulated along the arched edge, then snipped them away neatly.

Mountainbone hummed with comfort, feeling stress melt away.

With cuticles removed, her short, broad nails now looked refined and elegant, her fingers transformed.

She stared, urging, “Continue.”

“Alright, as you like.” As he brushed on the base coat, Ning Zhixia asked casually, “As a famous swordsmith, don’t you have apprentices?”

Mountainbone thought it was idle chatter, replied, “Of course.”

Ning Zhixia sighed, “Then why do it yourself? It’s rough on your hands.”

“I don’t want to, but…” Mountainbone stopped mid-sentence, suddenly wary, studying him.

He seemed nonchalant, tapping the table, “Come, switch hands.”

“Okay.” Mountainbone was interrupted, placed her hand on the cushion, still pondering, until he tapped again, “Those coated nails need to go under the lamp.”

Mountainbone looked at the curved device, tentatively placed her hand inside, observing the sudden purple glow.

Ning Zhixia resumed, “I get it—must've met a demanding client, insisting the best swordsmith craft it personally.”

“I am the best,” Mountainbone said, then wondered, “What’s a client?”

“They’re the ones who offer perks, then bombard you with requests.”

Mountainbone’s eyes flickered, nodding, “Yes, exactly!”

Ning Zhixia shifted, “But at your level, shouldn’t you avoid such people? That short sword was exquisite.”

“Hmm, you have some taste,” Mountainbone grumbled, “But those people nitpick, made me redo it many times.”

Ning Zhixia exclaimed, “Oh, how could that be?”

“Because…” Mountainbone realized she’d said too much, quickly fell silent and glanced at Ning Zhixia.

He seemed not to notice, still indignantly complaining, “So hard to serve! They say they trust your skill, let you handle it, but when the plan’s submitted, it’s endless revisions… Come, switch hands.”

“Okay.” Mountainbone felt she’d found a kindred spirit and obediently complied, “You’re so right. That sword took me so much effort…”

“Being a craftsman is tough,” Ning Zhixia agreed, tapping the table.

Mountainbone switched hands without needing a reminder, talking so much she took a sip of the hot tea pushed her way.

Ning Zhixia smiled, “I just quit when I don’t want to serve them. If you’re unhappy, you can stop too.”

“I can’t…”

“Why not? Come, switch hands.”

The familiar tap sounded.

Mountainbone followed, but in a moment of distraction, her tightly closed lips seemed to have their own mind, and words spilled out, “They can lock me in the Demon Tower and sink me in the sea…”

As soon as the words fell, Ning Zhixia’s hands paused.

In the corner, Su Qiushui, who’d been waiting patiently on the sofa, stood with a sinister smile, “So—it was their doing…”

“You—” Mountainbone clapped her hand over her mouth, tearful, her face slowly turning to stone as she realized she’d violated the secrecy oath with her employer.

“This truth-telling manicure service is now concluded…”

Ning Zhixia rose and shook Su Qiushui’s hand, smiling as he turned to the now stone Mountainbone—

“Welcome to visit again!”