"Where did you learn this?" she asked quietly after several minutes of silence, genuine curiosity overriding the last remnants of her embarrassment. Most men of his status wouldn't know the first thing about washing someone else's hair, let alone doing it with this level of skill.
"From years of tending to Yuyan," he answered simply, his hands never pausing in their work. "After she was born. She was fragile from the very beginning, always sickly, her immune system weak. Her mother died bringing her into this world, so there was no one else to do it gently. The nurses were efficient, certainly, but too rough for a newborn who seemed made of glass. She would cry until she couldn't breathe, until her little face turned red and her body shook."
