Lin Qingluo's eyes were filled with adoration: "Wet your hair with water, and Sister will apply the ointment for you."
"Okay."
Lin Yixuan obediently ran to the basin stand, let down his hair, scooped up some water, and wet his whitened temples.
"Dry it off, don't drip water."
Lin Qingluo stirred the ointment and walked to the basin stand.
"Okay."
Lin Yixuan did as he was told, dried his hair, stood on his tiptoes, and looked at the ointment in his sister's hand.
The ointment was black, thick, and sticky, with a faint scent of herbs. It smelled nice.
Hopefully, it would work well.
Success on the first try.
So his sister wouldn't have to work so hard researching, and wear herself out with sleepless nights.
The nine-year-old boy sincerely hoped so.
"After applying the ointment, let it air dry for at least half a Shichen before washing it off."