So What If It's Burnt?

Jerry was about to explode again.

Seeing that he was about to run away in anger, his assistants quickly held him back. "Don't be angry, don't be angry, let us, let us!"

They quickly appeased Jerry and were about to take the comb.

But Xia Yingluo's hand turned dexterously and refused to let them touch the finely polished horn comb. She glanced at Jerry with a pair of glittering eyes and a smile, like a silent command and urge. Several other stylists looked at each other and froze in place. They didn't dare rush to grab the comb in Xia Yingluo's hands, nor did they dare to persuade Jerry to comb her hair. One was a noble big missy, and the other was a stubborn man with a bad temper. There were landmines under them no matter where they stepped.

The stylist just wanted to cry.