Just A Hair

"Nice fresh baos! Come and get some while they're hot!"

The bao seller shouted this chant untiringly as he unstacked another steamer, the steam billowing out around him like an ancient dragon come to life. Watching on eagerly, the customers queuing up fingered their coins impatiently and tried to see which bao was the plumpest.

"Best baos in town! You'll regret it if you don't get yours now! Here you go, madam, hand over the money please and move along, don't block the way." Stowing the coins away rapidly into his pouch, the bao seller gestured to the next customer in line.

A clear voice rang out across the street, dripping with scorn. "Best baos in town my foot. Do you call this your secret ingredient?"

Everyone turned to see who had spoken so boldly. A young gentleman was leaning nonchalantly against the wall, watching the bao seller's business. He was balancing a half-eaten bao in one hand, and from the way his foot was tapping on the ground he did not seem satisfied with it.

It was Qingqing--of course.

Seeing that she had gotten everyone's attention, she stepped forward with a smile, and held out something in her other hand.

The customers peered curiously and saw a thick black hair between her fingers.

"What a precious ingredient, seasoned with your own hair," Qingqing said sweetly. "No wonder you claim your baos are unrivalled. However, a humble person like me couldn't stomach this honour."

She thumped the remains of her bao down before him and held out her hand. "I want another bao as compensation."

The bao seller turned red. He glanced at the murmuring customers eyeing him, and turned belligerently to Qingqing. "I've seen troublemakers like you before, trying to get a free meal. That bao wasn't from my stall. And that hair is likely your own that you stuck inside, just to wrongfully accuse me. Get out of here, you young rascal, or I'll call the officials."

Qingqing raised her eyebrows in astonishment. She saw the customers glancing dubiously at her, unsure who to believe, and a devilish glint flickered in her eyes. Raising her head, she met the defensive glare of the bao seller directly.

She shook her finger in his face. "Just look at you, a big, tall, figure of a man who can't admit a mistake! And now you try to blame it on me? Ah, this is a worse mistake you've made."

Swinging round, she addressed the customers in the queue. "Attention, good folks. Be so kind as to hear a few words and be my judge. This worthy bao seller here looks perfectly, disgustingly healthy, and yet there is something chronically wrong with his eyes. Just five minutes ago he sold me this bao and now he can't remember my face at all. Either his memory is faulty, or his eyes are, because he won't take responsibility for it."

She jerked her head back to cast him a glare, and then turned back to the customers. "If that wasn't bad enough, imagine my feelings when he claims that I planted that hair! We may be common folks, and a bao is nothing significant, yet surely we have the right to complain when we're shortchanged, without being accused that we're the ones setting it up for our own profit. What injustice is this?"

As the people considered this, Qingqing reached out abruptly and pointed at a middle-aged woman with a basket on her arm. "Let me appeal to you here, good people. Come, sister, you judge for us all. You have such clear bright eyes, your eyesight must be admirable."

Flattered, the woman let Qingqing pull her to the center. With a flourish, Qingqing held the damning hair up for all to see, then presented it to her. "Now, take a good look at this wretched hair and tell me if it looks like mine--" she held out a wisp of her own hair invitingly, "--or his," and she gestured at the bao seller's beard scornfully.

There was a tense silence as the woman peered at the hair intently, and even the bao seller said nothing, swallowing uncomfortably.

"Indeed it resembles his more," the woman said in a hushed voice, and a ripple of sighs ran through the customers in queue.

Smiling, Qingqing flicked her hair back and folded her arms. "Did you hear that? Think twice before you try to get out of a situation by blaming an innocent person, you unprincipled dog. Now I want my money back. After all this I've lost my appetite for your baos. Who knows what else I might find inside?"

She thrust her open palm before his face. "The money."

Despairing, the bao seller watched as his customers began to leave slowly one by one, whispering among themselves. He looked desperately at Qingqing. "Good sir, you don't have to ruin my business like this," he wailed. "It was just a hair, after all. I'll give you the money if you want, but you're destroying my livelihood! Who will buy from me in the future? How am I going to survive?"

Qingqing's face did not move a muscle. "Who asked you to push the blame on me? Hand over the money and I'll be off."

The man clutched his money pouch. "You've already chased away my customers. Why should I give you money?" he demanded tearfully. "You hooligan, you just like bullying others."

Stepping right up to him, Qingqing stared him down and hissed through her teeth. "Yes, that's right. That's exactly what I am, a bully. Like you. We're a good match for each other, aren't we?"

She stepped back. "Now, are you going to give me my money, or should I make a wreck of your stall first?"

Closing her fingers around the coins, she strode off, muttering darkly to herself. As she rounded the corner she came face to face with a fat little boy watching her with saucer eyes as he squatted on a doorstep, a candied hawstick in one hand. He had red cheeks and a pigtail that stood up comically.

Qingqing was in a bad mood; restless, impatient, irritable, and petty. It had hung over her these few days relentlessly, and she had found herself picking fights with a regularity that was earning her a reputation in the town already, as the only vent she knew for her feelings. Seeing this boy goggling at her was the last straw.

She marched over and glared at him. The boy gulped and almost choked on his hawstick.

"What are you staring at, eh, you little lard ball Have you no manners?" she snapped.

Her eyes fell on the candied hawstick, and a different expression came over her face. She squatted down so she was at eye level with him.

"Maybe I should eat you," she whispered, maliciously enjoying his terrified expression. "A fat little boy like you would be good eating. What do you think?"

She snatched the hawstick neatly from him and stood up. "Count yourself lucky, I've got a craving for sweets today. If you tell anyone, I might just change my mind and eat you. Remember that next time you go around staring at strangers."

Sticking the hawstick into her mouth, she strode off as the boy burst into tears.