The soft motions through his hair feel good and the black strands shine from all the healthy attention. He also doesn't smell anymore and, after a moment, he rises and begins to wash his clothes so they are in the same state as him.

"How should it be, daozhang? Nice? Happy? Is that what your master told you?" he scrubs the fabric with soap, rinses it out and hangs it up to dry, "I wish it were nicer, that's all. I never asked for it to be perfect."