This evening, just as the shop opened, Jiang Youlan stared blankly at the wall. Noticing someone arriving at the entrance, she cast a glance over, casually stubbed out her cigarette on the wooden armrest of the sofa, and exhaled.
It was probably just another person wanting to get a hair wash.
She had run into this several times already.
These schoolgirls never bothered to look up at the shop’s interior decor, stumbling right in like clumsy birds that couldn’t see the glass.
Seeing the short-haired girl standing frozen in place, Jiang Youlan impatiently waved her hand. Be on your way.
This was simply one of the exceptionally clumsy birds.
Older sister, I’d like to… the student remained rooted to the spot, stammering.
Hmm? What do you want? Jiang Youlan stood up and sized up the student, only to discover she was a good head shorter than the other person.
Kids these days grew up quite tall.
The student also surveyed the dimly lit, pink-hued interior of the shop, as if noticing something unusual as well. She hesitated and said, I’d like a hair wash.
Jiang Youlan sighed helplessly. Our shop doesn’t take students’ money. Go somewhere else.
That student stared straight at her with unblinking eyes, the same look a stray puppy near a braised pork stall would give.
Jiang Youlan was familiar with this look.
She didn’t find it repulsive.
It was just that paired with the blue-and-white school uniform the kid was wearing, it looked somewhat bizarre.
As it turned out, this wasn’t a clumsy bird after all; it was a curious little puppy.
I don’t serve minors here. Hurry up and get going. Jiang Youlan motioned toward the door with her eyes.
The student explained, Older sister, the school dorm’s water system shut down, so I couldn’t wash my hair. I just finished training today, and my hair is all sticky. I have a competition tomorrow and don’t want to step onto the court like this.
Bored, Jiang Youlan twirled a strand of wavy brown hair that fell past her chest. Her hair had been dyed a deep shade of brown and permanently styled into large waves year-round; it was the hairstyle that suited her best.
Go wash it at another shop.
The nearby shops are all closed.
That much was true. Word had it that the school’s water supply had been cut off because a pipeline was accidentally ruptured during maintenance, and nearby storefronts had taken a hit as well. The hair salon where she worked was an older establishment, and its plumbing lines connected differently from the other shops, which was why it had escaped the disruption and could remain open normally.
I don’t serve minors here.
I am of legal age. I’m a retake student, so I turned eighteen several months ago.
Why was this kid so stubborn?
Jiang Youlan let out a sigh, turned around, and led her over to the washing area, motioning for her to lie down on the soft reclining chair. I’m not very good at washing hair, you know.
It’s fine. My hair is very short, so it’s super easy to wash. She flashed a smile.
It wasn’t easy to wash at all.
Jiang Youlan draped a towel around her, tucked it neatly into her collar, adjusted the water temperature, and sprinkled water to slightly dampen her crop of short hair, only to realize the truth immediately.
Had she ever washed a Samoyed? It was that exact feeling where water splashed onto the coat and simply slid right off, leaving the under-fluff stubbornly dry even after a tremendous amount of effort.
It wasn’t common nowadays to find hair this dense.
Even though this wasn’t exactly a high-end, orthodox hair salon, Jiang Youlan had seen plenty of hair in her time.
Some hair was fine, soft, and limp, slightly yellowish, easily making a person look listless and fatigued.
Some hair was coarse and frizzy, making blow-drying an exhausting chore, dangerously close to looking like a patch of withered grass at any moment.
There was also a tiny minority of people whose hair was pitch-black and naturally lustrous, shining brilliantly without needing any hair masks at all.
This student’s hair belonged to the latter category: short, ear-length locks with a three-seventy side-parted fringe, a standard student haircut. Yet, because of its exceptional quality, it carried a somewhat Japanese manga-like aesthetic.
Some beauty salon promotional posters claimed that hair is a woman’s second face.
Jiang Youlan thought that was absolute nonsense.
Hair was a second face, the neck was a second face, and the hands were too. By that logic, women were essentially covered in faces from head to toe.
Come to think of it, that sounded rather Lovecraftian.
Imagining a Cthulhu monster covered entirely in faces, she chuckled.
Lying on the soft chair, the student let Jiang Youlan apply shampoo and gently massage her roots and hair tips.
The reclining perspective always felt a bit awkward; usually, guests would close their eyes, and sometimes they even fell asleep.
Yet today, she kept her eyes wide open the entire time.
Older sister, you look so pretty when you smile.
This kid certainly had a sweet mouth.
Jiang Youlan looked down at her. The girl’s eyebrows were also well-shaped, sharing the same healthy black tone as her hair. Her pupils were slightly lighter, probably brown. The washing station only had a dim white overhead light, but the pink neon glow from the entrance still threw shadows over her field of vision.
Her lips were full, with a very pale hue.
Untouched.
Staring at a customer like this was far too impolite.
Older sister, why do you keep staring at me?
Jiang Youlan averted her gaze, turned around to pump a dollop of conditioner, and worked it evenly through the student’s hair.
I wasn’t.
To ease the awkwardness, Jiang Youlan tried striking up a conversation. Are you an athlete?
She didn’t quite look the part.
In Jiang Youlan’s impression, athletes were usually tall, robust, and tanned as dark as charcoal.
Yes, I do track and field. The student wanted to nod, but forgot her hair was still in Jiang Youlan’s hands. A sudden movement tugged painfully at her scalp.
Hiss,
Jiang Youlan said helplessly, Don’t move around so casually.
After washing her hair twice, Jiang Youlan began giving her a head massage.
Ah, no need, just a quick wash is fine. She tried to sit up, only to be pressed back down by Jiang Youlan.
Don’t move. It’s fine; nobody’s here right now, and I have time to spare anyway. Keeping her hands moving, Jiang Youlan used her fingertips to press along her temples, crown, and the back of her neck.
The track athlete stiffened slightly.
Does this spot usually get sore and achy? Jiang Youlan kneaded the back of her neck, which felt as rigid as a sheet of iron.
…Occasionally, the athlete squeezed out through clenched teeth.
Students these days tended to carry so much tension right there; it was probably due to the immense academic pressure.
A moment later, the student’s ears turned red.
What’s wrong?
Unsure, Jiang Youlan paused her movements and instinctively pinched the girl’s earlobe.
The athlete’s face grew even redder.
Puzzled, Jiang Youlan continued massaging for a little longer before rinsing away the lather with warm water, towel-drying the hair, and gesturing for her to sit up.
Once the girl was seated in the styling chair, Jiang Youlan unwrapped the towel from her head and noticed that her bangs had grown a bit long.
Should I trim them? Jiang Youlan pinched a lock of bangs and asked the reflection in the mirror.
Trim them, please, but not too short.
Jiang Youlan hadn’t seriously cut hair in a long time, but her skills were still decent. Within a few snips, she had shortened the fringe to a suitable length without making it look stiff or unnatural.
All done. After blow-drying her hair, Jiang Youlan removed the cape from around her neck, glanced at the person in the mirror, and casually used a towel to wipe away a few stray hairs clinging to her face.
Would you like another wash?
No need, I have to hurry back for evening self-study.
Jiang Youlan only charged her half price. When the student pulled out her wallet to pay, her student ID card slipped out.
Qingyi.
A rather unique name.
After accepting the payment, Jiang Youlan warned her not to come back; this wasn’t a place for students.
Qingyi smiled, offering no promises in return.
Watching the student step out of the doorway, Jiang Youlan turned back to clean up the towels she had just used.
Don’t show up again, student. This isn’t the place for you.
There were barely any customers that night, so Jiang Youlan curled up on the sofa and zoned out.
For the longest time, everything about this hair salon was merely work to Jiang Youlan. She couldn’t say she loved it, nor could she say she hated it; yet at the very least, this job allowed her to retain control over her own life and body. Here, she could decide what to do or not do today, rather than having to endure endless lies and violence hidden inside one relationship after another, or job after job.
Yet as time dragged on, she grew uncertain of what remained inside her own physical shell.
Her soul seemed riddled with holes, and winds from every direction blew right through her bones.
She took a drag from her cigarette, the smoke blurring her vision.
At one o’clock in the morning, closing time finally arrived.
With her colleagues out for the evening and virtually no foot traffic in the shop, Jiang Youlan closed up by herself. After finishing the sweeping and tidying, she walked over to the entrance and attempted to pull down the rusted roll-up security gate. Halfway down, it jammed.
She gave it a forceful yank, causing flakes of iron rust to rain down onto her hair and clothes, while the door remained completely immovable.
How pathetic.
Fortunately, it was the middle of the night, and nobody was around to see.
She shook her head to scatter the debris, took a deep breath, and prepared to try again.
This security gate frequently jammed; usually, a few determined pulls were enough to close it.
Lifting her hand before it even touched the iron door, a slender yet strong hand reached out from beside her, applying a sudden surge of force that dragged the gate all the way to the floor.
Startled, she recoiled backward. Recognizing the face beside her, her shoulders dropped, and she relaxed.
It was Qingyi.
Weren’t you supposed to go back for classes? Jiang Youlan pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart rate had just spiked to nearly 180 beats per minute; it was a miracle she hadn’t fainted from fright.
Qingyi had her school uniform draped casually over her shoulder, looking somewhat rebellious.
Class is over. Evening self-study ends at eleven.
Jiang Youlan fished out her keys, locked the door, and only then noticed that the student was carrying a bag of grilled skewers.
Did you sneak out?
The dormitory must have a curfew.
I rent an apartment off-campus.
Then why aren’t you going back?
I couldn’t sleep tonight.
Jiang Youlan looked at this kid who was even taller than herself. The girl’s face still retained a youthful innocence, though frequent training had sculpted a sharp, clear jawline.
She let out a sigh, failing to understand how she had managed to attract this kid into her life.
She certainly wasn’t cut out for babysitting.
Older sister, want some? Seeming entirely oblivious to Jiang Youlan’s resignation, Qingyi extended the bag in her hand.
Opening it for a peek, she saw they were from the barbecue stall right outside the school gates. Their grilled eggplant and grilled sweet potato cakes were absolute masterpieces; some daring students would even scale the walls at midnight just to buy them.
Qingyi had bought a lot, seemingly enough for more than two people.
I can’t possibly eat all of this.
I know, but I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I bought a little bit of everything. Qingyi scratched the back of her head, looking rather clumsy.
Jiang Youlan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Come with me.