Getting a haircut or being dragged by his mom to buy clothes… both were incredibly tough tasks.
They’d practically become childhood traumas.
For Lu Huai, from a modest family, clothes shopping with his mother was already a headache. She’d grumble about the hassle, insisting he just change right there—but Lu Huai stubbornly held out for the fitting room.
He’d step out drenched in sweat under the scorching sun.
His mom’s taste always clashed sharply with his.
Whatever she liked, he wouldn’t care for; whatever he liked… she’d haggle relentlessly.
If the bargaining failed, she’d tug him away in disdain, demanding he strip and leave—only to smile sweetly and pay when the eager shop assistant rushed over.
These scenes repeated endlessly. Whenever his mom mentioned new clothes, Lu Huai’s face would fall into helpless resignation. Thankfully, online shopping later became a lifesaver.
He simply browsed and bought alone. If it didn’t fit? He’d rather not bother returning it.
Haircuts followed the same pattern.
He’d see stylish guy hairstyles online, full of hope—then step into the salon and choke on every prepared word.
Head bowed, he’d mutter: “Just… make it a bit shorter…”
Naturally, the results swung wildly with the barber’s mood.
Outside, sunlight flooded the streets.
The moment Yan Ningning led Lu Huai into the elevator, she blushed and let go of his wrist.
He couldn’t escape now. Embarrassment was one thing—but to him, the clumsy scramble to fix a mistake afterward felt far more humiliating.
That desperate, flustered effort to cover up failure… utterly mortifying.
Truth was, Lu Huai hadn’t pulled away mainly because of the lingering warmth on his wrist.
Though she hadn’t held his palm… to him, it barely mattered.
Yan Ningning had been bright and cheerful since recovering from illness… so this probably wasn’t anything special. Likely just her casual way with people close to her…
“Thought about what hairstyle you want?”
The girl tilted her head slightly, cheeks flushed yet trying to seem nonchalant. She avoided looking at Lu Huai, watching the elevator numbers climb instead. Her restless fingers gently traced the mole on the tender skin of her pale neck.
Lu Huai stared at the elevator doors. In the cramped space, he faintly sensed her warmth.
“Just… whatever’s fine?”
Not indecision. Wanting to look stylish felt like ambition mismatched with his reality…
Just pretentiousness he refused to show—so he played it off as indifference.
“‘Whatever’ about everything? Seems like you’re super laid-back.”
“Not like that… I mean, hair… doesn’t matter…”
“How about a buzz cut?”
“Doesn’t school forbid buzz cuts?”
“I’ve had one! Wanna try?”
“No way…!”
His quiet protest made Yan Ningning giggle.
The salon was close—just one street from their complex.
Named Elegant Hair Salon, a well-known Chuzhou chain. Flashy services, relentless card-pushing, extravagant techniques (skill debatable), plus extras like facial cleansing Lu Huai had never tried.
He disliked such places. Barbers asked weird questions; results were never special—it was just a haircut, not a head transplant. Only the sting of paying felt real.
They stepped inside.
Quiet afternoon. Office workers napping, students gaming, laborers… well, no holidays for them.
“Sister Shui~!”
Yan Ningning greeted the mature woman behind the counter like an old friend.
“Ningning! Haircut or wash?”
Sister Shui rose gracefully and approached.
“Not me! Brought a friend… Hey! Where’d you hide?”
She dragged over Lu Huai, who’d instantly camped in a corner, phone already out—looking like staff.
The woman smiled. “Your little boyfriend?”
Face burning, Yan Ningning stammered, “N-no! Just my neighbor!”
Sister Shui nodded slowly, eyes twinkling. “A neighbor? But he’s so obedient… like a sweet new couple. Reminds me of my youth… a boy in a white shirt…”
“Sister Shui!! Don’t say weird things!!”
Yan Ningning’s face glowed crimson. Beside her, Lu Huai’s cheeks burned too.
Sister Shui glanced between them, hand over her mouth. “You blush so alike~”
“I said stop! Or I’ll take him elsewhere!!”
“Hahaha, alright, little boss. Have him sit. I’ll cut.”
The quiet boy was gently settled into the swivel chair. The moment he saw the mirror, Lu Huai lowered his head.
Alone, he could face his ordinary reflection. But publicly? The mirror felt like a truth-revealing lens—stirring dread of exposure.
Sister Shui stood behind him, fingers deftly lifting and releasing his strands.
Lu Huai dared not look. Felt like a pet being petted.
Strange…
“What style, handsome?”
*Handsome* = flattery. *Little* = insult.
Lu Huai defaulted: “Um… just shorter…”
Yan Ningning observed, then spoke: “Sister Shui, side-part. Short bangs—above the eyebrows. Keep it fresh.”
“What do you think, handsome?”
“Okay…”
No resistance. Unusually compliant.
Sister Shui worked. Lu Huai moved like a practice mannequin—tilt left, lower head—no will of his own.
After finishing, she sighed: “Haven’t had such a well-behaved customer. Oh—you’re a boy, right? Hope that’s okay?”
“N-no… fine…”
*Well-behaved* wasn’t a virtue… but causing less trouble was good. The boy, utterly lacking consumer pride, thought this quietly.
“Wash time. Quick.”
Lu Huai tuned out. Resigned to fate. But he watched Yan Ningning.
She sat nearby, scrolling her phone, occasionally glancing at his mirror reflection. No impatience. Her pale legs, peeking from the floral dress, swayed gently with her mood.
After drying: “Hair gel?”
“No need, Sister Shui. Just blow-dry. No styling—I want to see the natural look.”
She’d voiced his exact thought.
Sister Shui grinned at her. “You getting the cut… or your *neighbor*?”
“Sister Shui…!” Yan Ningning stamped her foot.
After playful teasing, Sister Shui dried his hair.
Honestly? His vision felt clearer.
He stole a glance.
Still an ordinary boy. A haircut wasn’t magic. “Handsome” felt like a stretch.
*Maybe I’ll grow into my face by eighteen*, he’d told himself.
Now? Textbook average.
But… a little more youthful. Less gloomy.
Yan Ningning met his reflection in the mirror. Her eyes lit up. A faint, involuntary nod.
“What do you think, Lu Huai?”
“It’s… fine.”
Truthfully? Better than expected. Not ugly—and styled. A win.
“Great! How much, Sister Shui?”
“Oh? Paying for your *neighbor*?”
“Then I won’t pay at all.”
“Hand it over~~”
By the time Lu Huai realized Yan Ningning had already paid, he was at the door.
“Wait… how much? I’ll transfer—”
The boy—whose “Level 3 Helmet” hair was now a sleek “Level 1”—pulled out his phone, voice soft.
Yan Ningning stood hands clasped behind her back, smiling.
He met her gaze… then shyly looked away. Same old bashful Lu Huai.
“No money needed. Just treat me to food later.”
“Treat you… takeout?”
“Silly! We’re out! Let’s go window-shopping!”
She stepped ahead, then spotted him frozen in place.
Yan Ningning narrowed her eyes, mischief dancing in them.
“If you say *no* to shopping with me right now… I’ll drag you back and dye your hair neon yellow. Wanna test me?”
Lu Huai gripped his phone. Transfer forgotten.
Tears of despair welled. He almost wanted to call the police.
