Chapter Eighty-One Renovation and Promotion

On the way home, Auntie’s eyes were already shut—she was laughing so hard, as Grandma would say, it was as if she’d drunk crow’s urine. In the old days, there was a saying: whoever drank crow’s urine would laugh endlessly. Because of this, Hong Tao, even into middle school, would avoid crows perched in trees. Later he learned that birds don’t urinate at all; he’d believed that nonsense for more than ten years!

Unlike Auntie, Hong Tao’s face wore a smile, but he couldn’t laugh in his heart. He’d managed just fine with one tailor shop, but now there was a hair salon to run as well. Relying only on himself and Uncle, he truly felt at a loss. Just now, he’d gotten carried away with flattery, spouting a pile of sweet words and convincing his uncle into it, landing himself in trouble too.

Opening a shop in those days was no small matter: from renovation onward, there was a mountain of things waiting for you, and none could be delayed. Any delay meant watching your money slip away, making even sleep uneasy. The only comfort Hong Tao had now was that the two storefronts were essentially rent-free; dragging a few extra days wasn’t painful. If, like in his previous life, he had to shoulder hundreds of thousands in rent, he could not afford to waste a single minute.

The most urgent task before Hong Tao was to find a model for Auntie. Clothing, when displayed versus worn, evokes entirely different impressions. Especially with trendy styles, you need someone brave enough to be the first; only then will others follow. Otherwise, waiting for a handful of daring buyers who might not even wear them out means waiting for eternity.

But where could he find girls bold and thick-skinned enough? Just as Hong Tao saw a few young men whizzing by on bicycles in the alley, a person came to mind—Han Xue!

No matter the era, the first to adopt fashionable attire are always rebellious youths—those troublemakers of society. They harbor deep resentment toward the rules of their time; asking them to follow rules is futile, but if you let them break rules, they’ll do it for free, even if you offered nothing. That’s rebellion!

Han Xue certainly fit the mold, and her circle was full of such people. Having her model for Auntie would be perfect. She wouldn’t be like Auntie, afraid to go out in tight, flared pants. On the contrary, she’d love to catch every boy’s eye on the street. But how to persuade Han Xue to be the model? Hong Tao pondered all night, and the next morning, after feeding the crickets, he called Jin Yue and Zhang Dajiang to join him on the bus, heading straight for the Xidan intersection.

Unfortunately, by the time Jin Yue and Zhang Dajiang had nearly finished their fruit fried in cream, Han Xue still hadn’t appeared. Not only was she absent, but none of the familiar faces from before were present; Hong Tao recognized nobody among the crowd. With no other options, Hong Tao took Jin Yue and Zhang Dajiang home, planning to try again tomorrow.

“Hey, kid, don’t block the way!” As they went downstairs, another person came up, clutching several popsicles, nearly bumping into Hong Tao.

“Brother! I know you, do you remember me?” Hong Tao recognized him instantly. This burly-faced guy had spoken to Han Xue here before.

“Oh, it’s you. What, looking for Han Xue again? She doesn’t hang out here anymore, go to Erlong Road to find her.” The young man recognized Hong Tao as well.

“Brother, I’m not familiar with Erlong Road. I need to see Han Xue for something. How about this: here’s some money for cigarettes. Could you give Han Xue a message for me, ask her to wait for me here tomorrow?” Hong Tao quickly pulled out two yuan and handed it over.

“Alright, I’ll help you out, but she doesn’t dare come here anymore. The place has a new boss; Han Xue’s crowd got dealt with. You pick another spot, I’ll pass the word.” The young man softened at the sight of the money, lowered his voice, and explained.

“Oh, got it. Before lunch tomorrow, ask her to wait for me at the entrance to Yonghe Temple. I’ll treat her to a meal, alright? Brother, if you’re free, you can join us!” Hong Tao understood immediately—Han Xue’s group had been defeated by another gang and lost their territory.

“You’ve got a sweet tongue, but I won’t join. Don’t worry, I’ll deliver the popsicles and pass your message right after.” The young man licked his lips, looking resigned. Clearly, he wanted to go but couldn’t, likely because of the new owners; his own group had probably been subdued, and now he had to fetch popsicles downstairs. That meant he was low in the pecking order.

“Alright, keep busy, I’ll be on my way. When I get the chance, I’ll treat you, too!” Hong Tao didn’t dare linger; it was best to avoid this place from now on. The new crowd was an unknown quantity—better not invite trouble until he knew their background.

Back from Xidan, Hong Tao buried himself in his little room, designing the floor plan and façade for Third Cousin’s salon. Since it was meant to lead a trend, it couldn’t be as Uncle suggested—plain, spotless, and ready to open. A trend needed style. Hong Tao wasn’t worried; any creative storefront from the future would be a rare gem in this era. Of course, he had to be careful—something too shocking, like painting a bikini-clad beauty, would have the police knocking within half an hour.

From an architectural standpoint, appearance isn’t everything; materials are key. The design must be feasible with what’s available now. If you designed a façade wrapped in color-coated steel in the early ‘80s, it would be useless—even in America, you couldn’t find the materials; it would exist only on paper.

After much thought, Hong Tao concluded that wood was the most suitable material for this era. Aside from glass, wood was the only easy and affordable option. No gypsum molding, tiles, or wallpaper—wood was the only practical choice.

So, based on the material’s characteristics, Hong Tao designed a storefront with natural wood tones, assembled from planks, coated only with clear lacquer, no colored paint. Inside the salon, the floor was made of ash wood planks—not prefabricated tiles, but thick boards planed and joined, then leveled and lacquered. It was a laborious job, needing Uncle’s carpenter to confirm feasibility; if not, terrazzo flooring would have to suffice.

The ceiling was wood as well, not one solid piece but an intersecting grid of vertical strips, forming twenty-centimeter squares. With these grids, you could barely see the actual ceiling, and all the salon’s wiring could run above the grid, keeping the walls tidy.

As for the walls, Hong Tao had no better solution. He planned a one-meter-high wooden wainscot, topped by full-length mirrors. Pricey, but convenient—and mirrors were needed in a salon anyway.

For the layout, he divided the large room with a wooden partition: two-thirds for cutting and perming, one-third for coat racks and hair washing. The hair washing was a real headache. When he first proposed the salon, he hadn’t realized there were no gas or electric water heaters in this era. Without either, how could a salon wash hair? You couldn’t just boil water on a stove!

After several site visits, Hong Tao finally found a breakthrough, thanks to Uncle. He’d said before that water and electricity here were free, and since it used to be an enamel factory, the power was industrial—380 volts. That was a lifeline. If all his plans were foiled by a water heater, it would be infuriating!

Was 380 volts relevant to water heaters? Absolutely! Electric heaters! They weren’t complicated; many factory workers had built them themselves, though they consumed a lot of power and weren’t very efficient. But factory electricity was free, and so was the electricity here. He’d have Uncle find a worker from the steel factory to build one. If it ended up using too much power, they could compensate the street later.

Lastly, Hong Tao specially designed a reclining shampoo chair for Third Cousin. Such things would be common in the future, but for now, it was a novelty—fresh, fun, comfortable, and likely to attract customers wanting to try something new.

He worked at his desk until after eleven, finally finishing the general structure. The details would have to wait, as his father ordered him to bed. Early the next morning, after his run and feeding the crickets, Hong Tao felt something was missing. Had he forgotten a part of the tailor shop, or overlooked something in the salon? He pondered until Grandma served lunch, then suddenly slapped his forehead, let out a cry, and dashed out of the yard.