Chapter Ninety-Six: High-End Clientele

"Yes, then I'll work a little later tonight and get more done."

Her aunt never complained about extra work, only about clothes.

"Ah, I forgot something. No wonder these last few days this place has felt a little off, like something was missing. Look at me, what a fool—I forgot the most important thing of all! Damn it! Damn it!" Hong Tao had been thinking about where to hang the new styles so they would be most noticeable, but after looking for a long while he still could not find a suitable spot. The prominent places were already crowded with samples. Then, staring at the two bare panes of glass, he suddenly thought of something and slapped his own forehead.

"Yanzi! When your sister comes tomorrow, make sure she stays. I need to talk to her about something important. Oh, and you too—I need to see you tomorrow as well! Let me ask you something: if I gave you a pretty perm, would you like it? No charge!"

Hong Tao darted back into the hairdressing room and bent close to Han Yan's ear to whisper.

"What kind of hairstyle? I'm not getting my hair like my sister's—it looks like a bird's nest!" Han Yan declared at once.

"Not hers. Hmm... more or less like this. Look, your hair is long, perfect for it. I just came up with it: from the crown, it'll all be big waves. Big waves, like this..." Hong Tao began gesturing to explain the new style.

"Is it like those dance girls in old movies? Pinned up in the back, standing up in front?" Before Han Yan could fully grasp it, the married woman sitting on the chair in front of her had already understood.

"Pretty much, but mine doesn't need to be pinned up. The back is permed into large waves—much fuller than those little floral curls."

"Well, I guess she hasn't seen it before, so you won't be able to explain it clearly to her. Why don't you just do one on me, exactly as you said? If it turns out well, it's on me. If it doesn't, you can fix it. But I'll only pay once! Everyone getting the same hairstyle is no fun. A while ago, when I went to the Beijing Hotel, I saw foreign women wearing their hair just like that. I asked at several places and nobody could do it. I never expected you could. Let me be your practice model for free. If I'm satisfied, I can bring you a whole crowd of customers!"

She was of ordinary looks, but her skin was very well cared for. Hong Tao could not see her clothes because a cloth drape covered her, but the white leather shoes on her feet showed she was no ordinary commoner. People like that did not usually wear shoes of that color, especially not with such a high heel. Hong Tao had never seen anything like them at the department store or the East Wind Market. They were probably foreign-made. More than that, the woman was wearing earrings and a faint lipstick. Hong Tao had not noticed it before, but now, seeing her from the side, her face also seemed to be touched with foundation or some other makeup.

"That works. I'm not using you as practice, so don't worry. Once I'm done, I guarantee you'll be satisfied. And this style suits your temperament best—it isn't like those vulgar people who only know how to follow the crowd. A woman who truly knows how to dress herself won't look like everyone else; otherwise, there's no class to be seen at all. You can tell at a glance that you're not ordinary. Those shoes of yours, I'd bet they were bought in Hong Kong or brought back from abroad. And the perfume you're wearing—it must be French, right? It smells wonderful, not cloying at all, with a faint violet note..."

The moment Hong Tao really took a good look at her, his eyes lit up. Whether in his former life or this one, there were always levels among consumers: high-end customers were the easiest to deal with and brought the best profits, but they were rare. Middle- and lower-end customers were plentiful, but the profits were slim and the work was harder. He had no intention of drawing a sharp line between high and low so early, but if a potential high-end customer appeared, he would not be stingy with his tongue. He would keep as many as he could, and he felt no guilt at all about making money off them.

"Well! For a child, you certainly know a lot. You can even smell French perfume! Have... have your parents taken you out before?" Hearing Hong Tao's words, the woman straightened in her chair at once and no longer spoke to him through the mirror. She turned and looked at his little face.

"Heh heh... I haven't been out anywhere. There were several foreign professors at my father's school, and I caught that smell on them before. Their taste in clothes is about the same as yours—they look different from ordinary people at a glance!" Hong Tao's lies no longer needed a second thought. His tongue seemed to have a co-processor of its own; the words came pouring out, and they were woven so smoothly that no one could check them in a hurry.

"Hee-hee-hee... You even know about taste and temperament, better than those older barbers. Don't be fooled by the fact that they've worked all their lives—when it comes to beauty, they're really not as good as you. All right, let's do it. Come on, we'll talk while you work. You're quite interesting; this trip wasn't wasted at all!" Hong Tao's flattery had thoroughly pleased the woman, to the point that she was almost smiling with her back teeth showing. She obediently settled into position and waited for him to do her hair.

This time Hong Tao truly brought out his real skill. With one small hand he made the scissors dance and whirl, cutting her hair while answering her without missing a beat. He even tossed in two slightly refined little jokes—never so much that they would overshadow the woman's own charm—to keep the atmosphere light. From beginning to end, he never let her stop talking. It would not be over until her facial muscles ached from laughing.

"Job done! Yanzi, bring the mirror over and help this sister look at the back!" After nearly two hours of hard work, Hong Tao finally finished with her hair. In the mirror, the woman really did seem to have gained a few more points of grace. The tall fringe made her already decent oval face look a touch more capable and alluring. The long hair at the back fell in waves over her shoulders, with clear layered strands—lively, not stiff. This hairstyle was no longer from the eighties or nineties; it already carried the elements of the twenty-first century, except that without mousse or gel it could not yet reach perfection.

"You've given me a tremendous surprise! Not to mention China—I haven't even seen this style in France or America. How on earth did that little head of yours think it up? Wonderful! Here, keep the change! I'll bring you customers tomorrow. Actually, I won't even need to bring them. As soon as I go back to work, I bet all the women in the building will come asking about it. Just wait and make your money!"

Very satisfied, the woman lifted the cloth drape and stood before the big mirror, turning left and right, unable to look enough. She pulled out a ten-yuan note and refused the change.

"Sister! That foreign money showing out of your bag just now—could I take another look? I've never seen it before." Only then did Hong Tao notice that she was wearing a Western-style suit skirt ensemble, ivory white at that, with a small matching leather bag tucked under her arm. The ten-yuan note had been taken from that bag. What mattered was not whether there was change. What mattered was that at the very instant she reached into her bag, Hong Tao had glimpsed a currency that made his little heart thump wildly. He was not yet certain, so he could only ask the woman to let him look once more.

"Foreign money? Oh, you mean these foreign exchange certificates? Ha, this isn't foreign money. It's still Chinese money, just money you can use to buy things in certain special stores. It's no use to you. In a couple of days, sister will bring you some foreign chocolate, all right? I'm off! Bye-bye!"

After admiring herself to her heart's content in the mirror and basking enough in the envious, jealous, resentful looks of the other women in the room, she patted Hong Tao's cheek and left with swaying hips and catlike steps.

"Pah! Slut! What's so pretty about her? A cheap tramp!"

As soon as the woman was gone, the last middle-aged lady waiting for a perm spat on the floor and muttered curses under her breath.

"Auntie, it's your turn now. Do you know her?" Hong Tao had originally planned to have Han Yan continue serving the customers in his place, but after hearing the middle-aged woman's words, he changed his mind. He was rather curious about the woman who had just left, so he decided to fish for information.

"She lives in Second Alley, the lane in front of Sixth Clinic. I heard she's even a university student and can speak a few foreign words. Let me tell you, you'd better keep your distance from her. She's no good person! Her husband died in a car accident only half a year after they got married. Then her mother died too. She used to be just a worker in a shoe factory, and nobody knows what kind of thick leg she latched onto these last few years. I heard she got transferred to some kind of department, and strange men are always coming to see her. She's got a terrible reputation in our alley. Isn't it just because she has a little filthy money? What's she showing off for?" This middle-aged woman was also one of those full of envy, jealousy, and resentment, and while she whispered the woman's disreputable history to Hong Tao, she kept on cursing under her breath.

"Well, I'm just a kid. What could she do to me? Oh, right, I still need to go home and finish my summer homework. School starts in a couple of days. Yanzi! Yanzi, you take over. Give Auntie a really good style! I have to go home!"

When Hong Tao heard that, he figured this woman did not even know the details of the woman who had just left, and he lost interest in listening to her gossip. He immediately invoked the age-old tactic of the homework escape and slipped away.

The next day Hong Tao did not go to the shop. Instead, he first took a bus to the China Photo Agency at Xuanwu Gate, spent forty yuan and five jiao, and bought two rolls of what was then the most top-of-the-line Kodak 135 color film. Then he hurried home, grabbed his Seagull 135 camera bought from the consignment store, called for Jin Yue, and returned to the shop together.

At that time, color film had not yet entered the Chinese market in large quantities. Ordinary photo studios did not even sell color rolls, and even if they did, no one bought them—they were far too expensive. Just one roll of color film cost nearly twenty yuan, and developing it cost another twenty-some yuan. One roll of color prints cost almost as much as an ordinary worker's monthly wages. Ordinary people simply could not afford it.