Chapter 21: Two Updates in One

Qiao Chunjin exclaimed in surprise, “Xia’er, when did you learn to cut hair?”

Lin Xiaoqing returned from the washroom carrying a basin of water. “When I borrowed the clippers and scissors.”

She somewhat regretted not cutting Jin Yang’s hair a few days earlier. He was her patient, her responsibility — even her “creation” in a way. A patient with a healthy complexion but messy, overgrown hair looked unkempt, and that reflected poorly on her care as a nursing aide.

She had borrowed a set of clippers and scissors from the old man at the hospital’s security post. A few days ago, she’d seen him shaving his own head outside the gate booth, with a washbasin and towel rack set up.

It had been early morning, still not fully light out. Lin Xiaoqing was pulling her tricycle cart full of unsold soybean paste from the day before, heading to the west market to catch the early crowd. The old man stepped out of his booth carrying a steaming teapot, tilted the spout, and poured boiling water into a basin of cold water.

Lin Xiaoqing slammed on the handbrake, balanced the tricycle, and greeted him with a grin, “Washing your face this early, Grandpa?”

He slung a faded red wedding towel over his shoulder. “Gonna shave my head. Off to the market again, little miss?”

She eyed the towel, once a wedding gift — red background, yellow characters. Now the red had faded to a dusty pink, the yellow turned muddy. It made her wonder: What kind of tough marriage did this towel witness? Even the most radiant newlyweds would one day be like this worn cloth — a faded, gray rag.

“You selling paste again at the West Market?” the old man asked, pulling out a wooden box from the booth.

Lin Xiaoqing could tell it was his treasured possession. The box was inlaid with mother-of-pearl — sparkling, translucent slivers crafted into delicate patterns: lotus flowers, butterflies. Clearly, it had once been a lady’s cherished vanity box.

Noticing her gaze, the old man chuckled proudly. “You’re looking at it just like my little granddaughter did the first time she saw it — like a hungry little wolf cub! This was my wife’s dowry. Her father worked at a lacquerware factory. Spent his whole life crafting these bits of shell. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Inside was a full barber kit: clippers and scissors in various sizes. He pulled out a medium-sized clipper with a sigh. “Been shaving my own head for over ten years. My wife passed away, no one to help me. I just went with a full shave — out of sight, out of mind.”

His wife had died suddenly of heart disease in her forties. Overnight, his hair had turned white. He’d hated visiting her grave looking like a white-haired widower — felt she’d disapprove. So he shaved it all off. When it grew back, it came in patchy — black and white mixed like a game board. Hideous. Since then, he’d always kept it shaved.

Lin Xiaoqing had cut her own hair before. She wore it short until the end of high school. Orphaned young, no one ever helped her style her hair. When she was about seven or eight — maybe even younger — after her parents passed, a relative cut her lice-ridden long hair with a single snip. From then on, she kept it short. Buzzed the sides up to her ears — easier to manage, less lice.

She looked at the old man with a tinge of sympathy. She saw herself — the younger her, always with short hair. Those who learn to cut their own hair often lived tough, lonely lives.

Jin Yang was skeptical of her haircutting skills.

He wanted to resist, but lacked the guts. So he surrendered under her “tyranny,” sat obediently on a stool, let her drape a towel over his shoulders, and braced himself for whatever mess she was about to make on his head.

Lin Xiaoqing warned him, “Don’t move — seriously. This clipper set is a family heirloom. I’m afraid I’ll break it.”

Jin Yang twitched. What?! She was more worried about that ancient clipper than his hair?! His noble hair wasn’t even as important as a retiree’s old tools?

His emotions fluctuated wildly. Fine, whatever. Move or not, it’s still a cut. Hair grows back. But if he annoyed Lin Xiaoqing, he’d have no one to help him bathe tonight. He liked it when she hummed strange little tunes while wringing out towels and soaping him up. They worked well together.

Then her brain took another strange turn — as the clipper buzzed like a snail at the back of his head, she mused aloud, “You people from this era — so much hair. It’s unfair.”

Not admiration. Jealousy.

She meant it — back in her time, hair growth and transplants were big business.

It was the first time Jin Yang had met someone who wasn’t envious of his talents or wealth — but his hair. And she, of all people, had long, sleek, jet-black hair.

He chuckled. “What’s there to be jealous of? You’ve got more hair than me.”

Lin Xiaoqing lifted her chin in agreement. Yes, it was nice — no hair loss, no bald spots. A luxury.

Qiao Chunjin held a plastic-pink folding mirror for him. The kind with fluorescent, overly saturated color. The back had a tiny photo of a movie star.

Lin Xiaoqing didn’t recognize the actress. Jin Yang peeked and said it was Chen Maya, a performer from the Railway Art Troupe — starred in Alley Orchid last year.

After the Cultural Revolution, Chinese cinema had entered a brief flourishing period — a hundred schools of thought bloomed. Not just in film, but in literature too — “scar literature” was all the rage. It was an era obsessed with facing pain and reflection.

To Lin Xiaoqing, though, Chen Maya wasn’t as pretty as her own mother. Qiao Chunjin had a face made for the movies. Lin could see herself being her mother’s gold-star agent, the two of them sweeping the film industry and raking in cash. But sadly, the era’s aesthetic leaned toward health and positivity — sunny, athletic beauty. Qiao Chunjin’s delicate, fragile beauty — soft and feminine — won men’s sympathy but drew resentment from other women.

If only she had been born ten years later. Lin Xiaoqing was sure Qiong Yao would’ve cast her as a leading lady. Just like how they’d waited years for Vivian Chen to grow up before filming her role.

After the haircut, Jin Yang didn’t even bother checking the mirror at first.

Then he suddenly asked, “That general store you always go to — is it far from the hospital?”

“Not far,” she replied casually. “Why?”

He looked relieved. “Good. I want to buy a flashlight.”

Lin Xiaoqing frowned. “Your leg’s still not healed. Yesterday your aunt already caused a stir around here — you want to stir up more trouble today? You can’t even stand straight. How are you getting to the market?”

Qiao Chunjin added, “Before, that woman Dongbao’s mom came around daily. But ever since your aunt visited, she’s been avoiding our ward like the plague. Maybe the hospital warned her. She hasn’t shown up all day.”

Qiao Chunjin hoped Dongbao’s mom would ask her to knit something again — give her an excuse to get another dish added to her daughter’s lunch box. They’d already tried the sweet and sour meatballs. Time to move on to sweet and sour ribs.

Jin Yang laughed. “Doesn’t the hospital lend out wheelchairs? I just want some air.”

Lin Xiaoqing brushed the hair clippings off his neck. “So you’ve got this all planned, huh? Fine. We’ll go in the afternoon. It’s too hot now — we’ll wait till the sun goes down.”

Suddenly Jin Yang yelped, “Lin Xiaoqing! You scared me!”

She blinked. “What now?”

He lifted the mirror and checked himself front and back, amazed. “Where did you learn this? The hairline’s so neat! I’ve never had it trimmed so high — makes me look sharper. And the top — perfect length, great layering. Clean, crisp — I look so refreshed!”

Lin Xiaoqing shook out the towel and pointed toward the guard post. “There. Learned it from Grandpa Security.”

Jin Yang squinted. “Yeah right. You expect me to believe that?”

He didn’t say the rest: That guy’s bald. What kind of haircutting skills could he possibly have?

---

Lin Xiaoqing had forgotten to ask what Jin Yang needed a flashlight for. It wasn’t until she was getting ready to wheel him to the market that she remembered.

“Why do you need a flashlight? The hospital lights not enough?”

“To read.”

She was briefly impressed — how studious. Though come to think of it, she hadn’t seen him with any books except for the one his second aunt brought yesterday — a collection of British short stories.

If that’s what he wanted to read, then she thought he was being ridiculous. Reading under flashlight light would ruin his eyes. Why not just buy a proper desk lamp?

But Jin Yang insisted twice more that he wanted a flashlight.

Left with no choice, Lin Xiaoqing agreed — after dinner, she’d borrow a wheelchair and take him to the market.

Jin Yang had fairly high standards for himself. Before going out in the afternoon, he changed out of his hospital gown and into the short-sleeved shirt and gray slacks he’d worn before admission. Combined with his fresh haircut, he looked completely like a well-groomed young man who everyone would admire. Even the bulky casts on his arms and legs didn’t seem to detract from his appearance as much anymore.

The sun had just set, and the ground was still radiating heat. Lin Xiaoqing pushed him out of the hospital, making an effort to stick to the shaded side of the street.

She couldn’t quite understand why people passing by were giving her those kinds of looks — some with envy, perhaps because Jin Yang was so dashing, some with pity for his broken limbs. Their gazes swept from the wheelchair up to Lin Xiaoqing’s face and seemed to silently sigh: What a miserable woman, so young yet already caring for her crippled… husband.

They passed a shop selling sponge cakes, its entrance marked by a standing sign with pastel-blue posters advertising artificial cream. Lin Xiaoqing immediately steered Jin Yang inside like she’d found a temporary refuge.

Jin Yang looked up and asked, “Are you hoping I’ll treat you to cake?”

Lin Xiaoqing hushed him, casting furtive glances like a scout checking enemy positions — making sure they’d successfully avoided the group of middle-aged women moving stools under the camphor trees by the river to cool off. Those women were dangerous — one look at her pushing Jin Yang and they’d be hit with a barrage of gossipy stares.

Jin Yang turned to the shop clerk. “One slice of triangular cream cake and two ice creams, please.”

Lin Xiaoqing objected, “We just ate. I’m full.”

Jin Yang whispered, “Too late, I already ordered. Eat it later.”

The shop assistant giggled behind her hand — the kind of laugh full of meaning. Lin Xiaoqing’s ears burned red. She knew exactly what that laugh meant: What a sweet couple, the kind where the boyfriend tries to coax his moody girlfriend with cake and ice cream.

Lin Xiaoqing wanted to die on the spot. Just as she had barely escaped judgment outside, she was now ambushed again — and from within! She wanted to run away immediately, but the server scooped the ice cream so slowly, all while sneaking glances at Lin Xiaoqing like she wanted to memorize the face of the girl who could make such a tall, handsome boy stoop and beg just to get her to eat something sweet.

Since Jin Yang’s money was always with her, paying made the whole scene even more awkward. Lin Xiaoqing took out two yuan and handed it over. The server raised her eyebrows, her expression practically shouting: Wow, you’re already at the stage where the girlfriend manages the money?

For the first time, Lin Xiaoqing felt money was a hot potato. She shoved the rest of it into Jin Yang’s pants pocket with a straight face and said stiffly, “It’s your money. You handle it yourself from now on.”

Jin Yang, serious as ever, replied, “But we still need to buy a flashlight, and then there’s tomorrow’s meals, and the day after that…”

She shot him a sharp glare to stop him from continuing.

Though what he said was true, it was badly timed — as if they were already living together. Okay, technically they were sharing a hospital room, but still! Saying such things in front of a stranger only made their ambiguous relationship seem even more suspect.

To silence him, Lin Xiaoqing sheepishly took the money back. But now she regretted throwing it onto his lap — picking it back up felt ridiculously inappropriate, like she was teasing him. As her fingers brushed his slacks, her shame turned into a tremble. Jin Yang, on the other hand, watched with an oddly satisfied expression. The server seemed torn — clearly dying to enjoy the juicy gossip but afraid to get caught staring.

After they left the store, Lin Xiaoqing, flushed with frustration, asked, “Why did you do that back there?”

Jin Yang, holding two ice creams and practically glowing with smug joy, asked innocently, “Do what?”

“You know what. You could have just kept quiet instead of making it sound like—”

Jin Yang blinked like an innocent saint. “I only told the truth. A thousand readers can have a thousand interpretations of Hamlet. I can’t control how others interpret a situation. Every soul is free.”

Lin Xiaoqing was speechless. She realized she couldn’t out-argue him — he was a master of sophistry. Infuriating.

She resolved not to talk to him again that evening — a silent protest against his mischief.

Jin Yang handed her an ice cream. “Eat. Or it’ll melt in the heat.”

She was mad at Jin Yang, not at the ice cream. No way she’d take it out on summer’s most beloved treat. Her appetite for ice cream? Presidential.

She bit into the pointed tip. Strawberry-flavored. If only they’d used real strawberry puree instead of flavoring — that would’ve upgraded it to gelato.

Jin Yang took a bite of his own. Too sweet. Not great, honestly. But the pink color reminded him of Lin Xiaoqing’s flushed cheeks — kind of cute, actually.

True to her word, Lin Xiaoqing didn’t speak all the way to the market.

When they arrived, she pushed him into the store but then stepped back outside, putting distance between them to avoid further misinterpretation.

Jin Yang had to buy the flashlight by himself.

Lin Xiaoqing finished the last bit of her ice cream cone, brushing crumbs from her hands. She peeked through the glass and saw he was done and waiting.

He must have seen her licking the cone’s last bite… it felt as embarrassing as being caught licking a yogurt lid.

She walked over.

He bought that flashlight fast. Must not have bargained at all.

She wanted to nag him about it — tell him not to be so easygoing, remind him to haggle next time. But when she saw his smug grin, she lost the urge.

She wheeled him out. Above them, half the sky was painted in warm twilight hues, the other half already slipping into night.

They stood quietly together, bathed in fading sunlight like in a vivid oil painting.

It was a peaceful moment, wordless yet beautiful.

Then, in the dusk, Jin Yang pressed something into her hand — cool and metallic, still warm from his palm. Lin Xiaoqing looked down: it was the flashlight.

She stared at it in confusion.

Jin Yang said softly, “It’s for when you use the restroom at night. I heard the women’s bathroom light broke last night. Wiring issue. They probably won’t fix it quickly. With this, you won’t have to be scared.”

Lin Xiaoqing froze.

God. She was unexpectedly moved — speechless, even. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. Just felt deeply: Jin Yang is a good man. A kind, thoughtful man.

“Jin Yang.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re really a…”

She didn’t finish — afraid he’d get smug.

He grinned. “Really a what?”

Lin Xiaoqing wanted to pinch his cheek and mutter through gritted teeth: “You’re a devilishly lovable jerk!”

---

Back at the hospital, Jin Yang didn’t want to go upstairs just yet. Lin Xiaoqing pushed him around the building for a while longer. She even showed him his car — newly repaired, good as new, with no sign of the accident.

Jin Yang was unimpressed to hear that Ma Zi had driven it back. He was grossed out, especially by the thought of Ma Zi touching the steering wheel or sitting in the driver’s seat.

Lin Xiaoqing warned, “Before you drive it home, make sure to do a thorough inspection. Ma Zi’s dad’s a local official. To make an example, they punished two of Ma Zi’s cronies, but he threw a tantrum in the hospital — I don’t think he’ll let it go that easily.”

Jin Yang shrugged it off. “He won’t dare. And I didn’t even tell my family the full story — just said I was in a car accident. Otherwise, do you think my aunt would’ve eaten dinner so calmly with them?”

It was a turbulent time: fresh graduate, no job report, vanishing to Hainan to buy a car, and now getting injured. Jin Yang didn’t want to stir up more trouble at home. That Lu guy — lucky break for him.

Lin Xiaoqing felt Jin Yang was fundamentally kind, untainted by harsh reality — so he didn’t see how cruel people could be. She, on the other hand, always prepared for the worst.

She just said, “If you think it’s fine, then okay,” but had her own plans.

She decided to personally inspect the car before he left — a small gesture of care, for all they’d shared.

They returned the wheelchair to the hospital lobby. On the stairs, Lin Xiaoqing noticed Jin Yang could now hop steadily on one leg, climbing six or seven steps at once, without even panting. No signs of pain.

His injury had clearly improved.

He gripped the railing and challenged himself — jumping ten stairs in one go, landing at the third-floor exit.

He turned back with a victorious smile. For some reason, Lin Xiaoqing found the smile a bit… bittersweet.

His recovery meant it was nearly time for goodbye.

She followed him upstairs. Just then, they heard someone crying in one of the rooms.

As they neared their ward, the crying got louder.

At the door, both of them stopped and exchanged glances. Is someone crying… in our room?*

Peeking through the window, Lin Xiaoqing saw — it was Jin Yang’s aunt, sobbing at her mother’s bedside. Her face bore a large red palm print — clearly just slapped.

Jin Yang lowered his voice. “Should I sit somewhere else for a bit?”

Lin Xiaoqing moved to help him, but he waved her off. “I got it,” he said, pointing to the wall, planning to hop his way to a nearby bench.

She watched him bounce away, still worried. He finally sat, and she realized he was grinning at her from afar, waving her inside.

She laughed at herself. Why was she so concerned? He’d just jumped up a flight of stairs alone.

She shook her head, opened the door… and saw his aunt in tears.

Why was she crying like that?