Five Yuan Haircut

In the early morning, an elderly man shuffled slowly into the underpass, his weathered face concealed beneath a white baseball cap, while a black backpack burdened his thin shoulders. With careful movements, he deposited the backpack into a green wicker basket, gently resting it on the steps. Next, he adorned himself with a brown apron and put on blue sleeve covers adorned with yellow flowers, beginning his daily cleaning routine.

Within the underpass, where the walls and ceiling bore the marks of time in a faint layer of dust reminiscent of faded beige bed curtains, a modest signboard was prominently displayed. Yellow lettering against a red background identified the space as "Old Chen Barber," complete with a contact number. Adjacent to the sign, a white plastic bag and a black plastic bag hung, the former containing a roll of toilet paper.

The stainless steel armrest was adorned with hair coloring cream, a mirror, and towels, captivating onlookers with their gleam. Positioned below the armrest was a small table resting against the wall, supporting an upturned Burgundy stool holding a mirror, surrounded by an assortment of barbering tools: white and orange plastic combs, scissors, razors, shaving soap, plastic lathering bowls, and soft brushes. In the corner of the table sat a coffee-colored flip-top phone, with two QR codes for WeChat Pay and Alipay printed next to it. Adjacent to the table, a dark, liver-colored wooden door leaned against the wall, partitioning off a small area for miscellaneous items. Three walnut-colored solid wood stools and two plastic stools leaned against the wall in a relaxed, harmonious arrangement. An antique stool stood alone, facing the mirror with a calm presence, seemingly a silent observer of existence, gazing at the reflections of change from youth to old age, embodying the perpetual cycle of life.

All the furniture here came from Chen's former barber store, which was located not far from the underpass. Several years ago, the houses in that area were demolished, forcing him to relocate his store to the underpass to continue his work. In the past, a haircut and shave cost 8 yuan, but now, in this humble underpass, Chen charges only 5 yuan, continues his craft and serves his customers.

The sunlight streaming through the exit of the underpass acts like a magical ceremony, awakening the space that had been shrouded in years of darkness. Gradually, the underpass became bustling with activity as people flocked in like swarming birds. Among them, old men dressed in dark coats and hats emerged from the darkness, resembling elders of a bygone era. Amidst the bustling crowd, a few individuals stood out. One leaned on a walking stick and carried a red backpack, his face beaming with bright smiles, as if he were a resilient soul who still found joy in life. Another, wearing round sunglasses, strode with a determined gait, akin to a spirited horse refusing to be tamed. Yet another, clad in a khaki jacket, exuded a serene aura, as if he were an artist translating life into a beautiful melody.

The customer was wearing a white apron and sat quietly in an antique chair, head bowed as if contemplating life. With scissors in hand, Chen gently trimmed the customer's thinning gray hair. After cutting the hair, Chen removed a smooth piece of wood from the antique chair to allow it to recline. The customer lay down and held the armrests. Chen applied foam to the customer's face and began to shave. In the waiting crowd, occasional conversations could be heard.

"Business is really booming today! Dozens, huh?"

"Hey, Old Chen, have you ever thought about buying a house? It's tough running back and forth every day."

"My cell phone can only make calls; I can't take photos."

"Uncle Chen, I'll come by after school. Will you still be here?"

"Ugh, I hate the idea of getting old."

"Don't we all?"

"A day is a day, as long as I can live in the moment."

"Yeah, who wouldn't agree with that?"

As a customer spoke of his impending death, his face, like a statue in the mirror, faded into a blur, suppressing soft sobs in his throat. An eerie silence enveloped the small, narrow space, while the red umbrellas on the walls resembled the blooming equinox flowers. As light caressed their surfaces, the outlines of the red umbrellas gradually became clearer, intertwining with the world on the walls until they vanished into endless darkness.

However, this solemn atmosphere did not last long. Just as the weight of impending mortality, hung heavy in the air, a sudden interruption shattered the stillness. From the far side of the underpass came the voice of a young, lively boy, "One yuan for a skewer of Bobo Chicken! " His voice grew louder, akin to a fresh spring gushing into the parched earth. Grandma, carrying a small schoolbag, guided him to a chair near the wooden door while urging him to say no more.

The little boy's interest was unusually high as he played with the iron lock on the wooden door, all the while imitating the store loudspeaker blaring the straightforward advertising slogan: "One yuan for a skewer of Bobo Chicken!" Customers and passers-by glanced up at the boy, breaking into laughter.

Chen wasn’t the only barber in the underpass. At the opposite end, two female barbers were also occupied. Their customers mainly consisted of women. After a meticulous trim, they swiftly wielded hair coloring brushes, deftly applying tinting cream to their customers' hair. Finally, they refined their eyebrows with precision. One customer rose, admiring her newly darkened hair before donning a brown wig. Effortlessly, she retrieved her cell phone, scanned the payment code, and departed with a contented smile, her steps light as she made her way towards the left exit of the underpass.

In this bustling city, a light rail was speeding towards another underpass. Inside the lengthy underpass, the lights were dim, the air humid, and the overpowering scent of chili peppers, barbecued sausages, and fried potatoes filled the air, like an impenetrable fog. Feeling dizzy and disoriented, I had no idea about the weather outside. It felt as though the sunlight I had just glimpsed was an illusion.

Young passengers surged frantically through the dimly lit underpass, after work, after school, in a hurry. Everyone was tired, with eyelids too heavy to lift. As I looked out from the end of the underground passage, I noticed the humble barber stalls growing increasingly busy. Customers with slightly yellowed faces eagerly awaited the upcoming ancient ritual, sitting on plastic stools against the wall. On the second day of the second month of the lunar calendar, known as the day the lóng raises its head, people flock to get a new haircut, welcoming the new year, and praying for good luck and fortune. The cut hair piled up against the wall, forming small hills of black and white, reminiscent of offerings bidding farewell to the entanglements of past lives.

We've journeyed far from our agrarian roots to today's urban sprawl. Over the years, society has undergone profound transformations, resulting in cities teeming with shopping malls, lively neighborhoods, and upscale barbershops showcasing trendy hairstyles. Yet, amidst this urban evolution lies an unavoidable change — the soaring cost of a haircut. What was once a mere 5 yuan service has now skyrocketed to 25 yuan or even 300 yuan, to a staggering increase. Hairdressers incessantly push various membership cards, and yet the quality of service remains inconsistent, often leaving customers dissatisfied. Concurrently, the once prevalent 5 yuan haircut stalls, which dotted underpasses, streets, and alleys are gradually vanishing from view, silently fading into obscurity.

"We peasants," uttered an elderly man, his voice feeble as he scrutinized his altered appearance in the mirror with care. His words carried a tone of resignation, "where else can we turn but here?" These simple sentiments momentarily muted the city's cacophony, as if a lethargic blade had sliced through the city's superficial glamour. Is the city forfeiting something invaluable beneath its ostentatious façade? Perhaps, akin to the vibrant neon lights that adorn the nocturnal sky, while the once-glimmering stars have faded into obscurity, our society too is quietly relinquishing the nurturing, unadorned essence.