The old barber's chair creaked, like an asthmatic old man lingering on his last breath.
Xie Tinglan bent over and focused his eyes on the three stubborn hairs on Wang Ma's ears and temples.
The razor in his hand was a folded razor found on the street stall. There was even a tiny gap on the blade that was almost invisible to the naked eye, but on his fingertips, this thing was more stable than a surgeon's scalpel.
"Tinglan, you see, I can be considered a regular customer." Wang Ma stretched out a hand from under the scarf with broken hair, and held her wallet distressedly, "I paid for the hair dye, why do I have to pay more for washing my hair? Because of our friendship, you can waive the two yuan of hair washing fee."
