Chapter 42 green water long flow (2)

In the summer of a certain year, I was in Mount Lushan.I lived in the Lushan Hotel and wrote reportage for a company. One day, I want to wash my hair.Usually at home, of course I wash my hair myself.Lushan Hotel is a three-star hotel. Hot water is provided in the guest rooms all day long, and small bags of shower liquid and shampoo are provided every day.By habit, I should wash my hair in my own room.But today, for some reason, I really want to enjoy the feeling of someone else washing my hair. Lushan is a good place, with beautiful mountains and green waters, and a cool and pleasant climate.There is a big tree outside the window of my room with fiery red flowers in full bloom.The hotel girls are polite and well trained, they never trespass in your room, they only tidy up and clean up your mess when you need it.In this environment, it is very easy for people to become self-willed.I put down my pen and went out to wash my hair.

A Brighter Summer Day is only a few minutes away from the hotel.There is a sculpture of a bull in the garden in the middle of the street, which is also a scene of Lushan Mountain.I go for a walk almost every evening.Buy some snacks.Visit a department store.In the garden in the middle of the street, you can overlook the buildings at the foot of the mountain and the lights of Jiujiang in the distance.Let the white mist that came up from the bottom of the mountain swim past me like a cloud. There is a hairdressing salon called "Huadu", which is upstairs from a shop.Because a Huadu hairdressing salon in Wuhan once gave me a discount card.I went upstairs and entered this Huadu.

The girls and boys are very enthusiastic.I asked if they had any relationship with Hong Kong Huadu Beauty Salon?The young boss excitedly said yes. The girl piled up foam on my head, and scratched back and forth in an orderly manner with her ten fingers in the foam.It is comfortable to be served.The boss fetched his certificate of completion of training in Huadu, Hong Kong.There is a portrait of the Queen of England on the certificate of completion. When people are comfortable, they like to crack a joke.I said: You are a branch in Huadu. I have a discount card from your head office. The boy choked suddenly.He waved his diploma awkwardly.He said: Lushan is not a big city.Lushan is a mountain here.I have never seen a discount card on the mountain.

I said: I'm just kidding.I didn't bring a discount card with me when I went up the mountain. Because of this joke, the boss guys all took me seriously.They warmly and meticulously washed my hair.After that, he enthusiastically suggested that I bake oil.I have not baked oil.All I know is that oiling the hair* is a new gimmick that has come up in recent years.I am wary of all the new things in recent years.I thought spending money was a small matter and harm was a big deal.I have always been very fond of hair.I am afraid that these physical and chemical methods will damage the hair quality.

The boss insisted on persuading me to bake oil: I will not bake you white oil, nor will I give you black oil.These black and white oils are all domestically produced.I have the authentic brown vegetable oil brought back from the Huadu Headquarters in Hong Kong.Bake it. A young man took out a can of dark brown baked oil from the inside.Wearing rubber gloves and a plastic apron, he stirred the oil for me to see. I can't stand people treating me like this.I said: let's bake it. After baking and oiling, I regretted it.Because I have to wear a heat cap and sit upright for at least an hour.I said, "Boss, let me see if there are any magazines and newspapers."The boss said: no.

Can I wash it off without baking it?Pay as you go. no.Now that it's baked.What a precious Hong Kong oil. I sat upright for a few minutes and couldn't take it anymore. My neck is stiff.Qi Mei was wearing a helmet-like electric heating hat, and the steaming heat diffused from the hat, blurring my eyes.At this time, my only solution and sustenance is hearing.But Barbershop is a pop song above all other sounds except for the chaotic vocals.There's nothing wrong with pop songs, the problem is that the tape is bad. I said: How about another tape? They said: OK. They changed one plate after another until I felt like I was being overly picky.But none of them were tapes with clearly audible songs.

I said: forget it. The customers laughed.Even funnier things are yet to come.I stayed up for a few more minutes, and it was raining outside.The weather in Mount Lu said that rain is rain, which is not surprising, but I happened to be sitting by the window, and there were two potted flowers on the window sill, and the torrential rain swept across, splashing mud on my face.I was fixed inside the electric heating hat, unable to escape or get up to close the window.I called loudly: Miss.boss.I touched my face and it turned into a big painted face.The lady who came to close the window giggled happily.

At this moment, something happened.The loud and harsh pop songs suddenly turned into melodious and clear light music.It's a flute solo.And I prefer to listen to the flute.At this time, I focused on hearing function like a blind person.I pricked up my ears and listened intently.Time flows like water while I listen.My hair is gradually drying, the water vapor dissipates, but I close my eyes and refuse to look at anything.I think it's also very comfortable to just listen to music. A man's voice spoke in front of me: Is this music okay? Good!I say.Then I realized who I was talking to.I quickly opened my eyes: a man who looked more comfortable was standing not far from me.I looked around and there was no one else.I added to him: very good.

He said: That's good.He also said: You are like being tortured in the barber shop. I said: almost.It's better to wash your hair yourself. At this time, a girl came over and turned off the electric heating hat, covered my face with soft tissue paper, and led me to the sink to wash off the baking oil.After I washed my hair and straightened up to remove the paper protecting my skin, there were no customers in the barber shop.It's time for lunch.Only the flute is still singing like weeping. It took more than two hours, and my hair was finally draped over my shoulders like when I first entered the store.The boss picked up my hair and let me see in the mirror how they slipped from the boss's arms.The boss said: Is it as beautiful as silk?

I said: yes. Actually not.I'm glad I can leave the barber shop. I was already going downstairs, and the boss caught up with me.He is holding a cassette.I joked with him again: what?Baked oil can give a box of tapes? The boss said: Where, this tape is yours. I said: mine? He said: When your friend left, he told us to give you this tape.He said it was yours. I took the tape.It was a box of flute solo albums called Holy Love.I see.It's the man I don't know who gave me this tape. I rushed down with the tape, stood on Guling Street and looked around: there were a lot of tourists on the street, all strangers.

who are my friends