Huixian was dumbfounded. Zhao’s suggestion caught her completely by surprise. At first it took her breath away, but shock quickly turned to anger. Her lips quivered. Flinging her red lantern to the floor, she said, ‘Then that’s where I’ll go. But I’m going to write a letter to the district authorities and tell them how you people have been treating me. Don’t be surprised when Bureau Chief Liu comes asking about me.’
Zhao laughed. ‘So, the girl has learned how to play politics. You think you can put pressure on me with Chief Liu, do you? Come here, I want to show you something.’ He took a newspaper out of his drawer and opened it up to show Huixian. ‘You never read the paper and you won’t study, so you’re clueless. Your Gramps Liu suffered a heart attack and went up to report to Karl Marx.’
Huixian saw the obituary. The familiar, white-haired old man who had once looked kindly at her across a banqueting table and had watched over her behind the scenes had been reduced to a tiny black-and-white photograph, looking up at her from the pages of a newspaper. Only the kindness and admiration in his gaze remained.
‘Gramps Liu, you can’t die! None of you care about me,’ she shouted. ‘What am I going to do?’ With that, she crouched down, covered her face with both hands, and wept.
That same day she carried her chest and her red lantern over to the People’s Barbershop. Her face was still tear-stained when she walked in and hung the ‘closed’ sign on the glass door as if she ran the place. Fortunately, the work day had nearly ended and all the clients had gone, so there were no witnesses to her shabby entrance. Old Cui noticed she’d been crying, but was shocked to see that she’d brought her things along. ‘No!’ he said, waving her back with both hands. ‘You can’t do that! We don’t dare stick our noses into your arguments with the officials. You can’t move into a barbershop, not Little Tiemei. What would that look like?’
‘Little Tiemei, you say? I count for nothing now, only good for living in a barbershop.’
‘You have to control your temper, Huixian. Put your things anywhere you want, but you mustn’t move out of the General Affairs Building. If you can’t get along with Leng Qiuyun, move in with someone else. Don’t tell me they can’t find a room for you in that great big building.’
‘Who cares about the General Affairs Building? I don’t like anybody who lives there. They’re all terrible people. No, this is the best place for me. Don’t you want me here, Old Cui?’
Suddenly apprehensive, Old Cui picked up Huixian’s things to take them outside. ‘People say you have an intelligent face but a foolish mind. I don’t believe that. I just think you’ve been spoiled. Everybody gets mad at people sometimes. With all your contacts, you have a bright future, but you mustn’t be wilful. Don’t throw away your future, like smashing a pot just because it’s cracked.’
That comment from Old Cui caused the last bit of Huixian’s reserve, which she had been struggling to maintain, to crumble. She burst into tears and placed her foot on the chest on the floor. ‘Future?’ she sobbed as she dried her tears. ‘Future, you say? I’ve got no future! Gramps Liu is dead, he has been reassigned, and Zhao Chuntang is mad at me. There’s no one left. I have no one to rely on.’
Unable to talk Huixian out of staying with him, Old Cui made space for her in the tiny boiler room at the back of the shop, which would have the added advantage of keeping her warm in cold weather. He told the young barber Little Chen to move two benches into the room and put them together to make a bed. ‘It’s only for the time being,’ he whispered to Chen. ‘She can stay here a few days, and then we’ll improvise. She’s Zhao Chuntang’s protégée, after all, and he won’t give up on her.’
Huixian walked into the boiler room as they were getting it ready for her. The first thing she did was hang a couple of white smocks over the window. ‘What are we going to use as smocks tomorrow if you use those as curtains?’ Old Cui remarked.
She turned and glared at him. ‘How can you be so selfish? Do you expect me to sleep in here without curtains? The situation in town is complicated, as you very well know. There are people who put up a good front but are capable of doing bad things, like peeping at me through the window.’
For Old Cui, the arrangement was makeshift and temporary, at least at first. Everyone in town had heard about the unusual life the girl had led; to them she was a mysterious package, constantly being hung out here and there. For now, she’d been hung out at the barbershop. But a few days passed, and though she went out from time to time, no one from the General Affairs Building had a plan for her, and Old Cui knew that this was bad news. Things had changed, and her future had been revealed, which made the situation suddenly grim; Milltown’s celebrity was living in a barbershop!
Four days later, Zhao Chuntang came to the People’s Barbershop. When he walked in, everyone, including Huixian, stood up. They wondered if he’d come for a haircut or to rescue Huixian. He sat in the barber’s chair. ‘I’ve let my hair get long,’ he said. ‘How about a trim, Master Cui?’
With a quick glance at Huixian, Old Cui picked up his comb and scissors and walked up to the chair with a strange feeling of trepidation. ‘Has the Secretary come on official business?’ he asked Zhao.
‘Official and personal, I need to attend to both.’
So, with great care, Old Cui cut Zhao’s hair, urging Huixian out of the corner of his eye to make amends with Zhao. She merely turned her head, with a look that said ‘I’d rather keep a piece of broken jade than an undamaged tile,’ and began filing her nails. Old Cui laid down his comb and picked up a razor. ‘How about a shave, Secretary Zhao?’
Zhao made no response, but Huixian, audacious as ever, made another of her unseemly comments. ‘Hah!’ she said. ‘Zhao Chuntang doesn’t have a beard, so there’s nothing to shave.’
Zhao tensed, and Old Cui felt it. Slightly unnerved, he barely stopped himself from holding Zhao down in the chair. But all Zhao did was turn and say, ‘Could I ask you all to give Old Cui and me a few minutes to speak in private? It’s work-related.’
A few of the other customers, haircuts still in progress, demurred momentarily, but then followed the barbers, towels still draped around their necks, and stood outside the door. One of them, unaware of what was going on, wondered aloud, ‘What work-related issue could Zhao Chuntang have with Old Cui?’ One of the others, equally in the dark but wanting to give the impression of being well informed, said, ‘Work-related? That’s just an excuse. Huixian’s living in the barbershop these days, and I wouldn’t be surprised if something’s going on between her and Old Cui.’ Little Chen reacted to that comment by cursing, ‘If anything’s going on, it’s between Old Cui and your mother! You must have sperm swimming around your brain the way you see everything through your crotch! You really don’t get it, do you? Huixian is taking refuge here for the time being.’
As promised, a few minutes later Old Cui opened the door to let Zhao Chuntang, whose hair reeked of Phoenix hair tonic, leave. He looked relaxed but sort of sad. The customers poured back into the shop, where they saw a red-faced Huixian with a comb in one hand and a pair of clippers in the other, banging the two together over and over and shouting, ‘Who wants their hair cut? Come on, don’t try to shame me. I’ll shave your heads, all of you!’
Anyone could see that she was hysterical, but no one had any idea what had caused it. It was left to Old Cui to rush up, snatch the tools out of Huixian’s hands and force her into the boiler room. ‘Settle down, Huixian,’ he said loudly, before shutting the door and locking it from the outside.