He stretched lazily, feeling quite pleased that the teacher hadn’t cared at all and had let him sleep through a whole class.
Only…
Ye Qingyang blew his bangs out of his eyes, watching them float up and down before settling back in front of his face.
So long… it really is kind of annoying.
He didn’t know how the original body had tolerated it—he certainly couldn’t.
Thinking this, he rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a pair of black scissors. Then he tore a few sheets of paper from his notebook and headed to the bathroom.
At this time, the bathroom wasn’t crowded. Ye Qingyang stood in front of the mirror, brushing his bangs aside to look at his reflection.
The boy staring back was fairly decent-looking. Slender and delicate, but with fine features—handsome in a soft, refined way. Not as striking as his original appearance, but still acceptable.
After studying his reflection, he examined his bangs and picked up the scissors, beginning to trim them while watching the mirror.
Ye Qingyang was already quite skilled at trimming bangs—a skill he had perfected thanks to his younger sister, Ye Qingyuan.
At thirteen or fourteen, she was the kind of little sister who changed her hairstyle daily: one day straight bangs, the next day side-swept, then an airy fringe the day after.
Her high demands meant frequent trips to the salon, and Ye Qingyang, seeing how much fun she had, decided he could handle it himself instead of wasting money.
Smart as he was, he quickly became adept, even outperforming the local stylist Tony, easily winning both his sister’s heart and the allowance money.
So trimming bangs? He was a pro.
A guy in the bathroom noticed him not using the toilet but trimming his hair. “Bro, you’re really into yourself, huh?”
“My hair’s in my eyes,” Ye Qingyang replied.
“Still, you can’t just hack at it yourself. You’re not a pro. What if it ends up looking like a dog chewed it?”
“Don’t worry.”
Lu Jingcheng had just walked into the bathroom and heard Ye Qingyang’s voice.
Turning around, he saw him holding a piece of notebook paper in one hand to shield half his face, scissors in the other, snipping away.
Lu Jingcheng froze. What is he doing?
Trimming bangs? He even had the skill for that?
Soon, he realized, like the other onlookers, that Ye Qingyang wasn’t just capable—he was actually good at it.
“Wow, man, your technique’s pretty professional. Took lessons?”
“Nope,” Ye Qingyang said calmly. “Just watched and practiced on others.”
After tidying up his bangs, he set down the scissors and grabbed a tissue from somewhere to wipe stray hairs from around his eyes.
Done! He felt like the world looked brighter.
Some students left after watching, but others, impressed by the results, stepped forward.
“Hey, your technique’s pretty good. Do you take requests? How much per cut?”
Ye Qingyang hadn’t expected a business opportunity, but he seized it immediately. “Sure, but I only have scissors, so just bangs. Five bucks.”
A bargain, considering the school’s strict grooming inspections. If your hair didn’t meet regulations, you’d get sent to the disciplinary office where the fifty-plus-year-old director would fix it—ugly was one thing, but ugly to the extreme was another. Even guys wanted to look good, risking borderline noncompliance.
Here was a freshly trimmed, stylish, compliant example—who wouldn’t agree immediately?
“Cool, then cut mine after school. Let’s exchange WeChat.”
Ye Qingyang pulled out his phone and added the student.
Soon, more students gathered, asking if he only did bangs or could do full haircuts.
Just as he was about to reply, he looked up and saw Lu Jingcheng watching him from not far away.
Ye Qingyang’s eyes lit up with a plan. He could make some money cutting boys’ hair, sure, but real business came from girls. How could he make all the school girls want him to cut their bangs?
A mischievous grin spread across his face as he pushed through the crowd and called out, “Lu-ge!”