C15 Smashing Your Face

Wang Xiaochuan's brow furrowed. He hadn't anticipated running into them here today—truly, it was a small world for adversaries.

Back in the day, his fight with Zhou Yao had only warranted a warning. Had Zhou Yao not sabotaged him behind his back, he wouldn't have been expelled before finishing high school.

Yet, even more than Zhou Yao, it was Lee Qi whom he resented deeply.

His affection for Lee Qi was nothing more than a beautiful aspiration of his youth. It would have been acceptable if Lee Qi hadn't reciprocated, but she crossed a line by humiliating him publicly and encouraging Zhou Yao to insult him.

He regretted ever falling for a woman whose beauty was only skin deep.

"Excuse me! Sir, could you please not stand there? You're blocking the way for our other guests," the waiter called out, clearly losing patience and speaking with a tone of disdain.

Meanwhile, Zhou Yao and Lee Qi approached.

"Wang Xiaochuan, what brings you here? Surely you're not here for a haircut?" Zhou Yao mocked as if he'd stumbled upon the joke of the century. "I heard you dropped out to become a delivery guy. Can you even afford a place like this?"

Zhou Yao turned to the waiter and asked, "Tell him, what's your minimum charge?"

"Sir..." The waiter's demeanor shifted dramatically to one of politeness in Zhou Yao's presence. "As I mentioned earlier, even our least expensive stylist here requires a minimum spend of six thousand yuan."

"Did you catch that?" Zhou Yao sneered. "Six thousand yuan for a haircut—is this really a place for a delivery guy like you?"

Wang Xiaochuan's expression turned stony, but he said nothing.

"Ah, Yao, this kid's still as stubborn as he used to be!" Lee Qi chimed in with a sneer. "You know, Wang Xiaochuan, the most important thing is self-awareness. You lacked it back then and it seems you haven't learned a thing in two years. Some places, some people—they're just not meant for someone of your standing. If you don't want to embarrass yourself further, you'd best leave now."

"You've got a way with words, Qiqi. That's what I love about you," Zhou Yao said, pulling Lee Qi into his arms and giving Wang Xiaochuan a challenging look.

He simultaneously reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek black card.

"Waiter, here's my membership card. Could you please arrange a stylist for us promptly?"

"Certainly." The waiter accepted the card with deference and replied, "I apologize, but the salon is quite busy today, and all our stylists are currently occupied. Could I ask you both to wait for a short while?"

Being the city's premier styling studio, Tredo was often booked solid, so Zhou Yao wasn't taken aback by the wait.

He nodded in understanding, "That's fine, but please expedite the removal of this indigent individual. Being seen with someone of his stature would be quite damaging to my reputation."

"My apologies, truly," the waiter said, bowing repeatedly to Zhou Yao before turning to Wang Xiaochuan. "Sir, as you've overheard, perhaps a more modest barbershop would better suit a delivery man such as yourself."

"Silence!" Wang Xiaochuan's glare sent the waiter stumbling backward.

"What's wrong with you? Can't you take a hint and leave when asked politely?"

Regaining composure, the waiter, now visibly annoyed, pointed at Wang Xiaochuan. "This establishment isn't for someone of your ilk. If you persist, I'll have no choice but to call security!"

"I came for a haircut, and instead of service, I'm being asked to leave? Summon your manager; I'd like to know if this is the standard way you treat your patrons."

"A haircut? Are you hard of hearing? I've already told you, the minimum charge is six thousand yuan. Can you even afford that?" the waiter said in a shrill tone.

Wang Xiaochuan let out a cold chuckle, "Can't afford it? Is six thousand yuan supposed to be a large sum? Take a good look!"

He yanked a bundle of cash from his backpack and flung it in the waiter's face.

The waiter let out a yelp, stepping back in astonishment. When she realized the thick wad of cash that had just hit her was likely ten thousand yuan, she was dumbfounded.

"It's just ten thousand yuan? Our club operates on a membership basis, and you must have a minimum of twenty thousand yuan deposited in your membership account," she retorted, though the restaurant had no such policy. She had assumed that the ten thousand yuan represented the entirety of this seemingly destitute young man's savings.

Unexpectedly, when Wang Xiaochuan heard her, he sneered and pulled out two more stacks of cash, tossing them over. "Twenty thousand, right? Is that enough? If not, I've got more!"

He grabbed another stack and flung it, asking if it was enough, then hurled yet another.

He repeated the question several times, throwing stack after stack, until the waitress was so overwhelmed by the cascade of cash that she could barely stand.

It wasn't just the waitress who was dumbfounded. Zhou Yao and his companion, who had been mocking Wang Xiaochuan moments earlier, now sported expressions as sour as could be.

"How does this guy have so much money? Isn't he just a delivery guy?" Zhou Yao was utterly baffled.

Even Zhou Yao himself only carried a few thousand yuan at most, relying mostly on the bank cards his parents had given him, which contained at most a few tens of thousands of yuan.

But here was Wang Xiaochuan, casually tossing out what seemed like hundreds of thousands in cash. Though it was meant to hit someone else's face, the sight was enough to make his own head spin.

Lee Qi was equally taken aback. She was all too familiar with Wang Xiaochuan's family situation. After receiving his love letter, she had someone investigate him. Once she learned he was just an ordinary farmer's son, she had flatly rejected his advances and publicly humiliated him, feeling insulted by such attention.

Had she been misinformed? Could it be that Wang Xiaochuan was actually a hidden heir to a fortune?

"Is that enough for you now? What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

Wang Xiaochuan sneered as he stepped past the stunned waitress, calling out loudly, "Where's your manager? If you won't talk, I'll ask him. I want to know how much it really costs to shop here."

"Sir, I apologize." At that moment, a stylishly dressed middle-aged man approached from the back. He had just been briefed on the commotion at the entrance by other staff members.

"Sir, I am the manager of this establishment and the chief stylist here. I would like to extend my sincerest apologies for the discourtesy of our staff member."

The manager gave Wang Xiaochuan a respectful bow and then looked up, but he paused, his gaze lingering on Wang Xiaochuan's face as if a realization had just struck him.

"Excuse me, sir, may I have your name?" the manager inquired gently.

"Wang Xiaochuan. Is there a problem?"

The manager's face was immediately etched with regret. He had been delayed because he was on an important phone call.

The call had come from Bao Fan, one of the major investors in the studio, who had mentioned that his friend Wang Xiaochuan might stop by and should be well taken care of.

To his dismay, while he was on the call, Wang Xiaochuan had already arrived and had an altercation with one of the employees.

With anger rising in his cheeks, the manager shot a stern look at the stunned waiter and commanded, "What are you standing around for? Apologize to Mr. Wang, now!"

Reluctantly, the waiter bowed and muttered, "Sorry."

"Hmph!" Wang Xiaochuan's anger hadn't subsided as he pointed to the scattered bills on the floor. "Pick them up, one by one, count them carefully. I'm going to use this money to pay the bill. If there's a single bill missing, you'll cover the difference!"

The waiter, feeling humiliated, froze in place, reluctant to comply.

"What are you waiting for?" the manager barked. "If you're not going to pick them up, you can pack your things and leave right now!"

Reluctantly, the waiter crouched down and began picking up the bills Wang Xiaochuan had thrown, his face clouded with resentment.

"Sir, you came for a haircut, right? I deeply apologize for today's incident. To make amends, please allow me to personally design your hairstyle," the manager said with a conciliatory smile, leading Wang Xiaochuan into a private room.

Meanwhile, Zhou Yao and his companions were utterly ignored the entire time. What was even harder for them to swallow was the fact that the manager had offered to cut Wang Xiaochuan's hair himself.

The manager was the studio's top designer, sought after by the city's elite for his renowned skills. With his busy schedule, he rarely attended to clients personally, reserving his expertise for only the most prestigious or well-known wealthy individuals.

As for Zhou Yao, he wouldn't receive such attention, not even if his own father were the client; the manager would delegate to his staff just the same.

The chief designer was about to cut the hair of Wang Xiaochuan, the delivery guy turned hair stylist!

Zhou Yao felt a sense of imbalance in his heart.

Half an hour later, Xiaochuan's hair was impeccably styled.

Despite arriving in a huff, he was taken aback by the transformation the salon owner had achieved. The dashing young man in the mirror – could that really be him?

His previously unkempt hair was now perfectly groomed, and the fresh haircut had completely altered Xiaochuan's aura.

Then, the salon owner presented a suit.

"Mr. Wang, after assessing your build, I had an assistant purchase this suit from a nearby boutique. I personally selected the style to complement your new hairstyle. Please, try it on now."

Xiaochuan couldn't help but be impressed by the level of service. No wonder the salon commanded such high prices – not only did they offer top-notch styling, but they also took care of wardrobe needs.

Slipping into the suit chosen by the owner, Xiaochuan stood before the mirror, once again stunned by his reflection.

Now, with his hair done and donning a suit, his entire demeanor had shifted to one of elegance.

His stature was commanding, the suit impeccable, and his fair skin only added to his refined appearance. At this moment, Xiaochuan looked every bit the part of a wealthy gentleman, and it was hard to imagine anyone doubting such a claim.