Isa Beauty Salon.
Tang Song lounged lazily on the black leather hairstyling chair.
The beautician leaned slightly forward, first carefully trimming his eyebrows.
Then, she picked up the scissors, her fingers moving like nimble butterfly wings through his hair.
"Snip, snip, snip—" the sound of the scissors cutting swiftly echoed in his ears, crisp and rhythmic.
The electric clippers drew neat lines.
The outline of the hairstyle gradually emerged.
After a while, the beautician in her thirties spoke softly, "Mr. Tang, the styling is done. Please check if there's anything you'd like adjusted."
Tang Song opened his eyes, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
After systematic optimization, the new hair quality reached an excellent level, black and resilient with a high sheen.
Even without using styling wax, it looked voluminous and natural, with rich layers that weren't messy.
