Still hoarding supplies in the apocalypse? I'll just go on a killing spree and looting!

The night wind carried the damp, rancid smell of the urban village. Lin You pulled her hat down and disappeared into the shadows of the alley.

The streetlight at the alley entrance, which had been flickering on and off, finally went out.

Only her footsteps could be heard in the darkness, quickly drowned out by the distant barking of dogs.

We left the narrow, dark alley.

Back in the SUV, Lin You tossed the medicine into the trunk.

There were already many similar plastic bags there, almost filling the entire trunk.

This was clearly not the first underground pharmacy Lin You had found.

Lin You, who was turning her car key to leave, suddenly frowned.

Across the street, a hair salon's floral pillars rotate continuously at night.

Lin You hesitated for a moment, then raised her hand to touch her hat.

He opened the car door and walked over.

As I pushed open the door of the barbershop, a little yellow duck hanging at the entrance greeted me with a "Welcome!"

The proprietress looked towards the door.

She was a young woman wearing a baseball cap, a mask, and arm sleeves.

The proprietress looked at Lin You as she walked in and asked with a smile, "Beautiful lady, are you getting a treatment or are you getting your hair dyed and straightened?"

"Get a haircut."

What kind of hairstyle do you want?

She took off her hat and casually hung it on the armrest of the barber chair.

"Shave it all off."

The comb in the proprietress's hand stopped in mid-air.

Beneath the baseball cap was a head of long, jet-black hair, of excellent quality, flowing smoothly down to her shoulders, gleaming with a healthy sheen under the fluorescent lights.

She has run a hair salon on this street for over a decade and has seen too many women cut their long hair for various reasons.

Heartbreak, divorce, illness, or simply being annoyed.

But the woman in front of me spoke in a very calm tone.

It didn't seem like he was sulking, nor did it seem like he was sad after a breakup.

"Young lady, your hair is so beautiful." The proprietress switched the comb to her other hand, her tone changing from professional enthusiasm to the concern of someone with experience.

"Did something happen? Tell me. Don't mess with your hair, it's hard for it to grow back after you shave it."

Lin You began to unbutton her ice sleeves, her movements slow but without a moment's hesitation.

"It's okay, I'll shave it."

The proprietress took those words as an angry outburst.

She had seen too many young girls on this chair who impulsively shaved their heads, coming in crying, and crying even more after the shave, because they found that their head shape was not suitable for a shaved head.

She put the comb back into her apron pocket, walked up to Lin You, and looked at her face carefully.

"You have a good face shape, so you won't look bad bald. But... listen to my advice. Did you break up with your boyfriend? Or is it something to do at work? Let me tell you, it's your hair, you can shave it however you want, but if you shave it in a fit of pique, you'll regret it when you wake up tomorrow."

Lin You had already taken off the ice sleeves and neatly folded them on the table.

Lin You's tone remained calm. "I wasn't being stubborn."

The proprietress noticed that the way she folded her arm sleeves was not by crumpling them into a ball and stuffing them into her bag, but by aligning the corners, smoothing out the wrinkles, and neatly folding them into a rectangle.

This didn't seem like something a person with an emotional breakdown would do, and she suddenly felt that this young woman might not be acting impulsively.

But she still wanted to stop them one more time.

Even if it means earning less money, shaving your head only takes five minutes.

She genuinely felt it was a pity.

"Girl, if you haven't made up your mind yet, we can cut it short first. Short hair is neat too."

Lin You turned her head and looked directly into the landlady's eyes for the first time.

Those eyes were calm, without the redness of crying or the bloodshot eyes of anger.

It's not the helplessness of patients forced to shave their heads by chemotherapy, nor is it the ritualistic feeling of young people "starting over" after a breakup.

It's a pure, deliberate process after making a decision.

"Big sister, please push it. I need to meet someone, and I don't have much time."

She couldn't understand what meeting someone had to do with a bald man.

The proprietress stared into those eyes for three seconds.

She has worked in the beauty and hair industry for over a decade and has seen people at their most vulnerable.

A woman's expression will shatter the moment her hair is cut while she sits in front of a mirror.

But the person in front of me didn't show any signs of impending collapse.

She's not fragile; she just doesn't need this long hair.

The proprietress walked over to the clippers, picked them up, and weighed them in her hand.

When the switch is turned up, the clippers emit a low humming sound.

"Then I won't try to persuade her anymore." She unfolded the apron and wrapped it around Lin You's neck, picking up the first strand of hair with her fingers.

The buzzing sound was close to my ear.

Black strands of hair slipped from the blades of the clippers and fell onto the white cape.

She watched her long hair disappear little by little in the mirror, her expression unchanged.

Watching everything unfold calmly.

The proprietress was very quick.

Use the clippers close to the roots of the hair, starting from the back of the neck and working upwards, then from the sideburns to the top of the head.

She noticed that the young woman had a really nice head shape.

The top of the head is full, and the back of the head is rounded. After shaving, there are no dents or ridges.

Having shaved her head for so many years, she has rarely seen a woman whose head shape is naturally suited to being bald.

Pick up the razor and trim carefully.

The bald head quickly became shiny, as if it were glowing.

But she didn't praise her hairstyle or anything like that again.

She sensed that the guest didn't need comfort or praise.

The last strand of hair fell onto the apron. The proprietress used a soft brush to sweep away the stray hairs from Lin You's shoulder and turned the mirror around. "Take a look. Are you satisfied?"

Lin You glanced at herself in the mirror.

He was bald, had a long neck, and his cheekbones appeared even sharper without the cover of his hair.

Her head was bare, but that only made her eyes shine brighter.

"How much?" She pulled cash from her pocket.

The proprietress quoted a price.

Lin You placed the money on the table and put her mask and arm sleeves back on.

Finally, she picked up the baseball cap from the armrest. The cap was slightly deformed from being pressed down, so she used her palm to straighten it from the inside.

She pulled the hat back onto her bald head, the brim pulled low.

She looked no different in the mirror than when she entered; only her long, black hair, scattered on the floor, told her what had just happened.

It seems to be a division from my past self.

Completely sever ties with the past.

"Miss," the proprietress called out as she turned around, "Wait a minute."

She pulled something out of the drawer and handed it to me. It was a new black baseball cap with an elastic band at the back that could be adjusted.

"This is for you. Yours is a mesh cap, which is breathable but conspicuous. This one is 100% cotton, absorbent, and not easily noticeable."

She lowered her voice as she shoved the hat into Lin You's hand, as if conveying a secret known only to the two of them.

Lin You glanced at the new hat in her hand, then at the proprietress.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not a bad person." The proprietress smiled and waved her hand. "I just think you're a pretty special girl. Consider this hat a gift from me."

"Thanks." Lin You put the new hat on, put the old hat in her bag, and pushed open the store door.

He hesitated for a moment at the door before saying, "It's too late, let's close up shop. Don't open tomorrow either."

After saying that, she left the barbershop, leaving the somewhat stunned proprietress behind.

The streetlights were already on, their orange glow illuminating the wet asphalt.

She was walking on the boundary between light and darkness.

Half of the bald head's silhouette was visible in the streetlight, while the other half remained hidden in the darkness.

I glanced at my watch; it was already 11 p.m.

There is one hour left until the end of the world.