Nail Artist‘s Secret

  Zhang Xiaowei’s nail salon was located on the second basement floor of an office building. The store was not big, but business was fairly brisk. She had great skills, fair prices, and most importantly, she always managed to accurately capture the deepest desires of her customers. For example, a white-collar worker who was mentally exhausted by PPTs could have their nails transformed into a beautiful starry sky, as if carrying her away from this oppressive reality.

Today, a new customer came into the shop. She also looked like a white-collar worker, wearing an impeccably professional suit and holding a document that seemed quite important. Her nails were bare, like a bird whose feathers had been plucked.

“I’d like something… simple,” the woman said, her voice a bit hoarse and her eyes filled with fatigue.

Xiaowei smiled and nodded, motioning for her to sit down. "What color do you like?"

"Anything is fine, as long as it doesn't look too... flashy." The woman sighed. "I have a meeting tomorrow, and the boss hates anything too showy."

Xiaowei didn’t say anything, but silently prepared her tools. She knew very well that "not too flashy" was just a mask that countless people wore in the modern workplace. She picked up a set of newly opened nail polishes, carefully selecting one.

"I used to get my nails done, really beautifully," the woman suddenly said, with a hint of nostalgia in her voice. "Back then, before I got promoted, I was thinking about how to make myself happy every day."

Xiaowei looked up at her. The woman’s smile was faint, as if she were recalling a distant dream.

“And now?” Xiaowei couldn’t help but ask.

The woman was taken aback for a moment, then shook her head, “Now? Now I’m thinking about how to make the reports better every day, how to satisfy the boss. Nail art? I don't have time for that anymore."

Xiaowei lowered her head and continued to file the woman’s nails, but her thoughts were growing wildly like weeds. Modern people live such pitiful lives that they even have to consider their boss's preferences when choosing a color they like. She picked up a bottle of clear nail polish and slowly applied it to the woman’s nails.

"How do you feel about transparent?" Xiaowei asked softly.

The woman looked at her nails, then smiled, "It's nice, understated, not flashy."

Xiaowei also smiled, with a hint of subtle slyness in her smile. She took a thin brush from her toolbox, dipped it in a special fluorescent paint, and began to gently trace patterns on the woman's nails.

"I also have a special service here," Xiaowei said quietly, "At night, it will glow."

The woman was a little puzzled, but still nodded.

When all of her nails were done, the woman picked up her hand and looked at them. The transparent nail polish shimmered faintly under the light, and it was indeed very low-key. She paid, satisfied, and then left in a hurry.

As night fell, the lights in the office building gradually went out. Xiaowei closed the store door and walked wearily to the subway station. She looked up at the dark night sky, then lowered her head and smiled softly.

The next day, the woman attended the meeting as scheduled. She was still in her professional suit, her hair combed neatly. While the boss was talking incessantly about the quarterly report, she instinctively glanced at her nails.

Then, she froze.

In the dim meeting room, her nails emitted a faint blue light. It was not a gaudy fluorescent glow, but a deep, mysterious blue, as if it came from a distant starry sky. On each nail, small patterns vaguely emerged. Upon closer inspection, they were actually some scribbled words – "Rebellion," "Freedom," "Be Yourself."

The meeting room was silent. Everyone was looking at her nails, their faces filled with shock and confusion.

The boss's face turned crimson. He pointed at the woman's nails, his voice changing, "What is this? What the hell is this!"

The woman didn’t say anything, but quietly looked at her nails, a smile slowly appearing at the corner of her mouth.

She suddenly felt that this meeting didn't seem that important anymore. She raised her head, looked directly into the boss's eyes, and slowly said, "Boss, I quit."

The meeting room was still silent. Only the blue light on her nails was still shining silently, as if telling a secret about freedom and rebellion.

And Xiaowei, on the subway platform, looked at the message her client sent her on her phone, the corners of her mouth slightly upturned. The message was simple, just one sentence: "Thank you, my nails are glowing."