Fingertip Cauliflower

Xiao Ai, the youngest technician in the nail salon, had fingers as nimble as skipping musical notes. Every day, she repeated the motions of filing, buffing, and polishing, painting the colors and designs her customers desired on the small canvas of their nails. Xiao Ai believed that beauty on fingertips could bring good luck, or at least temporarily forget the misery of reality.

"Xiao Ai, your skills are getting better and better!" Today's customer was a regular, Mrs. Li, with a dazzling gold bracelet on her wrist.

"Thank you, Mrs. Li. What style would you like today?" Xiao Ai's tone was practiced and polite, but her mind was calculating how much commission she could earn today.

Mrs. Li put down her handbag, which contained the latest iPhone, and pointed to a picture on her screen, saying, "This one, 'Starry Splendor'. Make it the brightest and shiniest!"

Xiao Ai took the phone. It was a popular style recently, complicated and intricate. Xiao Ai sighed inwardly. Only she knew the hardship of her work, but who cared? She just hoped to earn enough money in this small shop to pay rent and save a little extra to send back to her parents in the countryside.

The process of doing the nails was long and tedious. Mrs. Li kept scrolling through short videos on her phone, laughing hilariously. Xiao Ai worked silently. She liked this quiet moment, when it felt like the whole world was just nails and the temperature of her fingertips.

As days went by, Xiao Ai noticed that some small, unusual bumps, like tiny grains of rice, began to appear on her fingers, neither painful nor itchy. At first, she didn't pay much attention, thinking it was a skin issue caused by overwork. Until one day, the bumps started to grow bigger, like small flower buds, shockingly disturbing.

She went to the hospital, and the doctor told her with a grave expression, "This is an HPV virus infection, commonly known as 'cauliflower'."

Xiao Ai was stunned. HPV? How could she have contracted this? She had never had a boyfriend, let alone any experiences in that regard.

The doctor pushed up his glasses and explained, "HPV can spread through contact, such as through equipment in public places, nail art tools, and so on."

Xiao Ai's mind buzzed. She remembered that the UV lamp in the salon's sterilizer had been broken for a long time and hadn't been repaired, and everyone just wiped the tools with alcohol wipes before using them again. She remembered those files and sanding bits used every day, and the bottle of cheap nail polish that never seemed to run out.

She started to feel afraid, but also angry. Behind those glamorous nails lay the cost of her health, spent toiling day and night. She suddenly thought of Mrs. Li, and all those urban women who came to the salon every day seeking beauty on their fingertips. They probably didn't know that their beauty came at the cost of someone else's health.

She asked her boss for a leave of absence, and the boss just rolled her eyes and said, "Take care of yourself." Xiao Ai felt like a machine, unable to stop even when she was sick. She thought about the iPhone she had bought after saving for a long time, the shiny selfies on her phone, and her dream of a glamorous future. She felt like the screen on that phone – beautiful, but cold.

Xiao Ai decided to quit, to leave this place where beauty was exchanged for health. She packed her things, and before leaving the shop, she picked up a batch of new nail polish, and looking into the mirror, she painted her nails a bright red.

The bright red was like a flame, and also like a ball of anger. After she finished painting, she smiled. She finally understood that beauty on fingertips was sometimes just a carefully wrapped lie.

She carefully placed the rest of the nail polish in the trash bin at the entrance of the shop, and turned to leave.

A few days later, a headline appeared in the local news: "Well-known Nail Salon, Multiple Technicians Infected with HPV, Shocking Truth Behind It."

And Xiao Ai, was already on the train back home. Looking out at the passing scenery, she slowly typed a line on her phone: I never want to touch nail polish again. But then, she still clicked on a nail art video. She didn’t know where she was going anymore.

A pop-up appeared on her phone screen: Congratulations, you have qualified for the "Beautiful Life" Nail Art Competition.