I am not Ximen Qing.

In Seville, Jingjing's best friend falls for a fashionable hairdresser. The most likely places for love to blossom, besides university campuses, are trendy hair salons. In China, there seems to be a certain fondness and romantic fantasy surrounding hairdressers. Men's romantic fantasies are completely different from women's. Beautiful women have always had tragic fates! The legendary beauties Hong Fu and Lü Zhu, with their loyalty and affection, are comparable to the legendary beauty Yu Ji. The more of a "scoundrel" a man is, the more likely girls are to like him. "Scoundrel" is a derogatory term; in a girl's mind, a humorous, charming, and romantic boy is attractive. Girls don't like honest, docile men; in their minds, honesty means a worthless fool. If a boy can't find a beautiful woman, it's not because there aren't enough girls in the world, but because the man is indeed foolish, incapable of attracting women, and perhaps his career isn't successful either—a truly vicious cycle. Without a BMW or Mercedes, expecting girls to throw themselves at you is impossible. The less romantic opportunities a man has, the less likely he is to find love. The stronger the aura of love and attraction a man exudes, the more attractive he becomes to beautiful women.

Why are hairdressers so popular with girls? Because girls are naturally sensitive to stirring up their inner feelings of love and passion. Besides dancing and listening to music, hairdressers can use girls as creative material. How can they let girls experience the beauty of femininity and rediscover the feeling of spring in their hearts through the process of becoming beautiful?

The name "Paris Spring" suggests it's not for men seeking springtime in Paris, but rather for women. The exotic atmosphere certainly helps women set aside their reservations. Women actually admire the sunny, fashionable Apollo artists; the sun god Apollo has to please the goddesses, and every girl who comes here is the most beautiful of the Three Graces.

A pear blossom overshadowing a crabapple—that's every man's dream pursuit. But in spring, crabapple blossoms adorn every branch, vying for attention. The hairdresser is their soulmate, their masterful artistry a subtle, captivating melody, a love song that seeps into their hearts. They praise their natural beauty, their gentle touches soothing, a fusion of divine and ethereal passion. They utter the joyful, silvery laughter of long-lost teenage girls—a beautiful, dreamlike melody of a clear spring, a stream, and a forest.

From time to time, they transform into blossoming young women, strolling through the quiet, secluded peach groves, the air filled with the intoxicating fragrance of peach blossoms. Lost in fantasies of love and romance, their faces glow like peach blossoms. Life seems so dull and monotonous, yet the thousand-year-old crabapple tree blooms lonely in the ancient temple, its beauty both alluring and passionate. Their most beautiful moments in spring are like the green moss on the mountain rocks; even the moss retains its ancient charm. The crabapple blossoms often complement the moss on the tree trunks, and men often notice the moss but fail to see the exquisite beauty and passion of the thousand-year-old crabapple blossoms in spring.

Hairdressers truly possess an artistic realm; in their world, they are the pink queens of spring, like crabapple blossoms. And what of the peonies and peonies budding beneath the thousand-year-old ginkgo tree? They help girls rediscover their original aspirations—the initial spark of love and affection.

"How long has it been since you laughed happily? Your voice is so clear and resonant." What they heard was the silvery, springtime sound of a young girl.

"Why do I only hear a buzzing sound?"

"How careless! The sound of flowing water in the mountains is so beautiful. Where is the buzzing sound? Even so, I am just a little bee collecting nectar from your flower branches."

"Little bee, please don't make me laugh anymore, I'm about to cry."

"Were you moved to tears?"

"I was so moved that I couldn't control my tears, and I felt like I had no impulse at all."

"Close your eyes."

"You're going to make me cry again."

"Imagine it, can you smell it or not..."

"What do you smell?"

"The scent of begonia emanating from you."

"The scent of crabapple blossoms reminds me of when we were in love..."

"My husband says you smell like crabapple blossoms, is that right?"

"It's been over ten years, and I've become a haggard old woman. He seems to have no feelings for me anymore."

"it's a pity."

"What's a pity?"

"You are clearly the most beautiful lilac in spring, I'm almost intoxicated by you."

"What do lilacs look like? I've never seen a lilac before."

"You should really put everything down and go to the ancient temple in the green mountains to breathe in the spring breeze."

Do I have gray hair?

"I can't see any gray hair; you are the goddess of lilacs in full bloom."

"I'm almost embarrassed."

"What's there to be embarrassed about? It's a pity he didn't realize there was such a beautiful flower fairy beside him."

"You'd be perfect as a gardener."

"I am the gardener, making the flower fairies regain their youth."

"Little bee".

"This is interesting! I'll just pretend to be your little bee bothering you."

"Is it that women, besides possessing the fragrance of crabapple blossoms..."

"charming."

"It is purity."

"Lilac..."

"Bewitched."

"Do I possess all the allure and charm?"

"If you think you have it, then you have it."

Do you think I have one?

"Of course, but you're being too repressed, you need to release it."

"freed!"

"Yes, it's a romantic way to release emotions. It's a shame he didn't notice."

"All he could think about was avoiding losing his job so he could pay off his 8,000 yuan mortgage."

"Don't think about those things. They conflict with my worldview."

"conflict?"

"I wouldn't dare let my mood become like reinforced concrete. That would be too vulgar, wouldn't it? Of course, I live in a dream world, and in my eyes, there are only flower fairies in spring."

Am I one of them?

"That's not a good answer. I respect all girls."

"Is it just to please the girls?"

"This is too heavy. To use an analogy, it's like an iron tree blooming. Sorry, I'm just using an analogy to bring a withered flower fairy back to life. It's about the motivation and impulse to revive life, to feel that in life, besides troubles, there is also love and affection."

"I've made the issue too serious. I really want to enter your world."

"It might disappoint you."

"Disappointed? I wanted to be too."

Are you just curious?

"I haven't felt this relieved in a long time. Life felt so tedious. Little bee, do you understand?"

"I understand, he's too careless. You need love and affection to nourish you. Sorry, I was just joking."

Jingjing's best friend seems to enjoy chatting with the artist-turned-hairman. The young hairdresser, due to his profession, has a rather fit physique and makes suggestive remarks that ignite her desire. This romantic feeling is appealing to both men and women, much like an older man's yearning for fresh lilies. Girls also crave the feeling of passionate sunflowers, as if returning to the innocent days of teenage love. They experience that budding attraction, but without reaching the level of deep affection; it's merely a beautiful emotion, a fleeting, dreamlike ripple in quiet moments, a sudden surge of romantic impulse in a peaceful heart.

Sometimes she would confide her secrets to Jingjing, who would jokingly say, "Be careful in relationships with younger men; just don't get too involved."

Despite his young age, the hairdresser was adept at handling such ambiguous relationships, and he hid them very well, never making her feel pressured. He became increasingly familiar with her, sometimes offering advice on cosmetics and clothing. She became more open around him, and he would help her relax and unwind between haircuts. She also started paying attention to achieving a slimmer figure, occasionally visiting yoga studios and beauty spas to make her skin whiter and smoother, restoring her original rosy complexion.

Why didn't he notice the change in me?

"He has to earn money; he has to support his family."

“I earn just as much as him, this is so unfair.”

"What product do you use for your breasts? They're really quite full."

The hairdresser's words struck a chord with her, and her face flushed red to her neck. However, she quickly calmed down, and the topics she discussed with him even touched on her menstrual cycle.

"How do you maintain your physique, bodybuilder?"

"I go to the gym every day; it's a professional requirement."

"Let me tell you, my breasts used to be much prettier than they are now."

“You are truly naturally beautiful, unlike those who have had breast augmentation or plastic surgery.”

"That's terrible, adding silicone inside is horrible."

"Little bee, someone's here."

Tell her I'm busy, and we'll reschedule for another time.

"Why is everyone so busy, little bee? It sounds like an old woman's idea."

"How about next time? Next time, please?"

A girl was dressed quite sexily, clearly a delinquent, and had "I love you, Seville hairdresser" tattooed on her arm.

"Let me tell you, kid, don't think of yourself as an artist and don't betray me."

"What are you talking about? We're not in a romantic relationship."

"Don't think you can fool me by pretending to be an artist. Let me tell you, don't..."

"Alright, stop talking. This isn't a noisy place."

"You've changed, you hypocritical artist."

The girl angrily slammed the door shut and stormed off, consumed by jealousy.

"Girlfriend? Because I'm angry."

"Ignore her, she's just a kid, we're just ordinary friends."

"It doesn't seem like a friendship."

The hairdresser stopped explaining his relationship with the tattooed girl, letting her guess. Some things don't need explaining; they need to be hidden, which adds to the mystery of love and romance. She actually liked this feeling; it was fair for their current relationship. He wouldn't care about anything about her, and she wouldn't care about anything about him. Was this love? This was a dangerous relationship she and her husband had never experienced before. It seemed she felt that her husband had nothing in common besides living together, and they still had responsibilities to each other. She regretted marrying him so much. Was marriage just about living under the same roof? What was the meaning of life?

Jingjing is now more like a virtuous wife and loving mother; everything about the new life occupies her entire life. She can't understand why Jingjing seems to have suddenly become a different person, possessing a sacred halo and the power of maternal love.

Zhang Sheng seemed even more afraid of young girls. The journey had been quite interesting, with young girls constantly around him. His heart was in turmoil, a mixture of fear and a desire to steal glances at their pretty faces. The young girls seemed to prefer revealing clothing; they'd deliberately cut large holes in perfectly good jeans, exposing snow-white skin—especially the inner thighs—and emanating an elegant fragrance, whether it was their natural scent or the alluring aroma of lightly applied makeup, he couldn't tell.

Chunsun's slender hand scrolled through various chat images on her phone, which vaguely made way for him. A young girl got off at this station, and another young girl happened to sit next to him. He pretended to look at the scenery outside, but seeing young girls everywhere, he could only discreetly keep his head down, seemingly losing interest in everything.

Aside from the clattering of his phone and the busy chatter, Zhang Sheng longed to lower his head and catch a glimpse of the young girl's face. Instinctively, he knew from her youthful aura that she could easily ignite the heart of any older man; this was the only way Zhang Sheng could connect with her. It seemed that the wall of loneliness folded his sensory world into a separate universe from the girl's.

He was like an oil painter, his eyes fixed intently on every detail of the youthful girl within the kaleidoscope of her life. He seemed to be dreaming, sitting on a branch covered in twisted knots, beneath a thousand-year-old crabapple tree, gazing at the clusters of pink crabapple petals on its branches. Sunlight refracted through the gaps in the petals, creating rainbows from the pink hues. The crabapple blossoms were so red, and a swarm of bees busied themselves among the flowers, longing to forever dream their springtime dreams beneath the crabapple tree. It seemed he too had become a bee; Zhang Sheng understood that the bee's perspective on the meaning of life, besides being busy, also included the fragrance of the flowers.

On the subway, a young girl in crystal shoes and a white chiffon dress sat beside me. She embodied the mindset of a young woman, not bothered by the older man sitting next to her, a young woman lost in her own thoughts. He too felt the fragrance of blooming roses emanating from her, the sweet scent making him dazed as he gazed at her long, white legs. The young girl, instinctively bolder, deliberately lifted her leg, revealing a glimpse of her skin. They sat close together, yet he could feel the young girl's heart pounding. Youth is always alluring, and the young girl's tolerant heart is different from that of an older woman. Young girls don't make older men feel pressured; they are like pure, innocent, beautiful butterflies.

Zhang Sheng still chose the open space and sat opposite the young girl. The girl was very disappointed. When she got off the bus, she deliberately made a big movement and angrily swung her skirt.

Near the door, a young couple was chatting. The girl had beautiful, large eyes, and her flushed face was beaming with a smile. The boy was quite calm, his composure concealing the carefree spirit that only comes with being in love. The girl would occasionally look up to listen to him, sometimes even smiling. Unfortunately, all they had given him in their relationship—pure love and romance—seemed to be pure affection. It seemed that when they were together, what else was there besides love and romance?

Jane Eyre and the poetess rejected him because he exuded a vulgarity that held no appeal for them. Jane understood him; they had sat at the same table for almost four or five years, and he had almost exhausted his youthful fantasies in her. Jane nearly despaired of him. She would always enter his world, only to resolutely let the vast white snow bury his last vestiges of dignity, stripping love and affection completely away, leaving him no room for illusion.

The poetess's final destination is the shameless man who has always silently devoted himself to her. His longing for love begins with Jane Eyre but ends with the poetess's angry mockery. He begins to doubt the idealism in novels, believing that love is purely fictional, and that girls in society are not like that at all.

He longed for a love story, like falling in love at first sight with a girl next door while sitting in his car, oblivious to everything else, a passionate and intense romance. Now, he was afraid of girls. Would they be like the three sisters? Even in hell, they would become ghosts, and their spirits might enter his dreams at any time. He did indeed suffer from some romantic fantasies, and this torment sometimes manifested in his hallucinations at night, causing him immense pain.

All love and romance begin beautifully, but what follows beauty is terrifying.

Jingjing, Zhuzhu, Dabaobei, and Tongtong will all find their own happiness. Song Yu, on the other hand, is a complete playboy. He performs on the stage of love, while his cronies watch him have affairs with countless girls as if it were a five-act play.