Scammer of Silicon Valley
The salon lights were way too bright, bleaching everyone’s flaws into 4K. John sat in the spinning chair like he owned the place, the barber clipping the sides clean, sharp fade, thick curls on top, just the kind of haircut every male engineer gets when he secretly wants a Silicon Valley trophy wife. He adjusted his glasses, checked his reflection with a satisfied smirk, then jerked his chin toward Wang Hui: “You’re up next. Trim that head bush. You’ll look less… defeated.” Wang Hui slouched in the waiting chair like a veteran of disappointment, legs stretched out as if gravity owed him money. “A grown man trying to look all pretty?” he scoffed. “Trying to impress dudes or impress women? Pick a struggle.” John turned to him slowly, the face of someone who sincerely couldn’t believe the trash he was hearing: “Hui… wow. No one out there cares about you, huh? Look at your belly. It’s rounder than your future. Even if your wife tolerates your… shape , shouldn’t you worry she’ll ...
