The salon was filled with the acrid scent of nail polish and pretense. Madam Zhou meticulously painted her long, artificial nails a garish red while complaining about the nouveau riche who had moved into the neighborhood. Her regular customer, Old Mrs. Li, nodded sympathetically while getting her weekly manicure.
“These people have no culture, no refinement,” Madam Zhou declared, examining her handiwork with narrowed eyes. “Money cannot buy class.”
A strange tingling sensation overtook her as she reached for another bottle of polish. The salon’s modern decor began to blur and spin around her. When her vision cleared, she found herself in a dimly lit room with rough wooden walls. Her pristine salon uniform had been replaced by coarse peasant clothing, and her carefully manicured nails were short and stained.
“Girl! The master’s tea is getting cold!” a harsh voice called from beyond the door.
Bewildered, Madam Zhou - now apparently a servant in what seemed to be 19th century Russia - stumbled to her feet. As she carried the tray of tea to her new master’s study, she couldn’t help but notice the stark divide between the servants’ quarters and the opulent main house.
“You’re late again,” the master sneered, not bothering to look up from his papers. “Perhaps another reduction in wages will teach you promptness.”
Days passed into weeks as Madam Zhou experienced life on the other side of the social hierarchy. Her once-proud hands grew calloused from endless scrubbing and cleaning. She watched silently as the master’s wife showed off her perfectly maintained nails to visiting ladies, while treating the servants like furniture.
“It’s not right,” whispered Anna, another maid, as they prepared beds late one night. “They speak of culture and refinement, but their hearts are as cold as winter.”
Madam Zhou thought of her own dismissive behavior toward those she considered beneath her. “Perhaps,” she replied softly, “refinement should begin with kindness.”
Just as suddenly as it began, the strange spell broke. Madam Zhou found herself back in her modern salon, the bottle of polish still in her hand. Old Mrs. Li was looking at her strangely.
“Are you alright, Madam Zhou? You seemed far away for a moment.”
Looking down at her expensive manicure, Madam Zhou felt a deep shame. “I was just thinking,” she said slowly, “perhaps I should offer free nail care services at the community center. For those who cannot afford it.”
Old Mrs. Li’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but Madam Zhou continued with newfound conviction: “After all, true refinement isn’t about what we have, but how we treat others.”
That evening, as she closed the salon, Madam Zhou noticed her perfectly maintained nails had taken on a slightly salty appearance - a subtle reminder of the tears she had shed in another time, learning lessons of humility and compassion that no amount of money could buy.