[Gold Powder GL] True Elegance Comes with Knowledge - Chapter 38

Yan Hui had once come across a saying online: “Never use your favorite song as your alarm.”

Now, she deeply agreed.

To be honest, this school anthem, composed by Mr. Wu Mei for Peking University’s twentieth anniversary, was an exquisite piece—elegant and refined, filled with lofty sentiment. It was a rare gem among classical compositions.

The reason it hadn’t become widely popular was largely due to the university’s prevailing trend at the time: an eagerness for innovation and a rejection of anything deemed old-fashioned. A school anthem set to a Kunqu-style melody, naturally, was hard to accept in such an environment. In contrast, Master Hongyi’s Evening Song found greater favor and circulation.

But Yan Hui belonged to a generation that had already established cultural confidence—one that was more inclusive and appreciative of the old and new alike. And she genuinely liked this melody.

Yet ever since setting it as her morning alarm, its charm had gradually begun to fade under the tyranny of repetition. Each morning, it interrupted her dreams, and with every unwelcome awakening, her fondness dimmed.

She had considered changing the alarm tone. But then she reasoned: no matter what song she chose, it would eventually meet the same fate. The more she rotated them, the more songs she’d have to “retire.” So, she gave up on the idea and continued using the anthem.

And so, as usual, this morning began with the familiar lyrics echoing softly: “Cherish the scholarly path, let not your youthful hair turn grey in vain.”

After exchanging good mornings, she and Qingqiu got up, dressed, and headed to the bathroom. Since they lived in a Western-style house, the upstairs bedrooms were fitted with modern conveniences like flush toilets and washbasins—very practical.

Standing side by side at the sink, brushing their teeth, had become one of countless cozy moments in their shared daily life.

In the mirror, the girls still looked youthful, but now seemed to possess a quiet, steadfast strength that was comforting to behold. Sometimes they’d catch each other’s eyes and smile—without any particular reason. Just because.

When you live together long enough, a wordless understanding form. It shows itself in countless small, unexpected ways.

After washing up came Qingqiu’s favorite part of the morning routine.

She would always be a step ahead, walking over to the vanity, picking up the comb, and turning back to say, “Come here. I’ll do your hair.”

Yan Hui would smile and sit down in front of the mirror.

The vanity had been a housewarming gift from Peifang.

Originally, Yan Hui had planned to buy one herself. Qingqiu’s family didn’t have a dedicated dressing table—just a simple mirror and a few basic combs and accessories. For a girl not yet twenty, it felt a little too austere. At the time, Yan Hui hadn’t really thought about including herself in that consideration.

But when they went shopping at the department store, none of the styles appealed to her—too ornate, too Western, or simply too old-fashioned. None felt right.

So, she decided to commission a custom piece from a skilled carpenter—after all, that was the usual practice for well-off families at the time.

Unexpectedly, Peifang gifted them one instead.

She had specially commissioned it, too—mindful that it was for two college students living in a garden villa. The design was refreshingly innovative. It’s true what they say: a thriving career rejuvenates a person.

Ever since Peifang had started her factory, it was like she’d unlocked a new level of insight. Though busier than ever, she seemed to glow with confidence and youth, her tastes improving along with her success.

And since it was such a lovely gift, Yan Hui saw no need to order another.

Qingqiu now stood behind her and began to comb her hair.

At Peking University, most female students wore their hair short—cropped neatly at the ears, a symbol of modernity and efficiency. Yan Hui and Qingqiu were exceptions.

Yan Hui’s view was simple: if the school had required a uniform hairstyle or dress code, she’d comply. But since it didn’t, there was no reason to cut her hair just to blend in.

As for Qingqiu, she had once considered cutting hers—but somehow, watching Yan Hui calmly keep hers long made her rethink. Over time, she decided it wasn’t so bad after all. And now, even though nearly everyone around them had short hair, as long as Yan Hui kept hers, Qingqiu felt no need to change either.

Still, as the weather grew hotter, long hair became less practical.

They came up with a solution: every morning, they helped each other do their hair, pinning it up neatly so it wouldn’t hang down their necks and backs. That made it bearable, even in the heat.

At first, Qingqiu felt uneasy. Spending over half an hour doing elaborate hairstyles while others were already deep into morning study—it made her feel a little guilty.

But Yan Hui didn’t see the problem.

To her, studying well and enjoying life weren’t mutually exclusive.

Only by living a rich, beautiful life could they show others the appeal of this new era—draw in like-minded souls. Excessive asceticism and sacrifice only pushed people away.

So long as it wasn’t indulgent, a sense of beauty and pleasure in daily life was important.

Reassured, Qingqiu soon fell in love with this routine. Usually so composed and steady—the one who could solve any problem without breaking a sweat—Yan Hui now sat quietly in front of her, letting her play stylist. The sense of emotional satisfaction it brought was hard to put into words.

After all, grooming and adornment had always been an essential, even intimate, part of feminine life—full of charm and meaning.

Qingqiu’s thoughts wandered, but her hands worked quickly. She first braided Yan Hui’s hair into two plaits, then coiled them at the back of her head into a lovely shape, securing everything with hairpins. The style would hold even through a busy day.

“Trying something new again?” Yan Hui asked, checking the mirror with a smile.

Qingqiu nodded. “I thought it might look nice. And it does.”

She had a knack for this sort of thing. In the beginning, Yan Hui had to teach her a few braiding and styling tricks, but once she’d learned the basics, Qingqiu started experimenting on her own—and soon got quite good at it. So good, in fact, that other girls on campus, intrigued by the fresh and fun hairstyles, began reconsidering the idea of growing their hair out.

Originally, short hair had been a statement of modernity. But Yan Hui and Qingqiu’s styles didn’t seem old-fashioned at all. If anything, they embodied a different kind of “new.” And curious students, always eager to explore new ideas, naturally didn’t resist.

Thinking about this, Yan Hui laughed. She stood up and took the comb from Qingqiu’s hand. “I don’t know how to do this. You’ll have to teach me.”

Qingqiu looked at their reflection in the mirror and smiled. “Alright.”

This was her little secret. Every day, she and Yan Hui wore matching hairstyles and outfits—a bright, unspoken display of their closeness. But to outsiders, it simply looked like a sign of deep friendship, like twin sisters choosing to dress alike.

And wasn’t that kind of delightful, too?