Mysterious Man

I had just finished the Ghoul-eater Rakshasa tattoo when it emitted a faint black mist. The mist floated like it was alive, rising from Chen Cuilian's tattoo and delving into her belly.

Chen Cuilian shivered and then looked at me with frightened eyes. Speechless and bewildered, neither of us knew how to react. It was my first time performing a ghost tattoo, and I had no idea its power could be this sinister.

Half a minute later, a swirl of black mist on Chen Cuilian's belly solidified into a tiny figure that grabbed at the snake and bit down. Chen Cuilian screamed in pain, clutching her belly and rolling on the tattoo bed.

What was even more terrifying, I heard giggling emanating from the tattoo, sending chills down my spine. Yet upon closer inspection, the tattoo seemed normal.

Panic set in. Had I botched the tattoo? Was I about to be responsible for a tragedy, potentially costing two lives? Having never done a ghost tattoo before, my fear and nervousness were skyrocketing.

I hurried to Chen Cuilian's side to comfort her and see if she was alright, but she pushed me away and bolted to the restroom.

After an agonizing ten minutes, Chen Cuilian emerged from the restroom, much to my relief. She reported feeling better and lifted her shirt to show that the swellings on her belly, which had resembled snakes, were now gone. She explained that she had expelled a lot of blood and suddenly felt lighter, her stomach now looking normal.

It seemed that the black mist was the Ghoul-eater Rakshasa tattoo taking effect, and apparently, the ghost tattoo had worked, strangly effective albeit eerie.

Chen Cuilian, now relieved and grateful, thanked me profusely before leaving with a smile. She had brought the money, a sum of ten thousand yuan, in her bag. Even though it was unusual for someone from a rural village to carry that much cash, I didn't dwell on it; I knew her, and the transaction was genuine.

I found myself in awe of my grandfather's knowledge. How could he have known that someone would need a ghost tattoo today? The thought of actual ghosts seeking tattoos sent a shiver through me.

It was the Ghost Festival, and I couldn't help but worry, especially with my grandfather gone and his phone still off.

As I was about to close the tattoo shop and head home around 8:00 pm, a man entered the shop.

He was about thirty years old, dressed in black, with almost unnaturally pale skin and unusually long fingers. He carried a black backpack and was a stranger to me.

Asking for Grandfather, the man seemed somewhat dissatisfied with my explanation that Tang Yun was out. When he inquired if I knew how to do ghost tattoos, alarms went off in my head. It was already evening, and remembering my grandfather's warning, I lied that I didn't possess the skill and suggested he wait for my grandfather's return.

He asked when my grandfather would be back, and I could only respond with uncertainty. Showing disappointment, he turned to leave but then stopped and warned me that my facial appearance looked troubling, as if I was cursed, and that I should stay inside the shop during the Ghost Festival for safety.

Confused and a bit offended, I demanded an explanation, and the man gestured to my pockets, insisting I check them.

Reluctantly, I pulled out the money, only to discover, to my horror, that it was all paper money for the deceased, not the real currency I thought I had received.

Perplexed and frightened, I questioned Chen Cuilian's motives for giving me this money. The man ominously suggested that only the dead use such money, insinuating that I had an encounter with a ghost.

Could Chen Cuilian have been a ghost? It seemed ludicrous, but reflection on the day's events, how the sky remained cloudy and Chen Cuilian's use of an umbrella, started to suggest an eerie possibility.

I wanted to rush to her house to uncover the truth, but the man advised against leaving the shop, suggesting that it could lead to dire incidents.

Heeding his advice, I stayed in the shop and managed to obtain Chen Cuilian's husband Wang Chong's contact through WeChat.

Wang Chong's voice sounded rough, as if he had been crying. After a short talk, I broached the subject of Chen Cuilian, and to my disbelief, he informed me that she was dead, buried just the night before.