Here’s the story. About a week ago, Wang Xin’s boyfriend invested in a movie where she was cast as the female lead.

It was a horror film, and according to the script, Wang Xin had to lie in a coffin to play a ghost. Everything went fine during the shoot, but after returning home, strange things started happening. For several nights in a row, she experienced sleep paralysis—she was fully conscious but unable to move, and she could feel someone hugging her from behind. The hands were cold as ice, and at first, they just held her gently, but later, they grew bolder and more invasive.

In the shower, she often felt a pair of eyes watching her. The gaze was cold, eerie, and terrifying. She couldn’t see the eyes, but the feeling was unmistakable.

Wang Xin was clearly frightened, and she suspected she was cursed, which was why she was searching for a way to dispel the evil energy. When she saw my ad for ghost tattoos in the group chat, she decided to give it a try.

I told her not to worry; the tattoos were effective for dispelling evil, but I needed to understand the root of the issue. Why was she cursed, and what kind of curse it was, so I could recommend the appropriate design.

No one gets cursed without reason. There must have been something she inadvertently disturbed, or some "dirty thing" she crossed paths with.

Wang Xin thought for a moment and said there hadn’t been anything particularly strange happening to her recently, except for the coffin used in the film shoot.

“The coffin? What do you mean?” I asked, sensing this might be the key.

Wang Xin explained that during the shoot, the original prop coffin broke, and they couldn’t use it anymore. The crew went to a local coffin shop, but it had gone out of business. They had to travel far to find another shop, but with their tight budget, they couldn’t afford the trip. So, the director decided to use a real coffin that had been left in an abandoned house.

That house had once been a mortuary, where bodies were stored, sort of like a modern-day morgue. The director chose the location because the atmosphere was perfect for shooting a horror film—aged and eerie.

But the coffin wasn’t just any old piece of furniture. It had a story. It belonged to the son of a wealthy landowner. This man was a heavy smoker, weak and frail. On his wedding night, his excitement got the best of him, and he passed away from a heart attack while smoking. A truly unlucky man.

Later, a flood swept through the village, and somehow, the coffin was carried away by the water. The coffin lid was ripped open, and his remains were lost. Eventually, the coffin was recovered, but the body was never found. Since then, it had been stored in the abandoned mortuary.

The director, thinking it was a fitting prop, used that very coffin for the film.

There was also something Wang Xin hesitated to mention. She urged me not to tell anyone, as it wasn’t exactly respectable. I promised to keep it a secret, and she finally opened up.

Wang Xin admitted that the director had a strange habit—he liked to sleep in the coffin with women. At the time, she hadn’t known what was going on, but she had agreed to do it.

The director had a lot of resources, and Wang Xin was looking to climb the social ladder. She knew her boyfriend, a wealthy businessman, was not faithful. He had many women, and she was just one of them. She also knew he only wanted her body, and once he was bored with her, he’d probably discard her. So, she was trying to find more connections, more “backup” in the industry.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Wang Xin didn’t feel any guilt or shame about this arrangement. On the contrary, she was somewhat proud of it. In the entertainment industry, it was common, and she had learned to take advantage of it. She was smart, and she was getting what she wanted.

It wasn’t like the situation with Xu Meng, who had been forced into this life due to her circumstances. Wang Xin was completely different. She was driven by vanity and materialism, and she was willing to do whatever it took to succeed.

I thought to myself, what a mess the entertainment world must be. But then again, I wasn’t here to judge. I had opened this business to make money, and her type of client was no different from any other.

After she finished telling her story, I could clearly see where the problem lay. I told her the issue was with that coffin. The man who died young had left behind unfulfilled desires and resentments. His spirit had likely attached itself to the coffin, unable to move on.

When the director used the coffin, it must have awakened that restless spirit. And when Wang Xin slept in it, the ghost likely took a liking to her, thinking of her as a potential "bride."

Wang Xin was horrified. She immediately grabbed my arm and asked, “What should I do? I only want to deal with the director and the bosses, but not with any ghosts!”

I shook my head. What on earth was this woman thinking? Even in the face of a ghost, she was more concerned about her own interests.

I reassured her that there was no need to worry. The ghost didn’t seem malicious—it was probably just attracted to her, so I could help her with a protective tattoo to drive the spirit away. It should work, but I needed to tattoo her with a design called "Ghost Beggar Yacha."

I explained the design and its power. Wang Xin wasn’t entirely convinced but agreed to go along with it. “If it doesn’t work, I’ll come back and ruin your reputation. I know a lot of powerful people, and I can make sure this little shop of yours is destroyed. But if it works, I’ll help you spread the word. I know a lot of rich people, and once the word gets out, your business will take off.”

I assured her that I wouldn’t let her down—no refunds if the tattoo didn’t work.

The tattoo cost 20,000, and she agreed without hesitation.

I set up my tools and dyes and told her to lie on the tattoo bed. The "Ghost Beggar Yacha" had to be tattooed on her back. Wang Xin exposed her smooth skin, and I couldn’t help but admire her flawless figure.

“Now you probably regret not agreeing to be with me back in high school, huh?” she teased, looking over her shoulder. “If you had, maybe I would have been your first.”

I just smiled and said nothing. Wang Xin did look beautiful now, having undergone plastic surgery and fitness training, but I had no interest in her. Women like her were just trophies for rich men. I had no interest in playing the fool, and besides, I didn’t like the idea of being a "side dish."

I began the tattoo, and midway through, Wang Xin got bored and started bragging about her wealth. She talked about her luxury cars, designer bags, and how much money her sponsors spent on her every year.

She even mentioned how she had been with many directors and bosses, treating them like easy prey. "I spent millions just on myself every year," she said with a smirk.

It annoyed me. This materialistic, vain woman really thought she was something. But I kept my cool. After all, this was business. If I didn’t need the money to support my grandfather, I might have thrown her out by now.

Seeing that I wasn’t responding, she seemed to realize it and fell silent.

After several hours, I finished the tattoo. "Ghost Beggar Yacha" had a staff, wearing ghostly robes, with fangs bared.

I showed her in the mirror, and she looked a bit spooked. "It looks a little too scary," she said. "I’m going to have to keep the lights off when I’m with the bosses now."

She wasn’t entirely wrong—back tattoos could be hidden with clothes, but the protective power would still remain.

I wasn’t bothered. It wasn’t my problem.

Wang Xin paid without complaint and left, reminding me once more that if the tattoo didn’t work, she would come back to ruin me.

I’d earned 30,000 today—20,000 from Wang Xin and 10,000 from Su Qing. It had been a profitable day.

Just as I was about to close up for the night, a woman appeared outside the door.