Back when Hu Bingbing’s boss had suddenly started suffering from severe throat pain, it felt like something had lodged in his throat, like a fishbone stuck, making it hard to drink, eat, and even breathe. He went to the hospital, but the doctors couldn’t find anything physically wrong. They prescribed medication, but after a few days, his condition didn’t improve.

Desperate, his boss sought out a renowned practitioner, who claimed that his problems were the result of having offended someone, and that he had been cursed with a "descend" spell—a type of malicious hex. This practitioner couldn’t help him; in fact, according to him, only the person who cast the curse could undo it. Without that person, the boss was doomed, as his throat pain worsened, and he even began coughing up blood. He couldn’t even drink water without feeling immense pain.

He consulted several other experts, but they all said the same thing—the curse could only be broken by the one who had cast it. The situation seemed hopeless, and the boss was on the verge of giving up. He could barely breathe, let alone think about his future.

Then, by chance, he was introduced to my grandfather, Tang Yun. At first, he didn’t have much hope, but he agreed to visit my grandfather’s shop. That visit turned everything around. My grandfather’s ghost tattoos worked like magic, and within three days, the boss was completely healed. His throat pain vanished without a trace.

The tattoo my grandfather had given him was a "ghost patting back" design. The image was terrifying—a female ghost with her face hidden in long, dark hair, her decaying hand gently resting on the boss’s back. The tattoo was so realistic that it seemed as if the ghost were truly there, gently patting him.

My grandfather had instructed him to sleep on his stomach for three nights, and sure enough, after three nights, the boss was completely recovered. He had no more issues with his throat, and the pain was gone for good.

Afterward, the boss was so grateful that he wanted to offer a large gift to my grandfather, but as usual, my grandfather refused it. From that moment on, Hu Bingbing was deeply impressed by the power of ghost tattoos. She was astonished at how something as simple as a tattoo could have such profound effects.

This experience stayed with her, and when she began to experience strange, terrifying dreams of the fetus she had aborted, she immediately thought of my grandfather’s ghost tattoos. She had hoped that they might help her, too.

But when she went to my grandfather’s shop, it was already closed, and no one knew where he had gone. Desperate, she searched for another solution. Finally, she remembered Xiao Zi Xing, who had worked at my grandfather's shop, and when she saw him, she knew she had to ask him for help. That’s how we ended up in her luxurious villa today, where she told us her story.

Stolen story; please report.

She wanted a ghost tattoo to rid herself of the horrifying spirit that had been haunting her, but I was still uncertain about what exactly she was dealing with. If it was just a ghost, the solution would be easy. I could give her a tattoo of a night demon or a rakshasa, both of which were commonly used to ward off evil spirits.

But there was one big question: was this really a ghost, or something else entirely? After all, the fetus hadn’t even fully formed yet—how could it become a vengeful spirit?

Just then, Xiao Zi Xing murmured, “This might be tài yuàn—the grudge of the unborn.”

“Tài yuàn?” I furrowed my brows. I had never heard of it before.

Xiao Zi Xing explained, “Tài yuàn is the resentment caused by multiple abortions. Fetuses have spirits, too, but they’re weak and incomplete. However, if there are too many abortions, their resentment can accumulate and turn into tài yuàn. It’s not a ghost; it’s pure, unrelenting negative energy. A typical ghost tattoo may not work for this.”

Hu Bingbing immediately interrupted, her voice tinged with annoyance, “Tài yuàn? I only aborted one child, not several! I’m not some animal having litters!” She clearly took offense, as this was a sensitive subject for her.

Xiao Zi Xing hesitated, then said, “I didn’t mean to imply anything, but something doesn’t add up here. If you only had one abortion, why would this tài yuàn be coming after you? It doesn’t make sense.”

Hu Bingbing, however, was adamant. “I swear, I only had one abortion, and that’s it. No lies!”

Xiao Zi Xing continued, “But still, this situation is a bit strange…”

As they debated, I suddenly caught sight of a figure in the hallway on the second floor of the villa. A man, pale and gaunt, stood there staring down at me. His mouth was moving, though no sound came out, and he seemed to be saying something to me.

I couldn’t help but read his lips. “She’s lying,” I mouthed.

Both Xiao Zi Xing and Hu Bingbing turned to me, confused, “What did you say?”

I snapped out of my trance. “Uh, nothing… I just thought I heard something.”

When I looked back up at the second floor, the man had vanished. It had only been a moment, but there was no sign of him anymore. I felt a chill run down my spine. Where did he go?

I turned to Hu Bingbing and asked, “Do you have another man living here?”

It was a blunt question, but after what I had just seen, I couldn’t help myself. Stars like Hu Bingbing were often surrounded by rumors and hidden relationships. Maybe that man had been one of them?

She smiled, though it was a little forced. “Another man? No. I live alone here, except for my assistant and the housekeeper. There’s no one else.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t fully convinced. She had to be hiding something, but I wasn’t about to press further. It wasn’t my place to delve into her personal life, especially when I was already feeling uneasy from the strange encounter with the man.

The question remained: was Hu Bingbing being truthful, or was there more to her story? And what exactly was haunting her? If it was a ghost, I could deal with it. But if it was tài yuàn, I’d have to think carefully about how to handle it. For now, I suggested another possible solution: I could give her a tattoo of quǎn hái (犬孩)—a special type of ghost tattoo used to ward off negative energy and protect the wearer from harm.

But before I could say more, I felt the weight of something unseen in the room. Something didn’t feel right.