Wang Chong told me that on the day of Cuilian’s death, he wasn’t home when a white snake suddenly slithered into the chicken coop. Cuilian, fearing the snake might harm the chickens, grabbed a thick bamboo pole and killed the snake. White snakes were valuable, and Cuilian, being greedy, later sold the dead snake to a restaurant.

Just a few days after that, Cuilian started acting strangely. She often appeared dazed, sticking her tongue out like a snake, and at night, her eyes would roll back with a faint greenish glow. Wang Chong, sensing something was wrong, wanted to send her to the hospital, but the next day, she hanged herself.

After her death, something even more unsettling happened. Cuilian’s belly became swollen with the shape of snakes beneath her skin, which moved like veins. Her family was terrified and hurriedly buried her that same night, keeping the news of her death a secret.

Wang Chong also shared a disturbing story. When the funeral procession passed by my tattoo shop that night, the coffin suddenly tipped over. The body sat up abruptly, its face turned to stare directly at my shop. The pallbearers were too frightened to move, and only after Wang Chong kneeled and burned three incense sticks did the body relax and allow them to finish burying it.

After hanging up, I was left in a daze. My mind was buzzing, and my body was drenched in cold sweat. I had encountered a ghost during the day, and I had tattooed one.

The man, seeing I now knew the truth, said nothing and made to leave.

As he turned to leave, a cold wind began to rush into the shop, slamming the doors and windows open. I could almost hear eerie laughter—soft and sinister, but it felt unreal, like an illusion. Yet the wind was so cold, it pierced my skull with pain.

I realized that I had disobeyed my grandfather’s words. What consequences would I face? I had no idea, but based on what Grandpa had said, they wouldn’t be good.

At that moment, I recalled another piece of advice from Grandpa: “If someone comes to you for a ghost tattoo, give it to them. That person will save your life.”

This man wasn’t ordinary. He might be my salvation, and I couldn’t let him leave.

"Sir, wait!" I shouted to him as he was about to walk out. "I can do the ghost tattoo."

As soon as I said that, he stopped and turned back. His face was slightly furrowed, and he asked, "Do you mean it?"

Sure enough, the moment he returned, the cold wind ceased, and the eerie laughter disappeared.

I nodded and assured him that I had mastered all the techniques for ghost tattoos. I confessed that I hadn’t been honest before due to my concerns. I told him everything about Cuilian, including how the ghost tattoo had caused me to encounter this curse.

He sighed and spoke solemnly: "A white snake is a spiritual creature. Killing it was already a grave transgression, but selling its meat to a restaurant… allowing others to eat it and drink its blood… how could there not be consequences?"

I could understand why Cuilian’s death was cursed, but what did that have to do with me? I had no grievances with her. Why would she want to harm me?

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The man explained that Cuilian hadn’t intended to harm me. She had been reborn from a snake’s egg. After her death, she couldn’t rest in peace, so she sought to use the ghost tattoo to restore her former fetus, so she could leave the world in peace. If she had wanted to hurt me, she could have killed me long ago. The problem was, she didn’t know that ghost tattoos cannot be performed on ghosts.

That last sentence made my eyes widen. I quickly asked, "How do you know that ghost tattoos can’t be done on ghosts?"

The man replied that he had heard about the dangers of ghost tattoos. He didn’t know exactly why they didn’t work on ghosts, but he did know of one instance where a ghost tattoo master attempted to tattoo a ghost. The result was horrific: the master was torn apart by a hundred ghosts, his organs and brain eaten, leaving only an empty shell of a body. He died a brutal and agonizing death.

Hearing that, I was filled with dread. Could I be surrounded by ghosts now?

The man shook his head, his eagle-like eyes fixed on something outside, though there was nothing there.

"Today is the Ghost Festival," he said in a chilling tone. "There are likely not just a hundred ghosts surrounding you."

I collapsed to my knees in terror. My heart raced as I begged him for help. This man was no ordinary person, and as Grandpa had said, he could save my life.

The man helped me to my feet and nodded, but his voice was grave. "I will save your life, but you must save me first."

I finally remembered—he had come here for a tattoo.

He pulled down the collar of his shirt, and I saw something horrifying: his neck was covered in twisted red hair, and there were patches of what looked like corpse spots all along his skin.

I staggered back in shock. Those corpse spots… they were something only dead people had! Could he be a ghost too? And what were those terrifying red hairs? Could a living person have that?

The man reassured me. "Don’t be afraid. I’m not a ghost. I am a celestial master. What happened to me was the result of three corpses."

He explained that his name was Zhang Qing, a celestial master who specialized in dealing with evil spirits. About a week ago, someone had unearthed three coffins deep in the mountains. The coffins were cursed—anyone who touched them either went mad or died. No one dared to open them.

At first, the coffins were meant to be reburied, but some wealthy individuals didn’t believe in the curse. They paid Zhang Qing to open them.

When Zhang Qing used his powers to open the coffins, he was shocked to find that the bodies inside were completely intact, without any signs of decay. There were three corpses—two men and one woman, an elderly man and a middle-aged couple. Their funeral clothes suggested they had been buried around twenty years ago. The fact that they hadn’t decomposed was an ominous sign, and Zhang Qing wondered who they had been in life and why they were buried there.

Just as Zhang Qing was contemplating this, the three corpses suddenly sprang to life. They attacked him, scratching his arms, and then fled into the mountains.

Since then, Zhang Qing had been unable to find them, and fearing that the corpses might have become jiangshi (hopping vampires), he treated his wound with glutinous rice to remove the corpse poison.

However, despite removing the poison, red hair and corpse spots began to grow on his neck. Zhang Qing realized that either the corpse poison was beyond his control, or the affliction wasn’t corpse poison at all—because he hadn’t turned into a jiangshi.

Regardless, it was something he couldn’t heal on his own. That’s when he thought of the ghost tattoos. After much effort, he finally arrived at my shop.

The purpose of Zhang Qing’s request was simple: he hoped to use the power of the ghost tattoo to rid himself of the red hair and corpse spots on his neck.

As he finished telling his story, the wind howled again, stronger than before. Objects on the table were blown off, crashing loudly to the floor.

Zhang Qing said, "The night grows deeper, and the ghosts grow more numerous. They were cautious at first, but now they no longer fear me. By midnight, countless ghosts may surround us."

"Then if I give you the ghost tattoo, will you save me?" I asked, still reeling from everything I had just learned. As I spoke, I noticed a photo on the floor among the shattered pieces. It was the only family photo I had—a precious snapshot of my parents, me as a baby, and Grandpa standing behind my parents. Strangely, there was no sign of Grandma.

As I gazed at it, Zhang Qing’s expression changed. He looked at the photo with an odd, almost frightened expression.

"Corpse… those three corpses…" Zhang Qing muttered, staring at the photo.