After someone has died, especially if they've become a corpse, it's impossible for them to speak—let alone when my grandfather's head was missing. This bizarre situation confounded even Zhang Qing, a Taoist priest accustomed to the uncanny, who stood speechless with his mouth agape.
"Time's running out for me, so listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you," my grandfather's voice eerily emanated from the headless body. He started to give me a series of bizarre instructions.
First, he told me to earn one billion yuan within three years and then burn the actual cash on the Ghost Festival three years later to enable his return.
Secondly, he instructed me that if my parents ever came looking for me, I was to find a chance to kill them and burn their bodies, a chilling and cruel directive.
Thirdly, he revealed a perplexing bet from before my birth regarding someone else's twins—insisting I claim them both for the continuation of the family lineage. This person, Zhao Donglai, was in Zhonghai City.
Fourthly, he urged me to close the village tattoo shop and head to Zhonghai City, where a tattoo store he had previously run awaited me. The key and address were hidden in a black box under the bed. For the materials needed for ghost tattoos, he told me to seek out Hong Wu, who ran the crematorium in Zhonghai City. Using the skills he had taught me, earning a billion in three years was supposedly feasible.
Lastly, my grandfather disclosed that he had left to pay off an old debt but only managed to pay half because he had to return to save me. The remaining debtors would come looking for me.
After imparting these ominous messages, the headless body walked away, ignoring my cries, followed by a procession of ethereal figures that passed into the night, their faces pale as paper, their hair loose and wild.
Zhang Qing insisted that I stay inside, despite the evil spirits having been led away, as lone specters could still pose a threat. True enough, shadows still lurked outside in the dim light of dawn, but they dared not enter with Zhang Qing present.
The promise of safety came with the rising sun. However, when I went outside, there was no sign of my grandfather or his head. I was left not knowing whether he was dead or alive and where he had gone.
Zhang Qing had no answers except musings about the 'Headless General of Hell' and speculations over the profound likeness between my grandfather and the corpse he had encountered in the woods.
Disregarding Zhang Qing's ramblings, I was consumed by the quest to find my grandfather, but he seemed to have vanished forever.
Throughout the day, no trace of him was found. Remembering his instructions, I pondered the absurdity of having to burn a billion yuan of real money. How many tattoos would I need to ink to amass such an amount? It seemed impossible, but I was resolved to do whatever it took to bring my grandfather back.
Returning to the tattoo shop disheartened, I found Zhang Qing waiting for me. His condition had deteriorated, with more red fur and additional corpse spots, and his face was even paler. I wondered if he was turning into a zombie.
But he had saved my life, and I was bound to return the favor with a tattoo. After a meager meal, I decided on a 'win-hook' tattoo, a mythical general turned undead guardian of the netherworld. A powerful entity I hoped could counteract the sinister energy in Zhang Qing.
Zhang Qing was initially skeptical about being inked with such a formidable spirit, fearful that his destiny might not hold up to the potent symbol.
I reassured him, omitting the win-hook's teeth from the design, turning this ferocious tiger into a toothless one, incapable of harm. I also informed him of the need to cleanse the tattoo with animal blood on the first and fifteenth days of the lunar month, avoiding chicken blood due to its strong yang energy.
After much thought, I decided to place the tattoo on his arm, considering it inappropriate for his back or chest due to taboo implications.
Zhang Qing, left with no other options, placed his faith in me.
Using a special blend of ink made from blood, bone ash, and corpse oil, I set to work on his arm, a demanding task. During the process, Zhang Qing inquired about the ink's constituents, suspecting their morbid origins. I discouraged further questions; some truths were best left unexplored.
By eleven that night, the tattoo was complete, an imposing image of win-hook inked onto his arm. Afterward, we stayed another night in the shop due to the late hour.
Come morning, the red fur and corpse spots had receded from Zhang Qing's body, leaving just a dry mouth. He oddly craved blood, but I balked at the thought that my intervention had turned him into a zombie.
I fetched some pig's blood, which was bizarrely absorbed by the tattoo, turning it a reddish hue. Fortunately, this ritual seemed to quell Zhang Qing's craving for blood.
With his color and condition returned to normal, Zhang Qing expressed his gratitude. While ghost tattoos were indeed strange, their effectiveness was undeniable. As such, I refused payment for the tattoo, having now repaid him for saving my life.
Before departing, Zhang Qing left me his contact information, stating that should I find myself in Zhonghai City facing any trouble, I could reach out to him.
With Zhang Qing gone, I turned to the black box under my grandfather's bed—a relic of arcane mystery. Opening it, I was met with a chilling discovery that nearly made me cast the box away in horror.