Uncle Hong's address was not disclosed by Grandfather and, being a newcomer, I had to consult Meng Xu. Her years of experience in Zhonghai City should have made her familiar with the area.
Meng Xu found it peculiar why I was looking for a crematorium. Wasn't it supposed to be about giving her a tattoo?
I couldn't muster the courage to reveal the grim truth about the tattoo ink—enough to terrify any commoner. Instead, I lied, claiming I needed to locate a man named Hong Wu, the owner of the crematorium, on urgent business. Her tattoo would have to wait until noon.
Meng Xu didn't make it difficult for me and even gave directions, stating that a crematorium lay about fifteen kilometers to the west, though she couldn't confirm if the owner was Hong Wu.
It's no wonder the crematorium's location was peculiar, as heading continuously west seemed a path reserved for the deceased.
After thanking Meng Xu and advising her to return at noon, I hailed a taxi to the crematorium. Indeed, after traveling fifteen kilometers, the site came into view.
The crematorium was vast, situated in a desolate area even more secluded than the suburbs— which seemed fitting.
Upon disembarking, the taxi driver sped off, faster than on arrival.
Inside the crematorium, three individuals were moving a body, all mute. I inquired after Hong Wu, and they pointed to a room within the facility.
As I approached the room, a rap at the door was met with an elderly voice, breath heavy, asking me to wait outside as he would be ready shortly. The sounds from within made it apparent that he was "busy"—Hong Wu's choice of activity within a crematorium was certainly unorthodox. Why not rent a hotel room instead, which couldn't cost much?
After about eight minutes, a small elderly man emerged; his countenance was fierce, his forehead scarred from cuts, looking about ten years younger than my grandfather and rather short.
He came out sweating profusely and panting. A glance through the door ajar revealed a woman's corpse, not a living person, prompting me to avert my gaze promptly.
This man was repulsive, sparking disbelief that my grandfather would recommend such an individual.
"What brings you here, lad?" inquired Hong Wu, lighting a post-activity cigarette.
I cut to the chase, stating my need for human blood, cremains, and corpse oil.
Exposing his teeth, stained from years of smoking, Hong Wu grinned at me: "Seeking ghost ink? You must be the grandson of Tang Yun."
I nodded, confirming his guess. It seemed he knew both my grandfather and the concept of ghost ink. Managing a crematorium made it easy for him to procure such materials; perhaps he had worked with my grandfather for years.
Without haggling, he provided three bamboo tubes within minutes, identical to those my grandfather had given me.
"Four thousand for the human blood, three thousand each for the rest—ten thousand in total," Hong Wu disclosed.
Astonished at the price, I queried why the human blood was more expensive, to which he responded that blood tends to coagulate post-mortem, making it difficult to obtain.
Hong Wu's awareness of the ghost ink market seemed deep, leaving little room for negotiation. Accordingly, I made the purchase, having earned thirty thousand the day before, only to spend ten thousand today.
With the materials in hand, I prepared to depart. Lingering in such a macabre place felt ominous and uncomfortable.
Hong Wu called me back just as I was about to leave, his smile hinting at an opportunity to earn substantial money.
I nodded fervently, expressing my aspiration to amass a fortune to save my grandfather.
Hong Wu suggested dark ink tattoos, mentioning that they offered far more lucrative rewards than light ink tattoos, which generally aimed for peace and modest profits.
He spoke with no regard for the taboo surrounding dark ink tattoos—a known forbidden practice among tattoo artists, including my grandfather.
Nonetheless, pressing the matter, Hong Wu informed me that the markup on dark ink tattoos was substantially higher than light ink, a difference like heaven and earth due to their potent effects.
Tempted by the profitability of dark ink tattoos, my resolve began to waver, considering whether I should venture into that forbidden craft.
Upon returning home, Meng Xu had not yet arrived, but Wang Xin had shown up, her greed unabated. She argued that one ghost tattoo was insufficient; she would need another for enhanced effects—one for attracting favorable romance.
When Wang Xin voiced her desire to have every wealthy man submit to her charm, I explained the limitations of the ghost ink, which did not confer such power.
Still, she was unwilling to accept anything less than a significant monetary gain and alluring influence over men. As she argued for her aspirations, I recognized her deep-seated materialism.
Wang Xin's persistence did not cease; she firmly believed my ghost ink could fulfill her wishes and was ready to pay any price.
Truth be told, light ink tattoos lacked the capability she sought, but dark ink tattoos...
One such design, the Nine-Tailed Fox, could immensely enhance feminine allure and romance, potentially turning a woman into an irresistible seductress. However...
Dark ink tattoos were malevolent in nature, and my grandfather considered them taboo. I was in a dilemma about whether to proceed with such a tattoo.
Noticing my hesitation, Wang Xin offered an additional incentive by proposing her body as payment for my services, alongside the fee.
I was utterly taken aback by her proposition, my mind clouded with indecision. The prospect of performing a dark ink tattoo was tempting, offering financial gains and carnal pleasure, yet the possibility of dire consequences loomed.
Should I proceed or let the opportunity pass, relunctantly watching potential earnings slip away? Despite her guaranteed lucrative payment, I remained torn, especially when considering my values and the warnings about the allegedly cursed tattoos.