My name is Roger Tang. My grandfather's name is Rhett Tang. I've lived with my grandfather since I was little - my parents left home when I was very young and never came back, as if they had disappeared.
My grandfather practiced a special trade: tattooing. He owned a tattoo parlor right at the entrance to our village.
Normally speaking, fewer people in rural areas get tattoos, so grandfather's business shouldn't have earned much. But strangely, his tattoo shop attracted not only clients from the city, but many from abroad as well. Even within the village, grandfather commanded great respect. Countless people came seeking his tattoos. What made me envious was that his tattoo parlor was always visited by all kinds of beautiful women - tattooing was not just a skill, but came with its perks too!
Grandfather's tattoos were so popular because he inked something truly magical... or perhaps more accurately, something quite sinister. To this day I still remember when he tattooed the village chief's beautiful wife, and how bizarre the whole affair was.
Speaking of the village chief, he was the wealthiest man in the village and had married a stunning wife - willowy eyebrows, slender waist, curvaceous figure, and fair, delicate skin. The only problem was that by forty, he still hadn't fathered any children.
Later, the village chief's wife came to see my grandfather. Curious, I eavesdropped and discovered they were actually discussing childbearing matters. Then she followed grandfather into the tattoo room, where the session lasted several days, continuing well past noon each time.
About a month later, the village chief's wife actually became pregnant. Being young at the time, I immediately concluded that grandfather and the chief's wife must have had an affair. I grew to resent him, calling him a dirty old man - at his age, he'd practically given me an uncle!
Of course, now that I'm grown I understand - if the village chief couldn't produce children after all these years of trying, grandfather at his age certainly couldn't have either. The secret must have been in that tattoo, though I still can't comprehend how a tattoo could make someone pregnant.
Later, the village chief's wife died during a difficult childbirth, though the child survived - a beautiful baby girl as lovely as her mother had been.
The village chief truly loved his wife. In his grief, he stopped eating until grandfather spent hours convincing him to take nourishment again.
Some time after, grandfather took me to pay respects to the village chief's wife. While burning paper offerings, he kept sighing with a deeply guilty expression, muttering: "Human filth... how could a Bodhisattva be tattooed on the body? There must be retribution. I shouldn't have given her that Child-Granting Guanyin tattoo. Alas! You loved him too much! So much you were willing to die just to give him a child!"
I didn't understand then, but now I realize - grandfather had tattooed the Child-Granting Guanyin on the village chief's wife to make her conceive. But one shouldn't tattoo a Bodhisattva on human skin, or there would be consequences. That's why the village chief's wife died.
Do you think this is evil? That a tattoo could have such an effect—make someone pregnant and even kill them?
Besides this, there's another sinister thing, also related to tattoos.
In the village, there used to be a street thug with nothing better to do, nicknamed Scar-brow. He went to the city for a few years and came back acting like a big shot. When he returned, he pestered my grandfather to tattoo a Guan Yu on him.
A Guan Yu tattoo meant you were a real gangster—domineering, respected. Guan Yu represents loyalty, righteousness, benevolence, and courage, perfect for someone mixing in that world.
But my grandfather refused. He said Scar-brow's fate wasn't strong enough to bear the weight of Guan Yu, and that if he got the tattoo, something terrible would happen to him.
Scar-brow wasn't the type to take no for an answer. He came back and burned down my grandfather's tattoo parlor, even dug up our family graves, and tried to kidnap me—he went to extremes.
At the time, I was still young. Worried for my safety, my grandfather had no choice but to agree. But he made one thing clear beforehand: if anything happened, he wouldn't be responsible.
Scar-brow didn't care. As long as my grandfather agreed, he nodded at everything. So, my grandfather tattooed Guan Yu on him.
Sure enough, about a week later, Scar-brow had an accident.
Rumor was, he was fooling around with a girl in the fields when a snake bit him.
It was just a grass snake—non-venomous, common in the countryside. But the strange thing was, Scar-brow immediately started foaming at the mouth, his body convulsing. By the time they got him to the hospital, he was already dead. Some say that at the moment he died, the Guan Yu on his back opened its eyes—terrifying.
When I was little, I thought Scar-brow died from the snakebite. But now, I realize it probably wasn't the snake that killed him—it was that tattoo. Maybe it was the open-eyed Guan Yu.
That tattoo was just too eerie.
Grandfather said if he'd tattooed Guan Yu on Scar-brow's chest, maybe nothing would've happened. But on his back? Scar-brow was doomed. He couldn't handle it.
A man like that deserved to die. Grave-robbing, trying to hurt my grandson? He was asking for death.
After that, I grew more and more curious about my grandfather's tattoos. When I turned fifteen, he finally agreed to teach me the craft.
Five years later, I'd learned almost all of his techniques. That's when I understood—my grandfather's tattoos were no ordinary ink.
There is a kind of sinister tattoo called Tattoos of Gods and Ghosts, and it is extraordinarily bizarre.
To understand Tattoos of Gods and Ghosts, we must start with the history of tattoos.
In ancient times, tattoos were called "Ink Punishment" or "Ní" in classical Chinese. This involved using a needle dipped in ink to pierce the skin's lower layers, creating permanent patterns or words. The practice of tattooing designs for blessings and worship dates back two thousand years in China.
Among these, a particular type of Yin-based mystical tattoo has the power to ward off evil, alter fortune, attract love, and ensure peace—commonly known as Tattoos of Gods and Ghosts.
My grandfather is the 18th-generation master of this craft, and I am considered the 20th generation due to the gap left by my absent father.
Grandfather said that today, only a handful of people still know the secrets of Tattoos of Gods and Ghosts, and it's possible our family is the last remaining lineage.
Unfortunately, even after learning the craft, I was forbidden from using it—allowed only to do ordinary tattoos.
Grandfather explained that Tattoos of Gods and Ghosts are a form of Yin sorcery, their malevolence beyond imagination. We who practice this art use the human body as a canvas, inscribing deities and spirits to manipulate the balance of yin and yang. But my skills were still immature, and attempting such tattoos now could cost me my life.
However, on the eve of this year's Ghost Festival, my grandfather suddenly left home. Before departing, he warned me:
"During the Ghost Festival, both people and spirits will come seeking tattoos. If a human asks, you may oblige—it could save your life. But if a ghost comes, never tattoo them, or the consequences will be unthinkable."
And I must remember: Only Yang-themed tattoos—never Yin-inspired ones!
Tattoos of Gods and Ghosts are divided into Yang (light) and Yin (dark).
Yang-themed tattoos are orthodox, featuring gods, immortals, dragons, and tigers. Though intricate, they are mostly safe.
Yin-inspired tattoos, however, are forbidden. Their power comes at a terrible price.
The techniques for both are similar, but their inks and embroidery differ drastically. The most horrifying part?
Yin-inspired tattoos use spirits and ghosts as pigment.
Their effects are a hundred times stronger than Yang tattoos—but at a deadly cost. From the very first day of my training, my grandfather forbade me from ever attempting one.
Though I've learned the craft, I've never actually tattooed anyone—neither Yang nor Yin. And as for how ghosts are turned into ink?
That, I still do not understand.
I had never seen a ghost before and didn't know if ghosts truly existed in this world. So when Grandpa told me ghosts might come seeking tattoos, I was completely baffled. The Ghost Festival hadn't even arrived yet - was the old man already talking nonsense about ghosts? However, his tone was deadly serious, with no hint of joking, so I quickly asked him what was going on and where he was going.
But Grandpa didn't explain much. He only said he needed to settle a decades-old grudge, then told me sternly to follow his instructions exactly. After that, he left immediately. Where exactly he was going or what he planned to do, he didn't say. But I noticed his hands were trembling - the first time I'd ever seen Grandpa in such an agitated state.
Worried, I called him the next morning to ask how things were going and when he'd return, but his phone was turned off.
Just then, someone entered the tattoo parlor - a heavily pregnant woman.
Her name was Emma, from a nearby village. We knew each other slightly. The strange thing was - what was she doing here? Since when do pregnant women get tattoos?