The weird thing was, despite such a large man hanging from his thigh, Paul remained completely oblivious—it didn't even hinder his walking.
What was even stranger was that the moment I blinked, the man vanished, and Paul disappeared from the front of the tattoo parlor.
I asked Stein if he had just seen a man hanging upside down from Paul's thigh.
Stein said, "Am I tattooing your eyes now? This shop only has the three of us men—where would some guy be hanging upside down from Paul's leg doing acrobatics?"
That's strange. Was I really seeing things? No… maybe it was the Yin-inspired Tattoo.
Forget it. I didn't care too much. The Yin-inspired Tattoo worked, and I made money—that's a win-win. I couldn't afford to worry about anything else.
Today, I received another $100,000. It seemed I was one step closer to seeing my grandpa again.
Chloe: 20,000.Stella:10,000.
Luna: 10,000.Olivia:120,000.
Paul: 100,000.Plus30,000 from the Tattoos of Gods and Ghosts paints.
In just about a week, I'd actually made $230,000.
To be honest, Yin-inspired Tattoos still made money the fastest. If I only did Yang-themed tattoos, earning $100 million would be nearly impossible. It seemed I still needed to keep taking Yin-inspired Tattoo jobs—one order was worth ten Yang-themed ones.
Around noon the next day, Paul gave Stein some good news. He didn't go into detail—just asked if Stein had heard of the legend of "thirteen men in one night." His wife, who had been screaming all night, had never had such a good time before.
I warned him not to overdo it. "Moderation is key—don't push it until you break. That Yin-inspired Tattoo isn't omnipotent."
Stein, for some reason, suddenly grew envious and asked if we could give him a free Golden-Scaled Python tattoo.
I said, "Are you out of your damn mind? My Yin-inspired Tattoos cost $10,000—you think you're getting one for free? Besides, you don't even need it. After getting it, your hands might get too tired in the future."
"Fuck you!" Stein cursed, then never brought it up again.
With Paul, I thought that was the end of it—that the young couple would live happily ever after. But things took an unexpected turn, leading to tragedy.
Paul's downfall came six months later. That day, Stein took me to the hospital to see him—because he'd become a eunuch.
As it turned out, after Paul recovered, he didn't settle down. His relationship with his wife, Ella, might not have been true love. If Paul hadn't been defective, would he have ended up with a wife like Ella?
At first, the two were doing great, growing more and more affectionate. But a handsome, normal man is bound to stray. Facing the same fat, ugly woman every day, Paul grew tired.
Paul cheated—and not just once, but with different women over time. At first, he was sneaky about it, but gradually became more brazen, no longer caring about Ella's feelings. He even flirted with other women right in front of her.
With his handsome looks and ability to make women linger, he attracted more and more partners. Some wealthy women even offered to support him—why would he care about Ella, his "chaff wife," anymore?
He had only chosen Ella because of his previous shortcomings. Now that he was "cured," she had become an obstacle.
Eventually, Paul filed for divorce. No matter how much Ella cried or made a scene, it was useless—he had long wanted to ditch this ugly, dark-skinned, fat woman.
In the end, Ella laughed through her tears, her face full of despair. She stopped begging him to stay but asked for one last meal together. Paul agreed without suspicion.
That meal turned him into a eunuch.
The deeper the love, the deeper the hatred. Paul's philandering and cruelty drove Ella to madness.
She drugged the soup. When Paul woke up, he was tied to a chair.
Fully conscious, he watched as Ella took a knife and—slash, slash, slash—turned him into a eunuch, ensuring he could never cheat again.
Honestly, just hearing this makes any man feel a phantom pain down there, let alone Paul experiencing it firsthand.
Ella returned every ounce of suffering she'd endured, blade by blade, to this scumbag.
Afterward, she tore up their marriage certificate and jumped off a building.
Ella declared that Paul would never cheat again—and she would never divorce him.
Maybe she still loved this bastard. But she hated him just as much.
By the time Paul reached the hospital, the doctor just shook his head. It was too late—Ella had chopped it beyond repair.
We were Paul's last hope. When Stein and I arrived, he was writhing in pain, begging me to save him.
I almost laughed. "You think Tattoos of Gods and Ghosts are fairy magic? That they can regrow what's gone?"
"You did this to yourself. I already saved you once—you* threw it away!"*
But Paul wasn't listening. What man could accept being a eunuch? Ignoring the agony, he kowtowed three times, blood soaking his pants as his wounds reopened.
I said, "Even if I could make you a Tattoo of Gods and Ghosts, do you have the money? If such a powerful tattoo existed, it'd cost over ten times $100,000."
Paul said he didn't have the money, but his girlfriends did. He swore he'd pay any amount if it could restore him.
Panicked, he started calling all his girlfriends—including those wealthy women—but without exception, none would answer his calls, let alone offer money. Those who did pick up hung up after just a few words.
In Paul's current state—a eunuch, a wreck—who would still care about him? Did he really think these women loved him? If they had, they wouldn't have chased after a married man in the first place.
I patted Paul's shoulder and said, "Brother, stop fighting it. The only woman who would've given you money unconditionally was the one you hurt. She's not in your contacts anymore."
Paul froze. His phone slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor. Then he clutched his head and sobbed—completely broken.
I'm not sure why he collapsed like that. Stein, worried he might do something drastic, rushed to call doctors and nurses. I left, but Stein stayed out of pity, tending to him for a while. Later, I heard Paul disappeared to some remote countryside and was never heard from again.
That wraps up Paul's story—six months' worth of events. Now, let's rewind to the present.
For two days after Paul got his Golden-Scaled Python tattoo, business was dead. Chloe didn't come for her morning dew, and Stella didn't even show up.
Bored, I dug out Jennings' address. Looks like it's time to go find my twin wives!