Spirit of Thorns
There is a saying about tattoos: think carefully before you get one; it is easy to ink but hard to remove, so consider it thoroughly. If you could tattoo a wandering spirit upon your skin to bring you
Summers in Guangdong are scorching, the merciless sun brandishing its claws across the sky, while the cicadas’ relentless chorus echoes through the courtyard hidden deep within a certain alley.
In the yard, a radio plays, its opera melodies weaving through the air: “Spring fills the eyes with a thousand blossoms, the sights of the season never before seen. Twin swallows circle the emerald pavilion, butterflies dance in endless delight, flowers vie to show their splendor. Tender green willows lean by the pond, swaying gently in the breeze. My heart aches for time’s swift passage, beauty fading like smoke in a day. Alas, spring is so fleeting, sorrow lingers on. By the Peony Pavilion, a thousand blossoms bloom; let me climb the eastern wall and call spring to return.”
On the nearby bamboo lounge chair, a young man dozes, rocking gently as if he has melted into the very dream of the opera.
“Xu, someone’s at your shop! Aren’t you going to check?” A little boy in split-crotch pants dashes in from the gate, shouting breathlessly into the courtyard.
“All right, all right, I’m coming.”
My name is Zhang Xu, a “proper” craftsman.
To be precise, I’m a tattoo artist—a keeper of the needle and ink. My family runs a small shop called “Peaceful Yin-Yang Embroidery,” the only inheritance my grandfather left me. As for my parents, I’ve never seen them since childhood. Why the shop is called “Yin-Yang Embroidery” instead of something like “XX Tattoo,” I’m not quite sure. The name, to be honest, sounds rather odd, which probably explains why business is