Chapter Fifteen: A Prophecy Fulfilled

“This copper coin… The design is actually that of a Kaiyuan Tongbao coin. As the first copper currency in Chinese history, the Kaiyuan Tongbao naturally symbolizes wealth. If you get this pattern tattooed on the back of your hand, it will absolutely attract wealth and prosperity.”

“Haha, that’s perfect! When I make big money, you can close up this little shop of yours, tattoo copper coins on everyone in our company, and we’ll all be the bosses. You can hire a few tattoo artists, give them the copper coin tattoos too—how could money ever be a problem then?”

“Are you trying to exploit the system? You dare to fleece the luck out of feng shui?”

I truly have weighed the pros and cons of the Yin-Yang tattoo, pondering if there’s any way to avoid the dangers it might bring. Until today, when that peculiar Taoist struck right at my sore spot—I really don’t know enough about the intricacies of Yin-Yang fate.

Honestly, what I do now is based largely on the wisdom handed down by predecessors, like following a recipe. Yet every client has their own needs, their own fate; whether a particular design suits them, what effects a Yin-Yang tattoo might have—it’s never the same. That’s what troubles me most right now.

Fate originates from celestial feng shui, the chaos of Yin-Yang and the five elements. Everyone’s fate is set based on their birth chart, which roughly determines their life’s trajectory. Our task is to identify our fate, follow it, and confirm the path of our growth. For example, if you’re destined for business but insist on being a government official, you might spend your whole life as a mere clerk.

Of course, history is full of people who tried to defy fate—like Kongming lighting the Seven Star Lamp, a classic example of a failed attempt to alter destiny. It’s said only grand masters like Yuan Tiangang and Li Chunfeng could pull off such feats of changing fate and deceiving heaven.

In short, even those dealing in the unseen must keep learning and improving—lifelong learning, as they say.

The night passed uneventfully. Early in the morning, I got up to prepare materials for Xiao Wei’s Yin-Yang tattoo. The workers from Old Jin’s shop brought over the spirit early as well. Since this time it was a Yang tattoo, the design required less force, so the chosen spirit was gentler—rumored to be the lingering soul of a business titan who passed away from illness, meant to aid Xiao Wei’s entrepreneurial journey.

I readied disinfectants, tattoo tools, and dyes, sterilized the tattoo bed, and laid down a thin blanket. Everything was set—tattooing my own brother could not afford the slightest mistake.

I had Xiao Wei lie face down on the bed, covered him with the blanket, and placed his hands flat on the pad. After checking the sketch, I opened the jar containing the spirit, squeezed three drops of blood from Xiao Wei’s fingertip, and observed for a while. This spirit was exceedingly docile, showing no sign of resistance or aggression.

Relieved, I began the tattoo. The copper coin design was small, but its patterns, shape, and seal script were anything but simple. I focused intently as the needle pierced Xiao Wei’s skin, holding his hand steady. Over the years, he’d had a tough time—the calluses and cracked skin in his palm were palpable under my touch.

No exaggeration, tattoo artists’ drawing skills rival those of art school students. I’d practiced drawing since childhood, so freehand circles were second nature. In no time, a three-dimensional copper coin appeared.

With the base laid, I added shading for depth, using sketching techniques. The seal script was done in one breath—“Kaiyuan Tongbao” appeared on the back of Xiao Wei’s hand. Then I took up the dye, dipped it in the needle; since this wasn’t a large design, I couldn’t flood the area with color, so I painstakingly colored it stitch by stitch. The spirit in the jar seemed to cooperate, gliding through the needlework, as though my hand were guided by some unseen force.

After more than an hour, the exquisite ancient coin was finally done. I gently blew on Xiao Wei’s hand. Though it was a bit red and swollen from the needlework, the design satisfied me greatly.

Perhaps I’d focused too intensely, because suddenly I felt hungry. I had the breakfast shop downstairs send up a tray of steamed dumplings, and we ate and chatted.

“Why the sudden urge to work for Mr. Wang? Wasn’t things pretty good with Old Zhao?”

Xiao Wei scratched his head, embarrassed, his eyes fixed on the copper coin on his hand. “With Old Zhao, I don’t drive trucks, and he has a wife with a disability to care for—I can’t keep troubling him. Mr. Wang says I’m suited for business, and if I join him, he’ll let me handle some private hospital medical equipment orders. I suppose I’ve found a benefactor.” Xiao Wei looked very pleased, chuckling as he spoke.

“Alright, enough talking. With soy milk in place of wine, I toast Xiao Wei—may the boss prosper and grow rich!” I raised my cup of soy milk, heartily saluting him.

Farewells always come too quickly. In a blink, the morning was gone. We talked about everything, and when it was time for him to leave, I felt reluctant—my brother of so many years was moving to the other side of the city to seek his fortune. The business district is busy and complex; who knows how long until we meet again?

I watched him, laden with bags, disappear into the distance. My heart felt sour. Xiao Wei turned and waved, then boarded a bus. I hadn’t expected that this farewell would last half a year. When we met again, everything had changed—that’s a story for another time.

Back at the shop, I felt exhausted, lay on the sofa watching TV. Two calls came for tattoos, but I had no interest, and the callers hung up, slightly annoyed.

“Who cares, I won’t do ordinary tattoos today.” I popped open a can of cold beer, drank deeply, belched loudly, and switched TV channels aimlessly. Suddenly, my phone pushed a Weibo alert—“Could it be someone wants a Yin-Yang tattoo?” Curious, I clicked: “Shocking! Young tycoon brutally murders and skins his wife! Is it a distortion of humanity or a collapse of morality?”

I have to admit, such sensational headlines are hard to resist. Normally I wouldn’t click, but bored as I was, I decided to see what kind of horrific case it was.

“Late last night, a blood-soaked man barged into the xx police station. Naked, draped in a woman’s skin, his flesh mangled, he turned himself in. According to the authorities, he has confessed to his crime without hesitation.”

I clicked for details, only to be met with a pop-up: “Download the xx news app to view more.”

Cursing under my breath—just another marketing ploy. Even though the man’s mangled body was pixelated, one piece of skin hung loosely. I enlarged the phone screen for a closer look. To my shock, on the left chest of the skin he wore, two ghostly claws were tightly clasped together. This… this was Xu Feifei’s romance line tattoo!