"Me." Samuel Reed raised his hand. "That's me."

"Yeah, come in and wait for a bit." He jerked his chin at Eric Clark and Samuel Reed, then said to the young woman, "Make two cups of coffee." With that, he went in first.

The young woman said to the two of them, "Go on in and wait, it'll probably be a while before he's free. Coffee okay?"

Eric Clark nodded. "Sure, thanks."

Once inside, it was a pretty bright lobby—spacious, with two floor-to-ceiling glass windows letting in plenty of light. A set of sofas sat in the middle, facing a wall of cubby shelves filled with some books, but mostly models and ornaments. Below was a long table with two computers side by side, and the gaming equipment looked pretty professional. The hall connected to three other doors; besides that, there were chairs, racks, and all sorts of tattoo equipment.

A concrete staircase led straight up to the second floor. Eric Clark looked up but couldn't make out what was up there.

The young woman brought in two cups of coffee and told them to sit on the sofa and wait a bit. Then she knocked on a nearby door—just knocked, didn't say anything.

Eric Clark sat on the sofa, staring at a metal ornament on the shelf. He couldn't quite tell what shape it was—two metal pieces, twisted together in a way that was both warped and smooth, almost contradictory.

"You're here?"

The voice sounded behind him before Eric Clark even realized it. It wasn't until Samuel Reed nudged him with his elbow that he snapped out of it. Samuel Reed said, "He's talking to you."

Eric Clark turned around and saw Adam Wright at a glance.

Adam Wright was leaning against a small door. He was so tall it looked like his head would hit the doorframe if he were any taller. He was dressed the same as before—tight black T-shirt stretched across his body, the muscles in his arms boldly on display. He was still wearing gloves. After meeting Eric Clark's gaze, he said, "You'll have to wait for me a bit, about half an hour."

Eric Clark quickly nodded. "No problem, we're not in a rush."

"Okay." Adam Wright looked at him, then at Samuel Reed beside him, then turned and went back in—this time leaving the door open.

Samuel Reed was playing a mobile game off to the side, not looking up, and muttered, "Not bad."

Eric Clark ignored him. He could hear the buzzing of the tattoo machine, occasionally mixed with a few voices. One sentence Eric Clark heard clearly was Adam Wright saying, "If it hurts too much, just say so. We can take a break."

Judging by the voice, the client was probably a girl, but she didn't say much.

For some reason, hearing Adam Wright's words made Eric Clark feel like something gently tapped his heart. There was something about his tone... hard to describe, but it just had a certain charm.

Later, the bald guy finished first and came out. He'd been tattooing someone with some fancy English in another room. Samuel Reed looked up from his phone and asked, "All done, handsome?"

"Yeah, just wait, my big bro should be almost done too. He's doing yours, and your little design will take about an hour, no need to rush." He lit a cigarette and tapped on his phone while squatting on a chair.

"Why don't you do mine?" Samuel Reed looked at him. "My design's simple anyway, doesn't matter who does it."

"I'm not doing yours, I'm done for the day. Your design was taken by my big bro. If he doesn't want money, that's his business." The guy was blunt, didn't even look up at Samuel Reed, and continued, "I don't take jobs for my big bro, and I don't do favors for him either."

Samuel Reed laughed and said, "I wasn't planning on not paying. I don't even know your big bro, so there's no favor or anything. You do it, I'll pay you."

The guy shook his head. "Not doing it."

"Three thousand?" Samuel Reed asked.

"No." The guy kept smoking.

"Five thousand?" Samuel Reed put down his phone and continued, "Honestly, I'd feel pretty awkward having your big bro touch my butt, since he knows my friend, not me. You do it, I'll pay you double your normal rate."

The guy glanced at him, then at Eric Clark. Eric Clark nodded and said, "They don't know each other."

Samuel Reed said, "Eight thousand."

The guy stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. "Pay up."

Samuel Reed burst out laughing and immediately transferred eight thousand to him via WeChat on his phone. The guy got the money and waved at Samuel Reed, "Come in."

Samuel Reed tossed his phone and jacket to Eric Clark and followed him in. Eric Clark had no intention of going with him—he had zero interest in watching someone draw on another guy's butt. After a while, he heard the guy say, "I'll sketch a quick draft for you to see. The tattoo will look roughly like this."

Samuel Reed said, "No need to draw, just do it like the dog head from the meme, make it a bit cheeky."

The guy sounded a little impatient. "We never copy designs here, everything's original. If you're okay with that, I'll draw it myself. If not, forget it."

"OK, you draw." Samuel Reed said.

After a while, Eric Clark heard the guy ask, "Is this okay?"

Samuel Reed sounded very satisfied. "Yeah, that's great."

The guy grunted, then said, "Take off your pants. Don't you know where you want the tattoo? You want me to tattoo your pants?"

Samuel Reed asked him, "Does it hurt to get a tattoo on your butt?"

"It's alright, lots of flesh."