imperial psychologist

Chapter 518 Don't Wither
"Why do we need tattoos?" Bo Ling heard a girl crying and begging in front of him, "We are leaving here next month..."

The palace man sneered, "That's also from the Jiaofang Division, and there must be no less procedures!"

Bai Ling was a little taken aback by her actions—she suddenly realized that she had oversimplified the matter of "tattoo".

In the eyes of these girls, the pain caused by tattoos is not what they are most worried about.

Essentially... it's a shame that doesn't wash away.

Even if they leave Baihuaya a month later, even if they do meet a lover in the future, this brand will still follow them for the rest of their lives, constantly reminding them of their once inferior status.

Even if the household registration is changed again in the future, this stigma will still make people poke their spines hard, and they will not be able to lift their heads for the rest of their lives.

Bo Ling suddenly couldn't say any words of comfort.

Emotionally, she can understand this panic, but rationally, she clearly understands that this is just a constructed concept, just like women who don't know how to mend will be laughed at, and chastity is more important than life.

In the last life, Berlin himself had a tattoo on his hand——Never Forget 29th of May. It was the day when my aunt had an accident. She tattooed it on the inside of her wrist, and she could see it whenever she lowered her head.

Now the fancy size that fell on her body is also a number, but the meaning is completely different.

"Bai Ling...what should I do..." Ai Songqing murmured in panic with tears in her eyes.

Bai Ling looked back behind him.

It has already come down here, and there is no way to escape.

She gently embraced the weeping Ai Songqing, "...it's not our fault, we are innocent."

Ai Songqing sobbed and lowered her head.

Many people also lowered their heads like her. They covered their faces in shame and helplessness, and could only wait for the line in front of them to get shorter and shorter until it was their turn.

Before entering the door, Bo Ling took a step forward, walking in front of Ai Songqing, and stepped into the room where the girls were tattooed...even though it didn't help.

What the palace people said is true, there is a brazier next door, and iron blocks with printed patterns are baked on the basin.

There are more iron blocks like this on the side shelf - it is like movable type printing, the palace people spliced ​​the iron blocks together to form different fancy numbers.

If a girl struggles too much and is still reluctant to accept a tattoo, then they just put the person on the table and brand it.

The burns left like that may indeed cause serious infections...

"What are you looking at! I don't want to be burned here!" An old craftsman not far away patted the wooden chopping board at the innermost end against the wall, and said fiercely.

This chopping board is about half a person's height and one person's length, just enough for one person to lie on it.

Bo Ling walked over in silence, and the old master threw her a dirty white cloth. Bo Ling looked at the girls nearby. They took off their clothes, their hands were handcuffed above their heads, and they covered their bodies with the white cloth, revealing left shoulder.

The other masters held long needles in their hands and pierced them into their shoulders one by one, and then smudged them with black ink.

The girls wept and turned their heads away.

Bo Ling also lay down.

"Master, can I not wear shackles?" She looked at the master who was sterilizing the long needle with fire, "I promise not to move around."

The old master looked back at her, and replied coldly, "Yes".

Burling saw him wearing gloves, and the long needle in his hand was over and over again on the orange flame.

"A sin."

The old master sighed softly, withdrew his hand, turned and walked towards Bo Ling.

The needle came down quickly and pulled out again—it hurt a little more than Burling expected, but it wasn't unbearable.

Such continuous and slight tingling pain kept people awake. Hearing the whimpering of the girls nearby, Bo Ling suddenly thought of "Untitled" by the July poets.

She meditated in her heart.

——Don't step on the dew, because there are people who cry at night
There was another sound of footsteps in the distance. It was probably the new girls who had just been escorted here.

They may not know what is going on here.

Bo Ling took a deep breath, and adjusted his posture slightly while the master was changing the ink.

The black ink stained the skin of her heart and mouth, making it dirty.

- to be a white flower
Bo Ling looked down at his heart, stretched out his hand and wiped it lightly, and then sniffed his fingers.

The ink has a pungent smell.

—for I declare thus, that we are innocent, and then we wither

After a while, the table next to Bai Ling was empty, and Ai Songqing walked in.

Hearing her footsteps, Bo Ling looked sideways, raised his right hand and waved at her.

"Don't move!" the old master scolded.

"Sorry." Bo Ling withdrew his hand, and looked at the zenith again.

Ai Songqing wiped her tears, and lay down like Bo Ling. The master over there took a look at Bo Ling, and didn't ask her to wear shackles—it was actually inconvenient to wear shackles.

The surroundings were temporarily quiet, and Bai Ling turned his back to the sky, looking at the dim zenith here.

"Master, do you usually work in Baihuaya?" Bai Ling asked suddenly, "I saw several turtle claws with green dragon tattoos on their arms."

"Yeah." The old master frowned, and he gave Bo Ling a strange look—it was the first time that there were still people who came here to chat leisurely after so many years.

"But those blue dragons are very dark in color." Bai Ling said softly, "I have seen dancers with very bright patterns painted on their bodies before... Is that also something that tattoos can do?"

The old master sneered, "That's not a tattoo, it's glaze, painted on with paint; tattoos are only black, and after a long time, the color will turn blue."

"Does the master know how to paint glaze?" Bo Ling asked again.

The master's hand stopped, and several tattoo masters around couldn't help looking this way to see what was going on here.

"So what?" the old master dissatisfied, "If you are afraid, bite your own sleeve, don't chatter here, I don't have the time to chat here."

"...Master misunderstood." Bo Ling said softly, "I think the master is very steady, he is probably a craftsman. When I was in May Crescent, I also wanted to paint that kind of glaze, but I never came across it. The right master."

The master froze for a moment, then laughed.

"The old man's craftsmanship is very expensive in Baihuaya."

Bo Ling smiled, "Then what's the name of the master?"

"My surname is Ji." He replied softly.

After the tattoo was done, Burling got dressed.

The old master reminded her not to touch the water for a few days, and do not expose this part of the wound. After a period of time, the swelling will disappear and the wound will no longer hurt. Washed.

After washing, the flower size will be very clear under the collarbone under the left shoulder.

Bo Ling nodded, and then followed the instructions of the masters, and left alone through another door.

There are no forks on this road, and the lonely corridor is deep and silent, and Berlin can even hear the sound of the wall lamps on both sides of the road.

There was a burning pain just below the left shoulder.

Bo Ling looked at the fire at the end—at the end of the road, the turtle claws were already waiting there.

She quickened her pace.

To bloom as a white flower.

Even if you cannot escape the fate of withering, you must do your best to open up.

(End of this chapter)