It's midnight in Hongliang, and the ink stove is cold and gray.
Cheng Mengyang pricked his left arm with a needle, and the ink blood dripped into the remaining ink. Pine smoke suddenly rose, and the dragon pattern loomed. The bright line was that he would engrave the "Cheng Family Dragon Pattern" tonight to avenge the ink-fighting meeting three days later.
But hidden threads burned in the seams of his bones: there were mountains and rivers hidden in the dragon pattern, Qianlong's spies were traveling along the Xin'an River at night, and the lights of the imperial boats had already arrived at the dock.
Three years ago, tribute ink bombed the imperial court, the Cheng family was sealed, and the three words "Don't touch your eyes" written in blood by his father were branded on his back; in the past three years, he sharpened his ink and sharpened his knife until his fingertips were broken to the bone.
At this moment, he raised his hand to turn off the light and let the ink kiln sink into the black water, leaving only the dragon pattern on his arm shining gold under the fire.
"Cheng family has been here for a hundred years. Tonight we burn ink and touch the eyes."
The whispers drifted into the river with the wind.
In the distance, a yellow satin hangs from the mast of the royal ship, with a dragon embroidered on the satin, and a bead missing from the dragon's mouth - the hidden line is exposed for the first time: what the emperor wants is not ink, but the picture in the ink.
What Cheng Mengyang wants is for the real dragon to lose its eyes forever.
The fire broke and fell to the ground, and the blood-ink dragon pattern snaked along the arm, like opening a gate to hell.
He turned around and carried the ink out. His back was stretched by the lights of the imperial ship, like an unbroken ink, and he was walking towards the mountain of knives and the sea of fire step by step.
Bright line: The beginning of revenge.
Hidden line: the finishing touch.
