The Company

Chapter 19 Nine Dragon Cup

Exhausted, the Doctor emerged from the operating room, scribbling a brief surgical report on the medical chart as he walked. Having just completed an eight-hour surgery, his legs felt weak after standing at the operating table all day.

He desperately needed a hearty meal to replenish his energy. Looking at the medical chart in his hand, the Doctor noticed his handwriting was devolving into illegible scribbles. Oh well, everyone's was the same—as long as they could understand each other's writing, it was fine. Fortunately, the Director handled most interactions with patients and their families, so as an assistant, he only needed to complete the paperwork.

It was already evening. While the emergency building remained crowded, the corridors in other parts of the hospital were nearly deserted. The Doctor once again felt grateful for his transfer from the emergency department earlier this year. Smiling, he greeted the nurse on duty, submitted the medical chart, and headed to the break room to change before going home. Oh, and he might as well stop by the Dumb Shop. If the Boss hadn't eaten yet, he'd drag him out for a feast.

The thought of delicious poached fish slices instantly lifted his spirits, and he quickened his pace. As he turned the corner and was about to descend the stairs, he unexpectedly collided with someone coming up along the wall. The Doctor inwardly cursed—he couldn't retract his stepping foot, and the handrail was too far on the other side to reach. Luckily, there was also a handrail on his side, installed for patients with mobility issues. His left hand grabbed the rail, but he couldn't stop his forward momentum. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the other person carefully holding a cup, undoubtedly filled with hot water. If he crashed into them at this rate, it would surely spill all over them.

Faced with the choice between being drenched in hot water or tumbling down the stairs, his brain hadn't made a final decision, but his body had already reacted. Pushing off the handrail with his left hand, he leaned to the right.

An ordinary person would have jumped to the right side of the stairs and grabbed the opposite handrail to stop the fall. But the Doctor treasured his hands above all else—he even wore rubber gloves for washing dishes and chores to protect them. Fearful of any accident that might injure his hands, he couldn't risk hurting his wrists by grabbing the rail. He even suppressed the instinct to break his fall with his hands, instead pulling them to his chest and reflexively closing his eyes, bracing for impact with his back.The expected pain never came. The doctor felt an arm encircle his waist, pulling him back from the brink of falling with undeniable force. Surprised, he opened his eyes only to realize that his glasses had long since been lost during the series of mishaps. Through blurred vision, he discovered it was the very person he had nearly collided with who had saved him. The other hand of his rescuer still held a cup steadily, clearly indicating the act was effortless and incidental. The doctor could barely make out that the person wore a hoodie covering their head and face; with his severe nearsightedness, discerning their features was impossible. Yet, he instinctively felt this wasn’t an employee from their hospital. Awkwardly regaining his footing with the stranger’s help, the doctor lowered his head to search for his fallen glasses while clearing his throat to say, “It’s very late. Visiting hours for family and friends are over. If you need medical attention, please go to the emergency building.”

“Imperial Brother…” A faint murmur reached him, causing the doctor’s body to stiffen as he almost doubted his ears were playing tricks. But the next moment, his attention was diverted by a slight pain in his left hand. Huh? When had he cut his hand? How could he have been so careless? Fortunately, it was his left hand, and the wound wasn’t deep…

“Your glasses.” The person’s voice rang out coldly, this time close to the doctor’s ear. Seeing something extended from his left side, the doctor reflexively reached out with his left hand to take it.

The moment his fingertips touched the icy object, he knew it wasn’t his glasses at all. But before he could see what it was, his consciousness seemed to be ripped from his body, and he knew nothing more.

Huhai caught the doctor as he slumped, pulling him back into his embrace with one arm, while his other hand snatched the jade cup before it could hit the ground.

Staring at the glaring bloodstain on the jade cup, Huhai curled his lips in satisfaction. His crimson eyes then turned expectantly toward the man sleeping in his arms.

“Imperial Brother, I know you’re still in this body. As long as I seal away this soul, you will awaken once more.”

“That’s the situation. By the time the hospital security noticed something was wrong and rushed over, he was already unconscious. The person left this jade cup behind and fled.” Chun Ge stood inside the Dumb Shop, frowning as he inhaled the peculiar incense filling the shop. “He’s still asleep. I suspected this cup might have come from you, Boss, and didn’t want you to worry, so I brought it over first.” As he spoke, he carefully retrieved a white jade cup from his chest, placing it gently on the counter.

The Boss didn’t reach to pick up the white jade cup, merely staring at the glaring bloodstain for a long moment before stating calmly, “This Nine Dragons Cup isn’t from the shop.”"Is this white jade cup called the Nine Dragon Cup?" Chun Ge glanced at it and indeed saw eight divine dragons carved in relief on the cup's surface, each in a different pose. Combined with the handle, which was entirely carved into a complete dragon, there were exactly nine dragons in total. Even without knowing its origins, Chun Ge could tell this Nine Dragon Cup was extremely valuable. Knowing the doctor often lingered in this antique shop, he feared this cup might be another precious antique. If he broke it, he could never afford to compensate. "Then I'll leave it with you for now, Boss. I'm afraid with all the comings and goings at the hospital, it might get lost or damaged. I'll head back now!" Chun Ge always felt this antique shop was eerily gloomy, and staying even a moment longer made him uncomfortable all over.

"Is he alright?" the Boss asked suddenly as Chun Ge turned to leave.

"Oh, he's still asleep. We've already checked him over—no issues. He's just exhausted from consecutive high-intensity surgeries. We'll talk when he wakes up. I'm off!" Chun Ge, eager to return to work, replied casually before leaving.

The Boss said nothing, merely stepping into the inner room to find a brocade box of similar size and placing the Nine Dragon Cup inside.

"Boss, what did you just put in there? I saw it! Quick, let me have a look!" As soon as the doctor regained consciousness, the first thing he heard was the Curator's familiar chattering.

Huh? Was he in the Dumb Shop now? He distinctly remembered being at the hospital earlier. The doctor struggled to open his eyes but found only darkness, his body completely immobilized.

What was going on? Was he trapped in a nightmare? Or had he actually fallen down the stairs and broken every bone? Yet he felt no pain at all!

As his mind raced wildly, a sudden burst of light flooded his vision. The Curator's face, magnified several times, loomed before him, startling him into a daze.

The Curator, however, was even more shocked, gasping sharply. "Heavens! Nine dragons! A thin white jade cup! This jade quality! This style! Could it be the Nine Dragon Cup beloved by Emperor Kangxi himself?"

"Nine Dragon Cup!" A calm voice accompanied the creak of the carved door, and the doctor easily recognized it as belonging to the painter who frequented the Dumb Shop. No one else’s tone carried such plain yet profoundly arrogant undertones. "What a coincidence, you're here too?" The Curator glanced sideways before his gaze snapped back. "The Nine Dragon Cup was a wine vessel. When filled with jade wine, one could see nine churning dragons inside. Legend says the famous Jiangyang thief Yang Xiangwu attempted to steal it three times from the palace but failed each time, cementing the cup's fame. After Kangxi's death, it was buried with him in the Jing Mausoleum as his treasured possession. During the War of Resistance, a band of looters ransacked the tomb amid the chaos, and the cup vanished without a trace. Boss, is this that legendary Nine Dragon Cup?"

The Boss did not respond, but the painter stepped closer for a look before walking indifferently toward the inner room of the Dumb Shop.The Doctor didn’t mind the painter’s dismissive attitude, because he seemed to have noticed something terrifying. Why was the Curator staring at him while talking about the Nine Dragon Cup? He didn’t have any strange habits, did he?

The Doctor watched as the Curator carefully took out a handkerchief, wiped his hands dry, and then reached out with a covetous gleam in his eyes, startling him so much he nearly cried out. Fortunately, the Boss spoke up just in time to save him: “Trust me, you don’t want to touch this Nine Dragon Cup.”

The Curator’s hand froze mid-air. “Why? Is there some story behind it?”

“Legend says only the true Dragon Emperor can touch the Nine Dragon Cup. Anyone else who touches it…” The Boss paused meaningfully.

“What happens?” the Curator pressed urgently.

“Who knows? You could try it and see.” The Boss smiled.

“…” The Curator obediently withdrew his hand.

The Doctor almost laughed at this. Wasn’t the Boss clearly lying? And the Curator actually believed him! Just as he was secretly chuckling, the Doctor realized his body had been turned around, bringing him face to face with the Boss’s profound gaze. Stunned for a moment, he was then horrified—because in the Boss’s dark pupils, he saw his own reflection: an exquisitely carved jade cup!

He must be dreaming. Yes, just like that strange Huangliang Pillow last time, it had to be!

With this thought, the Doctor calmed down. After all, he was just dreaming! But, Boss, didn’t you just tell the Curator that this Nine Dragon Cup couldn’t be touched? Why are you picking it up yourself now that he’s gone? As he inwardly complained, the Doctor felt himself being lifted by a pair of icy-cold hands.

This dream was just too bizarre!

He was placed on the third level of the Curio Cabinet. From this angle, he could see everything inside the Dumb Shop clearly. The Doctor watched with fascination as the Boss took a cloth and dusted each antique one by one, finally realizing that the Boss actually had to clean like anyone else. He had assumed the man never lifted a finger, using some mysterious method to keep the Dumb Shop spotless! “Newcomer.” Just as the Doctor was lost in thought, he suddenly heard an aged voice.

The Doctor looked around but saw no customers entering the shop. Strangely, the Boss didn’t seem to hear it either, continuing with his work.

It must be his imagination… No sooner had he thought this than he noticed the smoke rising from the gilded soaring dragon Bo Shan incense burner on the counter, as if with a will of its own, swirling toward him without any breeze. “Newcomer, whence dost thou come?”

As the smoke coiled toward him, the Doctor instinctively held his breath, but then remembered the next second that he was dreaming—and, absurdly, had turned into a jade cup. So, inhaling a little secondhand smoke probably wouldn’t matter.

“You… are talking to me?” the Doctor tried to speak, but the sound he produced didn’t feel like his usual voice. It was as if it existed on a different plane—the sound resembled the resonant hum of a jade cup vibrating, yet he could understand it perfectly."Aside from you, kid, who else is new in this shop?" Bo Shan Lu spoke patiently, the smoke rising from it returning to its leisurely curls, like an elderly man settling back into his recliner. His speech, a mix of archaic and modern phrasing, made the Doctor's head spin.

"Brother Bo Shan, have you forgotten? There's another newcomer—that Golden Ghost Mask hanging on the wall. It only arrived last week." A charming female voice materialized out of nowhere. This time, the Doctor traced the sound to the Changxin Palace Lantern by the doorway, its flame flickering as the woman spoke.

"That ghost mask carries far too much resentment." Bo Shan Lu's smoke trembled, as if expressing strong disapproval. "I truly don't understand why the Boss would keep such a thing. It always feels like someone's watching, disrupting the harmony within Dumb Shop. Not good, not good at all."

"Hehe, that Golden Ghost Mask seals the soul of a handsome man! Pity he's still under confinement and can't join our conversations." The Changxin Palace Lantern's flame danced playfully, suggesting a vivacious personality.

No, no—the Doctor quickly dismissed the thought. How could he think that? No matter how absurd this was, it was still just a lamp!

"Bo Shan Lu... Changxin Palace Lantern... talking?" The Doctor couldn't help but mutter in disbelief. Even if this were a dream, it was pushing the limits. An antique uprising?

"Tch, you can talk too, can't you? What's so special about being a Nine Dragon Cup?" The Changxin Palace Lantern's tone dripped with contempt. "Also, my name is Linglong, and this is my younger sister Linlang. She's not much of a talker. Ever since our sisters Langya and Jinyu got married, she's become even quieter."

"M-married?" The Doctor was stunned. A palace lantern could get married? To whom? A lightbulb? And weren't Changxin Palace Lanterns made of bronze? Why did they all have names reminiscent of precious jade?

"What? Looking down on us for being unmarried? Hmph! I have high standards!" Clearly struck a nerve, Linglong's flame flickered rapidly, betraying her agitation. The neighboring lantern, however, burned steadily—the two forming a stark contrast between motion and stillness.

"Right, right..." The Doctor was at a complete loss for words.

"Grandpa Bo Shan, this new little brother seems rather peculiar." A bright, youthful voice chimed in unexpectedly. "Didn't you say only artifacts over a thousand years old can develop spirits? This Nine Dragon Cup is merely three or four centuries old. Something's off."

Off, my foot! The weirdest thing here is obviously this shop! What kind of 'Dumb Shop' is this? Clearly, all the antiques inside can talk! And calling three or four hundred years 'merely'! Suppressing the urge to roar, the Doctor followed the voice to a Bluish-White Glazed Porcelain Plate displayed on the opposite Curio Cabinet. He recalled the Curator mentioning it likely dated back to the Song Dynasty.

A Song Dynasty artifact with the voice of a young boy? Was this some kind of joke?

"Where there's obsession, anything is possible." Bo Shan Lu even tossed in a trendy advertising slogan.The doctor weakly defended himself, "I'm not the Nine Dragon Cup. Until today, I was still human." He must have been confused by his dreams. If he just woke up properly, why bother arguing with these problematic antiques?

But as soon as he finished speaking, he noticed the atmosphere in the shop had turned strange. After a brief silence, whispers suddenly began to ripple through the air.

Though the doctor couldn't quite make out what they were saying, it made his hair stand on end. Within his line of sight, there was clearly only the Boss in the shop, yet the entire place felt as if it had come alive—filled with bustling voices, audible but unseen. After a moment of terror, the doctor couldn't help but feel speechless. He had long known that the items in the Boss's shop were priceless, but he never expected so many antiques to be that ancient. According to that broken plate's claim, anything here that could speak was at least a thousand years old! And there were so many of them!

And this was just the front of the shop—there was also the inner room, rarely entered by outsiders... The doctor suddenly felt that the broken plate's remark about "a little thing from three or four hundred years ago" wasn't so exaggerated after all.

"Young man, is what you said true?" After who knows how long, the shop returned to silence, and the Bo Shan censer spoke up as the representative.

"It's true. I even refilled your incense yesterday..." The doctor suddenly felt this dream was becoming far too bizarre. It must have been the wrong way to wake up...

"Ah! So it was you who lit that cheap Indian incense in my belly! It nearly choked this censer to death, didn't it!" Bo Shan suddenly became agitated, smoke billowing out like a volcanic eruption.

"It wasn't that bad... It was a free sample from a fragrance specialty shop I passed by... I even checked—it was a type of sandalwood." The doctor cautiously explained. He had even asked the Boss, and he hadn't said no when he lit it!

"Do you know what incense the Boss usually burns? It's Qinan incense! The finest of all agarwood! The kind only emperors could afford! In the Han Dynasty, it was even said to have the power to revive the dead! By the Song Dynasty, Champa Qinan incense was already 'worth ten thousand gold per piece'! How could your cheap incense ever meet this censer's standards? It truly choked me!" Bo Shan transformed into a roaring emperor, his echoes reverberating through the shop, leaving the doctor dizzy and disoriented.

"Brother Bo Shan, that's not the point right now." Once the roaring emperor emerged, no one could stand it. Linglong quickly interjected, "So you're the doctor who's been coming to the shop lately? Fusu's reincarnation in this generation?"

"Well, it seems the person you're referring to is me." Hearing that he was someone's reincarnation made the doctor uncomfortable. But he couldn't deny it either—after all, these antiques had been with the Boss for so many years, and they had surely seen and heard plenty.

"This is bad. The person who delivered the Nine Dragon Cup mentioned that your body has fallen into a coma. It seems this cup must be the problem." Linglong's tone grew increasingly grave.

"A problem?" The doctor was startled, recalling the strange person who had appeared at the hospital earlier. Wasn't he holding a cup? Could it be that he wasn't dreaming? Had he actually turned into a cup?"Just as people can be good or bad, objects also have their distinctions," Bo Shan's temper had eased somewhat, the smoke he emitted now flowing more gently. It seemed that here, he and Linglong held the highest seniority, so when they spoke, hardly anyone interrupted. "Some objects are inherently created to beseech the heavens, such as ceremonial vessels for sacrificial rites. These objects concentrate the craftsmen's devout efforts, brimming with spirituality from the moment of their creation, and are highly prone to coalescing into spirits. Many ancient tales of the strange assume the apparitions to be mountain or wilderness spirits, but a significant portion are actually the essences of objects. Another type of object that easily forms a spirit is those made for the purpose of curses. For instance, Chen Ajiao's Voodoo Puppet. Ah, Yansheng still can't figure it out..."

The ethereal smoke above Bo Shan's censer drifted upward, swirling lonesomely in the air, conveying a profound melancholy.

"Why bring up that hopeless fellow? To think he's shut himself away for over two thousand years and still hasn't come to terms with it. Serves him right for sacrificing his essence over a woman," Linglong lamented with a tone of exasperation, as if disappointed by someone's failure to meet expectations.

Doctor recalled the Voodoo Puppet they mentioned. By his reckoning, that puppet, along with Bo Shan and the Changxin Palace Lantern, were all antiques from the Han Dynasty, having shared the passage of long historical years, undoubtedly bound by deep camaraderie. "Wasn't that Voodoo Puppet sent to a museum? It should be well cared for there!"

"Hmph! A museum? That's our graveyard. Who'd want to go there? Usually, the antiques stored there are true lifeless objects that have lost their spirits. Even worse, some are imprisoned while still conscious—it's literally like being locked up alive." The youthful voice piped up again, the celadon glaze emitting a glaring white light under the lamp's illumination. "I heard they recently shattered a Ge ware celadon lotus-shaped dish—that was my brother from the Song Dynasty! How pitiful, to just vanish like that, not even able to preserve his intact form. Waa waa waa..."

The Doctor was speechless. That incident had indeed caused quite a stir—even someone as detached from worldly affairs as him had heard about it, and he couldn't help but sigh.

"Ahem, back to the main topic," Bo Shan said, clearing his throat as the conversation had strayed too far. "This Nine Dragon Cup is carved from fine Hetian jade. Jade has the power to attract good fortune and ward off evil. Since you are Fusu's reincarnation, I assume you've worn the Longevity Lock since birth?"

"Yes," the Doctor replied, unsure why Bo Shan was bringing this up. He had already placed the shattered Longevity Lock inside the coffin of the Qin Mausoleum.

"Ancient jade artifacts have the ability to absorb human souls. That Longevity Lock once preserved the remnants of Fusu's soul before his death. It was only after you accidentally broke it that his soul was freed." Bo Shan paused deliberately, leaving his words hanging.

The Doctor was taken aback. "Are you saying my soul has been absorbed into this Nine Dragon Cup instead?"

"Exactly. I don't understand why this happened. Usually, a person's lingering regrets before death are strong enough to attach to jade artifacts. But you're a living soul, and your body is perfectly fine... Could someone have tampered with something?" Bo Shan pondered, utterly perplexed.

"So, you mean this cup must be shattered for me to be freed?" The Doctor grew anxious. In the Dumb Shop, was it even possible for the Boss to accidentally break something? That seemed utterly impossible!

"Not just that," Linglong chimed in regretfully from the side. "Only ancient jade artifacts can preserve a soul for long periods. This Nine Dragon Cup isn't that old—it's only about three or four hundred years old. At most, it can keep your living soul intact for just seven days."

Regret? Regret your head! He wasn't even dead yet!

The Doctor grew agitated. Having to shatter this cup within seven days, while he couldn't move a muscle, felt like an impossible fantasy.

Trapped inside the Nine Dragon Cup, unable to move for four days and nights, the Doctor had shifted from panic to numbness. He had tried countless methods but couldn't get the Boss's attention or make the cup budge an inch.

Perhaps this was his fate. Hadn't he been meant to die long ago?

The Doctor fell completely silent, listening dejectedly to the antiques in the shop chatting away. These artifacts, having witnessed over a thousand years of history, were accustomed to human life and death, so they didn't take the Doctor's predicament too seriously.

"Don't worry, young man," Bo Shan said, emitting wispy smoke. "Life is simple—you open your eyes, close them, and it's over. Easy!"

"If you kick the bucket, it's no big deal. We'll just move to a new place anyway. Though, without Fusu's reincarnation dying young, who knows if the Boss will keep searching?" Linglong's candle flame flickered as she spoke bluntly, without considering the Doctor's feelings.

The Doctor knew these antiques didn't understand human subtleties. Though Linglong's straightforward words stung, he merely felt a pang of discomfort. Not wanting to dwell on his own plight, he changed the subject. "Does the Boss always move around like this?""Yes, staying in one place for too long while the Boss's appearance never changes would raise suspicions, wouldn't it?" Linglong snorted lightly. "But life was easier in the past—just move to a new place and no one would recognize you anymore. Now with the internet so developed, even hiding deep in the mountains makes it easy to be doxxed."

"Minor recluses hide in mountains; great recluses hide in cities," the Bo Shan Censer chuckled. "The Boss is doing quite well now."

Indeed, on this commercial street, setting up such an inconspicuous shop truly wouldn't draw attention. The Doctor knew that customers at the Dumb Shop were always pitifully few. But considering the Boss had only moved here three years ago, he could infer that the frequency of his relocations had increased significantly in recent years, indicating his situation was growing precarious.

Thinking this, the Doctor sighed. He could hardly protect himself now—why was he worrying about others again?

As usual, the Three-legged Azure Bird flew out from the inner room at 8 a.m., landing on the rosewood stand. It drank some dew the Boss had specially collected for it that morning and ate fresh bamboo shoots.

The Doctor watched with some guilt. He had been the one who initially suggested keeping the Three-legged Azure Bird, but he'd only remembered to prepare its food and drink for the first few months. After the New Year, when the hospital became busy, he could no longer attend to it. Fortunately, the Boss was taking care of it. The Doctor stared intently at the Three-legged Azure Bird, watching it happily munch on bamboo shoots, its crisp sounds echoing through the shop. For some reason, he felt a craving.

He hadn't slept, eaten, or drunk anything for several days now. Though he felt no hunger or thirst, having been human for twenty-five years, he was accustomed to occasionally eating and drinking. Not moving an inch for four straight days was becoming unbearable.

"San Qing... San Qing?" The Doctor couldn't resist calling the Three-legged Azure Bird's name. Whether it was his imagination or a genuine miracle in the making, the bird actually stopped eating the moment he spoke, tilting its head to look around.

The Doctor immediately grew as excited as someone seeing a glimmer of light in darkness, repeatedly calling the bird's name. The Three-legged Azure Bird seemed to truly hear something, abandoning the half-eaten bamboo shoot in its beak, spreading its wings, and beginning to fly around the shop.

Of course, along with the dust stirred up by its flapping wings came a chorus of shouts from the antiques.

"Ah! What's wrong with this blasted bird?! The Boss just finished wiping me down!" the Bluish-White Glazed Porcelain Plate cried out in a childish voice, frantic. "Be careful! Don't touch me! I'm very fragile!"

"San Qing, be careful. Didn't the Boss strictly forbid you from flying around recklessly? Watch out or you'll be kicked out!" This slightly concerned tone came from the Hundred Birds Adoring Phoenix Gold-Painted Lacquer Box on the nearby Curio Cabinet.

"San Qing can't hear us, you newly arrived Nine Dragon Cup—stop shouting uselessly!" The Huzhou Wolf Hair Brush on the bamboo brush holder mercilessly shattered the Doctor's remaining hope.

The Dumb Shop's storefront was very small. Though the Three-legged Azure Bird wasn't large, its spread wings and long tail feathers made it impossible to maneuver properly inside. The Boss was quickly alerted and emerged from the inner room, calling the bird back and leading it inside.The Doctor was disappointed; he had been hoping the Three-legged Azure Bird would come to his rescue! If he were accidentally knocked to the ground and shattered, he would be freed. However, he hadn’t expected the Three-legged Azure Bird to cause such a commotion, nearly implicating the antiques in the shop, and he repeatedly apologized.

The antiques were just exaggerating their complaints—after all, their lives were far too monotonous. Besides, which of them hadn’t endured the trials of thousands of years, witnessing countless storms and waves? A minor incident like this was nothing to them! So, no one made a fuss, and they quickly returned to their own affairs. The Doctor had long grown tired of the King of Yue’s Golden Seal sighing and recounting its past glories, weary of the Huzhou Wolf Hair Brush’s pedantic scholarly quotes, and fed up with the Hundred Birds Adoring Phoenix Gold-Painted Lacquer Box’s endless gossip about girlish sentiments. Please, just spare him—he was growing increasingly unsuited to this kind of life!

Moreover, after giving him hope only to cruelly shatter it, the Doctor felt his heart couldn’t withstand such turmoil, even though, strictly speaking, he no longer possessed a heart as an organ.

"Ah! The Emperor! The Emperor is here!" Just as boredom set in, the nearby Bluish-White Glazed Porcelain Plate suddenly burst with excitement as if injected with adrenaline. The Doctor knew that, at this fixed time, the tsundere painter must have arrived at the Dumb Shop to copy scrolls. He came every day, almost without fail, rain or shine.

The Doctor also knew that this painter was the reincarnation of Emperor Huizong of Song, Zhao Ji, and every time the Bluish-White Glazed Porcelain Plate saw the painter arrive, it would become inexplicably exhilarated. Today, he couldn’t resist asking, "Ying Qing, how do you recognize him as your Emperor?" Ying Qing was the name of this young porcelain plate—bluish-white glaze was also called Ying Qing glaze, so everyone called him Ying Qing.

Ying Qing kept his eyes fixed on the painter until he disappeared into the inner room, reluctantly withdrawing his gaze. "Of course, I recognize him. His appearance is just as it was back then, though I was merely an ordinary plate and only saw him once from afar. It was during a palace ceremony! The Emperor was utterly, thunderously majestic!"

Majestic? The Doctor broke out in a cold sweat, thinking the painter’s slight frame had little to do with the word "majestic." Could it be a case of mistaken identity? But Ying Qing was also from the Song Dynasty, truly from the same era as Emperor Huizong. Suddenly, a question occurred to the Doctor, and he asked in surprise, "Are you saying that Emperor Huizong’s reincarnation looks exactly the same as he did before?"

"What’s so strange about that? Actually, not everyone can be reincarnated. Only souls with deep obsessions at the moment of death can carry a trace of their past life’s attachments into the next. And their appearance in the new life usually remains the same as before." Ying Qing knew the Doctor wasn’t a true ancient artifact’s cultivated spirit and was completely ignorant of such common knowledge.Upon hearing this, the doctor suddenly understood—there was actually basis for those lines in books about feeling like you've met someone in a past life. But after some thought, he still found it somewhat odd. "Then why doesn't Fusu's reincarnation work like this? I remember Boss mentioning that Fusu even reincarnated as a woman before!" The doctor would never forget the herd of "grass-mud horses" stampeding through his mind when he first heard this news. Later, however, he managed to separate Fusu from himself as two distinct individuals, which made it less awkward. After all, reincarnating as male or female each had a fifty percent probability—to someone in the medical field like him, this was perfectly normal. But among the stories he'd heard at Dumb Shop, he'd never heard of someone like Xiang Yu, the Conqueror of Western Chu, reincarnating as a delicate young woman!

"That's because Fusu... part of your soul has been trapped in the Longevity Lock, making it perpetually incomplete," San Qing patiently explained. Being one of the younger ones at Dumb Shop, he rarely had people seeking his advice, so he grew excited and spoke more than usual, regardless of whether the doctor wanted to listen or not, even delving into some gossip.

The doctor, having nothing better to do, treated it like a monologue comedy show. Besides, San Qing's youthful voice was soft and quite pleasant to hear. As he listened, he saw Boss emerge from the inner room, wipe down the antiques in the shop once more, then open a cabinet drawer and select a set of purple clay teaware to brew tea.

The doctor knew that Boss drank different teas every day, using correspondingly different tea sets. But he still couldn't get used to it—those precious porcelain and pottery pieces were like concubines, fighting bloody battles while kneeling and begging for Boss's favor.

Though he knew Boss couldn't hear him, the doctor felt despair for this chaotic world.

What the hell kind of Dumb Shop is this?! Every antique here can talk—seriously!!!

It was already the evening of the sixth day, and the doctor had resigned himself to his fate.

The Three-legged Azure Bird, likely due to the trouble it caused last time, had been confined to the inner room by Boss. Every day, Boss would bring it fresh water and bamboo shoots to eat, and it hadn't come out since.

The antiques, having lived through millennia, were long accustomed to the passing of lives. Except for San Qing, who had grown somewhat close to the doctor and seemed melancholic, the others went about their own business. Though the doctor hadn't lived nearly enough, having witnessed life and death frequently in the hospital, his current situation felt like being diagnosed with a terminal illness and sentenced to death.

At first, he felt resentment, but now he was numb. Why did he have to be so unlucky!

Yet, deep down, there was a sliver of hope. He inexplicably trusted that Boss would save him.

"Eh? Boss actually took out a jar of wine? How rare! Not drinking tea but wine today?" A commotion stirred within Dumb Shop, and the doctor looked over to see Boss indeed carrying a small jar, walking in his direction.

"Oho! Drinking wine requires the Nine Dragon Cup—are you sure you're not doing this on purpose, Boss?" The surrounding antiques stirred up excitement, relishing the chaos, and the doctor swore he saw a fleeting smile curl Boss's lips.

But I thought he couldn't hear me!

Before the doctor could react, he found himself lifted by a cold hand. The surrounding laughter grew louder, and the doctor felt extremely uncomfortable. Though he knew these antiques were bored out of their minds, he had no desire to become their entertainment!Very well, in this situation, there was no way to avoid being surrounded by them.

The doctor felt himself being held in the Boss's hands, meticulously wiped with a soft cloth. The pressure was neither too light nor too heavy, perfectly brushing away the dust on him. Only then did he realize that during these six days, the Boss had been cleaning the antiques in the shop every day but had deliberately skipped him!

This meant the Boss truly knew something!

The doctor felt a renewed hope for life and stared intently at the Boss's face, hoping to catch a clue from his expression. However, the Boss still wore the faint, everyday smile, no different from usual.

Transparent, amber-like liquor was poured into the Nine Dragon Cup, and the Dumb Shop was immediately filled with the rich aroma of alcohol.

"Ah! This is Hangzhou's Qiubailu liquor preserved for over a thousand years! I really want to drink it!" The delicate flame of Zhu flickered excitedly.

The doctor inwardly grumbled, how could something like her even drink? If liquor of this purity were poured on her, she'd self-immolate on the spot!

Amid the clamor of the surrounding antiques, the doctor felt his entire body soaked in the highly concentrated liquor, as if he were drunk, his consciousness gradually drifting away.

Watching the Boss pick up the Nine Dragon Cup, his handsome face drawing closer and closer—Hey, hey! Is it really okay to use him as a cup like this?

The doctor didn't last until the final moment and sank into darkness.

The hospital ward at night was as quiet as usual.

The Boss, holding the Nine Dragon Cup, avoided the duty nurses and walked straight toward a specific room as if he already knew the way.

The door to the room opened easily, revealing the doctor lying asleep on the hospital bed. Only a small bedside lamp was lit, casting an eerie glow over the unconscious doctor, adding to the strange atmosphere.

The Boss only glanced at him briefly before turning to the corner of the room and saying calmly, "I've given you seven days. It's time to give up now."

From the shadows in the dark corner emerged a man in a hooded sweatshirt, his face hidden beneath the hood, with only a few strands of silver-white hair flowing down as he moved. "He is my imperial brother. Where have you hidden my imperial brother?" Huhai's voice carried an unmistakable weariness. He had planned everything perfectly: if he sealed the memories of the modern man's soul, then the part belonging to his imperial brother should take over this body. But after waiting for seven days, nothing happened.

The only explanation was that this person was not his imperial brother. But if that were the case, why would the Boss be so close to him?

No, he refused to believe it.

The Boss smiled, but this time his smile held a deep tenderness. "He is not your imperial brother. He is not Fusu."

Huhai was stunned by the certainty in the Boss's words. Had he really mistaken this person? But the Boss wouldn't be able to resist approaching his imperial brother's reincarnation! Could it be that the Boss had been using some kind of illusion all along? But the person who frequently visited the Dumb Shop and received special treatment from the Boss—could it be the one who delivered the Blank Tablet earlier?

Thinking this, Huhai felt there was no point in staying any longer. He stepped toward the door, pausing briefly as he passed the Boss. He seemed to want to say something but held back, quickening his pace as he left.The Boss waited until the footsteps in the corridor faded away before approaching the hospital bed. The Doctor had been asleep for seven days, his complexion ashen to the extreme. The Boss supported his upper body and brought the Nine Dragon Cup to his lips.

The autumn dew within the Nine Dragon Cup slowly trickled into the Doctor’s mouth. Watching the bloodstain on the cup fade away, the Boss smiled with satisfaction. But the smile soon vanished as he turned his gaze coldly toward the dark corner where Huhai had just been standing.

A small crimson bird stumbled out from the shadows, nervously met the Boss’s eyes for a moment, then flapped its wings in fright and flew out through the window.

Wah! Master is so mean! He left without waking me! Why is this person so fierce? I didn’t see anything! Wah!

When the Doctor woke again, he found himself lying in the hospital.

The hospital director and his colleagues had all come by, conducting a full-body checkup, yet they still couldn’t determine why he had been unconscious for seven days. The hospital assumed it was due to his heavy workload and specifically granted him seven days of paid leave.

The Doctor, of course, knew the reason for his coma, but he couldn’t say it aloud! If he did, not only would he likely lose his job, but he’d probably be sent to a mental institution.

“Boss, are you sure you can’t hear these antiques talking? You’re not pulling my leg, are you?” The Doctor began his seven-day vacation but decided not to go anywhere. Loafing around the Dumb Shop was just fine—why bother squeezing onto trains or planes to travel? He was quite the homebody, after all! And the Boss was even more of a recluse than he was.

The Boss brewed a pot of Tieguanyin tea using a Ge kiln teapot and smiled faintly at the question. “Antiques can talk? You must have been dreaming.”

The Doctor pursed his lips, unable to tell whether the Boss was brushing him off or telling the truth. Since waking up, he could no longer hear the chattering of the antiques, but even without hearing them, he could still sense something unusual within the Dumb Shop. “Look, I’m telling you! This Bo Shan incense burner complained that I used low-grade incense for it. Those two Changxin Palace Lanterns are sisters—the left one is lively, while the right one is quiet. See, see how fiercely the left one’s flame is flickering!”

“That’s because it’s near the door crack where the wind blows in, so the flame naturally flickers more,” the Boss replied with a helpless smile.

The Doctor fell silent. Could it all really have been a dream? But it felt far too real. Since when did his imagination become so vivid?

Habitually picking up a cup to drink tea, the Doctor suddenly remembered those shameless cups begging for the Boss’s attention—and it seemed the one in his hand was among them.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like Tieguanyin?” the Boss asked, noticing the Doctor’s strange expression as he stared at the cup.

The Doctor set the cup down and forced a smile. “I’m afraid I might drop and break this antique. I’ll just go buy some disposable paper cups from the supermarket.” Though he couldn’t be sure whether it was all a dream, the doubt had already taken root. He could no longer view the room full of antiques with his usual perspective.

The Boss chuckled. “If you’re not comfortable using that, you can use the Nine Dragon Cup instead.”

Following his gaze, the Doctor saw the Nine Dragon Cup placed on the Curio Cabinet, exactly where it had been during those seven days.

(End of Chapter)