The Company

Chapter 22 Book of the Dead

Doctor sat in the departure lounge, playing Fruit Ninja on his iPhone but completely unfocused, constantly slicing bombs and failing. After several attempts, he finally gave up, put away his phone, and pulled out an Egypt travel guide from his bag.

Truthfully, he wasn’t going to Egypt for leisure but for work—his hospital had established a partnership with one in Cairo, and he was there for an inspection. Opportunities for overseas business trips were plentiful, but Doctor felt unlucky to be assigned to Egypt. Why Egypt? He really wished he could swap with Chun Ge—that lucky guy got to tour England! Egypt was nothing but yellow sand everywhere, and worst of all, it was scorching hot!

Flipping casually through the travel guide, Doctor felt a subtle sense of dread. He could speak English, but not a word of Egyptian! Once again, he cursed his fortunate colleague Chun Ge...

While muttering under his breath, Doctor noticed someone had sat down beside him. As he moved to adjust his bag, he looked up and his eyes widened in shock.

It was Boss, whom he had just bid farewell to last night, now sitting calmly next to him—holding a boarding pass and passport!

Doctor was utterly speechless. Although he knew from their previous trip to Xi’an that Boss must have an ID to fly, he never imagined Boss would even have a passport! And clearly, they were on the same flight. He had only told Boss yesterday about his trip to Egypt—how had Boss managed to get a visa in such a short time? It had taken Doctor days to secure his!

But that wasn’t the main point. The real question was...

“Why are you coming with me?” Doctor rubbed his face, finding it hard to believe. In his mind, Boss was a genuine ancient, someone who, despite living in the modern era, clearly preferred the antique ambiance of Dumb Shop and rarely engaged with the outside world unless necessary. Had the sun risen from the west? Was Boss actually traveling abroad?

Boss seemed amused by Doctor’s bewildered expression, studying him for a moment before smiling slightly. “I’ve always wanted to visit Egypt. I’ll take this chance to join you for some fun.”

That smile sent a chill down Doctor’s spine. Fun? Hey! Egypt might share five thousand years of history with China, but its antiques weren’t something to casually “play” with!

Doctor’s mind flashed with scenes from numerous mummy horror films before he forced himself to calm down. Just because Boss appreciated Chinese antiques didn’t mean he’d be interested in foreign ones—he was overthinking it.

Once settled, Doctor actually felt having company wasn’t so bad. Boss was no longer wearing his usual vintage Mao Suit but a modernized shirt adapted from the Red dragon robe. The all-black shirt featured crimson-gold cloud patterns embroidered along the cuffs and hem, blending contemporary style with elegance, making it quite striking. The persistent Crimson Dragon clung to Boss’s right shoulder, its body coiling down his back, never shifting from that spot. Paired with a beige trench coat, Boss looked every bit a handsome, stylish urban youth—who could guess the person beside him had actually lived for over two thousand years?The doctor noticed that the boss actually wore a semicircular gold earring clipped to his earlobe—the kind that didn't require piercings, simply fastened onto the ear. The doctor raised an eyebrow, surprised that someone like the boss would wear accessories. Upon closer inspection, he realized the boss only wore it on his left ear, making it appear particularly distinctive.

Tsk, is it going to rain blood? Since when did this old fossil learn about fashion? The doctor didn't dare tease him aloud, only silently complaining in his heart.

Soon, boarding began. Their seats were adjacent. Since they were on a red-eye flight in the early hours, after some casual conversation, the doctor tilted his head and fell fast asleep.

The boss removed the glasses from his face, called a flight attendant to request a blanket, and then gazed intently at the doctor's sleeping expression.

Though he spoke lightly, inwardly he was deeply troubled.

He had long been aware of Huhai's obsession with Fusu. Over the past two thousand years, Huhai had either never appeared or had shown up intermittently, but since Fusu's reincarnations never lived past twenty-four, there was little cause for concern. Now, however, the doctor—Fusu in this lifetime—had survived beyond that age due to the broken Longevity Lock, prompting Huhai to initiate various schemes.

Huhai's goal was nothing more than resurrecting his imperial brother and erasing the doctor's soul from this body. He had already attempted this once, fortunately without success. The boss had securely stored the Nine Dragon Cup and successfully laid a smokescreen, but he couldn't guarantee Huhai would truly be deceived.

Thus, when the doctor planned this overseas trip, the boss suspected Huhai's manipulation—an attempt to draw the doctor away from his protection. He hastily cast a hexagram overnight and was shocked to obtain the Water Thunder Difficulties Hexagram, one of the rarest and most inauspicious omens. "Difficulties" signifies hardship. The interpretation reads: "The wind tangles silk with no end in sight, chaos brings sorrow and plight. Patience may bring gradual order, haste leads to bondage tighter." Among its six lines, the third was a Yin Line, stating: "Pursuing deer without a guide, one gets lost in the woods. A wise man should retreat; persistence invites misfortune." The "guide" refers to ancient forest rangers. This line warns that chasing deer without local assistance leads to disorientation in the forest. A gentleman must be alert—if he doesn't relinquish the pursuit, calamity awaits.

Aside from this ominous line, the Water Thunder Difficulties Hexagram is the most ill-fated omen in the I Ching's 64 hexagrams for journeys. So the boss urgently leveraged connections to obtain a visa and book a flight, deciding to accompany the doctor to Cairo.

"Don't worry, wherever you go, I will always protect you..." the boss murmured, his voice fading to a whisper.

II.

There were no direct flights from Shanghai to Cairo, Egypt's capital. They transferred in Doha, Qatar, and waited over three hours at the airport before boarding the flight to Cairo. By the time they arrived, it was noon local time. Though superficially the journey took twelve hours, accounting for time differences and the bullet train ride from their city to Shanghai, the entire trip had spanned over twenty hours.Even the Doctor, who had once stood for ten hours straight in an operating room, felt dizzy and lightheaded when he stepped out of Cairo Airport and was met with the blindingly intense sunlight above.

He was quickly steadied by someone. Rubbing his throbbing temples, the Doctor noticed that Boss, who hadn’t slept at all, remained as energetic as ever. Well, it was pointless to judge this person by ordinary standards—after all, to some extent, he wasn’t even normal.

No one had come to pick them up, which the Doctor had expected. As a small fry like him, he couldn’t expect the host hospital to make a big fuss. The Doctor hailed a taxi. Though there was a language barrier, he had memorized the address of the hotel reserved by the hospital. The taxi driver, accustomed to tourists who couldn’t communicate, gestured a number with his fingers.

The Doctor was speechless. It turned out that taxis in Cairo didn’t typically use meters; instead, it was customary to negotiate a price upfront. Bargaining didn’t require verbal communication. After a few gestures were exchanged, the driver stepped on the gas and headed straight for their destination.

Along the way, they caught sight of the blue Nile dotted with feluccas and countless minarets piercing the sky. Cairo, known as the City of a Thousand Minarets, was a jewel on the banks of the Nile. The scenery was beautiful, so the Doctor was also looking forward to their accommodation. He had insisted on dragging Boss along, planning for them to stay together to save some money.

Moreover, and most importantly, Boss didn’t have a mobile phone. In this modern society, being without one made communication impossible, and the Doctor didn’t want to lose track of him in a foreign land.

But when he saw the shabby, dilapidated room at the hotel, he couldn’t bring himself to suggest that Boss stay with him.

Because there was only one pitifully small single bed in the room.

Boss was highly dissatisfied with the unsanitary conditions and, for once, frowned. Before the Doctor could say anything, he pulled him out of the room. "It’s fine if you don’t stay here, right?" Boss asked indifferently.

"It’s fine. The hospital can still reach me, but I’ll have to pay for my own accommodation..." The Doctor’s words died in his throat under Boss’s gaze. Suddenly, he felt a bit foolish. Saving money? Why bother saving money for this person!

Boss hailed another taxi, stated an address, and this time didn’t bother bargaining—he simply slapped two green U.S. bills into the driver’s hand.

This taxi driver actually spoke English. Upon hearing they were headed to the Mena House Hotel, he enthusiastically began his introduction. The Mena House Hotel had existed even before the Suez Canal opened, boasting a long history and standing just a street away from the three great pyramids of Giza. Among its rooms, the Churchill Suite was one of the world’s top ten famous hotel suites—the very site where the Cairo Declaration was signed by China, the United States, and the United Kingdom. Even now, the suite wasn’t preserved for tours but remained available for lodging like any other room, though the price was staggeringly high.

Accompanied by the driver’s lively commentary, the car drove all the way down Pyramid Street. Gazing out the window at the pyramids standing tall in the endless desert, the Doctor felt an overwhelming sense of unreality.

And this feeling of unreality peaked when Boss actually swiped his card and checked into that Churchill Suite.Although he knew the Boss was extravagant, this level of profligacy was simply outrageous! The Churchill Suite was so large, and only two of them were staying there? Even though the balcony of this room faced the Khufu Pyramid directly, other rooms could also see it!

Yet the room rate was N times that of other rooms... The Doctor felt as though he hadn't actually arrived in Cairo at all and must be dreaming on the airplane.

The Boss paid no attention to the Doctor, who was standing dumbfounded at the door. After wandering around the room, he sighed and remarked, "Most of the furniture here isn't the original anymore..."

"You... you've been here before?" The Doctor nearly bit his tongue in surprise.

The Boss didn't answer. Instead, he took down an oil painting from the wall and carefully retrieved an object from behind its frame.

The Doctor immediately moved closer. Lying in the Boss's palm was a half-moon-shaped golden earring. Instinctively, the Doctor glanced at the Boss's left ear—the two earrings were indeed identical, without the slightest difference.

"This... this..." Even though he was used to the Boss's endless eccentricities, the Doctor was momentarily speechless. This... this was Egypt!

"Fortunately, this oil painting was done by a famous artist, so no one dared to tamper with it," the Boss said as he restored the frame and rehung the painting. "Don't be so surprised. Although I haven't been here myself, someone else came here back in the day." As for how he could tell the furniture had been replaced, it was because he had an uncanny intuition for antiques.

With just one glance, he could roughly determine when an object was made.

The Doctor was stunned. In the living room of the Churchill Suite, several photographs were hanging on the wall. Despite his poor grasp of history, he could recognize one of them as a group photo of the three great leaders from China, the United States, and the United Kingdom. He wasn't very familiar with Churchill and Roosevelt, but the third person was someone he knew all too well—he had seen this person in his history textbooks during his school days.

Aside from this group photo of the three leaders, there were also several individual portraits of Churchill and group photos of conference attendees. Among them was the prominent Chinese figure and his wife. In the somewhat blurry old photograph, a faint glint of gold could be seen near the lady's ear.

One of this pair of earrings was here in the Churchill Suite, while the other had once adorned that lady's ear. The lady was famously well-connected and had helped her husband secure a favorable position. Although their fortunes eventually declined due to a pivotal event in Xi'an, leading to their party's retreat to Taiwan, in their time, they were influential figures not to be underestimated.

"What does this earring do?" the Doctor asked with keen interest.

The Boss didn't keep him in suspense and handed the newly retrieved earring to the Doctor. "Put it on. In modern terms, this gilded earring can function as a translator and communicator."

The Doctor complied without hesitation, guessing that the earring had likely been used as a listening device back then. For some unknown reason, the other party had never had the chance to retrieve it, leaving it dormant for nearly sixty years. The Doctor wasn't unwilling to ask about the earring's origins, but his exhaustion outweighed his curiosity. After a quick wash, he sank directly into a deep sleep.

Three

When the Doctor woke up, it was already the next morning, and the Boss was nowhere to be found in the room.The Doctor was in no hurry to report to the hospital. Although the inspection period was only one week, the hospital had given him a full half-month, so he had plenty of time.

Although it was already October in Cairo, the heat remained as intense as summer, and the Doctor found it quite unbearable. After changing into a lighter shirt, he tried using the gilded earring to contact the Boss, muttering to himself in the room for a while before feeling rather foolish.

How could he have so easily believed what the Boss said? That this thing could rival a mobile phone? Wasn't that just ridiculous! Fuming, the Doctor wanted to tear off the earring, but after raising his hand, he silently lowered it again.

Well, it wasn't really in the way anyway. Might as well keep it on.

He wandered around the room and noticed that the bed in the guest room showed no signs of having been slept in, indicating that the Boss hadn't rested at all. There was no note left for him either. The Doctor began to grow anxious. He went to the front desk to ask if anyone had seen the Boss leave. While struggling to express himself in broken English, he was astonished to find that he could completely understand the other person's English—and what came out of his own mouth was a string of perfectly fluent English!

Looking around, the Doctor realized he could understand all the foreign language materials on the front desk. He randomly grabbed an Egyptian, and even when the person spoke Arabic, he could communicate without any barriers! The same went for French and German—no problem at all!

No matter how hard it was to believe, the Doctor had to admit that this gilded earring was just too damn awesome!!

It was a multilingual translator! Bathed in the admiring gazes around him, the Doctor smugly lifted his chin. Why hadn't he met the Boss earlier? If he had, he could have aced his English proficiency test back in school!

Just as the Doctor was lost in his fantasies, the Boss hurried in from outside the hotel. The Doctor only caught a glimpse of something rolled up in his hand before he was dragged toward the elevator without a chance to ask where he'd been.

"Breakfast delivered to the room..." the Doctor managed to shout in time, but before the last word left his mouth, he had already disappeared into the elevator.

The front desk clerk caught a fleeting glimpse of the two young Eastern men wearing matching earrings and smiled knowingly, deciding to delay the room service a little longer.

"What's wrong? What happened?" the Doctor asked anxiously after being pulled into the room by the Boss, noticing his grave expression. He rarely saw the Boss look so serious—he was usually so composed, even when talking about his own impending death with complete calm.

The Boss frowned, as if unsure how to explain, and simply handed the object in his hand to the Doctor.

It was a peculiar scroll. Judging by the mold and damage marks, it had clearly endured many years. The scroll contained numerous drawings and was inscribed with various characters, some so worn they were illegible. Although the Doctor could now read Arabic, he found it quite challenging to decipher at first glance. He guessed it was probably ancient Egyptian poetry or literature—similar to how foreigners who understand modern Chinese might still struggle with Tang and Song dynasty poetry."Last night I wandered around Cairo and heard there was a recent riot that destroyed a small portion of the Egyptian Museum's collection. I went to investigate the situation. Then this morning I visited the Giza Pyramids across the way. Since the Khufu Pyramid only admits three hundred visitors per day, I had someone help me queue up." The Boss composed himself and began explaining carefully. Though he usually didn't like to talk much, he hadn't always been this way. This was because during two thousand years of long years, he had grown accustomed to living alone. Even when interacting with each reincarnation of Fusu, he had progressed from constant companionship to basically avoiding contact, merely watching from afar and being content knowing the other was doing reasonably well.

Because he couldn't bear experiencing helpless partings after each brief encounter - it would be like repeatedly reliving the tragedy from over two thousand years ago, with the pain continuously magnifying and amplifying. Like an endless nightmare from which one could never wake.

But the Doctor was different. He had actively pushed open the carved wooden door of Dumb Shop himself. The Longevity Lock on him had already broken - he was free from that fateful shackle. He could live on, he could live like a normal person.

So the Boss truly wanted to interact with him like he had with Fusu long ago, hoping the two could become lasting friends.

But the Doctor and Fusu were completely different people, and during these long years, the Boss had also lost some of his social skills. The Boss rarely felt troubled, thinking he seemed like an elementary school student afraid of having no friends.

"Then I went to the Khalili Market, yes, that very Khan el-Khalili Market your travel guide heavily recommended. A market that has existed since the 14th century, large enough to constitute an entire district..." The Boss tried to organize his words, though the effect was clearly not ideal.

"Oh! So you went bargain hunting?" The Doctor, clearly lacking the Boss's sensitive nerves, didn't notice his discomfort at all. But as an excellent doctor, he possessed strong associative thinking. "Is this scroll what you found? Not bad! About how old an antique is it? Oh no, you didn't get anything too extraordinary, did you? If it's really ancient, will we get detained at customs?"

The Boss curled his lip, feeling that worrying so much about this oblivious guy was just asking for trouble.

"This is a papyrus scroll made from Egypt's specialty papyrus. After removing the husk from papyrus stems and arranging them neatly connected into sheets, they can make paper. Each sheet of papyrus has two layers - the upper layer for writing and the lower layer pressed together. After beating, enzymes within the core create adhesion under pressure. Multiple long sheets can be joined edge to edge to form long scrolls. This was history's earliest and most convenient writing material, remaining popular for three thousand years until China's papermaking technology reached Egypt in the 8th century AD, replacing this papyrus."The Boss wasn't just thoroughly knowledgeable about domestic antiques - with his long life, he had plenty of time for studying.""So what's written on this? It looks like some kind of poem praising death, doesn't it?" The Doctor, hearing it was indeed an antique, immediately carefully placed the scroll on the coffee table. He didn't want to accidentally tear it and have some terrifying mummy or something emerge from inside. At least the Qiongqi and Huangou from the Classic of Mountains and Seas were quite cute!

"This is the Book of the Dead. It's a type of charm dedicated to the deceased by ancient Egyptians, containing spells and praises to the gods. Usually written on papyrus scrolls and placed in the tombs of the dead. Ancient Egyptians believed it could ensure the safety of the deceased in the underworld, and the spells in the Book of the Dead would allow the dead to return to the world during daylight." The Boss spoke casually, but his voice echoed through the empty suite, involuntarily sending a chilling shiver down one's spine.

"Then... this Book of the Dead... it couldn't belong to some nobody, could it?" The Doctor knew the Boss had an extremely discerning eye. Any antique that could catch his attention must be absolutely terrifyingly significant.

"It's... Ramses II's..."

"..."

A silence thick enough to drown someone fell between them. Even though the Doctor wasn't well-versed in history, he knew exactly what the name Ramses II represented. That was the greatest pharaoh in Egyptian history! He reigned for sixty-seven years, longer than China's Emperor Kangxi, and possibly even the longest-reigning ruler in world history! Not to mention he ruled over ancient Egypt, one of the four great ancient civilizations! Over three thousand years ago, he unified Egypt, established the first war and peace treaty, and his statues and temples were erected throughout Egypt...

"Can we even take this out of the country?" The Doctor, snapping back to reality, first thought of safety concerns. An antique over three thousand years old! He definitely didn't want to get detained by customs because of this!

"Relax, no one would believe this is a genuine antique. Papyrus can't possibly survive for over three thousand years." The Boss was dismissive. The Khalili Market was full of these things being sold everywhere. Anyone holding it would think it was a very realistic replica or travel souvenir.

"Then..." So this isn't the real thing?

"That's why I suspect this scroll of the Book of the Dead genuinely possesses magical power." As the Boss spoke slowly, he actually reached out and tore the precious Book of the Dead.

The Doctor wanted to stop him, but couldn't move faster than the Boss. He could only watch helplessly as the Boss peeled off a layer of papyrus. The light brown papyrus came off easily, clearly having been peeled by the Boss before. A line of ancient Egyptian text appeared on the second layer of the Book of the Dead, with some words partially damaged. The Doctor read it with difficulty, instinctively looking at the Boss beside him.

"When sunlight shines upon... once more, the ancient spirits shall return... That's roughly the translation." The Boss sighed. "The damaged words in the middle are impossible to guess. Perhaps it means when sunlight shines upon this second scroll of the Book of the Dead again..."

The Doctor looked grimly at the sunlight outside passing through the glass window and shining unobstructed onto the Book of the Dead. But aside from making the cracks and fiber patterns on it clearer, there was no unusual reaction whatsoever.

"Nothing happened, Boss. You must be too tense. Maybe foreign antiques aren't as magical as you think!" The Doctor forced a dry laugh and stood up. "You didn't sleep at all last night, did you? You should rest. Why hasn't room service arrived yet? The service here is terrible! I'm going to complain!"

Actually, the Doctor wanted to go to the restaurant himself to see what good food they had. With the gilded earrings, he wasn't afraid to go out alone anymore—no communication barriers now!

Listening to the sound of the door closing, the Boss stared at the Book of the Dead on the coffee table for a long while before finally withdrawing his gaze and casually lying down on the sofa.

The living room of their suite had a set of luxurious furniture. What he was lying on now was a European-style chaise lounge imitating Mediterranean design. Although the Boss didn't need regular daily sleep like ordinary people, this chaise lounge was extremely comfortable. He closed his eyes, cleared his mind, and rested—it was truly quite nice.After a short while, when sunlight fully illuminated the Book of the Dead, the light brown papyrus suddenly began to glow. A wisp of white smoke rose under the sunlight, slowly coalescing into a human form. Facial features gradually became distinct, ultimately materializing into a translucent, young and handsome man.

He appeared to be only in his twenties, with deep-set eyes and eyebrows, an aquiline nose, his head wrapped in linen cloth. His upper body was bare, adorned with several necklaces embedded with precious gems, while his lower body wore a narrow white linen skirt - typical attire of ancient Egyptian nobility. Though merely in a spectral form, he exuded an aura of supreme authority.

The man first observed his surroundings with curiosity, showing particular interest in everything in the room, especially repeatedly examining the photographs hanging on the living room wall. Finally, his gaze turned to the Boss dozing on the chaise lounge. What began as a casual glance turned into astonishment when he noticed the Boss's shirt, causing him to instantly float to the side of the chaise lounge.

His handsome features displayed increasing surprise until he couldn't resist reaching out toward the Boss.

"I thought you'd be emerging soon," the Boss slowly opened his eyes, ignoring the translucent hand already resting on his chest, instead looking directly at the suddenly appeared ancient Egyptian man. "How should I address you? Pharaoh? Your Majesty? Or... Ramesses II?"

The handsome Pharaoh withdrew his hand, straightened his posture, slightly raised his chin, and looked down at the Boss with full arrogance, declaring in a deep voice: "Commoner from a foreign land, I permit you to address me as Your Majesty."

The Boss raised an eyebrow, aware that this was the gilded earring translating ancient Egyptian into terms he could understand, as an Egyptian Pharaoh wouldn't normally refer to himself as "I, the Emperor." The Boss looked at the Pharaoh disrespectfully without rising - in fact, he found the chaise lounge extremely comfortable and had no desire to move.

"I suppose you should know that present-day Egypt is no longer under your rule."

The Pharaoh glanced around and nodded: "Obviously. But I've had my fill of being Pharaoh. Having finally awakened from prolonged slumber, I've no intention of resuming that tedious existence."

The Boss hadn't expected Ramesses II to be so reasonable, though anyone reborn wouldn't want to relive their life exactly the same way. A soul should be able to control its appearance - though the Pharaoh had died at ninety-nine, his current form showed him in his twenties, when he first ascended the throne at his most youthful and vigorous.

The Boss slightly rose and looked at the papyrus scroll on the tea table, marveling: "I never imagined the Book of the Dead could truly resurrect the deceased..."

"Resurrect? No, this is merely the first step - liberating my slumbering soul." The Pharaoh shook his finger, then deeply bent forward, staring into the Boss's eyes as he slowly explained: "The Nile's waters may fall and rise again, vegetation may be harvested and regrow, thus we believe humans too can resurrect. After death, one must find the great god Osiris, cleanse worldly sins, then use the Book of the Dead to return to the living world. Moreover, one must maintain the physical body's immortality.""Oh? Then you must have committed numerous sins in your lifetime. It's been over three thousand years since your death." The Boss rarely made such sarcastic remarks, thinking to himself that if the Doctor were here, he would surely say the same.

The Pharaoh's expression stiffened. Under the sunlight, his figure grew increasingly distinct, revealing honey-brown skin that looked nothing like a spectral form. His features were identical to the statues of Ramesses II found throughout Egypt—a face as sharply defined as if carved by a blade, as handsome as described in the hymns praising him.

The Boss had always loved collecting beautiful and artistic items. The Dumb Shop came into existence precisely because of his obsessive collecting habit. Now, gazing upon the Pharaoh's exotic, handsome face, the Boss couldn't help but narrow his eyes, contemplating how to lure this arrogant Pharaoh back to the Dumb Shop for his collection. Truthfully, he would have preferred to acquire a statue of Ramesses II, but the statues this guy commissioned during his lifetime were enormous—some even dozens of meters tall—making it impossible to fit them into his small shop.

As the Boss drifted into thought, the Pharaoh composed himself and continued with a meaningful smile, "Do you know how we preserve our bodies from decay? Mummies? Have you seen one? Have you heard how mummies are made?"

Without waiting for the Boss's response, the Pharaoh reached out and traced the bridge of the Boss's straight nose, stroking it slowly as he explained, "First, we use an iron hook to extract the brain through the nasal cavity. After it's completely removed, we fill the cavity with medicinal substances."

The Pharaoh's hand moved downward, following the line of the Boss's jaw, brushing past his neck, gliding over his chest, and finally settling at his waist. "Then, we use a stone knife to make an incision along the side, remove the internal organs, rinse the abdominal cavity with palm wine, sprinkle it with spices, stuff it with medicinal herbs, and carefully suture it shut. After that, the body is soaked in a strong alkaline solution for seventy days, then thoroughly washed. Finally, it is meticulously wrapped strip by strip in linen bandages coated with a gum-like resin..."

The Pharaoh's voice was deep, carrying the distinctive trills of ancient Egyptian, echoing through the room. His hands roamed freely over the Boss's body, not bothering to conceal his desire for the form beneath his touch.

"I believed our mummification techniques were the finest... But how did you achieve this? This body... must have been preserved for five hundred years, no? Wait... at least over a thousand years..."

The Boss lay sprawled on the chaise lounge, completely unbothered by the Pharaoh's invasive gestures. Though the Pharaoh appeared as solid as a living person, he couldn't actually make physical contact. Why should the Boss care about empty air? Instead, his mind drifted to the divination he had cast before leaving—the third line of the Zhun hexagram: "Chasing a deer without a guide, one gets lost in the woods. A wise man knows when to stop, for pressing forward leads to regret." That so-called guide, Xiang Yi, must refer to this Pharaoh. But who was the deer? And who must be abandoned to prevent the Doctor from facing danger?

The handsome Pharaoh remained unaware of the Boss's distracted state. After asking several questions without receiving answers, he grew increasingly frenzied, his deep brown eyes gleaming with an unsettling light."Whoa! It seems this garment is the key!" Although the Pharaoh had identified the crucial point, his spectral form prevented him from undoing the buttons of the Boss's crimson dragon robe. Frustrated and anxious, the Pharaoh was at a complete loss, practically draping himself over the Boss in desperation.

Four

"Boss! The food in Egypt is really strange! I picked a few dishes where I could recognize the ingredients. Hey! What's going on here? Who are you?" The doctor, who had just pushed the door open, was utterly startled by the scene.

It was indeed a shocking sight. From his perspective, the Boss was pinned against the chaise lounge, while an unfamiliar man groped him freely. Had it not been for the Boss's calm and unbothered expression, the doctor would have immediately pressed the alarm button by the door.

"Impudent commoner! How dare you raise your voice at me!" The Pharaoh lifted his head, directing his full fury at the suddenly intruding doctor.

The Boss, too lazy to get up, gestured toward the Pharaoh and said to the doctor, "This is the esteemed and great Pharaoh Ramses II." Though he added all the proper prefixes and suffixes, his tone was casual, almost as if he were joking.

The doctor's hands trembled on the meal cart, and he quickly turned to close the door. He didn't think the Boss was joking.

"So, the incantation from the Book of the Dead has been realized?" The doctor rubbed his hands together, scrutinizing the freshly materialized Pharaoh. This was a living soul! Though he was a researcher who championed science, supernatural phenomena were also worthy of study!

The Boss recalled something and sat up, pointing to the missing word in the second layer of the Book of the Dead. "When sunlight shines upon it once more, the ancient souls shall return. What is the word in the middle?"

"Horis!" The Pharaoh crossed his arms, lifted his chin, and arrogantly uttered the word. However, neither the doctor nor the Boss understood it. Clearly, it was a proper noun in ancient Egyptian, and even the gilded earrings couldn't translate it.

After a moment's thought, the Pharaoh explained, "We believe that to resurrect a person and reunite their soul with their body, there must be an object serving as a medium. Horis must not be exposed to sunlight under normal circumstances. It needs to accumulate yin energy to absorb power. But when sunlight finally falls upon it after a long interval, as long as the soul and body are nearby, they can merge once more."

As the doctor listened, he suddenly remembered something. He picked up the Egyptian travel guide from the coffee table, flipped to a page, and said, "Are you talking about the Abu Simbel Temple you built? Every year, sunlight penetrates the 62-meter tunnel only twice to illuminate the sanctum. Once on February 21st, Your Majesty's birthday, and again on October 21st, the day of Your Majesty's coronation."

"Correct! I placed my scepter within the statue of myself in the sanctum. The first date you mentioned is accurate—it is the day of my birth. But the second date, though it marks my coronation, is most importantly the day I chose for my return to the mortal world! Hahahaha!" The Pharaoh spread his arms wide and laughed unrestrainedly, as if no one else were present.The doctor was utterly dumbfounded. Although he had long known that the ancient Egyptians possessed incredibly advanced astronomical calendars, the Abu Simbel temple was simply too miraculous—a masterpiece of divine craftsmanship that could achieve such wonders without computer calculations.

The Boss, however, was displeased by the Pharaoh’s arrogant demeanor. Propping his chin, he remarked coolly, “What? Planning to return to the human world? In that tattered mummy of yours? I heard your mummy was once sold as dried fish in the market and even had to be sent to Paris for consultation because it grew moldy. Oh, and the Egyptian government even issued you a passport with ‘His Majesty the King’ written on it. Not to mention, your mummy is now the prized centerpiece of the Egyptian Museum of History—visitors even have to buy an extra ticket to see it!”

The laughter came to an abrupt halt, as if someone had pressed the pause button. The Pharaoh stared at the Boss in stunned silence, searching his face for any hint of mockery.

But unfortunately, the Boss never joked.

“As for that Abu Simbel temple, although it hasn’t collapsed after over three thousand years, I’m sorry to say it was relocated fifty years ago to higher ground hundreds of meters away because the Egyptian government was building the Aswan Dam. It may still look the same, with every stone intact, but sadly, the days when sunlight illuminates it have been delayed by one day—now it’s February 22nd and October 22nd. So, I hope you don’t absolutely need October 21st to resurrect.” The Boss curled his lips, watching with satisfaction as the handsome Pharaoh’s face stiffened, radiating fury as if he were about to burst into flames.

The doctor suddenly felt a pang of pity for the Pharaoh. Just when he thought there was hope of returning to the world, he had been plunged from heaven into hell. Glancing at the composed Boss, the doctor thought the Pharaoh’s biggest mistake was provoking him.

The Pharaoh was indeed deeply shaken. The mummy wasn’t the real issue—in a country as vast as Egypt, he could surely find a body compatible with his soul, even if it took years.

The true tragedy was that his scepter had been moved!

His scepter wasn’t the finest Horis, but the better ones had already been claimed by previous pharaohs. Like divine artifacts, they couldn’t be mass-produced; each one was unique and irreplaceable. His scepter could only unleash its power at the original site of Abu Simbel, as it required alignment with the stars to generate immense energy. Now, unless he could rebuild the temple in the submerged location, his hopes of resurrection were dashed.

But that was nothing short of a fantasy.

“If only I had waited back then and sent someone to find a better artifact,” the Pharaoh lamented, his proud spine slumping like a wounded lion.

It seemed he could lure this collectible back after all. The Boss lightly curved his lips, picked up the Egyptian tea from the coffee table, and took a sip, only to frown at its peculiar taste.

By now, the doctor could no longer bear his hunger. He brought over breakfast from the meal cart, handed a portion to the Boss, and then started eating his own share without further ado.The Egyptian food didn't suit the Boss's taste, and she only took a few bites before putting down her knife and fork. The Boss looked at the damaged Book of the Dead on the coffee table, then raised her head to ask the handsome Pharaoh: "By the way, I want to know, how exactly is your soul preserved within this Book of the Dead?"

"Actually, it's not preservation. The true secret of the Book of the Dead is that it can summon departed souls." The Pharaoh, after all, was someone who had once dominated the world, quickly recovering from his shock as he gave the Boss a mysterious smile. Other people's Books of the Dead were useless; only the one he had found was effective.

Hearing this, the Boss raised an eyebrow.

"Do you also have someone you wish to revive?" The Pharaoh studied the Boss's expression, leisurely sitting down and crossing his legs on the coffee table. Although he was a spiritual entity who couldn't touch living beings or the objects they were in contact with—unable to touch the Boss or the Red dragon robe she wore—he could interact with other things.

The Boss remained silent.

The Pharaoh smiled and kindly added: "Setting aside whether you can find that person's most precious item from their lifetime, and whether that item has the power to reverse fate, the most important thing is actually this: if the summoned soul isn't as powerful as mine, and doesn't have a compatible body within a short time, it will gradually fade away and eventually dissipate into the air."

The Boss thought of Fusu, who had instantly turned to dust in Qin Shi Huang's underground palace, and felt a sudden, sharp pain in her heart. So... so she actually had a real chance to recover her?

The Boss looked at the Doctor, who had finished eating and was enthusiastically browsing through an Egyptian travel guide, and finally realized that the divination she had cast before leaving wasn't just about the Doctor.

It included her as well.

"The deer is chased, only to enter the deep forest. The nobleman hesitates, better to abandon the chase, for going forward brings regret."

Who is the deer?

Who is the nobleman?

Who must abandon whom.

(End of Chapter)