The shopkeeper lowered his head and quietly gazed at the pale brown papyrus scroll spread across the counter. He could still faintly smell the decaying musty odor emanating from this ancient papyrus roll. For someone who frequently dealt with antiques, this musty smell was nothing unusual, but this time, as it lingered around him, it gave him a suffocating sensation that made it difficult to breathe.
It had been two months since he returned from Egypt, and he had spent almost every day lost in such dazed contemplation. The Book of the Dead—the legendary divine artifact capable of summoning ancient spirits—now lay before him. The hexagram he had cast before departing for Egypt once again appeared in his mind.
The deer approaches the corner, but only enters the forest. The gentleman should be cautious; it is better to abandon than to proceed, for moving forward brings shame.
Who was the deer? Who was the gentleman? Who should… abandon whom…
“Tsk, shopkeeper, this won’t do if you continue being so dejected!” The golden scepter placed beside the Book of the Dead trembled slightly. With a teasing voice, a wisp of white smoke rose up, vaguely forming a human shape—it was the young pharaoh, Ramesses II.
Although the pharaoh insisted that his soul power was strong and would not easily dissipate, when the shopkeeper left Egypt, he still infiltrated the Abu Simbel Temple to obtain the golden scepter as a dwelling place for the pharaoh’s daily rest. His actions proved to be correct, but over the past two months, the pharaoh had never appeared even once, presumably due to excessive consumption of soul power.
The shopkeeper set down his completely cold teacup, placed the water kettle back on the red clay stove to heat, and paid no attention to this eccentric pharaoh. The pharaoh didn’t mind either. He had slept for a long time, and due to his soul power, he could only manifest today. However, every time he awakened during this period, he saw the shopkeeper staring blankly at that Book of the Dead scroll, so he could naturally guess what was on the other’s mind. If someone was interested in the Book of the Dead that could summon souls, then they certainly had something they desired. Moreover, a person who had lived alone for over two thousand years must be clinging to something.
For a moment, the pharaoh even felt somewhat jealous—among his believers, not one could devoutly follow him for a thousand years. He glanced at the unfamiliar decorations and strange furnishings in the Dumb House that were foreign to him, then asked in a seemingly casual manner, “So tell me, whom do you wish to summon?”
The shopkeeper’s hand holding the official kiln tea canister trembled slightly. Some of the Iron Goddess tea leaves he was pouring into the purple clay teapot scattered onto the counter. He paused for a moment, swept away the scattered tea leaves, but did not answer the pharaoh’s question.
The pharaoh, ignored once again, frowned and floated closer to the shopkeeper, waving around to confirm that the shopkeeper was indeed wearing the gold-plated earring that could translate languages and could understand what he was saying.
“Actually, summoning ancient spirits isn’t that easy! Besides the divine artifact they loved most in life, you also need a body that can harmonize with the spirit, and most importantly…” The pharaoh deliberately drew out his voice, but was disappointed to find that the shopkeeper showed no reaction and continued waiting normally for the water on the red clay stove to boil.
“Fine, the most important point is that this Book of the Dead already bears the mark of my scepter, so it can only summon my soul. Unless you can modify the marks on this papyrus scroll, otherwise this Book of the Dead is just waste paper.” The pharaoh sighed and ultimately couldn’t help but reveal the secret. He knew that giving people unrealistic hopes was actually the cruelest thing.
A suffocating silence ensued. After a long while, the water kettle made gurgling sounds as boiling steam eagerly gushed out from the spout.
The shopkeeper calmly picked up the kettle to brew tea, covered the teapot lid, then calmly inhaled the spreading tea fragrance without any ripples of emotion.
The pharaoh’s soul flickered between dense and faint in the white steam. Finally, he heard a long sigh and a word of thanks spoken as if a burden had been lifted.
“Eh? You were listening?” The pharaoh pursed his lips in dissatisfaction, but then asked curiously, “But if there really was a chance? If all conditions were met, how would you choose?”
The shopkeeper took a light sip of tea, savoring the rich tea fragrance spreading between his lips and teeth, then sighed softly, “This world is very fair. If you want to obtain something, you must exchange it for something of equal value…” He paused, as if struggling with a difficult choice, and also as if strengthening his own conviction. “If this price is something I can afford, I will consider it. If it’s something I cannot afford, I will abandon it.”
The pharaoh stroked his chin, falling into deep thought.
Neither the person nor the ghost noticed that in the flickering light of the Changxin Palace Lamp, there was something strange about the fierce golden ghost mask hanging on the opposite wall. Behind those deep black hollow eye sockets, a flash of light faintly passed by…
In a dim tomb chamber, empty except for a coffin with its lid opened placed in the center of the chamber, and an oil lamp burning quietly in the northeast corner, casting a faint glow. Little Red Bird stood on the edge of the coffin with closed eyes, dozing off, until a pale, slender hand emerged from the coffin. A man wearing a golden ghost mask supported himself on the coffin’s edge and slowly sat up.
This man had silver-white long hair. He removed the golden ghost mask covering his face, revealing an incomparably handsome countenance. However, his complexion was somewhat pale, looking as if he hadn’t been exposed to sunlight for a long time. He slowly opened his eyes, revealing enchanting crimson pupils. His entire aura changed instantly, and his thin lips curved into a sinister smile.
The Red Dragon Robe and the golden mask were a matching set of burial artifacts. There were two sets of Red Dragon Robes, and correspondingly, there were naturally two golden masks. Only the clan leader of each generation of the Ying family knew this—even his imperial brother Fu Su didn’t know that the two golden masks had the supernatural ability to eavesdrop and spy through telepathic connection. Hu Hai only learned this after ascending to the throne and having the authority to open the treasure trove accumulated by the Ying family over hundreds of years.
“The divine artifact most beloved in life? That should be the jade pendant that my imperial brother never left his side, which is now the broken longevity lock in my hands. I wonder if it can still work when broken in half? As for a harmonizing body…” Hu Hai toyed with the golden ghost mask in his hand, murmuring to himself.
That doctor beside that person—he had already tested him with the Nine Dragon Cup, but for some unknown reason, there was no reaction. And that Lu Zigan… during the last time at the Liubo Chess Manor, he actually spoke words that were almost identical to what his imperial brother had said in life. Could it really be just a coincidence? Although that person knew Lu Zigan, their relationship wasn’t deep. But it might also be a smokescreen…
Little Red Bird awakened from its drowsy state, and upon opening its eyes and seeing its master had awakened, it chirped joyfully twice and fluttered its wings to fly to Hu Hai’s shoulder. Hu Hai stroked Little Red Bird’s feathers and said in a low voice, “Ming Hong, do you think that Lu Zigan could be the reincarnation of my imperial brother?”
Little Red Bird, thoroughly comfortable from its master’s grooming, squinted its eyes and made meaningless chirping sounds. Hu Hai didn’t expect this little creature to give him any answers. He scratched Little Red Bird’s head and chuckled softly, “A brush that can modify any object… I actually do have one here. Go fetch that brush.”
Little Red Bird chirped once in acknowledgment and flew away. The fluttering sounds gradually faded in the pitch-black tomb passage, then returned again not long after. When it rushed into the tomb chamber, the air current from its wings caused the oil lamp in the northeast corner to flicker several times, nearly extinguishing it.
Hu Hai took the brush from Little Red Bird’s sharp beak, the smile at the corner of his lips gradually expanding until he silently laughed several times.
“This world is very fair—if you want to obtain something, you must exchange it for something of equal value?”
“Then, I’m willing to use everything I have to exchange…”
“Imperial brother… wait for me…”
Lu Zigan put on his gloves and carefully lifted a long camphor wood box from the sterile container, then gently and carefully removed the scroll from the basin and cautiously unrolled the painting.
This was “Qiantang Scenery” painted by Tang Yin (Tang Bohu) of the Ming Dynasty, painted on silk. However, due to being passed down through many hands over several hundred years without proper preservation, many parts were damaged, and both the painting and seals had faded considerably. Although it had been restored by numerous experts, it still looked riddled with holes.
Lu Zigan studied it for a long time and regretfully shook his head. Most of Tang Yin’s paintings were housed in the Shanghai Museum, Palace Museum, and Taipei Museum. Moreover, the Tang Yin scrolls generally exhibited in those museums were usually former imperial palace collections from the Qing Dynasty, all carefully preserved. Some even bore authentication seals from Emperor Kangxi and Emperor Qianlong, which significantly increased their value. This time, for the National Museum’s construction, the curator of the calligraphy and painting hall had used various connections to obtain a batch of scrolls from the Palace Museum. But as one could imagine, what they received were generally damaged pieces that couldn’t possibly be displayed in exhibitions. In such condition, if hung in the exhibition hall for more than a month exposed to air, the fading would likely become much worse.
Was there really no solution? Lu Zigan furrowed his brow tightly. There were many similar calligraphy and paintings, or rather, every museum would have a large number of calligraphy and paintings that couldn’t be restored. Unlike bronze, jade, or gold and silver artifacts that weren’t easily damaged, calligraphy and paintings were even more fragile than porcelain. Perhaps if one used slightly too much force when taking them out, they would turn to ash and completely disappear from this world.
Maybe the shopkeeper at the Dumb House would have some method to prevent such regrettable incidents?
This thought suddenly flashed through Lu Zigan’s mind, then he smiled bitterly and shook his head in denial. He believed that shopkeeper would certainly have special means, but it would be impossible to apply them to all antiques.
Just as even gods couldn’t save all their believers.
After calming his emotions, Lu Zigan took this opportunity to carefully examine this “Qiantang Scenery” once more. “Qiantang Scenery” depicted towering mountains and plank roads, horses galloping gracefully, a solitary traveler sitting in a grass pavilion, fishing boats drifting in the river, and it also bore Tang Yin’s own inscribed seven-character quatrain and signature. Tang Yin called himself the “foremost talent of Jiangnan,” who became the famous Tang Bohu of later generations. He excelled in figure, landscape, and bird-and-flower paintings, forming his own style. In this “Qiantang Scenery,” the rocks and trees followed the style of Li Tang from the Southern Song Dynasty, using firm, fine, and sharp brushwork. The figural elements appeared natural, with a delicate style. This should be a work from Tang Yin’s early period when his brushwork had not yet fully matured.
Lu Zigan admired it for a while. Though reluctant to part with it, he knew that no matter how intently he stared at this painting, he couldn’t restore the faded and damaged paint traces. Just as he was about to roll up the painting again, he noticed something was wrong—somehow, another person had appeared in the laboratory that should have contained only him. That person wore white clothes, which at first glance might be mistaken for the white lab coats everyone uniformly wore in the laboratory, but his white windbreaker had a hood, and a second look would reveal the difference.
“How… did you get in here?” Lu Zigan clenched his fist, then immediately relaxed it. Facing this silver-haired, red-eyed young man, he was truly helpless. He couldn’t forget what happened that night at the Liubo Chess Manor. Although it was just a nightmare, it had almost become reality. “There are surveillance cameras everywhere here…” Lu Zigan stopped mid-sentence. Saying such things now was meaningless. The laboratory required fingerprint access to enter, and if even that couldn’t stop this person, surveillance cameras would probably just be decorations.
Hu Hai ignored Lu Zigan’s defensive hostility, crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow asking, “You just spent so long looking at this painting—do you want to restore it?”
Lu Zigan didn’t think there was anything wrong with saying this. He nodded openly, “That’s right, but unfortunately this painting is already too severely damaged. Even with remounting and recoloring, it can’t be properly restored.”
Hu Hai chuckled softly and said, “What if I told you I have a way to restore this painting?”
Lu Zigan frowned warily, “What do you want?”
Hu Hai’s enchanting crimson eyes sparkled brilliantly beneath his silver-white eyelashes. He laughed unexpectedly and said, “If you want to obtain something, you must exchange it for something of equal value? It seems everyone knows this rule of equivalent exchange. Well, actually I want back that half piece of the Wordless Stele.”