The doctor emerged from the operating room exhausted, writing a surgical report summary in his chart as he walked. Having just completed an eight-hour surgery, standing by the operating table all day, his feet felt weak just walking now.

He urgently needed a big meal to replenish his energy. Looking at the chart in his hands, the doctor felt his handwriting was also developing in the direction of illegible scrawls. Whatever—everyone was the same, as long as they could understand each other. Fortunately, there was a department head in front dealing with patients and families, and as just an assistant, he only needed to complete paperwork.

It was already evening. Except for the emergency building which remained packed, the hospital’s other corridors were basically deserted. The doctor once again felt grateful for transferring from the emergency department this year. He smiled and greeted the duty nurse, handed in his chart, and prepared to return to the break room to change clothes and go home. Oh, and stop by the Mute House to see if the boss had eaten—if not, he’d drag him out for a big meal together.

Thinking of delicious boiled fish, the doctor’s mood immediately brightened and his pace quickened. As he rounded the corner about to go down the stairs, he didn’t expect someone walking up close to the wall to collide face-to-face with him. The doctor cursed inwardly—he couldn’t pull back his extended foot, the stair railing was on the far other side beyond his reach. Fortunately, there was also a handrail on his wall side for patients with mobility issues. The doctor grabbed it with his left hand but couldn’t stop his forward momentum. From the corner of his eye, he saw the other person carefully holding a cup, probably containing hot water. If he collided at this trajectory, it would definitely spill all over him.

Between being scalded by hot water or tumbling down the stairs, before his brain could make a final choice, his body had already reacted—bracing his left hand on the railing and falling toward the right side.

If it were an ordinary person, this would definitely land them on the right side of the stairs where they could grab the other railing to stop falling. But the doctor treasured his hands most, usually wearing rubber gloves even for dishwashing and housework to protect them. Fearing any accident might injure his hands, in this situation the doctor couldn’t possibly risk wrist injury to grab the railing. He even suppressed his instinct to brace with his hands, tucking them against his chest and reflexively closing his eyes, planning to take the impact with his back.

The expected pain didn’t come. The doctor felt an arm encircle his waist, pulling him back from the brink of falling. Opening his eyes in surprise, the doctor realized his glasses had somehow fallen off during this series of accidents. In his blurred vision, he discovered he’d been saved by that very person he’d nearly collided with. The other’s cup remained steady in their other hand—clearly rescuing him was effortless, done in passing. The doctor could only vaguely see the other wore a hooded sweatshirt covering their head and face. With his severe myopia, he couldn’t make out their features. But the doctor instinctively felt this person wasn’t a hospital employee.

Awkwardly steadying himself with the other’s help, the doctor searched for his fallen glasses while clearing his throat: “It’s quite late—visiting hours are over. If seeking medical attention, please go to the emergency building.”

“Imperial brother…” the other’s murmured voice came faintly. The doctor’s body stiffened, almost doubting his ears were having auditory hallucinations. But the next second, the doctor’s attention was diverted by a slight pain in his left hand. Huh? When had he cut his hand? How careless of him! Fortunately it was his left hand and the wound wasn’t deep…

“Your glasses.” The person’s voice rang out coldly, this time beside the doctor’s ear. The doctor saw something handed over from his left side and reflexively caught it with his left hand.

The moment his fingertips touched the cold object, the doctor knew this wasn’t his glasses at all. But before he could see what it was, his consciousness seemed drawn from his body and he knew nothing more.

Hu Hai caught the collapsing doctor in one arm while catching the jade cup before it hit the ground with his other hand.

Looking at the striking bloodstain on the jade cup, he smiled with satisfaction, then those crimson eyes looked expectantly at the sleeping man in his arms.

“Imperial brother, I know you’re still within this body. Once I seal this soul, you’ll awaken again, won’t you…”

“That’s the situation. When hospital security noticed something wrong and rushed over, he was already unconscious. That person left this jade cup and escaped.” Chun Ge stood in the Mute House, frowning at the strange incense smell that seemed odd to him. “He’s still sleeping. I suspect this cup came from your shop, boss, and worried you might be concerned, so I brought it over first.” As he spoke, he carefully took a white jade cup from his chest and gently placed it on the counter.

The boss didn’t reach for the white jade cup, just stared at the glaring bloodstain on it for a while before saying coolly: “This Nine Dragons Cup isn’t from the shop.”

This white jade cup was called the Nine Dragons Cup? Chun Ge glanced at it—indeed, the cup body had eight dragons in various poses carved in relief, plus the handle was carved as a complete dragon, making exactly nine dragons total. Even without knowing its origin, Chun Ge could see this Nine Dragons Cup was valuable. Knowing the doctor often stayed at this antique shop, he feared this might be some precious antique that he couldn’t afford to replace if broken. “Then I’ll leave it here with you for now, boss. I’m afraid with all the people coming and going at the hospital, it might get lost or broken. I’ll head back now!”

Chun Ge always felt this antique shop was eerie—staying even a moment longer made him uncomfortable all over.

“Is he… alright?” the boss suddenly asked as Chun Ge turned to leave.

“Oh, still sleeping. We’ve examined him—no problems. Just too tired from continuous high-intensity surgeries. We’ll see when he wakes up. I’m off!” Chun Ge was also hurrying back to work, saying this casually before leaving.

The boss said nothing, just went inside to find an appropriately sized brocade box to store the Nine Dragons Cup.

“…Boss, what did you just put in there? I saw it! Quick, bring it out for me to see!” As soon as the doctor regained consciousness, the first thing he heard was the curator’s familiar nagging voice.

Huh? Was he in the Mute House now? How did he remember being at the hospital just now? The doctor struggled to open his eyes but found he saw only darkness, and his body was completely immobilized.

What was happening? Was he having sleep paralysis? Or had he actually fallen down the stairs and broken bones all over? But there was no pain at all!

As the doctor’s mind wandered, suddenly bright light flooded his vision and the curator’s face appeared magnified several times before him, startling him.

The curator was obviously more shocked, gasping: “My heavens! Nine dragons! White jade thin cup! This jade quality! This style! Could this be Emperor Kangxi’s beloved Nine Dragons Cup?”

“Nine Dragons Cup!” a clear, indifferent voice came with the creaking of carved doors. The doctor easily recognized this voice as belonging to the painter who frequently visited the Mute House. No one else spoke with such arrogant indifference beneath apparent calm. “What a coincidence—you’re here too?” The curator glanced aside, then his gaze stuck back. “This Nine Dragons Cup is a wine vessel. When filled with jade wine, you can see nine writhing dragons in the cup. Legend says the famous bandit Yang Xiangwu once infiltrated the imperial palace three times trying to steal this cup but never succeeded, making the Nine Dragons Cup famous throughout the realm. After Kangxi’s death, the cup was buried with him as a beloved object in Jing Mausoleum. During the war, bandits looted Jing Mausoleum taking advantage of the chaos, and this Nine Dragons Cup disappeared. Boss, is this cup the legendary Nine Dragons Cup?”

The boss didn’t answer, while the painter glanced over casually before walking indifferently toward the Mute House’s inner rooms.

The doctor didn’t mind the painter’s dismissive attitude because he seemed to have discovered something terrifying. Why was the curator talking about the Nine Dragons Cup while staring at him the whole time? He didn’t have any strange preferences, did he?

The doctor watched helplessly as the curator carefully pulled out a handkerchief, dried his hands, and reached toward him with green-glowing eyes and sinister hands, frightening him enough to want to scream. Fortunately the boss rescued him in time: “Trust me, you won’t want to touch this Nine Dragons 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 Dragons Cup. If others touch it…” the boss paused meaningfully.

“What happens?” the curator asked urgently.

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

“…” The curator obediently withdrew his hand.

Hearing this, the doctor wanted to laugh. Wasn’t the boss obviously lying? And the curator actually believed it! Just as he was secretly amused, the doctor discovered his body had been turned to face the boss’s deep gaze directly, startling him greatly. 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 Millet Dream pillow last time—it must be like that!

Thinking this way, the doctor calmed down. After all, he was dreaming! But boss, didn’t you just tell the curator this Nine Dragons Cup couldn’t be touched? How come after the curator left, you picked it up yourself? The doctor complained internally while feeling himself held in a pair of cold palms.

This dream was really too bizarre!

He was placed on the third level of the treasure cabinet. From this angle, he could see the entire Mute House clearly. The doctor watched with curiosity as the boss took a cloth and wiped each antique one by one, finally understanding that the boss also needed to do cleaning! He’d assumed the other truly never lifted a finger, using some mysterious method to maintain the Mute House’s spotless condition!

“Newcomer.” Just as the doctor’s mind wandered, he suddenly heard an aged voice.

The doctor looked around but saw no customers entering, and strangely the boss seemed not to hear anything, still focused on his work.

He must be having auditory hallucinations… Just as the doctor thought this, he noticed the smoke from the gilded flying dragon Boshan incense burner on the counter seemed to gain consciousness, moving toward him without any wind. “Newcomer, where do you come from?”

When the smoke rolled toward him, the doctor instinctively wanted to hold his breath, but the next second remembered he was dreaming and had absurdly become a jade cup, so inhaling some secondhand smoke shouldn’t matter.

“You… are talking to me?” the doctor tried speaking, but his voice didn’t feel like hearing himself speak before. It was like being on a different plane—his voice felt like the humming vibration of a jade cup, yet somehow comprehensible.

“Besides you, kid, who else is new in this shop?” The Boshan burner was very patient, its smoke returning to leisurely curls like a lazy old man settling back into a reclining chair. He spoke in a mix of ancient and modern language that made the doctor dizzy.

“Brother Boshan, you forgot? There’s another newcomer—that golden demon mask hanging on the wall, only came last week.” A sweet female voice appeared from nowhere. Following the sound, the doctor discovered the candlelight of the Changxin Palace lamp by the left entrance flickered several times as the woman spoke.