"This is Jin Yiwei's 'Kowloon Soul Locking Box'." Mr. Chaofeng Zhao, who had been wiping his hookah behind the counter, suddenly spoke, his voice as hoarse as sandpaper. He knocked the cigarette pot vigorously on the sole of his shoe, sparks flying out and quickly extinguished in the shadows. "During the Wanli period, those eunuchs from Dongchang used the skulls of ninety-nine boys and girls to make lacquer..."
"What?!" Duan Yushan took a step back suddenly, as if he had been stung by a scorpion, and his back hit the Bogu rack hard. The shelf shook, and a Jun kiln bile bottle fell down and broke into several pieces. He didn't realize it. He just stared at the wooden box with trembling lips: "Head... Skull? Mr. Zhao, please, don't scare me! This... This thing was given to me by someone a month ago, saying it was... A treasure from the previous dynasty..."
Mr. Zhao snorted and blew out the smoke: "Baby? A life-threatening treasure! How dare you bring this kind of thing home? Mr. Duan, you are so brave." He looked at the box with complicated eyes, and took another puff of dry smoke. The smoke ring he exhaled lingered for a long time.
