Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

After dinner, the family sat around the kang (a heated brick bed) drinking tea. He Daqing lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and frowned slightly: "Damin, there's something that needs to be done quickly. Tomorrow you have to come with me to the police station to get a good citizen certificate. These days, you can be checked at any time without one, and it would be troublesome if you got arrested and taken to the military police."

"A good citizen certificate?" He Damin raised an eyebrow. Of course he knew about this thing—an identity document that ordinary people in the Japanese-occupied area had to obtain, which had a photo and thumbprint on it and was a symbol of humiliation.

"Yes, now you need a good citizen's certificate to enter and leave the city, stay in an inn, and find a job." He Daqing sighed. "It's frustrating, but there's no other way. I'll take you to get it first thing tomorrow morning. It'll cost some money, but it should be done quickly."

"Okay, brother, I'll do whatever you say." He Damin nodded obediently. He understood that this was a necessary condition for survival in chaotic times, and that bowing his head temporarily was for the sake of being able to raise it higher in the future.

Lu Bingxin, who was helping Xiaoyuzhu undress in preparation for bed, interrupted upon hearing this, saying, "Daqing, don't rush to take Damin to Fengzeyuan tomorrow. First, get the good citizen certificate, and then find out more about the apprenticeship. Let Damin rest at home for a few days; look how thin he is, he's practically skin and bones."

As she spoke, she glanced at He Damin with concern. Although her younger brother was composed, his body was indeed rather thin after the marrow cleansing, and given his age of thirteen, he clearly needed to be properly nourished.

He Daqing nodded: "Okay, wife is right. Damin, you can stay home and familiarize yourself with the surroundings for the next few days. I'll ask Grandma Long if she's selling the house when I have time. If we can buy it, we'll settle you down in this courtyard."

"Brother," He Damin said, remembering something, "ask Grandma Long if she's selling the east wing. If I want to buy it, I'll dig a toilet and build a kang (heated brick bed) in there. Right now, there's only one public toilet in this courtyard, which is too inconvenient."

He Daqing laughed: "You've thought of everything quite thoroughly. Only two rooms in the east wing are still intact; the rest have collapsed. But it shouldn't be difficult to repair them and add a toilet. Okay, I'll ask about it tomorrow."

"I'll follow my elder brother and sister-in-law's arrangements," He Damin said politely.

After clearing away the dishes, Lü Bingxin stood up and said, "You brothers chat, I'll go next door and tidy up the room. Damin will stay there tonight; the bedding is all clean."

"Sister-in-law, let me help you wash the dishes." He Damin stood up. "No need, no need, you sit and talk to your brother." Lü Bingxin waved her hands repeatedly, "There are only a few dishes, I'll finish washing them in no time."

She took the bowl and chopsticks and went out, leaving the two brothers in the room. He Daqing lit another cigarette and looked at his younger brother through the smoke. Ten years had passed, and his younger brother had changed so much. It wasn't just that he had grown taller, but more importantly, his demeanor—composed and calm, completely unlike a thirteen-year-old child.

"Damin, tell me the truth," He Daqing lowered his voice, "where did those twelve small yellow croakers come from?" He Damin had expected this question and calmly said, "Brother, it was a reward I gave him after saving a rich man on the road. The man was being robbed by bandits, and I happened to be passing by. I used my slingshot to injure the bandit leader and helped him get his things back."

He was only half telling the truth—he did indeed save someone, but it was a wealthy merchant he rescued while on a mission in his previous life. As for the little yellow croaker, it was naturally taken from the warehouse.

He Daqing stared at him for a long time, then finally sighed: "Okay, I believe you. But don't tell anyone about this. In this day and age, flaunting your wealth is a recipe for disaster."

"I know," He Damin nodded.

At nine o'clock at night, He Damin lay on the kang (a heated brick bed) in the next room. It was a small side room, very clean. The kang was warm, and the bedding was thick and soft, smelling of sunshine. Moonlight streamed in through the window paper, casting a silvery-white layer on the blue brick floor.

He closed his eyes, but couldn't fall asleep. It wasn't that he wasn't tired, but rather... he wasn't used to it. This feeling of being cared for and looked after by family was too unfamiliar to him. In his previous life, he was an orphan, sold to an assassin organization at the age of five, and fought against two hundred children on a deserted island in the Pacific for fifteen years. Eighty "comrades" died at his hands, and only three survived in the end.

His world consisted only of bloodshed, killing, missions, and money. He had no family, no friends, and his humanity was gradually eroded by each act of slaughter. The few days he spent back in China before his transmigration were rare moments of peace in his life—he would drink a little wine in his rented apartment in the Second Ring Road, listen to music, and feel the sense of security brought by the strength of his motherland.

But that was all. Now, he lay on the kang (a heated brick bed) at his brother's house, listening to the soft snoring coming from next door—He Daqing was asleep. A little further away, he could hear Lü Bingxin softly humming a nursery rhyme to lull Xiao Yuzhu to sleep.

Warmth and tranquility. This feeling quietly melted a corner of the frozen heart deep within Ling Yun—or rather, He Damin.

"Is this...home?" he murmured to himself.

In his past life, he had read a lot of materials and knew the importance of family to people. But knowing is one thing, experiencing it firsthand is another.

The image of Xiao Yuzhu calling him "Uncle" in his childish voice, the gentle look in Lü Bingxin's eyes as she served him porridge, the solemn promise He Daqing made when he patted his shoulder and said, "I'll take care of you from now on"... these images flashed through He Damin's mind one by one. He Damin suddenly realized that he had something he wanted to protect.

It wasn't just to fulfill He Damin's obsession, nor was it just to change those damned plot points. It was also because... he had truly begun to care about his family.

The sound of the night watchman striking the gong came from outside the window; it was past midnight. He Damin sat up, his soul silently floating out from his Baihui acupoint. The pale golden spirit hovered in mid-air, looking down at the sleeping body below.

He could have gone out to "hunt" under the cover of night as usual—the Soul Refining Banner needed nourishment, and his soul needed to continue to grow. Tonight's target should have been the Japanese barracks in the east of the city, where there were at least a hundred fresh souls waiting to be harvested.

But He Damin hesitated. In the end, he withdrew his spirit and lay down again.

"Get some rest tonight."

This was the first time in his two lifetimes that he had fallen asleep so peacefully. The next morning, just as dawn was breaking, He Damin woke up. He didn't wake up naturally; he was awakened by noises coming from the kitchen. He got up, dressed, and went out.

In the kitchen, He Daqing was kneading dough. This 26-year-old man, shirtless and revealing his muscular physique, kneaded and slapped the dough with practiced, powerful movements. On the stove, a large iron pot was boiling water, steaming hot.

"Brother, up so early?" He Damin walked into the kitchen. "That's how cooks are, they have to get up early to prepare." He Daqing didn't even look up. "You can sleep a little longer, it's still early."

"Can't sleep? I'll help you." He Damin rolled up his sleeves. He Daqing glanced at him and smiled, "Okay, then you chop the scallions. Bingxin and Yuzhu are still asleep, let's be quiet."

He Damin picked up a kitchen knife and began chopping scallions. His knife skills were, of course, superb—as a top assassin in his previous life, his hand skills were unparalleled, making chopping vegetables a mere waste of his talents. But he deliberately slowed down, pretending to be rusty.

Even so, He Daqing still saw through it: "Wow, your knife skills are pretty good. Have you practiced before?"

"I've worked as an assistant for my father," He Damin casually made up a reason.

"No wonder." He Daqing nodded. "It's good that you have a foundation; you'll learn quickly. Once you get your good citizen certificate, I'll take you to Fengzeyuan. We'll start with cutting and preparing food and learn slowly."

"Thanks, brother." The two brothers were busy in the kitchen, one kneading dough and the other chopping vegetables, working together seamlessly. Outside the window, the sky was gradually brightening, and early risers in the courtyard were starting fires to cook, with wisps of smoke rising into the air.

While working, He Daqing said, "Damin, let me tell you the truth. Although being a chef is hard work, you won't starve. Especially our He family's Tan family cuisine, our ancestors were imperial chefs in the palace, and we've passed down many unique skills. If you learn well, you're sure to be successful in the future."

"Yes, I will definitely study hard," He Damin said earnestly.

This wasn't just a perfunctory excuse. Culinary skills were indeed the public identity he needed—it was only natural for the younger brother of a chef to learn cooking. Moreover, having this identity would make things much easier for him in the future.

More importantly, he needs time. He needs to cultivate his Taoist arts, improve his martial arts skills, and plan and strategize.

"Oh, right," He Daqing said, remembering something, "you said yesterday you wanted to learn traditional Chinese martial arts? Why are you suddenly interested in that?"

He Damin had anticipated this question and calmly replied, "I met an old Taoist priest on the road who said that I have a special physique and am suitable for martial arts. He taught me a few self-defense skills, which I found useful, so I wanted to learn more."

"An old Taoist priest?" He Daqing said thoughtfully. "These days, it's rare to see a Taoist priest with real skills. It's fate that you met him. Alright, once you've settled in, I'll help you inquire and see if there's a reliable master."

"No need to trouble you, brother, I can practice on my own," He Damin said.

In reality, he didn't need any master at all. Although the martial arts skills the system had given him were only at the beginner level, with the support of his master-level fighting skills from his previous life, he had already laid a solid foundation.

He knew perfectly well the different levels of martial arts: beginner, Ming Jin (manifest strength), An Jin (hidden strength), Hua Jin (transformation strength), Dan Jin (elixir strength), and Jian Shen Bu Hua (seeing the divine and indestructible state, also known as the "land immortal realm" in martial arts). He was currently at the peak of the beginner level and could break through to Ming Jin at any time.

However, the realms of Daoist arts are different: refining essence into qi, refining qi into spirit, refining spirit into emptiness, and refining emptiness into the Dao. He hasn't taken the Foundation Establishment Pill yet, so he hasn't even touched the threshold of refining essence into qi.

"I need to put the cultivation of Taoist arts on the agenda as soon as possible," He Damin thought to himself.

At eight o'clock in the morning, He Daqing took He Damin out. Their first stop was the police station. The traitorous policeman, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, lazily took the money, took He Damin's photo and fingerprints, and told him to come back in three days to collect the evidence.

Outside the police station, He Daqing spat, "Damn it, what kind of world is this? You have to bribe traitors to get a certificate." He Damin, however, remained calm: "Brother, bear with it. When things get better, none of these people will escape."

He Daqing glanced at his younger brother, somewhat surprised by his composure, but said nothing more. They then went to Fengzeyuan Restaurant. This was a famous restaurant in Beiping, a grand three-story building. He Daqing was the head chef there, skilled and well-liked. He took He Damin to see the manager and discussed the apprenticeship.

The shopkeeper was a fat man in his fifties. He sized up He Damin a few times and said, "Master He's younger brother? Alright, come over once you get your good citizen certificate. Start as a handyman, three silver dollars a month, plus two meals."

"Thank you, shopkeeper," He Damin said politely.

The treatment wasn't great, but it wasn't bad either. More importantly, with this status, his activities in Beiping became much more legitimate.

After leaving Fengzeyuan, He Daqing said, "Let's go ask Grandma Long." The two returned to No. 95 Nanluoguxiang and went straight to the back house. Grandma Long was sitting at the doorway sunbathing. She was in her fifties, with gray hair, but she was in good spirits. She was wearing a dark blue cotton-padded jacket and holding a cane. When she saw He Daqing and his brother coming over, she squinted her eyes.

"Grandma Long, sunbathing?" He Daqing greeted her with a smile. "Hmm, Master He, is this your younger brother?" Grandma Long looked He Damin up and down.

"Yes, this is my younger brother, Damin. He just came from our hometown," He Daqing introduced. "Grandma Long, there's something I'd like to discuss with you. You see, those two rooms in the east wing are just sitting empty anyway. Could you sell them to my brother? He wants to settle down in the courtyard."

Grandma Long tapped her pipe and said slowly, "The east wing... those two rooms are still habitable, the rest have collapsed. You want to buy it?"

"Yes, the price is negotiable," He Daqing said.

Grandma Long was silent for a moment, then shook her head: "Not for sale." He Daqing was taken aback: "Grandma Long, the price is acceptable..." "It's not about the money." Grandma Long interrupted him, "That house is where my husband's family left me to live, it can't be sold. Renting is fine, two silver dollars a month." He Damin's eyes flickered slightly. This old lady was indeed shrewd, knowing that house prices were low now, she was keeping the house to wait for its value to appreciate in the future.

"Renting is fine too," He Damin said. "Grandma Long, I'd like to build a toilet and a kang (heated brick bed) in the yard. I'll pay for these myself. Is that alright?" Grandma Long glanced at him and nodded. "Sure, as long as you don't touch the main structure of the house, you can build whatever you want. But let's make it clear first, the rent is payable annually, pay in advance before you move in."

"Deal." He Damin readily agreed.

He Daqing wanted to say something more, but He Damin stopped him. The two of them finished discussing the details with Old Madam Long and agreed to sign the lease the next day.

On the way back, He Daqing asked, puzzled, "Damin, why didn't you buy it? If you rent it, even if you fix it, someone else will fix it anyway."

He Damin laughed: "Brother, in this day and age, buying a house is too conspicuous. Besides, I think this old lady is shrewd; she won't sell. Let's rent it for now and talk about it later when the opportunity arises."

He Daqing thought about it and agreed: "That's true, you've thought it through." Back in the main room, Lü Bingxin had already prepared lunch. Simple millet porridge, cornbread, and pickled vegetables, but steaming hot, it tasted like home.

During the meal, He Damin mentioned renting a house. Lü Bingxin was delighted: "That's great! It'll be in the same courtyard, so we can look out for each other. Once the house is repaired, I'll help you set it up."

Little Yuzhu sat on the kang (a heated brick bed), munching on a cornbread bun, and said in a childish voice, "Uncle, stay, I won't leave." He Damin smiled and patted Little Yuzhu's head: "Yes, Uncle won't leave."

He Damin had insomnia again that night. But this time it wasn't because he wasn't used to it; he was planning for the future.

He sat cross-legged on the kang (a heated brick bed), his consciousness sinking into the Tai Chi space. In the study on the Yang side, the seven skill cards were still on the table. He had already absorbed four of them; he didn't need the remaining ones—Xingyiquan, Tai Chiquan, and Wing Chun—for the time being.

"First, focus on mastering Tai Chi Hehuan Gong and Bajiquan," He Damin decided. Internal strength is fundamental and requires rigorous training. Bajiquan is powerful and aggressive, suitable for close combat. Tan Tui and lightness skills serve as supplementary techniques, sufficient for most situations.

As for Taoist arts… he walked to the corner of the study, where several ancient books he had taken from the Japanese warehouse were piled up. One of them, "Taoist Innate Alchemy," was only basic, but it was just right for his current practice.

"Refining essence into qi..." He Damin opened the book and studied it carefully. The first step in cultivating Taoist arts is to sense the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, introduce it into the body, and transform it into true qi. This process requires calming the mind, concentrating the spirit, and practicing breathing exercises.

Following the methods described in the book, He Damin sat cross-legged and regulated his breathing. Each breath was long and deep. At first, he couldn't feel anything, but gradually, he sensed faint energy fluctuations around him. It was the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, thin but definitely present.

He tried to guide the spiritual energy into his body with his mind. It was slow and difficult, but it was effective. A barely perceptible warm current flowed along his meridians and eventually converged into his dantian.

"It's a success!" He Damin opened his eyes, a hint of joy flashing in them.

Although it's only the first step, it's a breakthrough from nothing to something. As long as you persevere, you'll eventually cultivate true qi and master genuine Taoist arts.

He checked the time; it was already one in the morning. Time to go out "hunting".

The soul floated out of the body, passed through the rooftop, and rose into the air. The city of Beiping was silent at night, with only a few scattered lights.

He Damin's gaze turned to the east of the city. There was a Japanese supply depot there, heavily guarded, but it was useless to him.

"The Soul Refining Banner needs nourishment, and my soul also needs to grow stronger," he muttered to himself. "As for those Japanese devils... consider it as ridding the people of a scourge."

A pale golden streak of light pierced the night sky, shooting rapidly towards the east of the city. Below, in the courtyard of No. 95 Nanluoguxiang, the light in the main house was still on. He Daqing and Lü Bingxin were already asleep, and Xiao Yuzhu smacked her lips in her sleep.

In the darkness of night, the Soul Refining Banner unfurled silently, and the Blood Soul Chains gleamed with a chilling light under the moonlight.