Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

When He Damin's spirit returned to his body and he slowly opened his eyes, it was already evening outside. The rhythmic "snap, snap" of chopping vegetables came from the stove. He turned to look and saw He Yuzhu standing with his back to him at the cutting board, his knife moving swiftly and skillfully. Although his movements still carried a hint of awkwardness from not having used a knife in a long time, his grip and the direction of his cuts showed some basic skill. He was chopping the cabbage that He Damin had brought back; the thickness wasn't perfectly uniform, but it was generally neat, much better than what a novice could do.

Xiao Yushui lay on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), doodling on old newspapers with a charcoal stick, drawing lines that no one could understand, humming an off-key nursery rhyme. It was a peace unlike any other.

He Damin didn't disturb him, quietly watching He Yuzhu's slightly thin but determinedly upright back. This child... after all, still retained some of the He family's traditions. Although his eldest brother, He Daqing, was a bit of a scoundrel, he was never lax when it came to cooking. He seemed to let his son grow up freely, but in reality, he hadn't neglected any of the essential foundations. He remembered when Yuzhu was little, his eldest brother had him practice his wrist strength by tossing sand in an iron wok, and his knife skills by slicing radishes and potatoes. By his early teens, he could stand on a stool and learn to cook a few decent home-style dishes. But then his sister-in-law passed away, his eldest brother became depressed, and later, he was bewitched by the White Widow, so he probably lost the will to teach him properly, and Yuzhu himself neglected his studies. The past six months of wandering had almost completely worn away those fundamentals.

But some things are etched into your bones and can't be erased. Like right now, though I'm still a bit rusty, the spirit is still there.

After He Yuzhu finished chopping the vegetables, he turned around to start a fire. He saw that his uncle was already awake and standing there looking at him. He blushed slightly and wiped his hands awkwardly. "Uncle, you're awake? I... I think it's getting late, so I wanted to start the fire and cook the porridge first."

"Hmm." He Damin nodded and walked to the stove. The coal in the stove was half-dead, and He Yuzhu was clumsily poking at it with fire tongs, looking rather flustered.

He Damin took the fire tongs, fiddled with them for a few moments, added two more matches, and with a barely perceptible flick of his fingertip, a wisp of true energy seeped in, and the dark blue flames rose steadily with a "whoosh".

"The fire needs to be hollow, and the person needs to be solid." He handed the fire tongs back. "If the fire at the bottom is weak, adding coal won't make it burn brightly. The wok must be flipped steadily, the knife skills must be precise, and the control of the heat is the foundation."

These words seemed to be about starting a fire, but they were more than just that. He Yuzhu paused, looking at the steadily burning flames in the stove, then at his uncle's calm and expressionless face. He seemed to understand, but he gave a heavy "hmm" and kept these words in mind.

He Damin walked to the window, his gaze fixed on the distant southern horizon. Baoding… must be a completely different scene now. He didn't deliberately try to sense or investigate; with his Yang spirit back in place, that karmic connection was already resolved. Based on his understanding of his elder brother He Daqing's character, and the potential consequences of the situation, he could almost foresee how things would unfold.

Officials and killers don't care about burial. A thunderous strike settles the score; as for the aftermath, that's for the living to deal with. For He Daqing, this might be a potent medicine to rip open his festering wound and force him to face reality, though its effects are rather harsh.

Meanwhile, in Baoding's western district, at Donkey Meat Alley.

The first to notice something was wrong wasn't Widow Bai's three sons, who had been playing outside all day and were now starving, but rather Aunt Sun, who lived diagonally across the street. Aunt Sun was a well-known gossip in the alley, with sharp ears and keen eyes. That afternoon, she had vaguely heard some unusual noises coming from Widow Bai's house, which then fell silent, finding it rather strange. As the sun began to set, it was time to cook dinner, but there was no sign of cooking in Widow Bai's house; the courtyard was quiet, even the usually boisterous three boys were silent.

Aunt Sun was puzzled. She called out twice over the low wall, "Sister-in-law Bai? Is Sister-in-law Bai home? I need a new coal briquette!"

No one answered.

She peered over the wall into the courtyard. The doors and windows of the main house were tightly shut, exuding an indescribable stillness. The three boys were nowhere to be seen. Aunt Sun's uneasy feeling grew stronger, and she recalled the muffled thunder she had heard that afternoon… She quickly called two other bold neighbors in the alley. After a brief discussion, they pushed open the gate to Widow Bai's courtyard, found it unlatched, and bravely went inside.

I knocked on the main door, but no one answered. Peeking through the crack in the window, the room was dimly lit, and it seemed someone was lying on the kang (heated brick bed)...

"Sister-in-law Bai? Sleeping so soundly in broad daylight?" a man shouted.

Still nothing.

The men exchanged uneasy glances, a chill creeping down their spines. Finally, the man pushed the door open forcefully; it wasn't locked. A strange, indescribable odor, a mixture of something burnt and a faint fishy smell, wafted out. By the last glimmer of light filtering through the doorway, they could make out the scene on the kang (heated brick bed)—

Two naked bodies lay intertwined in an extremely undignified position, motionless, their skin a strange, ashen gray, as if all life had been drained from them. Unwashed food and wine remained on the table.

"My God!"

Someone's dead!

A scream shattered the tranquility of the alley. Aunt Sun's legs went weak, and she almost collapsed to the ground. Someone reacted quickly, staggering out and heading straight for the nearest shop with a telephone at the alley entrance to call the police (notify the military control commission).

Upon receiving the call and learning of the death, the duty officer of the Xicheng branch of the Baoding Military Control Commission acted without hesitation, immediately leading several soldiers and a doctor from the local clinic to the scene. They cordoned off the area, dispersed the crowd, and conducted a preliminary investigation.

The scene caused even the well-informed military control officers to frown. A man and a woman, naked, lay dead on the kang (a heated brick bed), their postures gruesome. Initial examination revealed no obvious external injuries, no bloodstains, and no signs of poisoning (the food and drink on the table later tested negative for poison). Both were ashen-faced and their limbs were stiff, but the time of death seemed recent. Most strangely, the accompanying doctor, after examining them, whispered to the officers, "Strange… these two… don't seem to have died suddenly; it's more like… like they were suddenly burned from the inside out, yet there are no visible burn marks on the outside…"

The officials carefully questioned the neighbors, especially Aunt Sun and others who had first discovered the discovery. Aunt Sun, having recovered by then, started talking animatedly, spitting as she spoke:

"Boss, you wouldn't believe it! This Widow Bai... cough, Bai Yulan, she's no respectable woman! I heard she used to hang out in the brothels of Beijing, and then somehow ended up in Baoding with three children left behind by her ex-husbands. She's a widow, but she's never been well-behaved! Strange men come and go from her house all the time, staying for half a day... Everyone in this alley knows she's secretly engaged in prostitution. Only her husband, He Daqing, the cook from Beijing, is clueless and kept in the dark! He thinks he's struck gold!"

"Yes, yes," another neighbor chimed in, "He Daqing is pitiful. He works in the textile factory canteen, and the little money he earns probably all goes to support this woman and her three sons. He works himself to the bone during the day, and who knows how this woman treats him when he gets home at night!"

"This afternoon... I think I heard a man's voice in her room. It wasn't He Daqing; He Daqing is working at the factory. Then there was a loud 'boom,' something like... something like thunder, but the sky was clear... and then there was no more sound."

"Thunder?" The cadre frowned, looking up at the clear night sky and then at the scene inside the house, which showed no signs of lightning strikes or fire. He felt that this incident was eerie. But the neighbors all said that the white widow was immoral and had been a prostitute at home. They said that she was probably "doing business" today, and somehow, the two of them... died.

Did they get struck by lightning for having an affair? This sounds like feudal superstition, but it seems to be the most "reasonable" explanation right now—after all, the two died in bizarre circumstances, and it happened while they were doing such shameful things.

"Where is He Daqing?" the cadre asked.

"I work in the textile factory canteen, and it's not time to finish work yet."

After a moment's thought, the officer instructed a soldier beside him: "Call the security department of the Third Cotton Mill and ask them to help bring back He Daqing, the cook in the canteen. Be careful how you do it; don't tell him the specifics yet. Just say there's an emergency at home and the military control committee wants to find out what's going on."

He needs to talk to his husband first, who may be misled or may be involved in the matter.

In the kitchen of the canteen at the Baoding No. 3 Cotton Textile Factory, it was a bustling scene of preparations for dinner. He Daqing, wearing a greasy apron, stood in front of the large stove, his hand unconsciously tossing the wok with a large iron ladle. The wok contained a large pot of vegetables prepared for the workers. His movements were still practiced, even numbly fluid—this was a job he had done for half his life, almost instinctive. But his eyes were somewhat unfocused, and his brows were furrowed with a deep, unyielding sorrow and worry. He would occasionally drift off, almost overcooking the vegetables in the wok, only to be brought back to his senses by a reminder from the kitchen helper beside him.

Old Chen, the factory's security officer, frowned as he walked into the smoky kitchen and found He Daqing: "Master He, come out for a moment, something's up."

He Daqing's heart skipped a beat. The security department was looking for him? What good could it be? He paused, his large ladle catching in his hand. He forced a smile that looked more like a grimace, wiped his hands, and followed Old Chen to a quiet spot outside the kitchen. His apron was still stained with oil and vegetable scraps.

"Master He, do you live in Donkey Meat Alley?" Old Chen asked bluntly.

"Yes...yes." He Daqing's heart pounded even harder, and his hands unconsciously clenched the greasy edge of his apron.

"I just received a call from the Xicheng Military Control Commission. They said something happened at your house and they need you to go back immediately. The comrades from the Military Control Commission are waiting for you there." Old Chen's tone was serious, and his eyes held a hint of inquiry.

Om-!

He Daqing felt a deafening roar in his head, his vision went black, his legs buckled, and he swayed, only managing to stay upright by grabbing the wall beside him. The Military Control Commission! Waiting at his house! Something terrible has happened! Something catastrophic!

Could it be... that matter has been exposed? Yi Zhonghai's side? Or the White Widow... no, Yulan... He Daqing's face turned deathly pale in an instant, devoid of any color. Cold sweat poured down his forehead, trickling down his temples, and his clothes on the back were instantly soaked, clinging tightly to his skin, icy cold.

"Master He? Master He, what's wrong? Are you alright?" Old Chen saw him swaying and quickly helped him up.

"No...it's nothing...I choked, I caught a chill..." He Daqing's voice trembled, almost incoherent. He broke free from Lao Chen's hand, wiped his face haphazardly, "I, I'll go back right now..." His first thought was to run! Run immediately! Leave Baoding, run as far away as possible! Yi Zhonghai had warned him before that if things were exposed...he dared not think any further.

But...where can he run? These days, you need a letter of introduction everywhere. Without one, where can he go? Besides, if he runs away, wouldn't that confirm he's the one with the problem? What if...what if it's something else? Yulan...did she get into some other trouble?

A tremendous fear gripped his heart like an icy hand, almost suffocating him. His mind was a jumbled mess: Yi Zhonghai's chilling warning, the White Widow's gentle smile, the morning he fled home in haste, and his two children left behind in Beijing... fragments of images flashed through his mind.

"Master He, hurry up and go, don't keep the comrades from the Military Control Commission waiting." Old Chen urged, looking at He Daqing's distraught and sweaty appearance, he couldn't help but wonder, it seems that He Daqing is really in trouble, and it's not a small matter.

Like a walking corpse, He Daqing mechanically untied his apron, not even changing out of his work clothes, and trudged out of the factory area. The late summer evening wind blew against his body, which was soaked with cold sweat, sending chills down his spine. Every step felt like walking on cotton, or like heading towards an execution ground.

A crowd of onlookers had already gathered at the entrance of Donkey Meat Alley, pointing and whispering among themselves. He Daqing dared not meet their gazes, keeping his head down as he quickly walked to the gate of his courtyard. The gate was open, and inside stood two armed soldiers and several people in military control uniforms.

Seeing this scene, He Daqing's last shred of hope vanished. His face was as white as paper, his lips trembled, and he could barely step across the threshold.

"You're He Daqing?" The cadre from the West City Military Control Commission came up to him and sized him up.

"It's...it's me..." He Daqing's voice was hoarse, and his calves were cramping.

"Come in, there's something I need to verify with you." The official's tone was relatively calm, but the seriousness of his businesslike manner made He Daqing even more fearful.

He Daqing followed the cadre into the courtyard with trepidation, his eyes involuntarily glancing towards the main house. The door was open, and there seemed to be someone inside.

"Your wife, Bai Yulan, had an accident at home this afternoon." The official carefully chose his words, trying to be as gentle as possible. "When we arrived after receiving a report from a neighbor, we found her and a man... inside the house, and they had unfortunately passed away."

"What?!" He Daqing looked up abruptly, his eyes wide. It wasn't the worst thing he had imagined? Yulan... was dead? With a man? Inside the house?

He didn't react for a moment, or rather, the immense shock temporarily overwhelmed his other emotions. His mind went blank, with only the word "dead" echoing in his ears.

"You...you go in and take a look, confirm it." The cadre stepped aside.

He Daqing walked blankly and unsteadily to the door of the main room. A kerosene lamp was lit inside, but the light was still dim. He immediately saw the two bodies lying stiffly together on the kang (a heated brick bed) in an extremely glaring and humiliating position—Bai Yulan, the gentle and understanding woman he regarded as his support for the rest of his life, and a strange man he had never seen before!

The two were naked, their skin deathly gray, and they remained motionless, with a strange smell permeating the air.

"boom--!"

He Daqing felt a surge of heat rush to his head, followed by an icy chill! He opened his mouth wide, but no sound came out; everything before his eyes began to spin and blur. Humiliation, anger, disbelief, and a piercing pain of being utterly fooled and betrayed, like a thousand steel knives, instantly shattered his already anxious and fragile heart!

"She...they...this is..." He Daqing's throat gurgled, his finger trembling as he pointed at the kang (a heated brick bed), his gaze fixed on the strange man, then shifting to Bai Yulan's once alluring face, now frozen with a strange expression. That gentle haven that had once captivated him now looked so filthy, so disgusting!

"Based on reports from neighbors and a preliminary assessment of the situation at the scene," the military control commission cadre's voice rang in his ears, clear and cruel, "Comrade Bai Yulan has long been suspected of engaging in illicit business, that is, prostitution. This afternoon, she and this man (whose identity we are verifying) were possibly engaged in an illegal transaction when they both suddenly fell ill and died unexpectedly. The specific cause of death still requires further investigation."

A clandestine establishment? Suspected prostitution? Sudden illness? Accidental death?

Every word was like a heavy hammer, striking He Daqing's heart hard.

What he thought was a haven of comfort turned out to be a den of prostitutes! What he thought was a confidante turned out to be a pair of used women! He abandoned his family and children, endured the scorn to come to Baoding, poured his heart and soul into supporting a woman who secretly solicited prostitutes behind his back! And not only was he cuckolded, but this cuckoldry was also exposed in such a shameful and public way, displayed bloodily before the military control commission, his neighbors, and everyone else!

"puff--!"

Overwhelmed by anger and anxiety, coupled with the sudden and unbearable outburst of his pent-up fear over the past few days, He Daqing felt a sweet taste in his throat, spat out a mouthful of blood, and his vision went black as he fell straight backward!

"Quick! Help him up!" The military control officers hurriedly called out.

He Daqing collapsed to the ground, his consciousness sinking into a dark, chaotic void. In his last remaining senses, all he could see were the two ugly corpses on the kang (a heated brick bed) and the gazes of those around him—some filled with pity, some with disdain, and some with amusement.

He was shrouded in shame, lost face, and suffered financial and personal losses; he might even face investigation and be implicated in other cases...

Before falling into a coma, the last clear thought in He Daqing's mind was: Beijing... Pillar... Rain... and... his younger brother whom he hadn't seen for many years and whose fate was unknown...

Regret, like a poisonous vine, instantly tightened around his already collapsing soul.