Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

In the desolate Yanshan Mountains, the dawn arrives later than outside the mountains. Only when the sun has climbed high enough, passing over the hundred-zhang-high cliff to the east like a barrier, does the golden sunlight finally pour down, dispelling the damp and cold mist that has accumulated in the valley all night, making the surface of the blue brick hot spring pool sparkle, and also giving the ancient treehouse a warm golden edge.

Inside the treehouse, He Damin had already finished his night of cultivation and meditation. His early Nascent Soul stage still needed time to stabilize, but the vast and boundless power within him, subtly resonating with the void of heaven and earth, had already brought him a state of perfect peace and clarity. He pushed open the simple wooden door of the treehouse and slowly descended the wooden stairs, the fresh air carrying the scents of grass, trees, and hot springs rushing towards him.

What he saw made him pause slightly.

Not far from the hot spring pool, beside a flat boulder near the stream, a simple yet sturdy stove had been built up sometime during the night using several large pebbles. Inside the stove, remnants of last night's fire and a few pieces of unburnt charcoal remained. Above the stove, an old iron pot, slightly chipped at the edges, looked somewhat familiar to He Damin, resting on the boulder. Inside, traces of thick, golden rice porridge remained, with a few grains of cooked millet still clinging to the rim, emitting the faint, characteristic aroma of roasted grains.

Ma Xiaoling was squatting by the small stove, holding a pair of clam shells she had found somewhere, their edges worn smooth. She carefully scooped water from a chipped earthenware bowl beside her and poured it onto the still-sparkling ashes, producing a soft hissing sound and a wisp of white smoke. She had changed out of yesterday's conspicuous leather jacket and trousers and put on a slightly oversized set of coarse gray cloth clothes that He Damin had left in the treehouse storage room. The sleeves were rolled up high, revealing her fair wrists, and her long hair was casually tied back, a few strands falling beside her cheeks, tinged golden in the morning light. Gone was the sharp, exorcist aura of yesterday; now she looked like an ordinary, diligent woman in the mountains, tidying up the traces of breakfast.

Hearing footsteps, Ma Xiaoling looked up and saw He Damin. A slightly awkward smile appeared on her face. She pointed to the pot: "Senior, you're awake? I... I noticed there seemed to be no rice or food in the valley, so I thought I'd get up early to hunt some wild game. I happened to find some usable old pots and pans in the cave's storage room, so I tried to start a fire. I hunted a rabbit and roasted it; the taste... was alright." She paused, somewhat embarrassed, "But without staple food, it felt like something was missing. Later... later, somehow, I found a small bag of millet that hadn't gone moldy in the corner of the storage room, so I cooked some porridge. If Senior doesn't mind the crudeness..."

He Damin's gaze swept over the iron pot, then glanced at the rabbit skeleton skewered on branches on the grass beside it, mostly eaten and roasted until golden brown and oozing oil. Finally, it landed on Ma Xiaoling's serious face, speckled with cigarette ash. He understood. Of the supplies he had collected from the old Japanese army warehouse in the valley cave warehouse, he had mostly transferred them to his Taiji Space, but he had indeed left behind some odds and ends that were not easily perishable, including a few old iron pots and rough pottery bowls and plates. As for the bag of "millet"... he had naturally taken it out of his Taiji Space last night after Ma Xiaoling had rested, and deliberately "forgotten" it in a conspicuous corner of the warehouse. With his current cultivation level and control over space, it was easy for him to do so without anyone noticing.

This girl is quite honest. Even though she has enough dry food and canned goods to last a long time (also in the Taiji Space), she still wants to be self-reliant and not freeload.

"Thank you for your thoughtfulness." He Damin nodded slightly, walked to the small stove, glanced at the remaining porridge in the pot, and said, "I usually don't eat anything greasy in the morning, so this millet porridge is just right."

He picked up a clean earthenware bowl (also an old warehouse item) from the side and used a wooden spoon to scoop out the remaining half-bowl of warm rice porridge from the pot. The porridge was cooked to perfection, the rice grains bloomed, the consistency was just right, and it carried the unique fragrance of millet. He stood by the stream, facing the morning light, and finished the porridge in a few mouthfuls. The taste was very ordinary, even a bit bland due to the limited tools and seasonings, but the warmth of everyday life added an indescribable comfort to this cold, desolate morning.

Seeing that he ate so readily, a hint of relief flashed across Ma Xiaoling's eyes. She quickly extinguished the fire in the stove and then took the pots and pans to the stream to wash them thoroughly.

"What are your plans next, Miss Ma?" He Damin asked, putting down his bowl.

Ma Xiaoling put the washed pots and pans back in their place, dried her hands, and thought for a moment: "Senior, this place is extremely quiet and safe. Although the spiritual energy is thin, the environment is pure, which is just right for me to reflect on my recent gains and losses, consolidate my cultivation, and sort out some thoughts about the hundred-year agreement and the family mission. If Senior allows, I would like to trouble you for a few days to meditate quietly."

"You are already familiar with this place, and you also know a little about how to activate the array mechanisms." He Damin did not object. "As long as you don't reveal the location of this place to outsiders, you can come here to cultivate in seclusion at any time. The medicinal herb fields in the valley are newly completed, so please take care of them occasionally. Also," he pointed to the hot spring, "this spring contains trace amounts of sulfur minerals, and regular soaking is beneficial to your qi and blood. If you feel tired, you may use it as you wish."

"Thank you, senior!" Ma Xiaoling's eyes lit up with joy as she bowed respectfully.

He Damin said no more and looked up at the sky. His unexpected meeting and conversation with Ma Xiaoling had answered many of his questions, but it had also taken up some time. Back in Beijing, he wondered how Zhu Zi, Yu Shui, and his older brother He Daqing, who was just starting to look like a normal person, were doing these past few days. Although he figured nothing serious had happened, a sliver of concern lingered in his heart.

"I need to return to Beijing to handle some mundane matters. I'll leave the valley in Miss Ma's care." He said, his figure swaying slightly before he rose from the ground like a wisp of smoke, quickly ascending along the cliff. After a few leaps, he disappeared behind the dense treeline at the top of the cliff, even his farewell was crisp and clean.

Ma Xiaoling looked up at the direction he had disappeared in, standing there for a long time before finally letting out a soft breath. This Senior He possessed unfathomable cultivation and extraordinary abilities, yet his temperament didn't seem eccentric or aloof. On the contrary... he had an indescribable reliability and composure. To be able to meditate for a few days in the place where such a person once cultivated in seclusion was truly an opportunity.

She turned around and began to tidy up the valley, her gaze sweeping over the medicinal herb field that was just beginning to show signs of life, a thoughtful look flashing in her eyes.

……

He Damin was eager to return home, so he didn't use a sword or a flying saucer. Instead, he relied on his Nascent Soul cultivator's ability to fly, combined with his extraordinary movement techniques, to speed across the continuous peaks and forests of the Yanshan Mountains. His speed far exceeded that of ordinary flight. In just over an hour, the familiar, hazy outline of Beijing appeared on the horizon.

He concealed his presence, and like an ordinary traveler returning home, landed in a secluded spot and walked into the city. Passing through familiar streets and alleys, the familiar blue-brick gatehouse of Nanluoguxiang drew ever closer.

However, before he even reached the entrance of No. 95 Courtyard, he heard Xiaoyushui's familiar, heart-wrenching cries filled with extreme grievance and panic from afar!

He Damin's heart tightened, and he quickened his pace instantly.

The scene at the courtyard gate made him frown deeply.

Little Yushui sat on the threshold, her face flushed from crying, tears and snot streaming down her cheeks. Her small shoulders trembled, and she clutched a soiled rag doll tightly in her arms—a gift from Chen Xueru not long ago. He Yuzhu knelt in front of her. This usually composed young man also had red eyes and clenched teeth. One hand clumsily patted his sister's back, while the other was clenched into a fist, knuckles white, as if he were trying to hold back something. He Daqing, meanwhile, hunched over, rubbing his hands anxiously, pacing back and forth, his face a mixture of worry and frustration. He wanted to comfort her, but seemed hesitant, his eyes darting away.

"What's wrong?" He Damin's voice rang out. It wasn't loud, but it had a strange penetrating power that instantly drowned out Xiaoyushui's crying.

The three of them looked up at the same time.

"Uncle!" Little Yushui cried even harder, as if she had seen a savior. She dropped her doll, scrambled up from the threshold, and stumbled towards He Damin, throwing herself into his arms. Her little arms clung tightly to his neck, and she buried her tear-streaked face in the crook of his neck, sobbing uncontrollably. "Uncle... Waaah... Where... Where did you go... Yushui is afraid... afraid you won't want Yushui anymore... Waaah..."

He Yuzhu also stood up abruptly, looked at He Damin, his eyes were even redder, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he only called out softly: "Uncle..." His voice was also filled with barely perceptible sobs and lingering fear.

He Daqing seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, but then became even more nervous, rubbing his hands as he stepped forward: "Damin, you...you're finally back! Yushui has been a bit listless since yesterday afternoon, and she's been nagging about looking for you since last night. This morning, when she didn't see you, she refused to believe you went to run errands, and she just insisted...she insisted that you're like...like her mother and me back then..." He didn't finish his sentence, but his meaning was clear: Yushui was afraid that He Damin would also leave suddenly like her mother, or disappear without a trace like He Daqing had back then.

He Damin's heart felt as if it had been gently squeezed by an invisible hand. It wasn't heavy, but it carried a strange, warm, and bittersweet feeling.

He bent down, letting the light raindrops fall around his neck, and gently patted her thin back, which trembled from crying. With his other hand, he raised his hand and lightly pressed and ruffled He Yuzhu's spiky short hair.

"I'm back." His voice was steady, but with a hint of gentleness that was barely perceptible. "I just went out to take care of some things, so I'm a few days late. I won't abandon you."

Simple actions, simple words, yet they seemed to possess a magical power. The sobs in his arms gradually subsided, turning into quiet whimpers, but the hands clinging to his neck showed no sign of loosening, as if afraid that if they let go, their uncle would disappear again. He Yuzhu's tense shoulders also relaxed, and he raised his hand to rub his eyes vigorously before lowering his head.

He Damin, carrying Xiaoyushui, turned and walked into the yard. He Yuzhu silently picked up the rag doll from the ground, dusted it off, and followed beside him. He Daqing hesitated for a moment, then quickly followed.

Sunlight shone on the mottled screen wall of the courtyard house, and also on He Damin's back as he carried the child steadily forward.

At this moment, He Damin clearly felt that a corner of his icy heart wall seemed to have been quietly melted by the small, warm body in his arms that depended on him.

Many years have passed. Ever since... ever since his past life as a world-class assassin, when he clad his soul in armor of extreme ruthlessness and loneliness, he thought he had long since grown accustomed to the cold, accustomed to observing everything in the world from an outsider's perspective, including... family ties.

Arriving in this courtyard world for the first time, he wasn't entirely indifferent to his sister-in-law Lü Bingxin's gentle yet distant concern, or to his elder brother He Daqing's rough yet genuine brotherly demeanor. However, the barrier from his past life's soul, and the wariness and aloofness etched by his past as an assassin, kept him feeling like a sojourner, politely accepting but unable to truly integrate. Teaching Lü Bingxin Wing Chun was less about actively seeking closeness and more about a "comparative exchange" based on a certain moral principle—she gave him a place to stay, an introduction to learn martial arts at Fengzeyuan, and he reciprocated by giving her the skill that might give her a little more self-protection in this chaotic world. Anything more? He hadn't considered it, and perhaps… he didn't need it.

Until Lü Bingxin unexpectedly died in childbirth. At that time, did he feel even a slight ripple in his heart? Perhaps, but it was quickly overshadowed by deeper reflections on his own existence and its relationship with this era, and the subsequent eight-year seclusion. The seclusion was less about seeking a breakthrough and more about escaping—escaping the karma of the original owner of this body, escaping the sudden interpersonal entanglements.

However, fate still pushed him back. Faced with the rain-soaked creatures, the pillar that was almost starving to death on the street, and He Daqing who had been tricked by Yi Zhonghai and bewitched by the White Widow into abandoning his family... the "responsibility" based on the original owner's identity, and the faint lingering thought of a "complete family" deep in his heart that he himself might not even be aware of, made him take action.

Arranging for Zhu Zi to return to Hongbinlou was both repaying Lü Bingxin's past kindness in introducing him and giving Zhu Zi a way out. Taking care of Yu Shui, urging He Daqing to cooperate, buying land and property… each and every action seemed meticulous, forceful, and in control. But deep down, did he truly see these as "responsibility"? Or was it more like a large-scale "situational restoration experiment"? Like a skilled chess player, coldly manipulating the pieces on the board to ensure the plot (or rather, his perceived "reasonable direction") didn't deviate too much?

until now.

Until my clothes were soaked with hot tears from the drizzling rain, until I felt the unreserved dependence and fear emanating from that small body, until I saw the red circles under Zhu Zi's eyes as he tried to hold back his tears...

The icy, bystander-like wall of the heart has finally begun to show clear cracks.

An assassin's heart is cold, for it must be hard enough to withstand countless life-or-death choices and betrayals. A cultivator's heart is serene, for it seeks transcendence and the Great Dao, and worldly entanglements are mostly obstacles.

But a person is, after all, a person. The blood flowing through this body, the warmth of the moments spent together over the past few months, and the heavy, burning dependence in his arms… all silently tell him: you are not just He Damin, not just a Nascent Soul (Deity Transformation) cultivator, you are also He Yuzhu's uncle, He Yushui's uncle, and He Daqing's blood-related brother. You are needed, not only for your strength and plans, but also for your very existence.

A strange yet warm sense of "responsibility" is quietly growing, like a spring bud breaking through the soil. It is no longer a cold "equivalent exchange" or "situation repair", but a genuine emotional connection based on blood ties and daily interactions.

He carried Yushui, whose sobs had gradually subsided but who still refused to let go, into the central courtyard. He Yuzhu followed silently beside him, while He Daqing carefully closed the courtyard gate behind them.

Sunlight streamed into the courtyard and onto them.

He Damin looked down at her tear-streaked face and gently wiped away the tears from her eyelashes with his fingertips.

"Alright, stop crying. Uncle promises you, I'll try to come back earlier next time I go out." His voice was soft, but it carried an unprecedented seriousness. "Or, tell Yushui and Zhuzi roughly when you'll be back."

Little Raindrops raised her wet eyes, looked at him, nodded vigorously, and hugged his neck even tighter with her little hands.

He Yuzhu watched from the side, his lips twitching as if he wanted to laugh, but his eyes reddened again, and he quickly turned his head away.

He Daqing rubbed his hands together, a relieved yet slightly ingratiating smile on his face.

At this moment, the lively atmosphere of the courtyard seemed to penetrate the thick ice wall deep in He Damin's soul for the first time, slowly injecting a touch of real, "home" warmth.

The road ahead is long, and the journey of cultivation is endless. But this heart, once as hard as iron, seems to have quietly decided that while protecting this great path, it will also set aside a portion of its weight to shoulder this sudden, yet real, responsibility.