Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

Darkness surged in instantly, filling the room. But Chen Xueru's breath was still on his shoulder, warm and even, with a faint scent of soap—it was her usual "Hua Han Chong" soap, made without any artificial fragrance, only the purest oils and the clean scent of alkali after sedimentation.

He Damin did not close his eyes immediately.

The darkness of night blocked his vision, but it could not block his thoughts.

He saw Yan Bugui and Liu Haizhong joining "Red Star" this afternoon from his office window.

Yan Bugui, carrying the old briefcase, cautiously entered the finance department. He stood at the door for a few seconds, as if confirming whether he was qualified to step inside, before finally stepping in. He walked to his assigned desk, but instead of sitting down immediately, he bent down and moved the chair forward and then backward, adjusting it to a more comfortable position.

Then he opened his briefcase and took out the new abacus.

He Damin recognized the abacus. It was brand new, with thirteen gears, a nanmu wood frame, and ox horn beads, which he had someone find in the logistics warehouse. It wasn't anything particularly valuable, but it was considered presentable in those days.

Yan Bugui placed the abacus on the table and adjusted its position three times. The first time, it was too far to the left, blocking the ink bottle. The second time, it was too far to the right, making it difficult to reach. The third time, he was finally satisfied. He didn't immediately start working on the beads, but simply watched it quietly for a while, like an old farmer looking at newly cultivated land, or a craftsman looking at a newly forged vessel.

He Damin recognized that look.

It was the look in his eyes that said, "Finally, I have a place of my own."

Will he be able to hold this position?

—Or will this place slowly turn into another "home"?

He Damin didn't know.

The situation was quite different on Liu Haizhong's side.

He paced back and forth in the repair shop, his hands behind his back and his slightly protruding belly. Thirty-seven steps from east to west. Thirty-seven steps from west to east. The workers were busy, some dismantling chassis under the lift, others adjusting engines. The sounds of metal clanging, power tools humming, and high-pressure gas hissing created a unique symphony in the workshop.

Liu Haizhong stood beside a truck undergoing major repairs, watched for a while, and suddenly asked, "Xiao Wang, has this brake caliper been removed yet?"

The technician named Xiao Wang looked up and said, "Master Liu, we've only dismantled half of it, and it's rusted a bit."

"Did you spray it with a leather conditioner?"

"Spray it on, let it soak in for a while."

Liu Haizhong nodded, said nothing more, and continued walking forward.

He Damin watched this scene from the window.

Liu Haizhong didn't interfere or dictate terms, nor did he forcefully intervene to demonstrate his authority. He simply observed, unfamiliar with this new territory. His foundation as a level-five blacksmith taught him when to speak and when to remain silent. The workshop wasn't an office; skills didn't recognize titles, only work.

Can he hold his ground here?

Ten years from now, when he has established himself in this territory, will he remember who gave him this territory today?

He Damin didn't know. They were pawns, and also an experiment.

He wondered what the outcome would be ten years later when he bestowed "favors" and "opportunities" upon certain people ten years in advance, placing them in positions that did not originally belong to them.

Will Liu Haizhong forget that early autumn evening in 1954? When he rode his old-fashioned bicycle to "Red Star" to report for duty, the chain was pedaling so fast that his back was soaked with sweat. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, stood under the nameplate "Deputy Director of the Repair Workshop," and smiled for a full half minute.

That smile contained ecstasy, gratitude, and a hint of relief, as if saying, "I've finally made it big."

Will he forget that smile?

He will still attribute everything to "his own abilities," just like in some of his past lives, which will lead to more unrealistic desires. For example, what right did He Damin have to "bestow" a position upon him when he was just a capitalist? Liu Haizhong made his living with his skills and was qualified to be a deputy director wherever he went. He Damin was just doing him a favor.

For example, He Damin's "one-yuan lease" of his property to the state is clearly opportunistic! Why should he retain ownership? Why should he be able to reclaim the land in the future? This is clearly a cunning capitalist scheme!

For example... the east wing is still empty. He Damin's whole family has moved south. Shouldn't this house be confiscated? Shouldn't the properties in this wing also be redistributed?

He Damin closed his eyes.

Those fragments were too distant, too blurry, like phantoms glimpsed through a thick fog. He wasn't sure if it was a real past life, or just one of countless possibilities. He only knew that he had seen those eyes before—greedy, self-righteous, taking gratitude for granted, and then letting that privilege ferment into an even greater desire.

He wants to verify it.

Using ten years and two chess pieces, we will test whether there is any "predestination" in human nature.

What about Yan Bugui?

Will Yan Bugui be able to keep his abacus beads in the finance department office? Will he not use that shrewd ruler to measure not only his own daily necessities but also the public treasury in the process of dealing with accounts and materials day after day?

An abacus can be used to calculate carefully and spend every penny wisely.

It can also be used to manipulate things, to do things in the smallest possible way.

A single thought can be the difference between an honest official and a corrupt official.

He Damin was unsure which side Yan Bugui would take.

All he knew was that when he placed the new abacus on Yan Bugui's desk, Yan Bugui stared at it for a long time.

In those eyes, there was cherishing, reverence, and a hint of barely perceptible...greed?

he does not know.

He will find out in 1965.

A breeze picked up outside the window, rustling the branches and leaves of the pomegranate tree.

He Damin gently closed his eyes, but his consciousness remained like an invisible net, gently covering the small courtyard.

In the west wing of the front courtyard, Yan Bugui slept soundly. The new abacus lay beside his pillow, about twenty centimeters away. He lay on his side, facing the abacus, his breathing even. A faint smile lingered on his lips, as if he were making a crucial call in his dream.

In the east wing of the backyard, Liu Haizhong snored loudly. He lay on his back, limbs outstretched, taking up most of the kang (a heated brick bed). His second aunt was squeezed to the edge of the kang by him, curled up to sleep, not daring to push him away. Occasionally, he would mumble a vague word, something like "How did this group leader become?" or "The brake pads need to be replaced."

In the main room of the central courtyard, He Daqing and Qin Huairu had already retired for the night. He Damin did not deliberately try to listen to his brother's dream; he only sensed the two long breaths, one thick and one thin, one deep and one shallow, weaving a peaceful rhythm in the quiet night.

In the west wing room, He Yuzhu was asleep. The quilt was rolled into a tube, with only his head showing. Next to his pillow was the book "Introduction to Automobile Structure," turned to the chapter on "Transmission System." The pages were slightly curled, with a few pencil marks. Zhuzi's breathing was heavy; he was tired from practicing driving all day. There was still a smudge of oil on his forehead that hadn't been wiped clean, glistening faintly in the moonlight.

Next to the main house in the east courtyard, Xiaoyushui was fast asleep. She lay on her side, her two little hands folded under her cheeks, like a curled-up cat. Before going to sleep, she had eaten the candied apples that Brother Zhuzi had made, and the sweetness seemed to still linger in her dreams. Her little mouth was slightly open, and she occasionally smacked her lips.

He Damin "looked" at her, his consciousness unconsciously softening.

This was the first family member to accept him when he woke up in this era. Back then, she was a timid little girl, hiding behind He Yuzhu and secretly observing this uncle who "fell from the sky." Now, she has braids, her schoolbag is filled with brand-new textbooks, she has learned to write the character "He," and she has also learned to carefully wrap the snack she left for her uncle in a handkerchief when he comes home late.

What will she look like ten years from now?

He Damin didn't know.

But then, he will come back to see her.

In the backyard of the Jia family's residence, Jia Zhangshi's breathing was heavy, like a leaky bellows. She lay on her back, her brows furrowed, her lips moving as she mumbled an indistinct curse.

He Damin didn't pay any attention. The insults were just the same few phrases over and over; listening or not made little difference. He only needed to confirm one thing—

She only dared to curse in her dreams.

This is enough.

He Damin was not dreaming.

His dream had already ended in his previous life.

That dream was filled with blood and fire, smoke and betrayal, countless unfamiliar faces frozen forever beneath his gun. In that dream, he had no home, no family, no tender embrace to sleep in the dead of night. He had that dream for too long, so long that he had forgotten what peace felt like.

So he stopped dreaming.

He only makes choices.

Placing Yan Bugui and Liu Haizhong into "Red Star" was his choice.

Leaving two "hidden stakes" behind the business he built before leaving was his choice.

On the night before his departure, it was his choice to honestly tell his partner about these calculations and considerations.

He didn't seek understanding, gratitude, or even the potential usefulness of these "sleeper agents." He simply wanted to verify—in this second life he had stolen from the hail of bullets, in this time and space where he had personally rewritten the destinies of many, whether people's hearts still held the same predetermined fate as he remembered.

Chen Xueru shifted in his arms and mumbled something.

He Damin looked down and heard her mumble "Brother Damin" in her dream.

As if afraid he would get lost.

He smiled slightly, lowered his head, and placed a very light kiss on her hair.

"Go to sleep." His voice was barely audible, like the night breeze rustling through pomegranate leaves, like moonlight streaming through the window, like the tranquility itself.

Ten years is a long time, long enough for some people to forget kindness.

Ten years is a short time, short enough for him to test people's true character.

He will wait.

The night continued to flow.

The next morning, sunlight streamed into the east courtyard as usual.

When He Damin got up, Chen Xueru was already combing her hair in front of the mirror. Today she was wearing a moon-white short-sleeved shirt, paired with navy blue trousers, her hair was neatly tied up, and the pair of pearl earrings on her earlobes shone softly in the morning light—they were a wedding gift from He Damin, which she had worn for two years without ever taking them off.

"Brother Damin, what are your plans for today?" She looked at him in the mirror, the wooden comb in her hand slowly running through his hair.

He Damin buttoned his shirt and pondered for a moment.

"Go to 'Red Star' this morning for a meeting with all the departments to go over the preparation list for the joint venture handover again." He paused, "This afternoon, go see District Chief Yang."

"Any news from District Chief Yang?"

"Not yet, but I have to take the initiative." He took the dark gray Zhongshan suit from the hanger, shook it, and put it on. "I'll formally put our 'leasing' plan into a written report and present it to him in person. We need to make the right gesture."

Chen Xueru nodded.

She turned around, put down the comb, stood up, and carefully straightened He Damin's collar. The left collar corner was slightly upturned; she pressed it flat with her fingers, then ran her fingers along the shoulder line to make sure there were no wrinkles.

"I'll go with you this afternoon," she said, her tone more of a statement than a request.

He Damin looked at her.

“I know Hongxing’s operating data best,” Chen Xueru said, meeting his gaze. “If District Chief Yang asks, I can answer. I have the asset inventory, tax records, and staffing all in my head.”

He Damin looked into her earnest eyes.

More than two years ago, she fiddled with abacus beads in a silk shop near Zhengyangmen, her biggest worry being that the price of silk in Suzhou had risen again this year. Now, she stands before him, saying, "I have the inventory of assets in my head," her tone as casual as if she were commenting on the nice weather.

He had no reason to refuse.

"it is good."

The two looked at each other and smiled.

Needless to say.

In the courtyard, He Yuzhu was already wiping the car.

He polished the military green Jeep until it shone so brightly that you could see your reflection in the hood.

"Uncle, Aunt!" Zhu Zi poked his head out from behind the hood, his face smeared with oil, and smiled brightly.

His smile was exactly the same as it had been two years ago, only his eyes held a newfound composure. He was no longer the kitchen apprentice who could only toss the wok and chop vegetables—he had passed the "Red Star" junior repair technician exam, obtained his driver's license, and could independently clean and adjust a carburetor.

"Are you driving today? If not, can I go out for some practice this afternoon?" he asked. "Just driving around the 'Red Star' training base isn't interesting. I want to drive in the suburbs. Driving towards Xishan, the road conditions are more complicated, so it'll be a good time to practice hill starts and speed control on curves."

He Damin looked at him, then at the jeep he had polished to a shine.

"We're going to the district this afternoon, we won't be driving," he said. "You can practice, but be careful. There are some dirt roads in Xishan, and they're full of potholes after the rain. Shift down before going over speed bumps, don't try to drive over them while the car is dragging."

"Hey! Thank you, Uncle!" He Yuzhu responded loudly, then bent down to continue wiping the car.

Chen Xueru watched his retreating figure and said softly, "Zhuzi is becoming more and more impressive."

"Hmm." He Damin also looked at his nephew.

In two years, He Yuzhu went from a kitchen apprentice who couldn't even properly operate the clutch to a quasi-driver capable of driving independently. His notebook was filled with various fault codes and troubleshooting methods, and the book "Introduction to Automotive Structure" beside his pillow was worn and frayed from repeated use.

He is transforming from a "cook" into the person that He Damin needs him to become.

"Once we get to Hong Kong," He Damin said, "there are more cars there, and the road conditions are more complicated. His skills will come in handy."

Chen Xueru didn't say anything more, she just nodded silently.

The jeep wasn't started yet. They weren't planning to drive to "Red Star" today.

He Damin would walk from Nanluoguxiang to its entrance, take a tram for a while, and then walk some more. This was He Damin's occasional choice. He wanted to take a walk, and he also wanted Chen Xueru to accompany him.

As they exited the courtyard gate, Yan Bugui peeked out from the front gatehouse.

He was still holding a broom when he saw Mr. and Mrs. He Damin, and immediately put it down, his face beaming with smiles. Those smiles contained respect, gratitude, and a hint of barely perceptible unease—like someone who had just received a new abacus, afraid it would be taken away.

"Damin, Xueru, going to work?"

"Good morning, Teacher Yan." He Damin stopped and nodded slightly.

Yan Bugui rubbed his hands together, seemingly wanting to say something, but also a little embarrassed. His eyes behind his glasses gleamed with a cautious yet expectant light.

He Damin figured it out.

"Teacher Yan, are you getting used to working in the finance department?"

Yan Bugui's eyes lit up instantly, as if someone had added oil to a lamp.

"I'm used to it! I'm used to it!" He nodded repeatedly, his voice filled with barely suppressed joy. "Old Li, the accountant, is a very good person, and the colleagues in the department are all very polite. Before leaving get off work yesterday, I went through the accounts for the warehouse spare parts and found a few discrepancies. I was just about to ask the warehouse keeper to check them this morning."

As he said this, the light behind his glasses shone exceptionally bright.

That was not the light of greed.

It was the excitement of finally finding a place to use one's talents—a person who had been meticulously calculating for half his life, a person who was used to calculating every penny to the extreme, finally had a big enough stage to put his abacus skills to use.

He Damin nodded.

"That's good," he said. "The finance department needs someone as meticulous and responsible as Teacher Yan."

Upon receiving this affirmation, Yan Bugui's smile widened, yet he still tried to maintain his composure. He took two steps back, making way for Yan Bugui, and gestured for him to proceed.

"You all get busy! I'll finish sweeping the yard and get ready for work too!"

He Damin didn't say anything more.

He and Chen Xueru walked out the door side by side.

In the alley, the sun shone brightly, and the morning breeze was gentle.

The locust tree leaves dappled the sunlight overhead, casting dappled patterns on the blue brick floor like scattered gold dust. The breakfast vendors were packing up; the last bowl of soy milk was taken away by an early-rising resident, while the aroma of fried dough rings still lingered in the air.

Chen Xueru linked arms with He Damin, her steps light and quick.

"Teacher Yan is in a very good mood today," she said.

"Hmm." He Damin looked ahead. "He doesn't know that the more detailed the finance department's accounts are, the more people they might offend."

Chen Xueru remained silent for a moment.

"That's why you let him go."

He Damin did not deny it.

He Damin watched all of this with a calm gaze.

He gave Yan Bugui a golden abacus.

He gave Liu Haizhong a stage.

They are both pawns and mirrors.

When a mirror shatters, it reflects the truest texture of the human heart.

And he will come back to see these patterns in 1965.

—Before that, there was the handover of "Red Star," the baggage for the southward journey, Chen Xueru's cultivation, He Yuzhu's growth, He Yushui's studies...