Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

Wan Chai, Lockhart Road.

Unlike the chaos of Kowloon City, Wan Chai, while also bustling, has a more commercial feel. Lockhart Road is teeming with pedestrians and vehicles. A three-story old building facing the street is undergoing intensive renovations, with scaffolding covering the exterior walls. Workers are busy going in and out, some carrying timber, others carrying paint buckets, working feverishly. The buzzing of electric drills, the banging of hammers, and the shouts of workers mingle together, creating a vibrant and bustling atmosphere.

A temporary sign wrapped in red cloth has been hung at the entrance, with three characters written crookedly in calligraphy: "Da Qing Restaurant".

He Daqing, dressed in faded old work clothes, had beads of sweat on his forehead that slid down his dark cheeks and dripped onto his dusty collar. He stood in the doorway, a roll of blueprints in his hand, directing several workers as they moved the newly delivered tables and chairs. Perhaps because he had something to look forward to, his weathered face showed a rare sparkle, and his eyes shone with a long-lost drive and anticipation.

The HK$1 million check was like a shot in the arm, reviving him completely. Back in Beiping, he had owned a small restaurant, a labor of love. After arriving in Hong Kong, the feeling of being a dependent had been incredibly oppressive. Now, he could finally return to his old business and own his own restaurant.

He scoured Hong Kong Island, Kowloon, and the New Territories, nearly exhausting himself, before finally finding this old building in a good location with a reasonable price. He planned to divide the third floor into warehouses and staff dormitories, the second floor into private rooms, and the first floor into a lobby. His idea was to hire several authentic Northern Chinese chefs, specializing in Shandong and Beijing cuisine, along with some Cantonese dim sum, which should attract many fellow countrymen from the north and customers who enjoy Northern flavors.

"Old He, where do we put these tables and chairs?" A shirtless, dark-skinned worker shouted as he carried a heavy eight-immortal table, sweat dripping from his forehead like beads from a broken string.

He Daqing quickly looked up from the blueprints, ran over, and carefully directed, "Place them all in the main hall first! Make sure they're neatly arranged against the wall, be careful not to bump or knock them over! I'll personally adjust their positions tomorrow!"

He wiped the sweat from his face, a salty taste seeping into the corner of his mouth. He looked up at the old building being renovated and about to be reborn, sunlight filtering through the gaps in the scaffolding and casting dappled shadows on the ground. He could almost see the restaurant bustling with customers and thriving business after its opening, and a long-lost excitement and drive welled up inside him.

Just then, three young men dressed in flashy shirts and with brightly colored hair strolled over. They had cigarettes dangling from their mouths, their eyes darting around, clearly not good people. The one in the lead, with dyed blond hair and a cheap earring, walked to the restaurant entrance, glanced sideways at the temporary sign, and then fixed his gaze on He Daqing.

"Hey, who's the boss?" The blond-haired man spat out the cigarette butt from his mouth, crushed it with his foot, and looked at He Daqing with a provocative expression and an arrogant tone.

He Daqing was taken aback, his heart skipped a beat, and he sensed something was wrong. But he quickly put down the blueprints, forced a fawning smile, and hurried forward: "That's me, that's the boss. Gentlemen, what can I do for you?"

"What is it?" The blond-haired man sized up He Daqing's tattered work clothes and honest-looking face, a disdainful smile playing on his lips. "You opened this restaurant on our turf, didn't you pay your respects? Don't you know the rules?"

He Daqing's smile froze instantly. Paying homage to powerful figures? When he ran a small restaurant in Beiping, he knew he had to bribe the local bullies and pay protection money. But in Hong Kong, he was so focused on finding a shop and getting renovations done that he completely forgot about it.

"Who...who are you...?" he asked cautiously, his heart pounding.

"Wo Shing Wo!" The blond-haired man puffed out his chest, as if the name brought him unparalleled glory. "Listen carefully! This whole area, including this Lockhart Road, is under the jurisdiction of Wo Shing Wo! If you want to do business here, you have to follow our rules. A monthly tribute of one thousand dollars! Pay three months' worth first, three thousand dollars! Hand over the money!"

He Daqing's face instantly changed, and the sweat poured down his forehead even more profusely—this time, he was terrified. Three thousand dollars? He had only spent eighty thousand Hong Kong dollars to buy the building, and with renovations, equipment, and workers, he had invested less than fifty thousand in total. A protection fee of one thousand dollars a month, that's twelve thousand a year! How could he do business like that? It was practically driving him to his death!

"Gentlemen, this...this is too much..." He pleaded with utmost caution, his voice trembling slightly. "I'm new to Hong Kong, and I don't know anyone here. Running this small restaurant is a small business. Could you...could you be a little more accommodating and reduce the amount?"

"Less?" The blond-haired man seemed to have heard the funniest joke. He suddenly grabbed He Daqing by the collar, yanked him close, and spat almost in He Daqing's face. "Don't you think my word counts? Just teach me! Stop with the nonsense!"

Two henchmen immediately surrounded He Daqing, shoving him and hurling insults: "Old man, you won't listen to reason, you'll have to suffer the consequences!" "Hurry up and hand over the money, or we'll tear down this dilapidated building!"

"What are you doing! Stop!" A young worker, unable to stand by and watch, rushed over with a hammer in his hand to help, but before he could even get close, he was punched in the face by another accomplice with dyed green hair. The worker cried out "Ouch!" and squatted down, clutching his nose, bright red blood immediately seeping from between his fingers.

He Daqing was pushed backward by Huang Mao and another accomplice. He staggered a few steps and the back of his head hit the door frame behind him with a loud thud. The pain made his vision go black and tears welled up in his eyes.

"Damn it, you're asking for it!" Seeing that he still wouldn't hand over the money, the blond-haired man became even more arrogant, pointing at He Daqing's nose and saying viciously, "I'll give you three days! Within three days, deliver three thousand yuan to our branch! Otherwise, you can forget about opening this restaurant! I'll make sure your place is completely destroyed, down to the last tile!"

After saying that, he left with two henchmen, cursing and swearing, leaving He Daqing standing there, clutching the back of his head, his face ashen, his whole body trembling slightly. The surrounding workers were too frightened to utter a sound, simply watching silently. The young worker who had just been beaten was still squatting on the ground, groaning.

On Victoria Peak, at Ho Ta-min's villa.

Far from the hustle and bustle of the city, the mountaintop breeze carries a cool breeze, rustling the leaves outside the window. Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, an unobstructed view of Victoria Harbour unfolds, with its azure sea, blue sky, and sails dotting the water.

He Damin had just finished dealing with some matters at the headquarters of the Global Bank (continued from above) and was sitting in his study reviewing documents sent by Lawrence. The study was simply yet elegantly decorated, with dark solid wood bookshelves filled with various books, and the air was filled with the faint scent of ink and tea. He was wearing a comfortable silk robe, his expression focused, his fingers tracing the words on the documents, carefully reviewing each clause.

The phone suddenly rang urgently, breaking the tranquility of the study.

He Damin picked up the phone, and He Yuzhu's anxious voice came through the receiver: "Uncle! Something bad has happened! Something's happened to my dad! People from Heshenghe went to the restaurant and caused trouble, demanding 3,000 yuan in protection money, and they even pushed my dad!"

He Damin frowned slightly and tightened his grip on the phone.

"Is anyone injured? How serious is it?" His voice remained calm, but if you listened carefully, you could detect a subtle chill.

"My dad said... said it's nothing serious, just a bump on the back of his head, and a bump." He Yuzhu's voice was trembling with tears and anger. "But he's terribly frightened. He's sitting alone in the restaurant now, his face is deathly pale, and he can barely speak. No matter how I try to persuade him, he won't leave!"

He Damin was silent for a few seconds, and some thoughts flashed through his mind.

"Okay. Go and stay with him first, don't let him get any more frightened. I'll be there in a bit."

He hung up the phone, slowly lowered the receiver, leaned back in his large leather seat, and gazed intently out the window. The sun was shining brightly, but his eyes were like a frozen lake, utterly still.

He Sheng He.

One of the largest gangs in Hong Kong, with a deeply entrenched network of influence spanning Hong Kong Island, Kowloon, and the New Territories, and rumored to have British backing. He had originally planned to deal with these underground forces once things at the bank stabilized, but unexpectedly, they came knocking on his door first.

Yeah.

They've come at the perfect time. It saves him the trouble of searching for them one by one.

Wan Chai, Lockhart Road, Da Qing Restaurant.

When He Damin arrived, he was met with a scene of utter chaos. Several workers huddled in a corner, their faces filled with terror. He Yuzhu was squatting beside He Daqing, constantly comforting him. He Daqing, on the other hand, sat listlessly beside a table that hadn't even been assembled yet, his face as pale as paper, his hands trembling slightly, his eyes staring blankly at the ground, and a large bump clearly swollen on the back of his head.

"Uncle!" Upon seeing He Damin enter, He Yuzhu stood up as if he had seen a savior.

He Damin nodded slightly, walked straight to He Daqing, and squatted down.

"Brother, where are you hurt? Let me see."

He Daqing slowly raised his head and saw He Damin. His taut nerves seemed to snap suddenly, his eyes reddened, and his voice choked with sobs: "Damin... I... I'm useless... I can't even run a restaurant in peace... I've caused you trouble..."

He Damin ignored his self-blame, reached out, and gently touched the bump on the back of his head. He Daqing hissed in pain. The bump was quite large, but thankfully, it was just a superficial injury and hadn't broken the bone.

"The person is gone?" He Damin asked, his tone calm and even.

"They're leaving," He Yuzhu blurted out, his face contorted with rage. "They said they'd give us three days to prepare three thousand yuan and deliver it to their headquarters. Otherwise... otherwise they'd smash up our restaurant!"