Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

In the spring of 1972, Hong Kong was already warm. The air on Victoria Peak was always filled with the damp scent of grass and the faint salty smell of the sea in the distance. In He Damin's villa, breakfast time was always like a bustling little market, filled with the noise of children, the clatter of bowls and chopsticks, and Chen Xueru's gentle instructions.

The long wooden table was laden with food. Steaming white porridge rose in the air, and the aroma of shrimp dumplings, siu mai, and rice noodle rolls from the steamer was irresistible. Radish cakes were pan-fried until golden brown with slightly crispy edges, and a dish of tender ginger shreds in soy sauce sat beside them, spicy and appetizing. Six children sat around the table, chattering incessantly like a flock of fledglings.

Yuan An and Yuan Qing were locked in a fierce battle over the last crystal shrimp dumpling, their little hands almost reaching into the plate to fight. The aroma of the dumpling mingled with their saliva, neither willing to give in. Yuan Ning and Yuan Jing, two little girls, huddled together, heads close to a brightly colored fashion magazine, whispering about the dresses featured in it, their hair brushing against each other, carrying the faint scent of jasmine shampoo. Yuan Kang, the most mischievous, scooped the red dates out of his porridge bowl one by one, arranging them in a crooked little snake on the table, the porridge glistening as it dripped from his lips to his chin. Only Yuan Ping was the quietest, holding his small bowl, sipping his white porridge slowly. The soft, sweet rice porridge melted in his mouth, and he would occasionally look up at his younger siblings with his clear eyes before lowering his head again to continue eating.

He Damin sat in the main seat, holding a cup of freshly brewed Longjing tea. The tea leaves unfurled in the boiling water, releasing a refreshing aroma that mingled with the scents of breakfast, making it particularly invigorating. He sipped his tea, glancing idly at the television on the wall. Chen Xueru sat beside him, dressed in simple home clothes, her hair loosely tied back, revealing her smooth forehead. She used serving chopsticks to place a steaming piece of radish cake in He Damin's bowl, her voice gentle and soft: "Today's shrimp dumplings have your favorite bamboo shoot filling, would you like to try some? The radish cake is also perfectly cooked, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside."

He Damin hummed in agreement, picked up the radish cake, and took a bite. The outer layer was indeed crispy, the radish shreds inside were soft and smooth, with the umami of dried shrimp and the perfect balance of salty and savory soy sauce. He narrowed his eyes in satisfaction. The morning news was playing on the television, the female anchor's voice ringing out from the loudspeaker, crisp like ice cubes hitting a glass: "The highly anticipated World Gambling King Competition will be held in Macau next month. Gambling masters from all over the world will gather in the Monte Carlo of the East to compete for the crown of the Gambling King and a huge prize..."

He Damin chewed on his radish cake, not paying much attention. This kind of news had nothing to do with him. He just wanted to have a peaceful breakfast and enjoy this rare family time.

But the scene that appeared on the TV screen next made his chopsticks, which were about to pick up the second piece of radish cake, stop in mid-air with a "clatter".

The screen displayed a large photograph. It showed a middle-aged man with slicked-back hair, each strand clearly defined, as if heavily oiled. His eyes were sharp as a hawk's, carrying a fierce edge, yet the corners of his mouth were curved upwards, a faint, enigmatic smile playing on his lips. Below the photograph was a line of black text—Chen Jincheng, Singapore, nicknamed "The Gambling Demon."

He Damin's brows furrowed instantly. That name, that nickname, and that face… his heart skipped a beat. He hadn't just heard it in this life, but in his past life. Back when he was just an ordinary laborer, crammed into a rented room watching Hong Kong movies, that name was legendary. Chen Jincheng, the ruthless, cheating villain in *God of Gamblers*!

Before he could recover from his surprise, the television screen changed. It was another photo, this time of a younger man. He wore a flamboyant shirt, the collar open, revealing a gold chain underneath. A pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, his eyes behind the lenses narrowed into slits with a smile, but that smile looked utterly sinister, like a viper's hiss. The caption read: Qiu Xiaochi, leader of the Donghu Gang in Taiwan.

He Damin's brows furrowed even more, almost forming a knot. Qiu Xiaochi? That's a character from "God of Gamblers" too! I think he was the main villain in the second movie? He remembered that this guy was even more perverted, liking to use human blood to nourish jade... The specific details were a bit blurry, but he had a deep impression of this face.

But that's not all; the third photo followed immediately. A fair-skinned young man, seemingly refined and scholarly, wore thick-rimmed black glasses, giving him the air of a bookish gentleman. But his eyes held a barely perceptible glint of calculation and ruthlessness. (Caption: Gao Yi, Hong Kong)

He Damin sighed inwardly. Gao Yi, Gao Jin's cousin, that ungrateful scoundrel who betrayed his cousin. He remembered that the guy's end was quite tragic.

"Brother Damin, what's wrong?" Chen Xueru noticed his unusual expression, her chopsticks hovering in mid-air as she looked at him with concern. "You don't look well, are you feeling unwell?"

He Damin shook his head, stuffed the radish cake into his mouth, and chewed slowly; the taste seemed to have changed. "Nothing," he mumbled, "I just saw a few... uh, people I've heard of."

"Do you know them?" Chen Xueru asked curiously, glancing at the television.

"I don't know them." He Damin took a sip of Longjing tea, the bitterness of which slightly suppressed the turmoil in his heart. "I only heard these names mentioned when I was in the underworld. They didn't have a good reputation."

The television screen switched again. This time, instead of a front-facing photo, it showed a figure from behind. The man wore a well-tailored black suit, the fabric clearly high-quality, gleaming softly under the light. His hair was meticulously combed, revealing a smooth forehead. He stood alone at a gambling table covered with a green tablecloth, seemingly holding a coin in his hand, gently rubbing it. His back was ramrod straight, like a solitary, proud pine tree, exuding an indescribable loneliness, as if all the surrounding noise was irrelevant to him; he was simply immersed in his own world, contemplating something.

"Ko Chun, Hong Kong." The female anchor's voice carried a hint of mystery. "A mysterious master known as the 'God of Gamblers.' It is said that no one has ever seen his true face. He always appears before the gambling game begins, and he never takes pictures..."

He Damin stared at the retreating figure, his heart filled with mixed emotions. Ko Chun. The God of Gamblers. Chow Yun-fat. Of course, he knew what this person looked like; he'd seen him countless times in movies. A slicked-back hairstyle, a black suit, eating chocolate, calm as an iceberg, yet his moves were lightning fast. But right now, that wasn't the point. The point was—the world he'd transmigrated to seemed far more complex than he'd imagined. Not only did it contain the trials and tribulations he'd experienced before, but it also incorporated characters from Hong Kong films he'd seen in his previous life!

He put down his teacup, leaned back in his chair, and unconsciously tapped his fingers on the table. Chen Jincheng, Qiu Xiaochi, Gao Yi, Gao Jin… these are all core characters in the *God of Gamblers* series. So, are there any others? The loyal Mark from *A Better Tomorrow*? Chen Haonan and Chicken from *Young and Dangerous*? Chen Yongren and Liu Jianming confronting each other on the rooftop in *Infernal Affairs*?

He Damin's mind was a jumbled mess, like a tangled mess. He thought for a moment, then suddenly chuckled. Whatever! He was He Damin now, not that poor kid huddled in his rented room watching movies. He was rich and powerful, with a family, a wife and children, a warm bed, and a comfortable life. Casinos? The underworld? What did they have to do with him? He didn't run casinos, didn't gamble, and certainly wasn't involved in the underworld. He had more money than he could ever spend in several lifetimes; his bank account was overflowing with zeros. There was no need for him to wade into those murky waters and cause himself trouble.

"Dad, what are you laughing at?" Yuan An's mouth was full of shrimp dumplings, and he spoke indistinctly, with a little sauce still stuck to the corner of his mouth, like a little kitten stealing a bite.

"It's nothing." He Damin snapped out of his daze, reached out and touched Yuan An's head. The hair was soft and slightly damp with sweat. "Eat quickly, then go to school."

"Dad's lying!" Yuanqing immediately retorted loudly, almost spitting out his porridge. "Today's Saturday! No school!"

He Damin glared at him; this kid, he's the smartest of them all. "No slacking off on Saturdays! Eat quickly, and then come practice with me!"

"Ah—" The children deflated like punctured balloons, each one drooping. Yuan Ping, the most obedient, silently put down his bowl, stood up, and whispered, "I'm going to change my clothes." Yuan An also pouted, slowly put down his chopsticks, and walked away, looking back every few steps. Yuan Qing and Yuan Kang exchanged a glance, both seeing the word "resignation" in each other's eyes, and had no choice but to stand up as well. The two clever girls, Yuan Ning and Yuan Jing, had already slipped away while the adults were talking, probably hiding in the garden to play, running faster than rabbits.

Chen Xueru watched this scene, shaking her head helplessly, but her eyes were full of laughter. "You, all you know is to force them to practice. The children are still young, let them play a little longer."

"What's wrong with practicing martial arts?" He Damin picked up his teacup and took another sip, the sweet aftertaste of Longjing tea spreading in his mouth. "It strengthens the body, and you'll get sick less often when you grow up. Besides, if you encounter any bad people in the future, you'll have some ability to protect yourself. You can't always rely on others to save you."

"You just want them all to be like you, all becoming martial arts masters," Chen Xueru said reproachfully.

He Damin remained silent, which was taken as tacit agreement. He did indeed want his children to cultivate. Not for them to fight and kill, but for longevity. He had already achieved considerable cultivation, and his lifespan far exceeded that of ordinary people. The Golden Core stage had a lifespan of five hundred years, the Nascent Soul stage a thousand years, and the Deity Transformation stage two thousand years. He couldn't imagine himself still alive, watching his children grow old and die one by one; the thought alone made his heart ache. He hoped they could stay with him for a longer time.

"Brother Damin," Chen Xueru suddenly seemed to remember something and gently tugged at his sleeve, "that gambling king competition they were talking about on TV, do you... want to go watch it?"