Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

Spring 1983, Hong Kong.

In the villa on Victoria Peak, the pomegranate tree is blooming again. Thirty years have passed, and this tree has grown from a thin sapling into a lush old tree, its canopy covering half the yard. He Damin stands on the second-floor balcony, holding a cup of Longjing tea, gazing at Victoria Harbour in the distance. Skyscrapers rise one after another on the water, and the skyline of Central is ten times denser than it was thirty years ago.

Footsteps sounded behind her. Chen Xueru pushed open the door and entered, holding a document in her hand. Her hair was tied up at the back of her head, and she wore an elegant cheongsam. Her Golden Core cultivation made her look no more than thirty years old. But her eyes were more composed than when she was younger, something that came from experience and the passage of time.

"Brother Damin, I received an invitation today." She placed the document on the table.

He Damin turned around. "What invitation?"

"The country invited us to return to the mainland for an inspection." Chen Xueru's voice was calm, but He Damin could hear a slight fluctuation in her tone. "It's been several years since the reform and opening up, and they want to invite some overseas Chinese to go back and see, whether for investment or exchange. We were on the list."

He Damin picked up the document and flipped through a few pages. The invitation was formally written, politely worded, and signed with a name he recognized. He didn't speak, but walked to the window and looked at the distant sea. Thirty years—thirty whole years since he left that land. In those thirty years, he had returned countless times, but always in spirit, his divine soul wandering at night; he had never set foot on his homeland in his true form. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but that he couldn't. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to resist, couldn't resist seeing those familiar places, couldn't resist seeing those familiar people, couldn't resist meddling in things he shouldn't be meddling in.

"Brother Damin, what do you think?" Chen Xueru walked to his side.

He Damin remained silent for a long time. "Do you want to go back?"

Chen Xueru nodded. "Yes. I want to see the place where Yushui grew up, to see the suffering Zhuzi endured back then, to see those... places where we once lived."

He Damin looked at her and suddenly smiled. "Then let's go back."

"real?"

"Really. Whatever makes you happy."

Chen Xueru leaned on his shoulder, no longer speaking. He Damin held her, but his gaze drifted northward. A name surfaced in his mind—Bang Geng. The scoundrel from his past life who stole chickens from Xu Damao's family, causing Sha Zhu to be branded a chicken thief! When the traitor Jia Youcai arrested He Daqing to cook for the kids, He Damin never intended to let their family have an easy time. He didn't deal with Jia Dongxu; he knew Jia Dongxu would die young. And then there was Bang Geng, the only male member of the Jia family, who had been stealing chickens and dogs since childhood, and who grew up to be lazy and good-for-nothing, hiding behind his grandmother and taking advantage of her pitiful protection to commit all sorts of evil deeds! He just wanted to turn the Jia family into a bunch of women.

Thirty years have passed; he thought he would forget. He didn't.

Some scores will have to be settled sooner or later.

It was late at night, and Chen Xueru had already gone to sleep. He Damin sat in his study, his eyes closed. His divine sense probed out, passing through the rocks of Taiping Mountain, through the clouds, through thousands of mountains and rivers, heading north, north. Half an hour later, he "saw" that familiar land.

Four Nine Cities.

Nanluoguxiang.

Courtyard 95.

Thirty years have passed, and the courtyard remains the same, but many things have changed. The blue bricks and gray tiles have been renovated, the doors and windows replaced with aluminum alloy, a few bicycles are parked in the yard, and honeycomb briquettes are piled in the corner. The young people of Yan Bugui's family in the front yard moved away long ago, and it is said that they have no sons to support them in their old age. The He Daqing family in the middle yard is empty; He Damin left the house to his eldest brother when he left, but He Daqing has always lived in Hong Kong and rarely returns. Several strangers live in the back yard, and only one room still has a light on.

That room was where the deaf old lady used to live.

He Damin's divine sense probed in and saw a man. He was in his early thirties, thin, with a scraggly beard, wearing a dirty, army-green cotton-padded jacket with a shiny, greasy collar. He sat on a worn-out sofa, a dish of peanuts and a bottle of Erguotou (a type of Chinese liquor) in front of him. The television was on, showing a Peking opera, which he watched half-heartedly, occasionally taking a sip of liquor.

Stick stem.

He Damin recognized him. Thirty years had passed; he had gone from a petty thief to a down-on-his-luck street urchin. He had only been back in the city from the countryside for a few years, without a formal job or any organization to take him in, so he could only drift through the alleyways. The neighborhood committee had arranged temporary work for him a few times, but he always complained about the hard work or the low pay, and would quit after a few days. Now he lived off Jia Zhangshi's meager pension and occasional odd jobs. That face was still the same face, that eye was still the same eye—cloudy, gloomy, and carrying an indescribable air of hostility.

He Damin stared at him for a very long time. Then, he moved.

The spirit left its body, coalescing and transforming in the night sky, becoming a frigatebird. Black feathers, sharp wings, and a pointed beak. It silently traversed the clouds, heading south, south. In less than half an hour, it landed on the old locust tree in the courtyard at No. 95 Nanluoguxiang. Moonlight filtered through the branches and leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

He Damin's divine sense probed into that room again.

Bang Geng was still drinking, his face already flushed, his eyes beginning to glaze over. The Peking opera on TV finished, and it switched to a crosstalk performance, but he didn't listen. He raised his glass, said to the air, "Cheers," and then downed it in one gulp.

Looking at his demeanor, He Damin suddenly felt nauseous. He didn't want to wait any longer.

The divine consciousness transformed into an invisible hand, probing into Banggeng's mind.

Bang Geng's body stiffened abruptly, his wine glass falling to the ground and shattering. His eyes became vacant, his mouth opened, wanting to scream but unable to utter a sound. His soul was being slowly extracted from his body by He Damin. It was a hazy, twisted soul, reeking of decay. It struggled, silently howling, trying to return to its body. But the invisible hand was too powerful; it was powerless to resist.

A moment later, the soul was completely extracted.

Banggeng's body slumped on the sofa, eyes open, mouth agape, like an empty shell. He Damin frowned slightly as he looked at the grayish mass in his palm. This was Banggeng's soul? Dirty, lowly, utterly worthless. With a thought, he drew the grayish mass into the Yin-Yang Space and cast it into the eighteenth level of hell. There, there were mountains of knives, seas of fire, cauldrons of boiling oil, and pools of blood. Enough for it to endure.

He Damin then separated a wisp of his soul and injected it into Banggeng's body.

The limp body trembled slightly, and its eyes regained their light. It sat up, moved its limbs, and touched its face. Then, it stood up, walked to the mirror, and looked at the unfamiliar face in it. A slight smile appeared on its lips, a smile completely different from that of the pheasant.

He Damin took over the body by splitting his soul.

He walked to the bedside, lay down, and closed his eyes. Tomorrow, this body would die "accidentally." Hit by a car while crossing the street, fall down the stairs, or suffer a sudden heart attack. Any reason, as long as it's plausible. At that time, his fragmented soul would leave this body and be retrieved through the six paths of reincarnation in the Yin-Yang space. No one would know.

He Damin withdrew his divine sense, and the warship bird flapped its wings and flew away, disappearing into the night sky.

The next morning, He Damin was meditating in his study. Chen Xueru pushed open the door and came in, carrying a bowl of hot porridge.

"Brother Da Min, didn't you sleep last night?"

"She's asleep. She woke up early." He took the bowl of porridge and took a sip.

"I told Yushui about going back to the mainland, and she was very happy and said she wanted to go with me."

"Then let's go together."

"He also wants to go back and visit his elder brother and sister-in-law, and Zhu Zi."

"Then let's all go."

Chen Xueru sat down opposite him. "Brother Damin, is something on your mind?"

He Damin put down his bowl and looked at her. "No. I was thinking about going back."

"What are you thinking about?"

"Thinking of those people. Those we know. Teacher Yan, Master Liu, and... those neighbors."

Chen Xueru was silent for a moment. "Are they alright?"

"Teacher Yan's wife passed away the year before last from a stroke. Master Liu is still alive and in good health. Jia Zhangshi also passed away several years ago." He Damin paused, "Bang Geng is still alive. However, he doesn't know Bang Geng's mother. After all, in his previous life, Bang Geng's mother should have been his current sister-in-law, Qin Huairu."

Chen Xueru looked at him. "You went to see him?"

"It was seen with divine sense."

"How is he?"

"Still the same. Just came back to the city from the countryside, can't find a job, just hangs around in the alleys. Drinking, wandering the streets, occasionally stealing a little something."

Chen Xueru remained silent. She knew the depth of He Damin's hatred for Banggeng. Thirty years had passed, and he had never mentioned it, but she knew. Some scars never truly heal.

"Brother Damin," she said softly, "let bygones be bygones."

He Damin looked at her for a long, long time. "You can't get over it."

Chen Xueru didn't say anything more, she just held his hand.

At noon, He Damin was reading documents in his study when he suddenly sensed a message coming from the north. His divided soul took action.

Banggeng stepped out of his house and slowly walked along the alley. He passed through Nanluoguxiang and arrived at Di'anmenwai Street. The street was bustling with traffic and people. He stood by the roadside, watching the flow of cars, as if waiting for something.

A Jiefang truck drove by.

The stick-shaped body took a step forward.

"boom--"

everything is over.

He Damin closed his eyes and sensed that his divided soul had separated from his shattered body, transforming into a wisp of light that pierced through the clouds, traversed thousands of mountains and rivers, and returned to his body. The Six Paths of Reincarnation in the Yin Yin Space trembled slightly, drawing the divided soul back into the cycle of reincarnation.

The stick is dead.

He Damin opened his eyes; the sunlight streaming through the window was perfect. He picked up his teacup and took a small sip.

"Brother Damin, what's wrong?" Chen Xueru walked in and noticed that his expression was off.

"Nothing," he smiled. "I was just thinking about going back. When do we leave?"

"Early next month."

"Okay. I'll have John arrange the itinerary."

Chen Xueru looked at him, hesitant to speak. In the end, she didn't ask any more questions. She knew that there were some things He Damin didn't want to say, and she shouldn't ask.

The wind rustled through the pomegranate tree's branches and leaves. He Damin stood by the window, gazing at the sunlight, and suddenly recalled many years ago, when he first arrived in this era. Back then, he had nothing but his cultivation and a wealth of memories. Now, he had a wife, children, and countless riches. But in his heart, there was still a knot. Today, that knot was untied.

"Brother Damin," Chen Xueru hugged him from behind, "No matter what happens, I'll be with you."

He Damin turned around and pulled her into his arms. "I know."

Outside the window, the sun shone brightly. The pomegranate tree in the yard was laden with unripe fruit, its branches bending under the weight. A breeze rustled the leaves, as if whispering secrets. He Damin held Chen Xueru in his arms for a long, long time. He knew that from now on, he could truly let go of the past. Those people, those events, those grudges—all had vanished with Bang Geng's death. He was going to face a new life, a new journey. He would return to the mainland, see his homeland, and reunite with his old friends. And then, he would continue on his way.

"Xue Ru".

"Um?"

"After I go back, I want to visit my older brother's old house."

"it is good."

"I also want to visit Teacher Yan's grave."

"it is good."

"I still want to..."

"What else are you thinking about?"

He Damin smiled. "I also want to take you to eat douzhi and jiaoquan."

Chen Xueru laughed too. "I can't stand that stuff."

"You have to drink it even if you don't like it. That's the taste of Beijing."