Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

The winter nights in the Western Hills are completely different from the noisy and stifling atmosphere in Beiping City. They are a kind of almost deathly stillness, a bone-chilling cold and emptiness.

A gust of wind swept in from the northern mountain valleys, cutting through the bare forest with a mournful, drawn-out wail, like the collective wailing of countless wronged souls. The sky, unusually clear, was cloudless, with a slender crescent moon hanging low on the horizon, casting a cold, frosty light that barely outlined the black silhouettes of the undulating mountains and the indistinct outlines of a few scattered villas. The stars, however, were numerous, densely packed, twinkling coldly, gazing down upon the land swallowed by darkness.

He Damin hid behind a sheltered boulder, his body wrapped in a grayish-brown camouflage cloth that matched the rock's color. He blended almost seamlessly into his surroundings, even his breathing becoming extremely faint and drawn-out. The biting cold, like countless fine needles, tried to pierce through his cotton-padded clothes and camouflage cloth, but his internal energy circulated slowly, enough to maintain his basic body temperature and prevent him from being affected by the extreme cold.

His entire focus was concentrated in his spiritual sea, his divine sense like the most sophisticated radar waves, focused on the relatively brightly lit villa area about a mile away.

That was the so-called "Qingxuexuan" or "Bieye" (villages). During the day, through networked surveillance and remote observation, it was confirmed that this villa, located halfway up the mountain and featuring a distinct blend of Chinese and Western styles from the early Republican era, had been requisitioned by the Japanese army as a venue for hosting a birthday banquet for the general. The villa had two floors and a sizable courtyard, where several black cars and military trucks were parked. Bright lights shone from the windows of the main building, and faint, broken Japanese conversations, clinking glasses, and women's laughter could be heard coming from inside. Surrounding the villa were patrols, both visible and concealed, with searchlight beams occasionally sweeping across the nearby woods and roads, indicating a tight security perimeter.

He Damin carefully avoided areas that might be sensitive to energy fluctuations (such as the core of the main building where Yin-Yang Masters or cultivators might be stationed), focusing his divine sense on a relatively secluded row of bungalows behind the villa—that was probably the kitchen, storage room, and place where conscripted personnel were temporarily detained.

He could clearly "see" his elder brother, He Daqing, busily working in one of the largest kitchens. A dozen or so stoves roared with flames, steam billowing everywhere. He Daqing wore a thin white chef's uniform (probably the one he'd been brought directly from Fengzeyuan), his forehead beaded with sweat, his face showing fatigue and tension in the flames and steam, yet his movements were meticulous. He was directing several other cooks and laborers who had also been captured, handling the cleanup of the banquet—washing the mountain of pots and pans, arranging the remaining ingredients, and cleaning the stoves. The air was thick with the stench of cooking oil, alcohol, and the complex aromas of various expensive dishes.

He Daqing would occasionally stop what he was doing, wipe his sweat, and look out at the dark night, his eyes filled with undisguised anxiety and longing to go home. But he dared not show any dissatisfaction or eagerness; he simply worked even harder, hoping to end this nightmarish job as soon as possible.

Time slipped away slowly amidst the howling wind and the faint distant clamor. The waning moon rose and then slowly sank in the west. The noise in the main villa gradually subsided, and some lights were turned off, as if the banquet was nearing its end and the guests were beginning to leave or rest.

He Damin, like the most patient hunter, remained motionless, using his divine sense to firmly lock onto the kitchen area where his elder brother was.

Finally, close to midnight, the finishing touches in the kitchen were almost done. A short, stout Japanese soldier, dressed in a Japanese military uniform but looking like a logistics sergeant, walked in with two soldiers carrying guns. He mumbled something in English and then pointed at He Daqing and several other cooks and servants.

A translator standing nearby, bowing and scraping, quickly said, "The officer said you've worked hard. You can leave now. However, according to the rules, we need to search you to see if you've stolen anything or smuggled anything." His tone was polite, but his eyes held scrutiny and a hint of disdain.

He Daqing and the others quickly put down what they were carrying, obediently raised their hands, and let the two soldiers come forward and roughly search them. Naturally, they found nothing. Besides his thin chef's uniform, He Daqing only had a few coins and an old pocket watch on him—a keepsake left by his father.

After the body search was completed, the sergeant waved his hand and said a few more words to the translator. The translator then turned to He Daqing: "You, Master He, go with these two detectives. They will take you to the main road at the foot of the mountain. Figure out your own way home. The rest of you will be taken back to the city in a vehicle later."

Upon hearing this, He Daqing's face showed a relieved expression, and he nodded quickly: "Thank you, sir, thank you, sir." He glanced at the other colleagues who had also been arrested, their faces showing envy or worry, pursed his lips, said nothing, and followed the two detectives wearing black cotton-padded coats and dog-skin hats out of the kitchen.

A gust of cold wind immediately hit him, and He Daqing shivered, pulling his thin chef's uniform tighter around himself. The two detectives were led by Jia Gui, and the other was one of his trusted men. Jia Gui's face was expressionless, but his eyes flickered slightly in the dim light. He gestured for He Daqing to walk in the middle, while he and his man followed behind, walking down a gravel path along the side of the villa.

He Damin's spiritual sense immediately became like a persistent, clinging wound, closely following the three. His location was in a secluded spot on the outer edge of the villa, about a thousand meters away from the kitchen where they had started. As he watched the three gradually move away from the brightly lit area of ​​the villa and into the darker, more rugged mountain path bathed in moonlight and starlight, a strange sense of unease rose in He Damin's heart.

Things seemed to be going too "smoothly". After cooking and searching, two detectives escorted the eldest brother down the mountain? And only the eldest brother? But the other cooks and servants had cars to take them back to the city? This was not in line with the Japanese's usual cautious (or rather, suspicious) style, nor with the traitors' habit of bullying the weak and fearing the strong, and of shirking their duties whenever possible.

His divine sense focused even more intently on the past, even at the cost of consuming more soul power, in order to capture the subtle movements and changes in the aura of the three people.

The mountain path wound its way downhill, the forest growing denser, the moonlight fragmented by the branches and leaves, casting dappled, flickering shadows on the ground. Apart from the wind and the rustling of footsteps on loose stones and fallen leaves, all was deathly silent. After walking for about fifteen minutes, they were more than two kilometers from the villa, completely immersed in the desolate wilderness.

Just then, Jia Gui, who was walking in front, seemed to slow his pace slightly, almost imperceptibly. He turned his head slightly and glanced quickly at He Daqing, who was walking behind him with his head down, out of the corner of his eye, and then at the team member who was following at the very back.

Then, Jia Gui's right hand, which was hanging at his side and hidden by the sleeve of his cotton-padded jacket, made a very subtle movement—his thumb crossed his throat and made a light stroke.

A clear, murderous throat-slitting gesture!

The last team member clearly saw the gesture. His body stiffened slightly, a hint of hesitation and ruthlessness flashing in his eyes. He then nodded almost imperceptibly, his right hand quietly reaching for his lower back—where there was a bulge, clearly indicating that something was tucked inside.

He Damin's divine sense clearly captured this scene! His pupils suddenly contracted!

Murderous intent! Jia Gui actually harbored murderous intentions towards his elder brother! Right here in the middle of nowhere, he was about to strike!

Why?!

He Damin's heart was instantly filled with shock! In the original drama, although He Daqing had a stain on his record because he had cooked for the Japanese, he was at least alive and well. Later, he even ran away to Baoding with the White Widow. Although he was irresponsible, his life was not in danger. But now, Jia Gui, who was originally just a sycophantic and bullying traitor, was actually going to kill him to silence him?

In a flash, countless thoughts collided in his mind. Jia Gui was Jia Youcai's cousin, and Jia Youcai's family lived in the courtyard house, neighbors of the He family. Zhang Cuihua's gloating curses that morning… Jia Gui's exaggerated claims about his elder brother becoming a "Master of Tan Family Cuisine"… Now that the banquet was over, his elder brother had lost his usefulness and had instead become a potential threat who knew about this "false title" and the inside story of the banquet…

Add to that the petty squabbles, envy, and backstabbing that never cease within the courtyard houses...

A cold, clear deduction emerges: this isn't a simple case of "discarding a useful tool after it's been used"! It's highly likely a meticulously planned conspiracy! Jia Youcai, Zhang Cuihua, and perhaps Jia Gui behind them, all want to use the Japanese, or this opportunity, to completely eliminate their neighbor, He Daqing! The motive? Perhaps it's pent-up resentment, perhaps they dislike the He family, perhaps… they covet the He family's two relatively tidy houses? Trying to exploit someone who has no descendants?!

With He Daqing dead, all that was left was Lü Bingxin, a single woman, and young He Yuzhu. In these chaotic times of war, weren't they at the mercy of these forces? Their house, their belongings... even their sister-in-law...

Thinking of this, He Damin's eyes flashed with a cold light, his killing intent bursting forth as if it were tangible, and his aura became several degrees colder! What a venomous "good neighbor"!

At this moment, danger has already appeared on the mountain path!

Jia Gui seemed to confirm that his team members understood him, and he stopped completely. He turned around, faced He Daqing, and forced a smile: "Master He, you've had a hard time. It's been dark and difficult to walk this way. Shall we rest here?"

He Daqing had no suspicions. He was indeed a little out of breath after walking such a long way through the mountains, so he nodded and said, "Alright, let's rest. Thank you for the ride, Captain Jia." He was only thinking about getting home as soon as possible and was completely unaware of the danger that was about to befall him.

Just as He Daqing relaxed his vigilance and bent over slightly to catch his breath!

The detective who had been following He Daqing suddenly flashed a fierce glint in his eyes and yanked his right hand out from his lower back! A cold light flashed in the dim moonlight—it was a sharp dagger! He silently took a step forward, the dagger carrying a vicious force, aiming straight for He Daqing's back! The movement was swift and decisive, clearly showing that he was used to this kind of dirty work!

Jia Gui, standing opposite He Daqing, instantly lost his fake smile, replaced by a ferocious and cold expression. He reached for his waist, as if to ensure everything was in order.

He Daqing felt a gust of evil wind coming from behind, and his heart tightened. But his body, which had been working hard for many years, still reacted, and he subconsciously tried to dodge to the side! However, the two sides were too close, and the other side had planned a sneak attack. How could an ordinary cook like him completely avoid it?

The dagger was about to pierce He Daqing's back!

At this critical moment!

"call out--!"

"call out--!"

Two extremely faint yet incredibly sharp whooshing sounds, like the most mournful cry of a night owl, tore through the cold air and shot out from the dark woods to the side!

Those were two silver coins with exceptionally sharp edges! Under the guidance of He Damin's pure true essence and a trace of soul power, they spun, carrying the aura of death, and shot towards their target with unparalleled precision at a speed beyond the reach of the naked eye!

One shot was fired at the exposed side of the neck of the dagger-wielding teammate! There, the carotid artery was throbbing violently under the skin.

Another bullet was fired at Jia Gui's equally unprotected throat!

"Pfft!"

"Pfft!"

Almost at the same moment, two muffled thuds of sharp blades piercing flesh were heard, as soft as ripe fruit falling to the ground.

The dagger-wielding teammate froze, his forward momentum halted abruptly. His eyes widened in utter horror and bewilderment, the dagger clattering to the ground. Instinctively, he raised his hand to his neck, warm, viscous liquid gushing from between his fingers! He tried to scream, but only a wheezing, gurgling sound, like a leaking bellows, escaped his throat; blood had blocked his trachea and drowned his vocal cords. He staggered forward, his body convulsing a few times before falling still.

Jia Gui's狰狞 expression froze. He felt a chill on his neck, followed by a burning pain, and then suffocation! He futilely clutched his neck, blood gushing from between his fingers like a fountain, appearing an eerie dark red in the cold moonlight. He stared wide-eyed in disbelief towards the dark woods, as if trying to see who had done it, but his vision was quickly swallowed by darkness. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out; his body went limp and collapsed to the ground, his limbs twitching unconsciously, his life rapidly slipping away with the gushing blood.

It all happened so fast; from the moment the dagger was thrust out to the moment the two men died, only two or three breaths had passed.

He Daqing had just instinctively staggered to the side, dodging the fatal stab, when he heard a muffled thud of something heavy falling and a strange "hoarse" sound behind him. Still shaken, he turned around and, in the dim moonlight, saw that Jia Gui and the other man who had been standing behind and in front of him were now lying in pools of blood, their necks a bloody mess, blood gushing out and staining the withered grass and pebbles beneath them.

The pungent smell of blood instantly filled the air, mingling with the earthy scent of grass and trees in the mountain forest at night, making one feel nauseous.

"Ah—!" He Daqing had never seen anything like this before. He was so frightened that his legs went weak and he almost collapsed to the ground. His face was ashen, his heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to explode, and his mind was completely blank. He had no idea what was happening.

"Big...Big Brother..." A deep and familiar voice, like a ghost, suddenly rang out not far from his side.

He Daqing shuddered and abruptly turned his head. There, in the shadow of an old pine tree, stood a blurry figure—it was none other than his younger brother, He Damin!

"Damin?! You... what are you doing here? This... this is..." He Daqing was shocked and frightened, and his words were incoherent.

He Damin emerged from the shadows, the moonlight illuminating his calm yet cold face. He didn't explain immediately, but instead strode over to the two corpses, quickly searching their bodies and removing anything that might reveal their identities (such as identification documents or distinctive ornaments). He then picked up the bloodstained silver coin (the other one was deeply embedded in Jia Gui's cervical vertebrae, which he didn't remove), wiped the bloodstains clean with dry grass, and put it back in his pocket.

"Brother, don't ask questions, let's get out of here first." He Damin's voice left no room for doubt. He pulled up He Daqing, who was still trembling. "Follow me, don't look back, and don't make a sound."

Looking into his younger brother's eyes, which shone exceptionally bright in the darkness, and feeling the irresistible strength emanating from his hand, He Daqing was filled with endless questions and fear, but the instinct for survival and an inexplicable trust in his brother prevailed. He nodded vigorously and followed closely behind He Damin.

He Damin determined the direction and, leading He Daqing, quickly slipped into the denser, darker woods on the other side, avoiding the main road where there might be patrols, and stealthily made their way in the opposite direction from the Xishan villa area.

The cold wind still howled, dispersing the faint smell of blood in the air. The cold moonlight shone on the two gradually cooling corpses on the mountain path, and the pool of dark red blood that was congealing.