Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

On the day his sister-in-law gave birth, she indeed suffered a severe postpartum hemorrhage. The midwife was helpless, and by the time she was taken to the hospital, she had already passed away. He Daqing was devastated by the loss of his beloved wife and was in a daze. While working, He Daqing also took care of his daughter, Xiaoyushui. At the end of 1950, Long Xiaoni took advantage of his vulnerability. She arranged for the widow Bai to come from Baoding and meticulously set a trap. One night, after drinking, He Daqing was lured into an inn, where the widow Bai seduced him into bed. Yi Zhonghai brought men to "catch them in the act" and fabricated a scene of "rape" and witnesses. Faced with threats of being handed over to the military council, ruined in reputation, or even executed, the already timid He Daqing completely broke down. Long Xiaoni appeared at the right time, feigning mediation and proposing a "private settlement"—He Daqing would "mortgage" the east wing of his house to her, take a sum of money, and flee to another place to avoid trouble, and the matter would not be pursued further.

Desperate and fearful, He Daqing pressed his fingerprint on the document, not even daring to touch the box of gold left by his younger brother (perhaps subconsciously he felt it belonged to his brother and shouldn't be touched, or perhaps he was simply too terrified). He fled Beiping in haste for Baoding with only a small amount of "travel expenses" given to him by Long Xiaoni. Meanwhile, Long Xiaoni, relying on a flawed but witness-supported mortgage document (with Yi Zhonghai and others), and taking advantage of her niece Wang Hongxia's position in the Military Control Commission, managed to transfer the ownership of the east wing of the courtyard house to her name during the post-liberation property registration process.

Calculations about children

The last part of my memory is about He Yuzhu and his sister.

Long Xiaoni (who was now seen as a deaf old woman by everyone) and Yi Zhonghai coldly watched as the two children lost their parents' protection, and watched them go from being able to sell their family's few belongings to get some food, to eventually running out of food and being forced to scavenge for garbage and dig for wild vegetables. They deliberately didn't kill them, letting them live in the main house, and occasionally having an old woman "take it out of her" and give them some scraps, keeping them in a state of barely surviving.

"Let them taste all the bitterness of life, let them despair of this world." In my memory, the deaf old woman coldly instructed Yi Zhonghai, "When they are terrified of hunger and cold, terrified to the core, then you appear like a savior. Give them something to eat, a tattered piece of clothing, and they will regard you as their second parent. That boy Zhuzi, he looks simple-minded, but he has a stubborn streak. If you tame him, he'll be a useful tool, perfect for taking care of you and me in our old age. As for Yushui... after a few years, he should be quite good-looking, and then..."

Upon reading this part of the memory, the purple light surrounding He Damin's soul clone suddenly fluctuated violently, and an almost tangible killing intent instantly filled the entire room! Although the deaf old woman could not move her body, she felt the earth-shattering coldness and anger deep in her soul, and her consciousness was almost about to collapse under this pressure.

The phantom slowly retracted its "finger".

The deaf old woman collapsed limply onto the kang (a heated brick bed), as if all her bones had been removed. Her eyes were vacant, and saliva drooled uncontrollably from the corners of her mouth. Her memories had been brutally rummaged through, and her soul had been severely damaged. Although she hadn't died immediately, she had become a truly useless person, her consciousness blurred and her mind constantly shifting between lucidity and confusion. He Damin deliberately preserved some of her physiological functions, allowing her to eat and excrete, keeping her "alive" like a living dead. This was the cruelest punishment for her—letting her slowly rot in her own sins, yet unable to escape them.

He Damin's soul clone hovered silently, digesting the massive amount of information it had just acquired.

Haruno Hanako…Long Xiaoni…Night Owl. Forty years of infiltration, the criminal network of the Eight Great Hutongs, the scheming and infiltration of Red Party members, the murder and embezzlement of the He family, the vicious plot against the two children…and the secret rooms buried under those deliberately destroyed, seemingly abandoned properties—containing not only the treasures she had amassed throughout her life, but also secret letters and radios used to communicate with the Japanese, as well as account books recording the secrets of many people from all walks of life in Beiping.

"This saves me a lot of trouble," He Damin thought coldly. With a little organization, this information would be irrefutable evidence to send these people to hell. However, he didn't need to go through official channels. Official channels had their procedures and limitations, while he had a more direct, more "natural" way.

His gaze seemed to pierce through the walls, looking towards the direction of Yi Zhonghai's house in the central courtyard.

Yi Zhonghai... an accomplice to evil, a pathetic wretch destined to die childless, yet still dreaming of manipulating others and enjoying his old age in peace.

"Tomorrow," He Damin whispered in his mind, "it will start with you."

The soul clone slowly dissipated, turning into a wisp of purple mist that blended into the night outside the window. In the main room of the east courtyard, only the dim light of an oil lamp remained, illuminating the drooling, vacant-eyed old woman on the kang (a heated brick bed), and the open iron box beside her, filled with sins.

The next day, early in the morning.

In the third workshop of the Hongxing Steel Rolling Mill, the machines roared, filled with the sounds of clashing metal and turning gears. Yi Zhonghai, dressed in overalls, stood in front of an old-fashioned lathe, feeling inexplicably irritated.

He Damin's appearance yesterday made him uneasy. Although the young man seemed to have given up on fighting for the property, his eyes... were too calm. Moreover, after the old lady came back last night, she kept muttering about "shadows" and "not human," acting strangely. This morning, she couldn't even get out of bed. An older woman went to check on her and said that the old lady seemed to have dementia, talking nonsense.

"Was he frightened?" Yi Zhonghai shook his head, forcing himself to concentrate. He picked up a steel part that needed precision machining and carefully fixed it to the lathe chuck with a clamp. This was a delicate job; the part was small, but the tolerances were extremely high, and the clamping force had to be just right—too loose and it would fly out, too tight and it might damage the part or the clamp.

As usual, he pulled the clamp handle hard, felt the familiar resistance, and heard a soft "click"—the sound of the clamp locking. He habitually applied more force to confirm that it was clamped securely.

However, at the very moment he exerted that final bit of force, an extremely subtle, almost imperceptible fluctuation of divine sense swept across his brain like ripples on water. Yi Zhonghai's eyes glazed over for a fraction of a second, and an illusion implanted in his perception: the clamp wasn't completely locked; it was just a little bit short!

In reality, the clamps were already locked. But Yi Zhonghai's misguided perception made him think that even more force was needed. He subconsciously exerted force again, this time with all his might!

"Bang bang——"

A soft but piercing metallic clang rang out. A precision component of the clamp, subjected to force exceeding its design limits, underwent deformation and internal stress concentration that was imperceptible to the naked eye. Yi Zhonghai, however, remained oblivious; his brain still perceived it as "clamped tight, but not perfectly."

He released the handle and habitually checked the parts—he sensed a very slight wobble in them. He frowned, then instinctively tried to adjust them.

Just then, the workshop foreman called out to him from not far away, "Old Yi, come here for a second, take a look at this drawing!"

Yi Zhonghai responded, paused his work, and turned to walk towards the director. After taking a couple of steps, he suddenly remembered that the lathe's power was off. Without turning his head, he reached for the start switch and pressed it.

"Buzz—!!"

The lathe spindle suddenly began to rotate at high speed, causing the chuck and the parts on it to spin wildly. The speed quickly climbed to over two thousand revolutions per minute, and the parts, which should have been firmly fixed to the chuck under the action of centrifugal force, were now under pressure.

However, the clamp that had suffered internal damage due to over-tightening experienced its tiny internal cracks expand instantly under the enormous stress caused by the high-speed rotation!

Yi Zhonghai had just walked up to the director, taken the blueprint, and hadn't even clearly seen the lines on it yet.

Behind me, a sharp, piercing cracking sound tore through the roar of the workshop!

"Bang--!!!"

The clamp shattered! The three-kilogram, sharp-edged steel part, the instant it was freed, was violently thrown out by centrifugal force at a speed of over one hundred meters per second! Like a cannonball, it tore through the air with a piercing whistle, heading straight for the back of Yi Zhonghai's head!

Time seemed to stretch out.

Yi Zhonghai only had time to hear the loud bang and feel the fierce wind coming from behind. He instinctively wanted to turn his head and dodge.

too late.

"Pfft—!"

A muffled thud, like a ripe watermelon being hit by an iron rod.

The dark gray shadow pierced Yi Zhonghai's skull with pinpoint accuracy, striking from below the occipital bone. It carried red and white liquid and bone fragments, then exited from slightly to the left of his brow! With its momentum undiminished, it slammed into the brick wall five meters away from the workshop with a clang, embedding itself a full half inch. The edges of the part were still trembling slightly, and the blood and brain tissue stained with it were slowly dripping down.

Yi Zhonghai stood frozen in place, still holding the blueprint in his hand. His eyes were wide open, his pupils dilated, and his face still held the bewilderment and terror of that moment. On his forehead, a hole the size of an egg was gushing blood and brain matter, while the wound on the back of his head was even larger, with fragmented skull and brain tissue clearly visible.

Quiet.

A deathly silence enveloped the area.

Then came the woman's ear-piercing scream, the man's terrified cries, and the workshop foreman's hoarse roar: "Help! Call an ambulance!! Turn off the machines! Turn off all the machines!!"

People rushed over in a panic, yet dared not approach the gruesome corpse. Blood quickly spread across the ground, mixing with engine oil and metal powder, creating a bizarre and terrifying scene.

No one noticed that a faint purple aura quietly dissipated from the shadow of the tall beams in the workshop.

In a small alley not far from the steel rolling mill, He Damin slowly opened his half-closed eyes. He was eating a cornbread he had just bought from a breakfast stall with hot water, as if he were just an ordinary passerby.

His consciousness had already been withdrawn.

Yi Zhonghai is dead. His death was swift and decisive, perfectly justifiable—a typical production safety accident caused by improper operation. In this era of outdated machinery and imperfect safety regulations, while serious, it wasn't unprecedented. No one will suspect anything else; at most, safety education will be strengthened, and those responsible will be punished.

After finishing the last bite of his cornbread, He Damin patted the crumbs off his hands, glanced in the direction of the steel rolling mill, and then turned his gaze to Nanluoguxiang.

First.

Next, there's the treasure and evidence in those secret rooms, Deputy District Chief Li, Yang Weiming, Widow Bai... and he should go pick up those two children.

He stood up, dusted off his still outdated old-fashioned clothes, and walked steadily toward No. 95 Nanluoguxiang. The rising sun cast a long shadow of him; his figure remained upright, yet seemed to carry a cold aura of cleansing sin.