Siheyuan (traditional courtyard house): Don't touch my parents!

In February 1945, Beiping was still firmly shrouded in the biting cold of an unseasonably cold snap, chilling to the bone.

The knife-like north wind swirled with fine snowflakes, relentlessly drilling into the very bones, chilling people to the bone marrow.

The white breath exhaled seemed to condense into ice crystals in mid-air, and even when it landed on the eyelashes, it felt as if it were being pricked by needles.

The gray bricks and tiles of the courtyard house were covered with a layer of pale snow, like a frozen old quilt covering the old house.

The icicles hanging from the eaves stretched out long, like tears streaming down someone's face as they wept, frozen solid in mid-air into translucent icicles.

Suddenly, the heavy cotton curtain of the main room was lifted a crack, revealing a dim light inside.

Ten-year-old He Yuzhu came out clutching a still-warm steamed bun, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force.

The steamed bun was still piping hot; it was the warm food he received that morning for checking in according to the system rules.

Since plunging headlong into this chaotic old era in 2025 and becoming a half-grown kid here, he also unexpectedly gained a cheat code called the sign-in system.

It took him three whole days to fully sort out this bizarre event in his mind and accept the reality of his time travel.

Before the warmth of the steamed bun could even warm his palms, a series of intermittent groans drifted from the inner room, weak and trembling, as if they were being forced out while someone was being choked.

He Yuzhu's feet suddenly froze on the spot, his limbs stiff and unable to move for a moment.

He turned and rushed into the house, calling out "Mother" so urgently and naturally that even he was slightly taken aback—perhaps it was the original owner's lingering instinct, a closeness and dependence that had long been etched into the depths of his blood.

Inside the house, on the earthen kang (heated brick bed), He Chenshi was curled up like a frightened shrimp, her whole body trembling uncontrollably.

His blue cotton-padded jacket was stretched high and bulged, making his belly look particularly frightening, as if he were carrying a porcelain jar that could explode at any moment.

Beads of sweat streamed down her pale face, soaking the stray hairs at her temples and clinging to her white skin.

His fingers dug so hard into the edge of the earthen bed that his fingernails turned bluish-white, and his knuckles swelled red from the excessive force, as if they were about to be embedded in the soil.

Her voice was so weak it was like a wisp of smoke, and it was torn apart by her violent breathing as soon as it came out, making it almost inaudible.

He Yuzhu's heart clenched suddenly—in his previous life, he had ventured into the world alone and had never seen such a life-or-death situation.

But the original owner's memories surged up at this moment: her mother was pregnant for ten months, and her father, He Daqing, was the head chef of Fengzeyuan Restaurant, with superb culinary skills.

I was supposed to take the next few days off to stay home and take good care of her, but an emergency occurred early this morning before dawn.

Before He Chenshi could finish speaking, another sharp pain struck her head, as if a heavy hammer had slammed into her lower back.

She arched her body suddenly, a suppressed whimper escaping her throat, like a cat being strangled, her struggles weak and feeble.

He Yuzhu's mind went blank for a moment, with only his mother's painful image flashing before his eyes.

Just then, a cold, mechanical voice boomed in his mind: "The fetus in the host's mother's womb is breech and in danger of death. Please go to Dongtangzi Hutong immediately to invite obstetrician Lin Jingyi."

The shock made him tremble violently, and even his fingertips went numb.

He suddenly realized—right, he couldn't go to his father, He Daqing. No matter how good his skills were, he was just a cook, not a doctor. How could he know anything about midwifery?

This morning, the Japanese city defense commander specifically requested to go to Fengzeyuan to eat his braised three whites, so my dad was urged by the shop's staff to go and cook before dawn.

At such a critical juncture, what ordinary person would dare to delay the Japanese mission? At best, they would be beaten; at worst, they would lose their lives.

He turned and rushed outside, the sound of his heels scraping against the threshold revealing his barely concealed anxiety, like a rabbit being chased by fire.

Instead of going through the main gate, he went straight to the east wing and began banging on Yi Zhonghai's door, each knock urgent.

From inside came Yi Li's sleepy, complaining voice: "Who is it? It's not even fully light yet..."

The door creaked open a crack, revealing a face that hadn't been washed—Yi Li was wearing an old cotton-padded jacket covered in patches, her hair still disheveled, clearly having just gotten out of bed.

Upon hearing "Zhu Zi's mother is about to give birth," she ran out without even lifting her heels properly, her apron straps hanging loosely over her body, almost tripping her.

She told Zhu Zi not to panic, that she would go and help his mother, and then quickly told Zhu Zi to go and call Jia's sister-in-law to find a midwife so as not to delay.

He Yuzhu responded and sprinted towards the Jia family's house across the street, his cotton shoes making a rapid sound as they trod on the snow.

Just as I raised my hand halfway to knock, a reluctant grumble drifted out from inside: "Who is it? What are you doing popping in this freezing weather..."

He Yuzhu's heart sank – it was Jia Zhangshi. This old woman was probably comfortably curled up on the kang with her hands tucked in, not wanting to move at all.

They might even be secretly resenting Li Guihua for meddling in their affairs, and finding it troublesome to go out and brave the cold.

He hurriedly called into the house, "Aunt Jia, it's me, Zhu Zi! My mother is about to give birth, and Aunt Yi asked you to help me get a midwife!"

The room was quiet for two seconds, then there was a rustling sound, as if someone had turned over and was reluctant to get out of bed.

After a long while, the door was finally opened a narrow crack, letting in the dim light inside.

Jia Zhangshi's face, with its high cheekbones, peeked out—she was in her thirties, with fine lines around her eyes, but her gaze was as cloudy as if veiled by a layer of fog, and everything she looked at carried a calculating shrewdness.

Behind her followed a skinny boy, Jia Dongxu, who was as thin as a monkey. He was hunched over, rubbing his hands incessantly, his nose red from the cold, looking just like a ripe hawthorn.

Jia Zhangshi's eyes swept over He Yuzhu—this child was only ten years old, but his arms and legs were as strong as a calf's; he was clearly good for work.

Then look at her own son, Jia Dongxu, who is thin and frail, so thin that a gust of wind could blow him over, and he doesn't even have a thick cotton-padded coat properly worn.

A surge of bitterness welled up in her heart, and she secretly began to plot how to get some benefits from the He family in order to make up for her family's tight finances.

But he dragged out his words, deliberately keeping everyone in suspense, and glanced sideways at He Yuzhu: "When Zhuzi's father passed away, didn't he leave any instructions?"

He Yuzhu shook his head, sweat mixed with snow water streaming down his chin, his voice trembling with tears: "No! Tell Auntie to go quickly, my mother is writhing in pain, she can't wait any longer!"