Courtyard House: My Time Travel is a Bit Too Strong

He glanced at his watch, and in a flash, he vanished from Earth.

After dinner, I took a hot bath and then did an hour of muscle-strengthening exercises, which felt great.

The next morning at seven o'clock, Qin Jingru got on her bicycle, and the wheels rolled over the blue brick alley, gradually disappearing into the distance.

Lin Quan locked the courtyard gate and stepped into the replica Earth.

Once inside the simulator, he sat firmly in the driver's seat, his hands lightly resting on the control stick.

No disturbances, no appointments required, several hours of hands-on practice every day, rain or shine.

In less than seven days, his skills in virtual takeoffs and landings, formation maneuvers, and emergency response were as steady, accurate, and ruthless as those of a veteran pilot with ten years of experience.

"With a thought, I can travel freely between the two places; even if the plane breaks apart in mid-air, I will be unharmed—I'm already proficient in simulations, it's time to get real."

Driving directly to the military airfield, Lin Quan circled the plane three times, checking the landing gear, flaps, and engine condition item by item. After confirming that everything was in perfect order, he filled the tank with fuel.

Go online and pull up a map of airports serving the whole country, then spend ten minutes memorizing the coordinates and take-off and landing procedures.

He leaped into the cockpit, his heart pounding and his palms slightly damp. Lin Quan took a deep breath, pushed the stick, ignited the engine, and began to taxi—the fighter jet roared off the ground, piercing the morning mist.

"Smooth takeoff, stable flight, clear skies, no strong winds, no thunderstorms..."

Lin Quan flew his fighter jet through the clouds for more than an hour before turning it around and returning to base.

The fighter jet landed steadily, its wheels trembling slightly as they touched the ground, and only then did his tense shoulders slowly relax.

"We need to get the licenses for helicopters and commercial airliners before the end of the year."

He originally thought he would have to grapple with tough challenges for several months, but in less than twenty days, he had mastered the skills of hovering helicopters and taking off and landing passenger planes.

There are 37 days left until Lunar New Year's Eve.

Shaking off the distracting thoughts in his mind, Lin Quan stepped off the Earth.

In the morning, I meditate and practice qigong, rotating through the Yi Jin Jing, Duan Gu Jing, and Xi Sui Jing; in the afternoon, I stay indoors reading, the pages rustling as I turn them.

When they had free time, they would take a fishing rod and squat by the river for half a day, or grab their weapons and go into the mountains to chase wild boars—one shot and they would take down the boar, exchanging its fur, meat, and bones for cash.

As the sun began to set, Liu Haizhong summoned everyone in the compound to a meeting under the locust tree.

With everyone chattering and jeering, Yi Donghai's "old man" label was immediately ripped off.

Liu Haizhong is the head of the investigation team and also in charge of the factory. Who would dare to talk back to him?

He took the seat of the eldest uncle, Yan Bugui became the second eldest uncle, and Xu Damao became the third eldest uncle.

Lin Quan sat on the stone steps at the base of the wall as a spectator, his hands in his pockets, without uttering a sound.

He Yuzhu was still cooking for someone outside; there wasn't a trace of him.

Qin Huairu and Qin Jingru also leaned against the door frame to listen in, without even lifting their eyelids.

To put it bluntly, this old man's job is to clean up everyone's messes and take the blame for others. It's a thankless task, and he often gets scolded.

Two weeks later, Xu Damao sabotaged Liu Haizhong behind his back and directly replaced him as the head of the investigation team.

Liu Haizhong looked listless overnight, too lazy to even light a cigarette, and slumped in a rattan chair in a daze.

That night, Lin Quan was once again enveloped in that warm and fragrant atmosphere, his nose filled with warmth.

"Ah Quan, shall we go fishing tomorrow?" Qin Huairu looked up, her eyes slightly shimmering.

"I'm not going," Lin Quan simply shook his head.

"Really not going?" She curled her lips into a half-smile.

"Go." He gasped, admitting defeat.

The Third Machinery Plant, Director's Office.

"Chief Director, you wanted to see me?" Xu Damao knocked on the door three times.

"Come in and let's talk," Director Li beckoned to him.

"Just say what's on your mind," Xu Damao said, getting straight to the point.

"I heard that someone in your department understands American English?" Director Li leaned forward.

"Yes, Lin Quan." Xu Damao nodded.

"The factory is about to import a batch of foreign equipment, and the foreign guests will arrive the day after tomorrow. However, the translator, Wu Chengfeng, only speaks Soviet language and is completely lost in American English. Could you ask Lin Quan to lend a hand?"

"Lin Quan is the kind of person who won't act until he sees the benefits—he won't even lift an eyelid unless he's willing to spend real money," Xu Damao frowned.

"It's just a few dollars. Give him twenty dollars, is that enough?" Director Li waved his hand.

"Chief, he can make three or four hundred yuan fishing in the river all day; he can also make three or four hundred yuan hunting a wild boar in the mountains. Twenty yuan? He can't even be bothered to remember which way your office door faces."

Director Li was stunned on the spot, his mouth agape for a long time—his monthly salary as factory director and head of the investigation team was only 280 yuan.

"If you don't believe me, ask Old Zhang in the cafeteria," Xu Damao added.

Director Li grabbed the phone on the table, dialed the number, and asked.

"If it's less than two hundred, he'll definitely quit," Xu Damao added.

"Two hundred? You think you can pull him down?"

I tried my best.

"Okay, you go try it." Director Li nodded through gritted teeth.

"Alright, I'll see this through. If all else fails, there's Qin Huairu from the machine tool workshop and Sha Zhu from the canteen—they're in cahoots with Lin Quan." Xu Damao stood up with a smile.

"Then hurry up and go." Director Li waved his hand.

Xu Damao went back into the house, grabbed an enamel mug, got on his bicycle, and pedaled all the way back to the courtyard house.

As soon as the knock sounded, Lin Quan opened the door: "Da Mao, what's up?"

"Ah Quan, I have a job I'd like to ask you for help with." Xu Damao rubbed his hands together.

"explain."

"The factory needs to import foreign machinery..." He explained the whole story.

"I have absolutely no connection with your machinery factory, and I have no obligation to help you look through your documents," Lin Quan said bluntly.

"The factory is willing to pay one hundred yuan," Xu Damao said.

"One hundred yuan? That's enough to buy a few kilograms of meat?" Lin Quan's lips curled into a sneer, his words laced with sarcasm.

"Okay, I won't beat around the bush—the factory will only give us two hundred at most." Xu Damao shrugged.

"Which day? How long?" Lin Quan asked bluntly.

"The day after tomorrow morning, four hours," Xu Damao answered readily.

"Pay first," Lin Quan said with a smile, spreading his palm.

"I didn't bring any cash with me. The factory will settle the payment as soon as I finish the work," Xu Damao frowned.

"When I take on a job, I always pay on the spot and deliver the work immediately," Lin Quan said with a relaxed smile.

"I'll go back and ask my superiors. I'll give you a definite answer tonight," Xu Damao thought to himself.

Just after 2 p.m., Director Li, accompanied by Xu Damao, entered the courtyard house.

Xu Damao introduced, "A-Quan, this is Director Li from our Third Machinery Factory."

"Hello, Director Li." Director Li extended his hand proactively with a warm smile.

"Hello, Director Li." Lin Quan grasped the hand firmly, neither humble nor arrogant.

"I heard you speak Mi language?" Director Li asked tentatively.

"I learned all nine foreign languages ​​through self-study." Lin Quan's tone was calm, but it sounded like a stone had been thrown at him.

Director Li immediately handed over a drawing, which was densely covered with American script: "Please translate this page into Chinese."

Lin Quan glanced at it and blurted out, "CNC machine tool—an antique from over a decade ago in Singapore, it would have been sold as scrap metal overseas long ago."

"You really understand it?" Director Li's eyes widened.

Lin Quan frowned slightly: "This thing has been in a museum for ages. Singapore itself has gone through three generations of production lines, and the production lines in Hu and Dongdao are ten times better."

"No matter how good the equipment is, they won't sell it to us," Director Li sighed softly.