Courtyard House: My Long and Hard Body Makes Me Play with All the Women in the Courtyard

The boy looked up, his eyes blazing with fire.

Su Ting looked up at the horizon and said softly, "Come on. The door is open, so someone has to guard it."

He raised his pen and wrote three words in the air:

"next."

In the distance, the sea breeze carried a faint, indistinct question—

"Hey, in the outside world... are there roasted chestnuts?"

"Roasted chestnuts?" Su Ting repeated softly, a smile suddenly appearing on his lips.

He didn't turn around, but simply twirled the star-shaped pen between his fingers, the tip gliding through the air and leaving a faint golden mark: "Yes. Hot, fresh out of the pan, sprinkled with sesame seeds, five yuan a pack."

The boy behind her was still kneeling on the sand, sobbing as he looked up: "Then... will he still be waiting for me at the street corner? My mom... he would buy me this every winter, saying that if I ate it while it was hot, my heart wouldn't be cold."

Su Ting closed his eyes.

In the distance, the waves surged, like countless unspoken words whispering.

He slowly squatted down to be at eye level with the boy, his voice low but like an iron stake driven into the sand: "If your mother buys it every year, it's definitely not just for you to warm your hands."

"What was it for?" the boy asked, his voice choked with emotion.

“It’s to wait for you to come back.” Su Ting stared into his eyes. “He bought it for three years, four years, ten years… Even if the stall owners changed and the streetlights changed, he would still stand there, because he knew—his child would one day walk out of his dream.”

The boy's lips trembled, and he finally wiped his face hard and got up from the ground.

“My name is Chen Mo.” His voice was still trembling, but he straightened his back. “My sister’s name is Chen Xing… He said that this place is a ‘transfer station on the way home’.”

Su Ting stood up and patted the sand off his shoulder: "Transit station? That's too mild a description."

He turned and walked towards the sea. The wind lifted the corner of his clothes, like a tattered wing that refused to be folded.

"This is a battlefield."

"What battlefield?" Chen Mo caught up with him.

“Remember the battlefield where names are recorded.” Su Ting turned around, his eyes sharp as knives. “This world doesn’t welcome those who return from their dreams. They say we are afterimages, data, failed products that are ‘not quite dead.’ They will erase our identities, burn our medical records, and sweep us into history as dust from an experimental accident.”

He raised his pen, and a cluster of eerie blue flames suddenly ignited at the tip: "But as long as this pen remains, as long as there is one person willing to wake up—we are not dust."

Chen Mo froze, then subconsciously touched the photo in his arms.

"So... what are we going to do?" he asked.

Su Ting looked into the distance. On the horizon, a cargo ship slowly sailed by, its whistle sounding long and drawn out.

“The first step is to find ‘them’,” he said softly. “Those who, like you, have just woken up but don’t know where to go.”

"and then?"

"Then—" Su Ting turned around, the tip of his pen drawing an arc in the air, and a name appeared out of thin air, gleaming faintly:

Lin Wan.

"He woke up at the entrance of a funeral home in a small southern town."

"A funeral home?!" Chen Mo took a half-step back in shock. "He...he's dead?"

“He lay in the morgue for seventy-two hours,” Su Ting said coldly. “His body temperature was below zero, his heart had stopped, and his brain waves were flat. But just before his cremation, he sat up, clutching a piece of paper covered with names—all 'Sleepers.'”

Chapter 1272 Sent to the cryogenic chamber

Chen Mo's breath hitched: "Who...who is he?"

Su Ting's eyes flickered slightly, as if he were looking into the distant past: "'Dream Source' project's first tester, codenamed L-9. They thought he had failed, marked him as 'consciousness collapse', and sent him to a cryogenic chamber. But he didn't collapse... He walked around in everyone's dreams."

"What's the meaning?".

“It means—” Su Ting’s voice lowered, “He has seen the dreams of every sleeper, and he has memorized every face and every name. He is the key to all doors.”

Chen Mo stood there, stunned: "Then who... is he waiting for now?"

“Waiting for someone who can catch him.” Su Ting raised his pen and gently shattered the name, the sparks of light rising into the sky like fireflies. “And now, we must go see him.”

"But he's in a funeral home! The police are definitely investigating whether he's 'come back to life'!"

“So—” Su Ting’s lips curled up, finally revealing a mischievous smile, “we have to steal him out before they do.”

Chen Mo's eyes widened: "Are you crazy? That's illegal!"

"Breaking the law?" Su Ting laughed even louder, his laughter echoing across the empty beach, carried by the sea breeze. "I 'died' ten years ago. My documents, files, and DNA records were all erased. What law do you think I could possibly break?"

He turned abruptly and strode toward an old motorcycle parked behind the rocks. The motorcycle was rusty, but it was equipped with a peculiar device—like some kind of energy core—that was emitting a faint hum.

"Get in the car." He tossed a helmet to Chen Mo.

"This...this car can still run?" Chen Mo hesitated before taking it.

“It has run through ten dream restarts.” Su Ting straddled the motorcycle, the engine roaring like the low growl of a wild beast awakening. “Each time, it carries someone who ‘shouldn’t exist’ home.”

Chen Mo gritted his teeth, finally climbed onto the back seat, and gripped the back of the car tightly with both hands.

"Tie it up." Su Ting said without turning his head. "The road ahead—there's no map."

The motorcycle shot out like an arrow, crushing the sand and rushing onto the gravel road, leaving two glowing trails behind it, like the scars left by shooting stars.

The wind whistled in his ears, and Chen Mo almost shouted, "Su Ting! Lin Wan... does he know we're going to pick him up?"

Su Ting did not turn around, but simply raised his right hand and lightly tapped the star-studded pen in the air.

A curtain of light flashed as they sped along—

In the dimly lit corridor of a funeral home, a young woman in a white dress stands by a window, her long hair disheveled, her face ashen. A corner of the paper covered in names in her hand is lifted by the wind; the first name on it is:

Su Ting.

He suddenly looked up, as if piercing through the screen and staring straight at them.

Then, he slightly raised the corners of his mouth and silently uttered three words.

Su Ting stared at the light screen, his expression unchanged, but slowly raised his hand and waved to him across the void.

“He knows,” he said in a low voice. “He’s always known.”

The motorcycle plunged into the tunnel, and darkness instantly engulfed everything.

A few seconds later, light poured down like a waterfall from the other end of the exit.

Late at night, in a small southern town, in the back alley of a funeral home.

Under the dim light of a streetlamp, paper money swirls in the wind.

Suddenly, the iron gate creaked open.

Lin Wan came out.

He was wearing an old school uniform he'd somehow found, and mismatched men's leather shoes, while still clutching the list tightly in his hand.

He stood at the doorway, looking up at the sky.

There are no stars.

But he smiled.

"Hey—" he suddenly spoke, his clear voice piercing the silence, "You're ten minutes late."

Chapter 1273 No wonder they're afraid of you

At the alley entrance, the roar of motorcycles grew louder as they approached.

Su Ting took off his helmet and jumped off the vehicle, with Chen Mo following behind, his legs feeling weak.

"You saw us a long time ago?" Su Ting squinted at him.

Lin Wan tilted her head, like a curious cat: "You smell of 'Dream Source.' Like burnt candy, or like old book pages."

Su Ting laughed: "No wonder they're afraid of you."

“Of course they’re afraid.” Lin Wan stepped forward, her gaze sweeping over Chen Mo before returning to Su Ting. “A person who can remember everyone’s dreams holds everyone’s soft spot.”

He suddenly reached out and gently poked Su Ting's chest: "But you're different. In your dreams, there's only one scene—the moment the door closes."

Su Ting's expression changed slightly, but he did not dodge.

“So—” Lin Wan withdrew her hand and smiled, “you are the one who is most afraid to wake up.”

Chen Mo was completely confused: "What...what are you talking about?"

Lin Wan turned to him, her eyes suddenly softening: "You are Chen Mo, admitted to the hospital in 2008, and entered Ward 7 due to 'dream addiction syndrome'. Your sister, Chen Xing, was among the first volunteers of 'Dream Source', and she raised you in her dreams."

Chen Mo's eyes widened suddenly: "You...how did you know?!"

“I dreamt about you,” Lin Wan said softly. “You were hiding under the covers crying, afraid that your sister would forget you. But he didn’t. He told you stories in your dreams every day until his consciousness faded away.”

Chen Mo's eyes instantly reddened.

Lin Wan suddenly turned around and looked up at the roof of the funeral home.

“But they’re already on their way.” He said calmly. “Three black vans, no license plates, armed personnel carrying nerve suppressor guns. Target: Retrieve ‘Anomalous Entity L-9’.”

Su Ting sneered, "You came really fast."