Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

Lou Xiao'e... that pitiful woman in the original drama, nicknamed "Silly Xiao'e," who was simple and kind, but whose youth was ruined by Xu Damao, a man without descendants, and who ultimately met a tragic end...

"Xu Damao," Wei Chen murmured to himself, his voice carrying a cold, judgmental tone, "it's time for your pipe dream to end. Though I am not a savior, crushing your ungrateful delusions and shielding that 'Silly E' from this fateful calamity is a gratifying act of kindness."

With his mind made up, Wei Chen no longer hesitated. His invisible spiritual power, like the most skillful and hidden tentacles, silently reached out, easily penetrating the wall and extending to He Yuzhu's house next door.

He Yushui's old exercise book from her childhood, its cover worn and yellowed, lay quietly in a dusty, broken wooden box in the corner. Beside it was a worn-out pencil. With a slight thought, Wei Chen carefully tore off a yellowed page with rough edges, as if an invisible hand was gently holding the worn-out pencil.

It vanished in an instant, reappeared in the backpack space, and then flashed back into Wei Chen's hand.

Wei Chen didn't use his hands. After thinking for a moment, he smiled and used his toes to hold the pencil. This was a deliberate disguise, an attempt to create the impression that the writer was inconvenient, flustered, or deliberately concealing something.

The pen tip struggled across the rough paper, making a soft, scratching sound. One by one, the ugly characters—crooked, stiff, uneven in size, and sometimes even torn in places due to improper pressure—emerged with difficulty.

Xu Damao can't have children. If you don't believe me, take him to the hospital for a checkup—he's someone who has received kindness from others.

The handwriting was ugly and awful. After writing it, Wei Chen moved his mind again, and the note was carefully folded into an inconspicuous little square. The old notebook and the worn-out pencil were silently and precisely placed back in their original positions in Sha Zhu's broken wooden box, as if they had never been disturbed.

After finishing all this, Wei Chen looked up at the window. The night was deep, as thick as ink, and the courtyard was deathly silent, with only the faint sound of snoring. The moonlight was obscured by thick clouds; it was a dark and windy night.

He slipped off the kang (a heated brick bed) as silently as a cat and walked to the window. The wooden window frame was gently pushed open without making a sound. Wei Chen took a deep breath of the cool air, carrying the scent of night dew. The pure true essence accumulated through cultivating the "Nine Heavens Sun-Shooting Technique" within his body surged like a dormant river. An overwhelming yet exquisitely controlled power instantly filled his limbs and bones, bringing a feeling of lightness and complete control.

The next instant, he lightly touched the edge of the windowsill with his toes, and his whole body seemed to lose weight, or like a wisp of smoke merging into the night, he floated up lightly, and with his toes touching the blue bricks at the top of the courtyard wall, his figure shot out of the courtyard like an arrow, completely merging into the deep darkness.

His speed was beyond the limits of human vision! His toes lightly touched the uneven rooftops, mottled walls, and even bare tree branches, each touch almost imperceptible, yet his figure was as elusive as a ghost and as swift as the wind!

The night wind whistled past his ears, and the city skyline undulated in the darkness beneath his feet, with scattered lights like fallen stars. He was like a black lightning bolt flying close to the ground, sweeping across the sleeping city of Beijing at a speed far exceeding that of a speeding bicycle.

In the western part of the city, in a quiet villa district amidst the bustling city, stands the Lou Mansion, a garden villa with a distinct Baroque style and deep courtyard, appearing exceptionally tranquil and mysterious in the deep night. The high walls and tightly closed, ornate iron gates all testify to the former prominence of its owner.

Like a apex predator in the dark, Wei Chen silently landed in the dense canopy of a tall sycamore tree opposite the mansion, completely concealing his presence and blending into the surrounding environment.

Sharp eyes pierced through the gaps in the branches and leaves, precisely locking onto a window on the second floor—the only room still lit by a dim nightlight and with thick velvet curtains drawn. Judging from its location and layout, it was very likely the master bedroom.

Target locked. Wei Chen's mind flickered, and the folded piece of paper floated out of his robes. At the same time, he swept his mental energy across the ground, and an unseen force lifted a moderately sized pebble with not-too-sharp edges. He carefully wrapped the stone in the paper and squeezed it tightly.

Adjusting his breathing, his inner energy instantly condensed in his right arm, and with a sudden flick of his wrist, the movement was as swift as lightning, yet carried a precision that made him feel as if he were lifting a heavy weight with ease!

"Whoosh—!" A faint, almost inaudible sound, barely audible in the night wind, rang out. Then! "Crack—crash!" The sharp, piercing sound of shattering glass abruptly shattered the tranquility of the Lou mansion! In the still of the night, the sound was particularly startling!

The stone, carrying deadly information, seemed to have eyes, precisely shattering the windowpane and sending shards of glass flying onto the thick carpet in the room.

"What's that sound?!" "Where's the gunshot?!" "Master! Madam! A thief is smashing the windows!" "Quick! Protect Master and Madam!" The Lou mansion was instantly awakened! Sharp screams, hurried footsteps, bodyguards' shouts, the metallic scraping of gun bolts... the once tranquil mansion was instantly thrown into chaos! Blinding lights flickered on one after another as if startled, illuminating the courtyard as if it were daytime!

Having struck successfully, Wei Chen didn't linger, not even glancing at the chaos at the Lou mansion. His figure, like melting ink, silently slid down the trunk of a sycamore tree. With a light touch of his toes, he became a blur, almost imperceptible to the naked eye. Using the shadows of the trees and buildings in the courtyard, he vanished into the vast night and the intricate alleyways in a few leaps, leaving no trace. Only panic, anger, and endless suspicion remained within the Lou mansion.

Inside the master bedroom of the Lou mansion. Lou Zhenhua, dressed in an elegant silk nightgown, stood before the broken window, his face so gloomy it seemed to drip water, letting the night wind rush in and ruffle his graying temples. He stared at the stone on the ground, wrapped with a strip of paper and covered with shards of glass, his eyes sharp as a hawk's.

He had just been startled awake; his heart was still pounding, and he was still in shock. His wife, Lou Tanshi, was pale with fright, wrapped her nightgown tightly around herself, gripped his arm tightly, and trembled slightly.

Ah Qiang, the driver and bodyguard, a burly, sharp-looking man with bulging temples and piercing eyes, rushed in immediately.

He first cautiously scanned the room to make sure there were no other dangers, then carefully avoided the broken glass and picked up the stone and the folded note. He carefully examined the note to make sure there was nothing unusual, then respectfully handed it to Lou Zhenhua with both hands: "Sir."

Lou Zhenhua took the note, its surface rough to the touch. He unfolded it expressionlessly. By the bright light of the flashlight Ah Qiang quickly handed him, a line of crooked, ugly handwriting, bearing obvious physical defects, clearly came into view:

Xu Damao can't have children. If you don't believe me, take him to the hospital for a checkup—he's someone who has received kindness from others.

Lou Zhenhua's brows furrowed instantly, forming a deep "川" (river) shape. His eyes became incredibly sharp, like the most precise scanner, scrutinizing the line of text repeatedly. Every stroke, every shade of ink, every texture of the paper—nothing escaped his notice.

Someone who has received favors? Who is it? The Lou family is deeply entrenched, and countless people have received favors from them. Why would they use such a furtive, almost intimidating method to deliver a message? What is their purpose? And how credible is it?

He remained silent, his face as if wearing a cold mask, devoid of any expression. Only in the depths of his slightly narrowed eyes flickered an extremely complex and rapidly weighing light.

Xu Damao? The projectionist at the steel mill? Yang Sufeng's son? His mother has indeed been whispering in his wife's ear a lot lately, and he has indeed started to have feelings for her.

In this time of heightened tension and widespread fear, marrying a member of the working class with impeccable political credentials is undoubtedly an excellent form of protection.

Although Xu Damao has a weasel-like appearance, a glib tongue, and frivolous behavior, his family background is impeccable, his profession is respectable, and he seems quite clever and knows how to scheme... He is a barely acceptable tool to express one's stance.

But—can't have children?

This accusation is too fatal! If true, then this marriage absolutely cannot go through! This not only concerns the lifelong happiness of their daughter Xiao'e, but could also become a sword hanging over the Lou family's heads, a perfect handle that could be detonated at any time by the enemy to attack them for "fake marriage, real cover-up" and "deceiving the feelings of the working class"! This murky water is too deep and too dangerous!

"A-Qiang." Lou Zhenhua's voice finally rang out, deep and cold, devoid of any emotion, yet containing an unquestionable determination.

"Sir." Ah Qiang immediately straightened his back and focused his eyes.

"Tomorrow morning," Lou Zhenhua carefully folded the note and put it in his pajama pocket, as if he were putting away an important piece of evidence. His sharp gaze fell on A-Qiang's face, "You go to No. 95 Nanluoguxiang yourself. Find that Xu Damao."

He paused, his tone calm yet carrying an unspoken pressure: "Say that I, Lou Zhenhua, am concerned about my future son-in-law's health and would like to invite him to have a comprehensive and thorough medical check-up at Peking Union Medical College Hospital. The Lou family will cover all expenses. You…"

He emphasized, "Accompany me the entire time, stay by my side every step of the way. I need to see the most authentic, the most detailed, especially..." Lou Zhenhua's eyes turned icy cold, like a Siberian chill, "...the examination report on my fertility! Do you understand what I mean?"

"Understood, sir!" Ah-Qiang replied in a deep voice, a hint of understanding and coldness flashing in his eyes. Of course he understood. This was a thorough inspection, and specifically, an inspection of the most crucial "components."

Lou Tanshi, listening nearby, was terrified and couldn't help but speak up: "Zhenhua... this... this note is of unknown origin... could it be that someone is jealous and deliberately trying to frame Damao? He looks... quite robust..."

"Framed?" Lou Zhenhua interrupted his wife, his tone resolute and authoritative. "It's better to believe it than not! It concerns Xiao'e's lifelong happiness, the reputation of our Lou family, and our future. We can't be too careful!"

"Investigate! We must get to the bottom of this! Clearly and plainly! If nothing's wrong, then all is well, and I, Lou Zhenhua, will personally apologize to Xu Damao! But if there really is a problem..." Lou Zhenhua's eyes suddenly turned exceptionally sharp and cold, a cruel smile even curving his lips, "Hmph, then don't blame me for being ruthless! Not just any Tom, Dick, or Harry can enter the Lou family's door!"

The night grew deeper. Under the lights of the Lou Mansion, Lou Zhenhua's well-maintained face, though etched with the marks of time, appeared particularly cold and profound in the interplay of light and shadow.

A deadly storm, triggered by Wei Chen's initial probing, aimed at Xu Damao's "peak of life," has been brewing silently.

Meanwhile, Xu Damao was still in his room, filled with cheap hair oil and the atmosphere of fantasy, tossing and turning excitedly, repeatedly practicing how to bow and what to say when he met Lou Zhenhua, dreaming of marrying a rich heiress and rising to the top in one step.