The courtyard was cold, quiet, and empty. The scene inside was no different from the last time Qiu Yun had visited.
The only difference was a single yellow light glowing in the main room facing south.
Qiu Yun took a deep breath and walked toward the room.
She knocked three times.
An aged voice drifted out: "Come in."
Qiu Yun took another deep breath, and the door creaked open.
She had imagined many scenarios for this meeting. Perhaps inside would be an old fortune-teller with his legs crossed; or perhaps it wouldn't be one person, but three or five thugs—which was why she gripped a packet of chili powder in her hand and had a meat cleaver tucked in her bag. Perhaps there would be no one at all, just a child’s prank, or a pyramid scheme, or a scam? She had even wondered if it might be someone she knew, which would explain the note saying *I know who you are*. Could it be her father, Sima Feng?
It was none of them.
It was no one she knew.
It wasn't even Qiu Xiaoyun’s grandfather.
On a wooden Eight Immortals chair sat an extremely young man. He looked to be only in his twenties, wearing a Zhongshan suit. He sat upright with a smile, waiting for Qiu Yun’s arrival.
Qiu Yun stood frozen in confusion until he rose and extended a hand toward her. "Hello, Sima Qiu Yun."
Qiu Yun jumped back in fright. She swung her hand and threw the chili powder. As if he had expected it, the man snapped open an umbrella in front of him with a loud *thump*.
"...You...!" Qiu Yun retreated two steps, her hand trembling as she reached into her bag for the cleaver. The hair on her arms stood on end. This man was clearly so young, yet he spoke like a man in his seventies or eighties. "Are you... a person or a ghost?"
The man set the umbrella aside and signaled for her not to be impulsive. "I am a person, of course. I am Qiu Zhenghong. I was the one who sent the letter."
"How... how is that possible?!" Qiu Yun gripped the cleaver tightly. "Qiu Zhenghong would be at least eighty years old. You..."
The man simply raised both hands. "I won't hurt you, Sima Qiu Yun." He gestured to a stool beside her. "You must have many questions. Why don't you sit down? I will tell you the whole story from beginning to end."
Qiu Yun’s heart hammered against her ribs. She glanced around, swallowed hard, and pointed the blade at him. "You’d better not try any tricks."
"Please, sit." He made a welcoming gesture.
After hesitating for a long moment, Qiu Yun stepped forward and sat down.
"First, let me introduce myself. I am indeed Qiu Zhenghong, Qiu Xiaoyun’s genuine grandfather." The man sat back down in the Eight Immortals chair. "You can hear it in my voice."
"But you... how are you so young?"
"The person you see is only twenty-five years old." Qiu Zhenghong’s gaze lingered for a moment on Qiu Yun’s cleaver. "Before you ask me anything, let me tell you two things. Perhaps after hearing them, most of the doubts in your heart will vanish."
Qiu Yun replied, "I’m listening."
"The first thing concerns this courtyard. Perhaps you noticed when you came before that this place is different from the surrounding houses."
"Yes," Qiu Yun nodded. "It’s exceptionally desolate. Other courtyards house several families, and illegal extensions are common, but this place is strangely clean and orderly. Even though it’s been empty for so long, not even a vagrant has come in to stay."
Qiu Zhenghong looked as if he had heard something amusing. "Stay? That’s impossible. The neighbors barely dare to enter during the day, let alone stay overnight."
Qiu Yun remembered the first time she came here. The woman from the neighboring yard—Auntie Zhang—had seen her and said a few words at the gate while holding her vegetable basket, but she indeed hadn't stepped inside. "Why?" Qiu Yun asked.
Qiu Zhenghong said, "Because this courtyard is haunted."
"Haunted?" Qiu Yun didn't believe in such things, but given the circumstances, she couldn't help but raise her cleaver and look around. "This... this place is haunted?"
Qiu Zhenghong laughed. "Don't be afraid. It’s not real ghosts. It’s just that since the Qing Dynasty, there have been legends that those who enter this courtyard never leave, or they come out as completely different people, or they turn into madmen. So it has remained derelict, with no one daring to live here. Originally, I had nothing to do with this place. I was the son of a bankrupt landlord from the outskirts of A City. I joined the army when the Communist Party liberated the city in '49. Because I had learned to read a bit as a child, I served as a wireless radio operator. During the War to Resist U.S. Aggression and Aid Korea, I went to the front. But it was too cold there—truly too cold. It was thirty degrees below zero and we only had thin clothes. So, when I returned, I only had one leg."
"One leg?" Qiu Yun looked the man up and down. He was sitting there with two perfectly good legs. Was one a prosthetic? It didn't look like it.
"Save your questions for the end," Qiu Zhenghong said, as if reading her mind. "I returned in 1952. At that time, the organization settled me in this courtyard. Back then, all of China was being renewed and full of vitality; naturally, no one paid any mind to ghost stories passed down from feudal times. And that was when the story of this courtyard began."
"What... began?"
"Some of my comrades disappeared mysteriously. A man would be lying right here one night, and the next morning, he’d be gone. Or a man would be lying here at night, but the next morning he’d be someone else entirely, looking at us as if we were the madmen. Even more absurdly, some who were clearly missing arms or legs would disappear for a while and then return completely whole."
Qiu Yun felt goosebumps rising on her skin. She stared at Qiu Zhenghong’s face—this youthful face that looked only a few years older than her own. Her mind raced, and in a flash of insight, a thought suddenly struck her. She gazed at him blankly for a long time before biting her lip and asking, "This... this courtyard... is it time travel?"
A strangely kind smile appeared on Qiu Zhenghong’s young face. "What a clever child."
The moment the words left his mouth, Qiu Yun stood up abruptly, looking around for some hidden mechanism or flaw that would lead her back. But she heard the man behind her say, "It’s not in this room. It’s in the well in the courtyard."
The well?
Qiu Yun was about to bolt out the door to investigate when she heard him say, "The well has been there for hundreds of years. There is no rush."
Qiu Yun stopped and turned back, her face full of suspicion. Qiu Zhenghong stood up and poured two cups of steaming tea from a thermos, gesturing that one was for her. He smiled. "Have some tea first. This is Pu'er I brought with me when I first moved in. There’s only a little left now."
Qiu Yun walked over slowly. The tea leaves in the enamel mug rippled with the water. Seeing that she didn't move, Qiu Zhenghong picked up his own cup and took a sip, smacking his lips afterward.
Only then did Qiu Yun lift the cup to her lips and take a small sip.
"You don't need to be so guarded against me," Qiu Zhenghong said. "I didn't ask you here today to harm you. For some reason, this courtyard grants the ability to travel through time and space. It was because of the drama with me and my comrades that no one else was willing to live here. By a twist of fate, I became the only resident."
"You mean you married and had children in this courtyard? You had descendants?"
"Of course. Otherwise, how would you—Qiu Xiaoyun—have come to be?"
"But didn't you say the well makes people disappear mysteriously? How could you live here safely until... until..." Qiu Yun thought for a moment. "At least until Qiu Xiaoyun’s father left? Oh!" Something suddenly occurred to her. "So that’s why you said you were a fortune-teller! With that identity, you could claim you were using 'superstition' to suppress the 'ghosts.' Your frequent absences could be explained as traveling the world... But... what happened later? Where are Qiu Xiaoyun’s father, her mother, and Qiu Xiaoyun herself? What happened?"
"You ask so many questions." Qiu Zhenghong didn't give a direct answer, which kept Qiu Yun in suspense. "For now, you only need to remember one thing: this courtyard possesses a mysterious energy that allows people to travel through time. That is the first thing I wanted to tell you."
Qiu Yun still had a stomach full of questions, but hearing this, she could only stop and say, "Then, what is the second thing?"
"Are you thirsty?" Qiu Zhenghong took another sip of tea. "An old man like me gets thirsty after talking too much. Wait until I’ve had a few more sips, and I’ll tell you the second thing."
Qiu Yun wasn't thirsty; she was desperate to know the whole story and how she could get back. She wished she could dive into his brain to find the truth. But Qiu Zhenghong was unhurried, and her anxiety was useless. She could only be patient, holding her tea mug and taking a sip.
"The second thing," Qiu Zhenghong said, slowly setting down his mug after finishing the tea. He poured another cup before continuing. "Have you ever heard of 'parallel space'?"
