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

He simply tapped three times lightly with his knuckles.

Dude, dunk, dunk.

Like a child knocking a secret signal on the door.

one second.

two seconds.

suddenly

Inside the coffin, a hand slammed violently against the inner wall!

"Snapped!"

The force was so great that the entire coffin slid!

Immediately afterwards, from the second, the third... and dozens of other coffins, sounds of slapping, hitting, and scratching came one after another!

"They want to get out!" Duoduo shouted, tears welling up in her eyes. "They're alive! They heard us!"

“Then don’t make them wait.” Su Ting took a step back and placed both hands on the guitar at the same time.

He took a deep breath and plucked the five strings sharply.

"Buzz!"

A silent sound, sweeping like a tsunami!

The entire underground passage trembled violently! The sound waves, like knives, severed the suppression patterns! The welded coffin lid began to twist, warp, and crack!

"They're here!" the gray-haired boy roared with laughter, his war drum pounding the ground. "Let my drumbeats be a farewell song for these mute bastards!"

Boom!Boom!Boom!

The drums thundered, intertwining with the infrasound resonance of the guitar!

Duoduo slammed the recorder into the ground: "Same old rules, I'm not stealing sound, I'm stealing lives! Listen up, system—this is 'human noise' you can't delete!"

Street vendors hawking their wares, babies crying, lovers arguing, elderly people coughing... countless sounds defined as "pollution" burst forth from the pen, rushing in all directions!

Xiaoman stood in the very center, her hands raised high, and the light from her core shone brightly.

Her mouth remained still.

But the singing was clearer, sharper, and...freer than ever before.

"what"

The first coffin lid exploded open with a bang!

A man with a full head of white hair crawled out, trembling all over, his eyes empty, yet staring intently in Su Ting's direction.

He opened his mouth, and a strange "clucking" sound came from his throat—the price of not speaking for twenty years.

Su Ting squatted down, looked directly into his eyes, and asked softly:

Do you still remember how to speak?

The man's lips trembled, and he suddenly raised his hand, pointing to his chest and then to Su Ting's guitar.

Then, with all his might, he squeezed out two words from his throat:

"...I want to...hear."

Su Ting smiled.

He swiped his finger.

"Ding."

A clear, bright sound, like a dewdrop falling on a leaf.

The entire passageway erupted in silent cheers.

At the end of the passage, behind the rusty iron door leading to the old harbor...

The sea breeze suddenly stopped.

For the first time, the light of Lighthouse No. 7 did not flash at midnight.

But

It flashed four times.

The rhythm is exactly like the chorus of that lullaby.

Su Ting looked up at the night sea through the crack in the door.

“She’s waiting for us,” he said.

Xiaoman walked to his side and asked softly:

"Afraid?"

He looked down at the guitar in his hands and slowly shook his head.

"I'm not afraid. I just... finally understand."

"Understand what?"

He raised his head, his gaze sharp as a knife, yet as gentle as ever:

"I didn't come to save her."

"I came to hear her sing."

The iron gate swayed slightly in the wind, its rusted hinges creaking and groaning. Outside, the unfathomable night sea stretched out, waves crashing against the dilapidated dock piles, the sound seeming to come from a great distance, yet also whispering in one's ear.

Chapter 1411 The Scent of Rust

Su Ting reached out and pushed the door open; the sheet metal collapsed to the ground with a crash, kicking up a cloud of dust.

A strong sea breeze rushed in, carrying the salty, rusty smell, ruffling the four people's clothes. In the distance, Lighthouse No. 7 stood atop the reef, its mottled structure covered in barnacles and cracks, like a bone stuck in the throat of the sea.

It lacks the bright beams of a lighthouse; instead, there is only a faint, pale blue light at the top, flickering like breathing.

“Look around.” Duoduo stared at the signal spectrum on her wristwatch, her voice tense. “That’s not a malfunction… she’s transmitting a message. The chorus… she’s singing the chorus.”

“She knows we woke those people up.” Xiaoman looked up at the lighthouse. “She is responding to the ‘Voice of Freedom’.”

The gray boy spat and patted the drumhead: "Hey, old lady, if you dodge five more times, I'll play you a jazz set right here!"

No one laughed.

Because the instant his words fell...

At the top of the lighthouse, the pale blue light suddenly leaped up!

Then, it flashed five times in quick succession.

The rhythm is brisk, with a hint of... a smile.

"Damn!" The gray-haired boy was stunned for a moment, then grinned and laughed, "She heard it! She fucking heard it!"

Duoduo suddenly looked up: "Wait... this signal strength... no! She's actively transmitting! Not manually controlling it! That's... acoustic resonance! She's using the 'Sound of Light' to synchronize our frequencies!"

“She’s pulling us in,” Xiaoman said in a low voice. “She’s not asking us to come see her, she’s asking her to ‘come in’.”

Su Ting suddenly raised his hand, holding the guitar horizontally in front of his chest.

"Shut up."

He closed his eyes.

The wind stopped.

The sea has calmed down.

Even the footsteps of the distant street sweepers seemed to abruptly stop, like a cut cassette tape.

then

"You...have come."

A voice, not carried by the air, appeared directly in everyone's mind. Soft and hoarse, yet as clear as a mother's whisper from childhood.

Su Ting opened his eyes and looked at the lighthouse: "Lin Wanqiu."

"I am." The voice laughed. "Twenty years have passed, and you're the first person to dare step over the 'Silent Coffins' and make them sing...?"

“I am not alone,” Su Ting said. “I am the echo of a voice.”

“I know.” She paused. “Your father… also stood at my door like this. He played a piece of music then too.”

Su Ting's heart skipped a beat: "He... came here?"

“He came.” Her voice suddenly turned cold. “But he didn’t come in. He was afraid. When he left, he said, ‘The system will hear us; we can’t all speak at once.’”

"and then?"

“Then I closed the door.” Her tone was as if she were telling someone else’s story. “From that day on, the lighthouse turned off its lights. I used a manual switch, and it would flash three times every night—that was our agreed-upon signal. When he came back, I would sing it to him.”

"He didn't come back."

“No,” she said softly. “But he left the last piece of the ‘prokaryotes’ code hidden in your guitar, didn’t he?”