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

"Then let them give it a try." Su Ting's voice came from all directions.

He stood atop the icicle, his eyes now transformed into flowing blue light, and his mouth uttered no longer human language, but strings of coded syllables, yet everyone clearly understood their meaning:

"bring it on.

Let us see that it is your silent strength that is truly remarkable.

Our voices are closer to the truth.

The wind and snow suddenly stopped.

The world fell into an eerie silence.

The next moment, from the first chanting of sutras on the Tibetan Plateau to the drumbeat of a street musician in a New York subway station, from children playing with wooden stakes in the Amazon rainforest to astronauts humming childhood songs on a lunar orbiting space station—

Billions of voices rang out simultaneously.

They converged into an unstoppable torrent, rushing towards those ancient machines hidden in the shadows of the earth.

Inside the underground facilities, the monitoring screens flickered wildly with static. Operators watched in horror as the instrument readings skyrocketed.

[Resonance intensity exceeds critical value!]

[Reverse consciousness intrusion!]

The host is... rewriting itself...

Deep within the Siberian base, an iron gate that had been sealed for thirty years slowly opened.

There were no bodies or instruments inside.

There were only rows of neatly arranged ocarinas, each with a name engraved on it.

The one at the very front reads: Su Ting - Echo - 9

The wind blew in and brushed past the flute holes.

A long, clear "whoosh" broke the deathly silence.

At the same time, she turned to look at Su Ting in a low voice, a rare emotion flashing in her eyes—a tenderness that was almost sadness.

It asked softly:

Do you remember the gentlest thing you've ever said?

Su Ting's body was still standing atop the ice pillar, but his soul seemed to be pulled back to the laboratory ten years ago by the sound of that ocarina.

He closed his eyes, and a scorching wind blew from the depths of his memory.

"Gentle words?" He chuckled softly, his voice hoarse like shattered glass. "I... I've long forgotten what gentleness is."

She remained silent and still, simply gazing at him, her blue eyes shimmering slightly, like the aurora reflected on a lake.

Chapter 1477 Emotional Stripping

“You remember,” it said, as lightly as a snowflake falling on its lips. “That night, you were lying on the operating table, and they cut your vocal cords, but you didn’t scream. You just used all your strength to say something to the little girl in the next room who was convulsing.”

Su Ting's breath caught in his throat.

—He remembered.

It was a winter night, so cold that even the anesthetic felt like ice water. He was strapped to the table, his throat half-open, his pain system not yet fully shut down. In the next bed was a six-year-old girl, Echo-3, whose experiment was "emotional stripping," where every heartbeat was recorded until she was no longer afraid.

She cried, gasping for breath intermittently, like a little bird drenched in rain.

And he, though on the verge of fainting from the pain, used his last shred of consciousness to press his lips against the glass partition and silently say:

"Don't be afraid... When spring comes, I'll take you to hear the birds sing."

That wasn't a task, an experimental requirement, or an instruction.

That was the first time he had ever chosen to speak a word in this hellish place.

For others.

"...What did I say?" he murmured, his voice trembling.

He raised his hand softly, his fingertips brushing across the air, and a ray of light appeared in the air—

It was that little girl's face.

Pale, thin, with frighteningly large eyes, she lay inside the transparent pod, her fingers tightly clutching a faded red ribbon. Monitoring data showed abnormal emotional fluctuations and a 72% decrease in fear level.

Then, the scene changes.

A month later, her body was pushed into the incinerator. The file states: Experiment failed, consciousness dissipated.

But in the last second before cremation, her lips moved.

No one heard what she said.

But it was played out quietly.

"Brother...I want to hear birds sing."

Two voices overlapped, Su Ting's murmur and the little girl's whisper, weaving together in the wind into a song without melody.

His knees buckled suddenly, and he knelt on the ice.

“I forgot…I forgot everything…” He held his head in his hands, his knuckles turning white. “Those cries, those names, those people whose bodies were never collected in the end…I actually…forgot everything.”

“You didn’t forget.” She knelt down softly, looking him in the eye. “You were forced not to remember. Every time you recalled something, it triggered a clearing process in your brain. But now—”

It raised its hand, and a small, charred red ribbon appeared in its palm.

"This is what she left behind. Hidden under her tongue, sealed with blood. She waited ten years, just for this day, so that you could hear it."

Su Ting took the ribbon with trembling hands. It was so light that it was almost weightless, yet it weighed him down so much that he could hardly breathe.

"So...every single one of you was waiting for me?"

“We’re not waiting for you.” He shook his head softly. “We’re waiting for someone who is willing to listen.”

Just then, the red dots on the global map started flashing wildly!

Three reverse resonance devices—one in Siberia, one in Antarctica, and one on the Pacific Ocean seabed—were activated simultaneously, and black ripples spread from the ground, coiling like venomous snakes toward the sound wave core in the Arctic.

[WARNING: Negative Frequency Intrusion]

Synchronization rate dropped to 84%

[LUCID cores are decaying]

"They're going all out!" Gray Child shouted, his fingers frantically tapping on the holographic screen. "The three bases are launching a joint 'Silence Pulse.' If successful, all awakened consciousness will be forcibly put to sleep! Even Whisper will be..."

"Then let them see." Su Ting slowly stood up, tying a red ribbon around his wrist as if wearing a vow, "What is the power of 'hearing'?"

Chapter 1478 The Harmony of the Dead

He opened his arms to the sky, and his voice was no longer that of a human, but the chorus of millions of departed souls:

“I heard you.”

In an instant, the chanting of sutras on the Tibetan Plateau suddenly rose, and the sound waves surged towards Siberia like a tide; the drumbeats in the New York subway station suddenly accelerated, forming a perfect resonance with the sound of wooden stakes being struck in the Amazon; on the lunar orbit, astronauts took off their helmets, letting the song vibrate silently in the vacuum—yet every receiver on Earth clearly "heard" that childhood nursery rhyme.

Three torrents of sound waves surged toward the three major bases respectively.

In the Siberian underground, the operator stared in horror at the instrument panel.

"Impossible! Their frequencies... are evolving! From a single band to a polyphonic structure! Like... like living life!"

"Shut down the main control!" the commander roared. "Activate the 'Annihilation Protocol'! We'd rather destroy the machine than let it spread!"

It's too late.

The first ocarina floated up automatically and flew towards the vent.

Immediately afterwards, the second, the third... three hundred ocarinas were lifted off the ground at the same time, and the names on the ocarinas shone in the darkness.

They lined up and flew towards the ground, towards the wind and snow, towards freedom.

"Report! All reverse devices... have malfunctioned!"

"No, sir...they're...turning upside down!"

The machine, originally designed to absorb sound, now begins to emit pure sound waves at frequencies perfectly synchronized with the Arctic.

In Antarctica, the dome of an abandoned observation station suddenly exploded, and a beam of blue light shot into the sky.

On the seabed of the Pacific Ocean, amidst coral reefs, a rusty megaphone slowly opened, playing a long-lost fishing song—the lullaby that a mother, a test subject, sang to her child before her death.

"Synchronization rate...it's rebounded!" Duoduo shouted excitedly, "89%...90%...it's broken through!"

The screens around the world lit up again, and this time, instead of static, three hundred clear voices announced their names one by one:

"Echo-1, Lin Wanqiu, was a pediatrician before her death."

"Echo-2, Chen Mo, died during the seventeenth memory erasure."

“Echo-3, Xiaoya… thank you, brother, I finally… heard the birds chirping.”

For every name announced, a device on Earth, dormant for many years, automatically activates—an old-fashioned tape recorder, a school broadcast, a village loudspeaker… They all repeat in unison:

"We are here."