siheyuan: I transmigrated into love in courtyard

A splitting headache tore through my skull as I groggily opened my eyes. My vision swam, the dim glow of a weak oil lamp flickering against the cracked walls of an unfamiliar room. The scent of damp wood, aged dust, and the faint metallic tang of rust filled my nose. My body felt strange—lighter, weaker, and unfamiliar. I frowned. Where am I?

Suddenly, pain flared in my mind, sharp and unbearable. Memories flooded in like a tidal wave, drowning my thoughts in chaos. Images of a life I didn't recognize stitched themselves together—snippets of childhood, long days in a factory kitchen, the weight of poverty, the stares of indifferent neighbors. The pain was unbearable, but I endured it, sorting through the mess of information until the truth solidified.

I had transmigrated.

Not just into any world—but into the Chinese drama Love in a Courtyard (情满四合院).

That realization hit me like a punch to the gut. My breath came out in ragged gasps. This world was set in 1960s Beijing, a time of political and economic hardship. It centered around a courtyard where neighbors lived in close quarters, bound by both necessity and conflict. The protagonist, He Yuzhu (Shazhu), was a kind but naïve man, often manipulated by his neighbors—especially Qin Huairu, the widow of Jia Dongxu.

Jia Dongxu.

I sucked in a sharp breath. In this timeline, he had already been dead for a year.

That meant the story was well underway. Qin Huairu, left to raise her children alone, would be relying on Shazhu's kindness, subtly manipulating him into providing for her family. Yi Zhonghai, the self-proclaimed "wise elder" of the courtyard, would still be pushing his schemes to make Shazhu his "retirement plan." The drama, betrayals, and manipulations were all waiting to unfold.

And I… I wasn't just a spectator.

I clenched my fists as the memories solidified. My name in this world was Lin Feng.

I was an orphan—my father had once worked in the steel mill but passed away. Due to government policies favoring the children of deceased workers, I had inherited his job, though only as a lowly apprentice in the factory kitchen, working under He Yuzhu. My monthly salary? A pitiful 17.5 yuan.

The government had assigned me a small one-room house beside Shazhu's home, a modest space with only the bare essentials—a wooden bed, a small cabinet, and a rickety table. The walls were thin, and I could faintly hear the distant murmurs of courtyard residents, the clinking of dishes, and the occasional laughter from the public dining area. This was my new life.

But before I could fully process my situation, something unexpected happened.

Ding!

A crisp, mechanical sound echoed in my mind. My eyes widened as a translucent blue panel suddenly materialized before me.

[System Activated]

Welcome, Host! You have activated the [Sign-In System]!

Sign in at designated locations to receive rewards!

First Sign-In Location: Steel Mill Kitchen

Reward: ???

My breath hitched. A system?!

Excitement surged through me, temporarily overriding my previous concerns. This was my golden finger! The cheat ability that transmigrators often had in stories—the one thing that could give me a true advantage in this harsh, unforgiving era.

I stared at the glowing panel in disbelief. A Sign-In System.

The concept was simple: I could sign in at specific locations and receive rewards. The very first sign-in location was the steel mill kitchen—where I was already employed. What kind of reward would I get? A cooking skill? Money? Strength? My mind raced with possibilities.

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to calm down. This was a blessing, but I had to move carefully.

The 1960s were not kind to dreamers. The wrong words, the wrong actions, and I could easily end up in trouble—or worse. This courtyard, filled with nosy neighbors and hidden agendas, was a treacherous place to navigate. But unlike Shazhu, I had future knowledge and now a system to back me up.

I straightened my posture and looked around my small room once more. My surroundings were humble, my situation precarious, but I wasn't powerless.

Tomorrow, I would report to the steel mill kitchen as usual. And sign in for my first reward.