siheyuan: I transmigrated into love in courtyard

I woke up to the cold morning air seeping through the cracks in my thin wooden door. My body ached slightly from sleeping on the hard wooden bed, but I had gotten used to it over the years. Life in this courtyard was harsh, and no one cared about a man without power.

With a sigh, I got up, stretching my stiff limbs. Three years. I had spent three long years working under Shazhu as an apprentice in the steel mill kitchen. Yet, he had never taught me any real cooking skills.

As I stepped out of my small room, I saw Third Uncle (Yan Bugui) at the courtyard entrance, cleaning his bicycle.

That old fox. He never did anything without a reason. He must have received some small benefit and was in a good mood. I had learned to avoid unnecessary conversations with him unless I had something to gain. In this courtyard, kindness didn't exist without ulterior motives.

Ignoring him, I silently made my way toward the kitchen. The courtyard was still quiet, only the occasional sound of someone coughing or the distant chatter of early risers breaking the silence.

As I walked, I couldn't help but reflect on my situation.

Three Wasted Years

I was 23 years old now. I had been working in the steel mill kitchen for the last three years, yet all I had been allowed to do was cleaning and cutting vegetables.

Cooking? Shazhu never taught me a single dish.

At first, I thought he was simply strict. That he wanted me to learn discipline before handling the actual cooking. But as time passed, I realized the truth—he never planned to teach me anything.

Why? Because he saw me as nothing but a tool.

Shazhu was selfish. He acted kind and generous, but in reality, he never wanted to share his skills. If I learned how to cook, then I could become independent. If I became independent, then he would lose his position as the most valuable kitchen worker.

He was 27 years old now, yet he still remained a mere chef despite having the talent to rise higher. Why? Because he was content being Qin Huairu's fool.

Qin Huairu: The Black Hole of the Courtyard

Qin Huairu was now 28 years old, still playing the same old tricks. In the past three years, I had seen it all—her sighing, her pitiful looks, her quiet manipulations.

Her eldest son, Jia Beng, was now 8 years old, already showing signs of his selfish, ungrateful nature. He ran around the courtyard acting as if everyone owed him something, just like his mother and grandmother.

Jia Xiaodong was 6 years old, a sneaky little girl who learned from her mother how to fake tears to get what she wanted.

And the youngest, Jia Hiahua, was 4 years old, already growing up in the same rotten household.

For the past three years, I watched Shazhu bring food to their house like a servant. Every single day, he carried leftovers from the steel mill kitchen and gave them to Qin Huairu's family.

He never questioned it.

He never hesitated.

He gave away his own meals while eating plain mantou himself.

And what did he get in return? Nothing. Qin Huairu never truly cared for him. She only saw him as a resource—a man who would always be there, no matter how much she used him.

And I?

I was completely ignored. I was never invited to eat. Never given a single extra bite. Shazhu never once thought, "Hey, maybe I should teach my apprentice something useful."

Instead, he treated me as a disposable worker.

A Look at Myself

I had never paid much attention to my appearance before. Survival had always been the priority.

But today, for the first time, I took a moment to observe myself.

I was 6 feet tall, a height that should have made me stand out in this courtyard. My features were strong, my body lean but solid. By modern standards, I could even be considered handsome.

But in this world? No one cared.

Because I was poor.

Because I had no power.

Because I was just an apprentice stuck under Shazhu's shadow.

I had no family to support me, no powerful connections, and no one in this courtyard cared whether I lived or died.