The Scholar in the Courtyard

Chapter 1: The Man Who Froze to Death in the Courtyard

December 31, 1930.

New Year's Eve.

Southside District, Chicago.

Inside the courtyard of a former mansion that had long ago been converted into workers' apartments, a young man lay motionless on a narrow bed.

He wore a faded blue cotton-padded jacket and gray padded trousers. Both were heavily patched, and the cuffs had long since been worn smooth from years of use.

One arm was trapped beneath his body while the other hung limply over the edge of the bed. His rolled-up sleeve exposed several dark red bruises.

His face was deathly pale.

He didn't look asleep.

He looked dead.

Icy wind slipped through the cracks in the broken doors and windows, making the already gloomy room feel even colder.

Then suddenly—

The lifeless body trembled.

A shiver ran through him as if some invisible force had breathed life back into his veins.

His body began to warm.

The pale color gradually faded from his face.

A moment later, his eyes snapped open.

Pain exploded through his entire body.

Using every ounce of strength he had, the young man pushed himself upright.

"Ahhh—"

"Hiss..."

The sharp pain forced a cry from his throat.

But after only a few seconds, he fell silent.

Staring at his hands, confusion filled his eyes.

"This isn't my hand."

"No... it is my hand."

"But why does it look like this?"

Before he could think any further, a torrent of unfamiliar memories crashed into his mind.

The impact was so overwhelming that he collapsed back onto the bed.

Several minutes later, he slowly opened his eyes again.

The cold wind brushed against his face.

This time, his gaze was clear.

He finally understood what had happened.

He had transmigrated.

And not just that.

His soul had crossed into another body.

In a strange way, becoming more than ten years younger was a blessing. It felt as though his lifespan had been extended overnight.

But what truly shocked him was where he had ended up.

This world followed the timeline of Love in the Courtyard.

Or as he preferred to call it—

Birds of a Feather in the Courtyard.

It had been one of his favorite television dramas in his previous life.

Fortunately, the world wasn't exactly the same as the original story.

Elysia Smith was still young.

Kevin Parker was still alive.

Most importantly, the two of them weren't married yet.

Liana Collins from the Third Uncle's family hadn't even been born.

Charles Cooper was still living at home.

Sarah Fletcher had already started school.

And Andrew Fletcher hadn't yet become the infamous figure everyone would later know.

As for the owner of this body—

His name was also Ryan Williams.

Eighteen years old.

Currently an apprentice fitter at Crimson Steel Rolling Mill.

He had only been working there for two months.

According to the memories he inherited, Ryan Williams grew up in a single-parent household.

His mother had died when he was very young.

His father never remarried.

The father and son had depended on each other for survival through years of hardship.

They witnessed the nation's transition from chaos to stability and lived through the passionate era of rebuilding a new country.

Like countless ordinary workers of the time, Ryan's father devoted himself wholeheartedly to construction and industry.

In those years, however, survival wasn't easy.

Whether a family could eat their fill or stay warm through winter depended entirely on their income.

Ryan's father was a Level Three fitter at Crimson Steel Rolling Mill.

His monthly salary was 42.5 dollars.

Combined with grain coupons and factory benefits, it was considered an excellent income.

At a time when a rooster cost only two dollars, eggs were five cents each, and cabbage sold for three cents a pound, forty-two dollars could support a family comfortably.

It was more than enough to feed a wife and children.

More than enough to build a future.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans.

As if every transmigrator came packaged with a mandatory "dead parents" storyline, Ryan Williams's life was no exception.

Two months ago, a major accident occurred at the steel mill.

A worker's mistake sparked a fire inside the workshop.

While attempting to save valuable factory equipment, Ryan's father and several coworkers suffered severe burns.

Their lives hung by a thread.

Medical resources in this era were painfully limited.

Burn treatment alone was nearly impossible.

Even decades later, such injuries would still be considered serious.

Ryan's father knew his chances were slim.

He repeatedly told his son not to waste money trying to save him.

But the original Ryan Williams refused to give up.

He searched everywhere for remedies.

He bought every supplement and treatment he could find.

He spent the family's savings.

Then the compensation money.

Then borrowed even more from others.

In the end, despite all those efforts, Ryan's father died full of regret.

The family was left buried in debt.

And Ryan Williams was left alone.

Then, during the coldest days of winter, a man from the twenty-first century arrived in his place.

"Since I'm already here, I might as well live with it."

After sorting through his memories, Ryan Williams could only comfort himself with that thought.

He slowly looked around the room.

Cobwebs hung from the wooden beams overhead, swaying gently in the cold draft.

The old wooden windows resembled those found in rural villages, each fitted with tiny panes of glass.

The black-and-white quilt on the bed carried a faint musty smell.

Several patched pieces of clothing lay folded nearby.

Portraits of important national figures decorated the walls.

The room was sparse.

Almost empty.

Yet every corner carried the unmistakable mark of the era.

Supporting himself against the bedframe, Ryan Williams slowly stood and shuffled toward the Eight Immortals table.

His body still ached.

On the table sat a large white ceramic jar with the words Outstanding Steel Mill Worker painted across its side.

Nearby rested a red-and-white enamel washbasin.

He picked up a battered thermos wrapped in tin plating and poured himself some water.

The water was still warm.

After taking a sip, warmth spread through his body.

For the first time since waking up, he felt truly alive.

Leaning against the table, he closed his eyes and continued sorting through the inherited memories.

Soon, his expression darkened.

When he first realized he had transmigrated into the world of Love in the Courtyard, he suspected that the original owner's death wasn't an accident.

Now, after reviewing the memories, his suspicions were confirmed.

And the truth gave him a headache.

Because this courtyard really was full of beasts.

Scheming neighbors.

Backstabbing opportunists.

People who smiled to your face while plotting behind your back.

Living here meant constantly watching your step.

One mistake and someone would stab you in the back.

In his previous life, Ryan Williams had been nothing special.

Just an ordinary worker.

A regular nine-to-five employee.

He spent his spare time scrolling through his phone, browsing the internet, and wasting time like everyone else.

He had no extraordinary talents.

No earth-shattering skills.

But he knew how to survive.

He had never dreamed of becoming some legendary hero after transmigrating.

He didn't expect to revolutionize industry or make historic contributions to the nation.

All he wanted was a stable life.

A peaceful life.

Unfortunately, stability was the one thing this courtyard couldn't offer.

The compound itself was an expanded three-courtyard residence.

Before Liberation, it had belonged to a wealthy local official.

Afterward, it was confiscated, renovated, and converted into public housing.

The entire complex faced south and followed a traditional central-axis layout.

The front courtyard housed the Third Uncle's family along with several other households.

The middle courtyard contained the Parker family, the Carter family, the Fletcher siblings, Ryan Williams's household, and several others.

The backyard belonged to the Deaf Old Lady, George Cooper's family, Jason Holt's family, and a few remaining residents.

Altogether, twenty-two households lived inside the compound.

More than one hundred people shared the same courtyard.

In Ryan Williams's opinion, calling them neighbors was generous.

Calling them troublemakers felt more accurate.

If someone claimed there wasn't a single good person among them, that would be unfair.

But if they lined everyone up and arrested every second person, there definitely wouldn't be many innocent casualties.

Especially the main characters.

In his eyes, none of them were saints.

Andrew—better known as Andrew Fletcher—was a hopeless simp.

A fool ruled by emotion.

A man who spent his entire life chasing after the wrong woman.

As for Elysia Smith...

A master manipulator.

A professional victim.

A woman who could squeeze every last drop of sympathy and benefit from those around her.

Then there was Thomas Carter.

The king of moral blackmail.

Always standing on the highest moral pedestal while quietly pulling strings behind the scenes.

George Cooper loved authority despite having little ability.

Richard Collins calculated every penny as if his life depended on it.

And that wasn't even mentioning the future generation of freeloaders, parasites, and ingrates.

The fact that this entire courtyard had managed to coexist peacefully for so many years was practically a miracle.

Then Ryan Williams finally reached the memories surrounding his death.

Instantly, a wave of anger surged through his chest.

His fists clenched.

Veins bulged across the backs of his hands.

Bang!

His fist slammed into the wooden table.

Why had he died?

Because he was beaten.

Thrown back into his room.

And left to freeze to death.

Taking several deep breaths, Ryan Williams suppressed the lingering resentment left behind by the original owner.

The truth was simple.

Before his death, Ryan's father desperately wanted to see his son married.

He wanted the Williams family line to continue.

So he contacted relatives back in Williams Family Village and arranged a blind date.

That woman was Elysia Smith.

At the time, moving from the countryside to the city was a dream for many young women.

The match progressed quickly.

Back then, marriage was simple.

If everything went smoothly, a couple could meet and register their marriage within days.

Elysia Smith was naturally willing.

Her family agreed as well.

Everything appeared settled.

Then reality struck.

The Williams family was drowning in debt.

The father was bedridden and dying.

There was nobody to care for him.

If Elysia Smith married into the family, she would inherit all those burdens.

Suddenly, the marriage didn't seem so attractive.

Then the Parker family stepped in.

Kevin Parker had a stable job.

He received government grain rations.

His mother could help manage the household.

And he was apprenticed to Thomas Carter, one of the most respected workers in the mill.

Compared to Ryan Williams, Kevin Parker looked like a far safer choice.

So Elysia Smith switched sides without hesitation.

The moment Ryan's father learned about it, his heart broke.

He died that very night.

Furious, Ryan Williams went to confront the Parker family.

Instead, they turned the situation against him.

The three elders sided with them.

Nobody spoke up for him.

Nobody helped him.

He could only return home and bury his father.

After inheriting his father's position at the steel mill, things only got worse.

The Parker family mocked him.

The others ignored him.

And last night, everything finally exploded.

Hearing that the Parker family was preparing for the wedding, Ryan Williams drank half a bottle of liquor.

Overwhelmed by grief and rage, he went to confront them.

The argument quickly turned violent.

Kevin Parker.

Jason Holt.

Andrew Fletcher.

Henry Cooper.

Edward Collins.

Several people joined together and beat him mercilessly.

Then they dragged him back home.

Threw him onto the bed.

And left him there.

Alone.

In the freezing winter night.

No one cared whether he lived or died.

As the original owner's grief and fury surged through his chest once more, a familiar mechanical voice suddenly echoed inside his mind.

Ding.

Hello, Host.

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