Lin Zezu walked all the way back to the West Side Room in a daze.
Ever since his young master had been summoned by Steward Zhao, Fugui had been gripped by a sense of impending doom. He stood anxiously in the outer room, lost in a daze.
Suddenly seeing the young master push open the door looking completely hollowed out, Fugui’s lips trembled, but he didn't dare to ask the questions on his mind.
Having followed Lin Zezu for so many years, Fugui knew the young master's temperament well—he always kept everything buried deep inside, living a life of perpetual endurance and compromise.
Lin Zezu glanced at Fugui's mournful expression and felt a slight stir in his heart, but he still didn't dare speak the truth, fearing that any careless move before the matter of severing family ties was settled would ruin everything and cause complications.
Only after entering the inner bedchamber and closing the door did he finally relax. He truly wanted to burst into wild laughter and shout out loud, expelling the stifled air that had long oppressed the original owner's chest.
However, Lin Zezu quickly calmed down. Judging by the eagerness of Lin Zeguang and Madam Zhao to sweep him out the door, they would likely invite the clan head Lin Wangshui and clan elders Lin Shimao and Lin Shisheng to the estate this afternoon to finalize the severing of family ties.
As for whether the risky letter he had sent to Lin Shisheng yesterday would work, they would know this afternoon.
Although Lin Shitong had already passed away, some lingering goodwill remained. Inviting the clan head and village elder Lin Wangshui along with the two clan elders was merely going through the motions according to clan ritual and propriety.
Eldest brother Lin Zeguang would surely use the council as an opportunity to cement his label as "the son of a prostitute who cursed both father and mother." The so-called clan rituals and propriety could never bind the eldest brother and the madam. Weren't there already countless instances of clan members preying on cut-off households and feeding on blood-soaked steamed buns?!
These two rooms in the West Side Room had sheltered him from the wind and rain for fifteen years, but by tomorrow, he would probably be swept out the door.
At this thought, Lin Zezu felt a jolt in his heart. Under the bed were hidden more than a dozen copies of the Four Books and Five Classics along with commentaries, as well as those fifty-two taels of silver.
They had to be moved out before tonight; otherwise, given Steward Zhao's shrewdness, every single item would be thoroughly searched tomorrow when he left the estate.
With this thought, Lin Zezu immediately sprang into action. There were three sets of Confucian robes and undergarments accumulated from the funeral days that hadn't been washed yet—he would use those!
Lin Zezu began rummaging through chests and cabinets in the room, carefully wrapping the books in the undergarments and the silver in the Confucian robes before placing them into a bamboo basket.
He casually covered the top with another Confucian robe, and after carefully checking to ensure there were no suspicious flaws, he finally called Fugui in.
"Fugui."
"Young Master."
Fugui pushed open the door cautiously.
Earlier, he had heard movements inside from the young master, but since the young master hadn't called for him, he hadn't dared to disturb him.
Lin Zezu glanced at the door to the outer room, which was already closed, then walked over and closed the door to the bedchamber as well.
"Fugui, can I trust you?"
Lin Zezu stared fixedly into Fugui's eyes without blinking. If Fugui showed even a shred of hesitation, struggle, or evasion, he would abandon him without a moment's thought.
Lin Zezu was not kind enough to keep an ungrateful ingrate by his side.
"Young Master, whatever you tell this servant to do, this servant will not even frown."
Fugui replied with a steadfast gaze.
Fugui's firmness slightly eased Lin Zezu's hanging heart. Lowering his voice, Lin Zezu pointed at the bamboo basket on the floor.
"In here are a dozen books I've accumulated over the years, plus fifty-two taels of silver."
At this, Lin Zezu paused and stared at Fugui.
Seeing that Fugui's face showed no trace of extreme surprise or greed, Lin Zezu instantly understood. The original owner had been self-conscious and reclusive, having almost no social interactions.
From childhood holiday tips to the monthly allowance of one tael of silver after entering the private school, he had barely spent any of it.
Fugui was his personal attendant and practically inseparable from him—how could Fugui not know?
Besides, the original owner had never intended to hide it or guard against Fugui, and all his laundry was washed and dried by Fugui anyway.
"Alright, Young Master, should I—"
"Don't ask around, don't speak of it, just act as usual."
Lin Zezu cut off Fugui's inquiry.
With his head full of questions, Fugui picked up the bamboo basket on his back and walked out the door.
Remembering how the young master had looked when he first returned, Fugui put on a suitably dazed and lost expression as he walked out of the residence.
Lin Zezu found it somewhat amusing to watch.
With a light heart and nothing to do, Lin Zezu searched the room thoroughly once more, not even sparing the gaps in the walls, but regrettably found nothing further.
Stopping at last, Lin Zezu couldn't help finding his own behavior rather funny.
He fetched some water to wash up and then began practicing calligraphy.
The original owner's handwriting contrasted sharply with his appearance, carrying a certain fierce, steel-hook-and-silver-tracing quality to the strokes.
It was probably due to the pent-up frustration he usually carried in his chest.
Lin Zezu actually thought this style was quite good. Perhaps due to the recent shifts in his emotions and state of mind, the characters he wrote now had become a good deal more rounded.
Lunch was still very simple—just boiled cabbage with a few pieces of tofu thrown in.
As usual, Lin Zezu ate every last bit at a leisurely pace.
Fugui returned around mid-morning. Lin Zezu didn't ask, and Fugui didn't volunteer; the master and servant finished lunch maintaining this tacit understanding.
According to the original owner's habits, a nap followed lunch. Lin Zezu had been in this world for several days now, yet he had not once dreamed of the people or things from his home planet.
Sometimes, not dreaming at all was also a form of pain and torture!