For the second time, after finishing breakfast in the morning, Lin Zezu put on a freshly washed blue long gown, neatly arranged his hair into a bun secured with a scholar's ribbon, and fastened a mourning band to his left arm.
After tidying up, because the original owner's body was rather lean and frail, he appeared quite refined. Having finished everything, he stepped out of the West Side Room.
Aside from busy servants in the front courtyard, he did not run into anyone else from the household.
Guided by Fugui, he walked out of the main gates of the Lin Estate.
The late March morning carried a hint of chill, yet it felt wonderfully refreshing.
The households of Linjiang Village were not clustered closely together. When Lin Shitong built the Lin Estate, he had purchased this plot of vacant land at the East Village End, right next to the country road leading to the town. It had taken more than three years to build the Lin Family Old Residence.
Fugui led Lin Zezu toward the West Village End. The villagers had already risen early and had been hard at work for nearly two hours by now.
"Aunt, you're busy?"
"Oh my, are you Fourth Young Master? We rarely see you!!"
...
"Second Uncle, busy early."
"You're Shitong's fourth boy, aren't you?"
...
"Second Brother, Second Sister-in-law, just eating? Are the kids at home all doing well?"
"Hey... you're... who was it... that..."
...
"Fourth Young Master, where are you headed?"
"You are Old—"
"I'm Old Han, your family's tenant farmer."
"Uncle Han, morning. I'm fine, just out for a stroll."
...
All along the way, whenever Lin Zezu encountered a recognized clansman, he would take the initiative to stop, respectfully and politely addressing them according to their proper generation, neither servile nor overbearing, warm and cultivated.
When he met someone he vaguely remembered but whose name or generational standing he couldn't recall, he would stop first, introduce himself, and ask how to address them. As warm as the spring breeze of March, neither haughty nor impatient, his gentle grace moved the clansmen to willingly stop and chat for a few extra moments.
There were also villagers of other surnames whom Lin Zezu basically did not know, but he greeted them all the same, figuring out their generational relation before addressing them properly.
Along the way, Lin Zezu called out countless "Uncle," "Aunt," "Brother," "Sister-in-law," "Second Grandpa," and various aunts and uncles.
And sure enough, the original owner's brain was remarkably sharp. After meeting, greeting, and establishing generational ties, he committed every single one of them to memory.
March was the brief busy period before rice transplanting. Every paddy field was flooded with water reaching over the ankles, soaking the mud so that it would become much softer before transplanting, making it easier for the divided rice seedlings to take root and grow.
Under the gentle caress of the morning sun, the patch after patch of paddy fields reflected a golden brilliance like a series of mirrors.
To the north of the village lay the lush and verdant Mao'er Ridge.
Turtledoves, magpies, and other unnamed birds flew up with a rustle of wings, skimming across the treetops.
They quickly swept westward in several loops over the bamboo groves before veering toward the fields to the east.
They landed sparsely here and there, startled into flight once more amid the rolling shouts of busy farmers.
Flashing swiftly across the sky above the village houses, they soon vanished once again into the pine forests of Mao'er Ridge.
Walking and stopping, it took Lin Zezu more than an hour to reach the three dilapidated structures standing at the West Village End.
Calling them three rooms was generous; they were essentially thatched sheds open to the wind on all four sides.
The thatched sheds were built with adobe walls reaching half a person's height, topped with vertical pillars on all four sides supporting roof beams, which were then covered with thatch.
To say nothing of living people, even livestock could not have stayed there.
At this moment, the three thatched sheds were completely empty. After the consumption of the winter, the green fodder inside had already been chewed up by the livestock.
"You must be the Lin family's young master?"
A voice interrupted Lin Zezu's reverie.
"Young Master, his name is Li Laoshuan, a tenant farmer on our estate."
Fugui recognized Li Laoshuan, having seen him come to the estate to pay rent.
"Uncle Li, morning. I'm Lin Zezu—just call me by my name."
Lin Zezu smiled warmly in greeting, looking over the farm-worn elderly man of over fifty years standing before him.
"I couldn't possibly do that. You're from a distinguished family; this old man had better still call you Young Master."
Li Laoshuan appeared somewhat reserved. His skin was tanned dark from years of toil, and he wore rough work clothes, but his smile was gentle and kind.
"Uncle Li, are the fields you farm located around here?"
"Young Master, this old man's family lives a bit further east. These twenty mu of inferior paddy fields right here and the thirty mu of dry land to the west are rented by my second son and me from your Lin family."
As he spoke, Old Man Li pointed toward the paddy fields to the east and swept a hand across the dry land to the west.
Hearing this, Lin Zezu made a mental calculation. The twenty mu of paddy fields and thirty mu of dry land allocated to him by his eldest brother must be right here.
"Uncle Li, how many people are in your family? Can you manage all this work, and how are the harvests?"
Through his conversation with Li Laoshuan, Lin Zezu gained a general understanding of the boundaries and yields of these fields.