Chapter 31

Hearing Wang Gui call out “Young Master,” the people on the estate knew a major figure from the Zhao household had arrived.

Almost every tenant gathered around the carriage, gazing at the Seventh Young Master with reverence and a hint of flattery.

Wang the steward stood out most—he knelt at the front of the crowd, prostrate with perfect form, a posture he had trained meticulously; his reputation for loyalty among the Zhao family’s elite was built from such small gestures.

For a long while, no sound came from the Seventh Young Master.

Wang the steward cautiously lifted his head and saw the Seventh Young Master wasn’t looking at him at all—he was staring at the carriage door.

Zheng Fa emerged from the carriage and leapt to the ground—right in front of Wang the steward.

As their eyes met, both held a flicker of confusion.

Perhaps because Wang’s posture was so deferential, Zheng Fa unconsciously made a gesture to rise.

Wang the steward stood up automatically, then his face stiffened, cheeks flushing deep crimson; his gaze drifted slowly from Zheng Fa to the Seventh Young Master, who acted as if he saw nothing, smiling brightly.

Wang Gui watched from the side, his mind flooded with questions:

Did my father kneel to Zheng Fa?

No—how is Zheng Fa still standing? Not only can he walk, he can even leap?

Why is the Seventh Young Master standing beside Zheng Fa, laughing and chatting so intimately?

A deeper, unbelievable jealousy stirred in him—he’d been a pageboy, and the Seventh Young Master had never once smiled at him.

“Young Master, why have you come to the estate?”

Unable to bear his curiosity any longer, Wang Gui asked.

“Oh, I’m here to pick someone up.”

Wang Gui’s heart surged with joy—he knew it! The Seventh Young Master still remembered Yan Yu Lou! No, he remembered Wang Gui’s unwavering loyalty!

Even if Zheng Fa had somehow won the Seventh Young Master’s favor through underhanded means, his arrival confirmed the Young Master still had feelings for him!

Wang Gui had absolute confidence in his talent as a sycophant—one day, he, Wang Gui, would become the Seventh Young Master’s top dog!

“Pick someone up?” Wang the steward glanced at his own Wang Gui—the Seventh Young Master only knew one person on this estate: his own son.

“Zheng Fa, where are your mother and sister? Have they arrived?” The Seventh Young Master tapped his head and turned to Zheng Fa.

“Brother!”

Seeing Zheng Fa’s gaze turn toward her, Zheng Shan, who had held back for so long, finally burst out, jumping beside her mother.

The Seventh Young Master pulled Zheng Fa over to Zheng Mu.

Zheng Mu carefully studied Zheng Fa’s face and saw no signs of hardship—instead, he’d even gained weight.

A smile finally appeared on her face.

“Mother, the Lady has granted me permission to bring you and my sister to live in the city.”

Zheng Mu, who had been about to speak, froze, speechless.

Wang Gui felt as if struck by lightning, unable to believe his ears.

Not here to pick me up?

To pick up Zheng Fa’s family?

The surrounding tenants reacted faster and louder.

“To the city? The whole family? The Zhengs are going to prosper—their ancestors are smoking incense!”

“Don’t talk nonsense—it’s because Zheng Fa has gained status in the household; look, even the Seventh Young Master came back with him!”

“I always said this child Zheng Fa was extraordinary!”

“Bullshit—you used to say Zheng Fa never spoke, like a mute, and would never amount to anything!”

Amidst the surrounding murmurs of envy and regret, Zheng Mu finally snapped out of it—but looking at Zheng Fa, then at the Seventh Young Master, she opened her mouth yet found no words.

Zheng Fa gently took her hand: “Mother, we haven’t eaten yet—we’re all hungry. Can you make us something?”

“Not eaten?” Hearing her son was hungry, Zheng Mu forgot everything else and turned toward home: “I’ll cook for you right away!”

After two steps, she stopped, turned back to glance at the Seventh Young Master beside Zheng Fa, and whispered: “Has the Seventh Young Master eaten too?”

“Yes.”

“This… we have no meat left, only coarse grain for peasants—the Seventh Young Master, a nobleman, probably can’t eat this…”

Beside them, the Seventh Young Master frowned, as if to speak.

But Wang the steward suddenly spoke: “Young Master, my home has simple tea and rice—though nothing compared to the household, it’s more respectable than the Zhengs’. Please, dine with me.”

Zheng Fa felt his mother’s grip tighten on his arm; he turned and saw her dimmed expression.

He knew—Zheng Mu was overthinking, convinced their humble conditions and her reaction had shamed Zheng Fa.

After Wang the steward spoke, the Seventh Young Master fell into brief thought.

He looked at Zheng Fa, then at Wang the steward.

Wang the steward offered a respectful yet warm smile.

“Do you have wine?”

“Yes!”

“Do you have meat?”

“Yes!”

“Do you have grain?”

“Yes!”

“Then your household is quite well-off.”

“All thanks to the household’s grace…”

The surrounding tenants looked at Wang the steward with envy—truthfully, they had to admit his home was the most respectable on the estate.

If the Seventh Young Master visited their homes, they’d likely panic like Zheng Mu.

Slap!

The Seventh Young Master clapped his hands: “So it’s simple then? I’m dining at the Zhengs’. You’ve got everything—just send some over!”

“Huh?” Even Wang the steward, who prided himself on composure, froze—staring at the Seventh Young Master’s utterly reasonable face, he turned to Wang Gui.

For the first time, Wang Gui saw not contempt on his father’s face, but deep regret—and in that moment, he understood his father’s expression:

What kind of life did you live when you were a pageboy!

Zheng Fa and Wang Gui exchanged a glance—this man really did know how to grovel…

Perfectly satisfying!

…

“Young Master, this…”

“What? You won’t let me eat your food?” The Seventh Young Master’s face darkened instantly.

“Of course you can! Wang Gui! Take all the wine, dishes, and preserved meat from home and deliver them to the Zhengs!” Wang the steward bit back his rage and slapped his son, who stood dazed.

“Father! Send all the meat? We’ll only have a few chickens left!” Wang Gui naturally resisted—he was richer than Zheng Fa, but this was reckless waste.

“You keep chickens?” The Seventh Young Master chimed in, genuinely interested.

“Kill another chicken!” Wang the steward kicked Wang Gui, shooing him off—afraid he’d say another word and end up giving away their new house too.

…

“The table’s a bit small—Young Master, bear with it.”

Even with Wang the steward’s generous aid, dining at the Zhengs’ was the Seventh Young Master’s most impoverished experience ever.

Only three stools—occupied by the Seventh Young Master, Zheng Fa, and Wang Gui.

Zheng Mu and Zheng Shan had nowhere to sit.

Zheng Mu was content—she dared not sit beside the Seventh Young Master.

Zheng Shan didn’t care about seating—she leaned against Zheng Fa, tiptoeing to gaze at the small table piled high with dishes.

“The Wangs… eat so well!”

Her fingers stuffed in her mouth, saliva smeared across her tiny hands, she murmured in envy.

Zheng Fa took a napkin and wiped her hands, yet knew—Wang the steward probably didn’t eat like this daily.

Serving the Seventh Young Master every day? Such fortune would make Wang the steward hang himself from the Zhao gate…

The Seventh Young Master frowned and asked: “Do you and Wang Gui’s family have a feud?”

Had he not sensed this, he wouldn’t have tormented the Wangs.

Before Zheng Fa could speak, Zheng Shan already scowled and complained: “They’ve always bullied our family!”

“Oh?” The Seventh Young Master looked intrigued.