The steward of the Records Office was Steward Wang, a gaunt, white-haired elder.
When Zhao Lin walked in, he was engrossed in an ancient book, occasionally taking a leisurely sip of fragrant tea from his side.
Hearing footsteps, Steward Wang glanced up. Seeing a young disciple from the Spirit Dao Institute, he paid him no more mind and went back to his book.
Zhao Lin knew that anyone in charge of a place like the Records Office must be trusted by the institute's head. Unbothered by the man's attitude, he cupped his hands and said, "Greetings, Elder Wang. I am Zhao Lin, a disciple of the Spirit Dao Institute, here to collect my merit points."
Steward Wang, who had been sullen, immediately broke into a smile.
Although he only looked to be in his fifties or sixties, his actual age was over ninety.
