"That's so sharp... Klein laughed out loud, drawing on his past life's rich 'experience' and added another jab: "In fact, there is no evidence to suggest that those bigwigs have brains."
"Good! Very good!" Benson laughed heartily and gave a thumbs up, "Klein, you're much funnier than before."
Catching his breath, he continued: "I have to go to the dock this afternoon, and I won't rest until tomorrow. Then, well... we'll go to the 'Tingen City Improved Housing Company' to see if they have any cheap but decent townhouses for rent. Also, we need to visit Mr. Franky first."
"Mr. Landlord?" Klein asked in confusion. Did his current landlord own townhouses in a good location in the neighborhood?
Benson glanced at his brother and said with amusement: "You haven't forgotten that we have a one-year lease, have you? It's only been six months."
"Hiss..." Klein sucked in a breath of cold air. He had indeed forgotten that! Although the rent was paid weekly, the lease was for a full year. Moving now would mean breaking the contract, and if they were taken to court, they'd have to pay a huge amount of money!
"You still lack social experience," Benson said, touching his receding hairline, sighing. "This was a clause I worked hard to get; otherwise, Mr. Franky would only agree to a three-month lease. For the wealthy class, landlords directly lease for one year, two years, or even three years for stability. But for us, for the former us and the neighbors around us, landlords are always worried that someone might have an accident and can't afford the rent, so they only want short-term contracts."
"In this way, they can also raise the rent according to the situation," Klein added, combining fragments of the original owner's memory and his own rental experience.
Benson sighed and said: "This is the reality and cruelty of today's society. Alright, don't worry. The contract issue is easy to solve. To be honest, as long as we delay the rent for a week, Mr. Franky will kick us out immediately and seize our valuables. After all, his IQ is lower than that of a curly baboon, and he can't distinguish too complicated things."
Hearing this, Klein suddenly thought of a gag from a certain Sir Humphrey, shook his head seriously and said, "No, Benson, you're wrong."
"Why?" Benson asked, puzzled.
"Mr. Franky's IQ is still slightly higher than that of a curly baboon," Klein replied seriously. Just as Benson showed a knowing smile, he added, "If he's in good condition."
"Haha." Benson couldn't control his laughter for a moment.
After laughing for a while, he pointed at Klein, but couldn't find a good way to express himself, so he returned to the topic: "Of course, as gentlemen, we won't use such shameless methods. We'll go directly to Mr. Franky tomorrow and talk to him. Believe me, he's easy to persuade, very easy."
Klein had no doubt about this; the existence of the gas pipeline was the most powerful proof.
The two brothers chatted for a while, put the leftover pan-fried fish from last night into the vegetable stew, and while heating it, steamed the rye bread to soften it.
After spreading some butter on the bread, Klein and Benson had a simple meal, but they were still quite satisfied, as the buttery and sweet flavors were lingering.
After Benson went out, Klein took some 3-sul notes and loose copper pennies and went to the "Lettuce and Meat Market". He spent 6 pennies for 1 pound of beef, 7 pennies for a large piece of tender Tasok fish with few bones, as well as potatoes, peas, white radish, rhubarb, lettuce, turnips, and other ingredients, plus rosemary, basil, cumin, oils, etc.
Throughout this process, he still felt someone was spying on him, watching him, but still no actual contact.
After a while at "Sling Bakery", Klein returned home and began to exercise his arm strength using heavy objects, such as stacked books.
He originally wanted to practice military boxing to strengthen his body, but now he had even forgotten the broadcasting exercises, let alone this thing he only encountered during military training. He had no choice but to keep it as simple as possible.
Klein didn't let himself get too tired from exercising, because that would actually make him exhausted and increase danger. He stopped in time and started going through the original owner's textbooks and notes, hoping to review the knowledge related to the Fourth Epoch.
...
In the evening, Benson and Melissa sat at the desk, looking at the arranged food, sitting upright like senior elementary school children.
Various mixed aromas composed a rich prelude to the meal: the enchanting aroma of boiled beef, the obvious and persistent stimulation of mashed potatoes, the sweet entanglement of pea soup, the subtle and moderate harmony of stewed rhubarb, and the sweet cream around the rye bread.
Benson swallowed and turned his head to look at Klein, who was placing a crispy, golden fish onto a plate. He felt the fried aroma drill from the tip of his nose into his throat, into his esophagus, into his stomach.
Gulp! His stomach made a noticeable sound.
Klein rolled up his sleeves, carried the plate of fried fish, and placed it in the center of the cleared desk. Then he turned back to the cupboard and took out two large glasses of ginger beer, setting them in front of Benson and himself.
He smiled at Melissa and, like a magician, took out a lemon pudding: "We have beer, and you have this."
"...Thank you." Melissa took the lemon pudding and said softly.
Seeing this, Benson raised his glass and said with a smile: "Come, let's celebrate Klein finding a good job."