Pei Ye cast a cold glance at it.
He wandered aimlessly around the small building for a few loops and gradually realized that this was indeed the place where the former prime minister had spent many years.
The table edge, polished smooth from writing, the small couch for afternoon naps, the blackout curtain still hanging by the window, and the books on the bookshelf that were conveniently high but worn from frequent use.
After looking around a few times, Pei Ye understood what Xu Chuo meant by the west wall bookshelf. These few bookshelves closest to the desk not only had books but also a large number of letters, official documents, manuscripts, scrolls, and such, clearly the items the former prime minister had used most frequently.
From left to right, from bottom to top, Pei Ye started flipping through them. It was indeed a clueless search; there really was everything inside.
There were memos to himself: "Shoe sole torn, last night's rain seeped in, remember to buy new ones."