HE With the Cold Male Protagonist C34

Chapter 34: Banquet Preparations, A Stolen Kiss

When Jiang Baiye returned home, he had his mother go in his stead to the headman’s house, to express apologies, deliver gifts and compensation. As for himself, he had no intention of going—after all, it was a young lady’s affair.

Instead, he took the increasingly restless and uneasy Ding Yue to the workshop. Just earlier, his mother had also given her assessment; with her eye for people, she felt Ding Yue was an honest, straightforward man, who in their home had not pried or looked around inappropriately, but had behaved properly.

Thus, Jiang Baiye felt at ease taking him to the workshop.

When Ding Yue saw row upon row of brand-new buildings, he was utterly stunned. He had already been amazed at Jiang Baiye’s home, but compared to what lay before him now, this was enough to chatter about for days on end once he returned!

“This… this is really a workshop? It’s so huge?”

“Inside there are working areas and also resting quarters. For example, if you live in another town and it’s inconvenient sometimes, and the herbs urgently need processing, you can stay here for a few nights.”

There were communal bunks, washrooms, and even a simple kitchen—made so that people from other places would have a place to settle, saving them from wasted time traveling back and forth.

Additionally, Jiang Baiye had built two guest rooms, to be properly designed and decorated later. When the business grew, surely there would be clients visiting, and then they would come in handy.

He then led him inside to view the processing tools. Ding Yue’s reserve dissolved into excited exclamations: “This—this is a slicing knife? The blade is so thin!”

“Careful!” Jiang Baiye had only just warned when he nicked himself, yet he exclaimed in delight, “It’s so sharp! Must save a great deal of effort!”

This knife had been made using two fine iron ores Jiang Baiye had discovered in the mountains, mixed into the tools, making them harder, more durable, and sharper than most knives available.

Ding Yue moved about excitedly, touching this and that—from sorting tables to washing pools, to water-processing, fire-processing, water-and-fire combined processing. He saw countless methods, many he had never even heard of, displayed one by one before his eyes, and he itched to try them at once!

With so many complete and useful tools, he believed the herbs would be given the best treatment, transformed into top-grade medicinal materials.

Though he had not yet joined, he already imagined this workshop bustling and thriving, becoming the most irreplaceable existence in all of Changlin County.

One day, it might even step beyond Xuanhe Prefecture, becoming a resounding name…

Ding Yue had seen other processing workshops—either a row of huts behind a medicine hall where a few masters toiled, or a small shack cobbled together by a poor medicine farmer. Limited money meant crude tools, rough processing, and naturally, mediocre prices.

None could hold a candle to this. He could no longer imagine what such a grand workshop with so many tools would become.

“Well? Do you believe me now?” Jiang Baiye chuckled at his wide-eyed wonder.

“Believe? Of course I believe!” Not long ago he had been thinking of excuses to leave, but now he grew anxious in the opposite direction, fearing he might not be accepted. Still, he admitted honestly, “I only know how to use a few of these things…”

“I’ll bring in more helpers later. You won’t be alone. And I’ll teach you some methods—but there’s a condition.”

“What condition?” Ding Yue asked quickly, eyes shining with anticipation.

“Because many of these things don’t exist elsewhere, to protect the workshop’s basic interests, none of the tools, methods, or conditions here may be leaked. For that, you must sign a contract of ten years or more. You must work here ten years before you can leave.”

Jiang Baiye thought that in a few years, other workshops like his would surely rise, once they saw he was making money. But by then, he would already have secured much of the market, with no fear of rivals threatening his workshop’s position.

Ding Yue did not even ask about wages, but eagerly wanted to sign at once. “Ten years is too short. Why not twenty?” He wanted nothing more than to stay here for life, to make it his home.

Seeing his genuine passion for the craft, Jiang Baiye was even more welcoming. “In the early stage, you won’t receive wages while learning. By autumn, if you master all the tools and methods here, and can even teach the others, your wage will start at three taels.”

“T-three taels?”

Jiang Baiye wondered if it was too little. Averaged out, one hundred copper a day. For a master, indeed not much. But wages had to rise with the tide. Once he earned more, he could increase it.

Unexpectedly, Ding Yue beamed. “Shanyi Hall only offered me one tael! When I sell herbs, if the harvest is good, I might earn one or two taels in a month—at most three. In bad times, less than five hundred copper. Completely unstable. And my son’s tuition, books, brushes—just those cost two taels a month. Now my household will even have spare!”

He chattered excitedly, gratitude spilling over, no longer treating Jiang Baiye as an outsider.

But at the mention of Shanyi Hall, Jiang Baiye sensed trouble. Doctor Hu of Shanyi Hall was not a man of large heart.

Still, he was unafraid. So what if it was Shanyi Hall? Apart from that divine doctor who could cure Lu Lizhi, there was little remarkable about them.

“You’ve dealt with Shanyi Hall before, so clear it up quickly. I don’t want my people mingling with the rival side.” Jiang Baiye’s expression hardened. “If there’s any collusion, I’ll break your legs and throw you out. No discussion.”

Startled by his imposing air, Ding Yue realized why this yet-unbearded youth had such ability to establish a workshop of this scale.

As he left Qingshui, Steward Tian hurried up to “win him back.” “One and a half taels a month. Just help collect herbs for us, simple work.”

Ding Yue recalled their disdainful sneers, how they had belittled him to cut his wage. He almost blurted that he had now found a job starting at three taels, with Jiang Gongzi saying if he worked well, thirty wouldn’t be impossible.

Seeing his indifference, Steward Tian guessed he had already struck a deal with some “Jichun Medical Workshop,” and pressed on. “Five taels! Just tell me what you saw today.”

Five taels!

Ding Yue’s eyes widened. He thought of how Jiang Gongzi had said wages would only start in autumn, and how his family desperately needed money now. But he quickly shook his head. “Steward Tian, your family doesn’t do much with herbs. Working with Jichun Medical Workshop will only be easier. Why insist on prying into their affairs?”

Steward Tian gritted his teeth. “Because Shanyi Hall will be making medicine too!” It was true—the order had only just come from above. They were to open a new hall in the prefectural city. If they succeeded, they could move from this barren county into the capital!

“You’re short of money, aren’t you? Think of your son—hungry, shabby, scorned by classmates. With this money, his studies would be secure for some time. Just tell me: what is that workshop? Who’s behind it? Who runs it?”

But before he could finish, Ding Yue recoiled as if from filth. “Steward Tian, don’t come to me again. I won’t work for you, and I won’t take such ill-gotten wealth!” And he fled, afraid even a few more words might trap him.

He thought simply: he had signed that secrecy contract. Jiang Gongzi had said, if he broke it, at best his legs would be broken, at worst his son’s schooling ruined. And he fully believed he would do it.

Compared to that, money meant nothing. Even if Steward Tian offered ten taels, he might waver, but he would not act.

This was why Jiang Baiye, seeing his innate caution and timidity, had demanded such a contract.

Soon, his men reported back the entire encounter between Ding Yue and Steward Tian, along with Shanyi Hall’s plans to make medicine. Not surprising—Shanyi Hall’s fame was built on a few powerful remedies.

Now, they would indeed be rivals. Jiang Baiye would need to be more cautious.

“Brother Ye, should we keep watching him?” asked Xuanzi and Fang Li, the former street rogues now working for him. After their efforts in building adobe houses, Jiang Baiye had seen potential in them. Excited, they clearly preferred such surveillance work to construction.

“No need,” Jiang Baiye said. He would not be overly suspicious, living in constant paranoia. But proper measures were necessary, to keep his men in line.

In this era, the law was not so detailed in such matters. Force was tacitly accepted. Once these people became his workers, deterrence was required.

Yet Jiang Baiye preferred to win hearts with sincerity and tangible benefit, not act like a heartless capitalist.

He had them continue to observe the village’s movements, then returned home—or more precisely, to the Lu household—using the excuse of practicing calligraphy, grinning broadly.

When Lu Lizhi opened the door, he saw him leaning against the frame, a bright red flower between his lips, roguish and dashing, his smiling black eyes lifting the instant the door opened, focusing on him with utter seriousness. Lu Lizhi’s breath caught.

This man, truly, was dangerously charming.

“I saw it on the way. Maybe it’ll brighten your mood while you study.” Jiang Baiye offered the flower.

As Lu Lizhi wondered if he had plucked a bouquet for that young lady and left this single bloom behind—

“Just this one,” Jiang Baiye said, slipping it into his hand. Pleased, he admired how the delicate flower looked against those pale, slender fingers. “So beautiful.”

Even Lu Lizhi thought so. Unable to resist, he brought it to his nose. But the moment he caught its scent, his expression froze—it stank!

He hurled it back at Jiang Baiye, who picked it up in confusion. One sniff, and his face twisted oddly.

How could such a lovely blossom smell… like that?

He had held the stem between his teeth earlier, thinking it fragrant. Now, sniffing again, he quickly leaned in, eager to prove himself. “Smell this part, here—it is fragrant! Such a strange flower—the bloom stinks, the stem is sweet.”

Nostrils full of that bizarre odor, Lu Lizhi shoved him aside, sentencing him to copy characters. Seeing him submit obediently, even the book he had been struggling to read suddenly flowed effortlessly, a smile tugging at his lips.

That evening, Jiang Baiye stayed for dinner. Though only plain porridge with simple pickles, the congee had been simmered long and soft, each grain bursting with rich aroma.

Paired with Lu family’s secret pickled radish and tender young ginger, slightly spicy, Jiang Baiye downed three bowls in one breath. This time he praised it lavishly, words pouring without end.

“If I weren’t already full, I feel I could eat three more bowls!”

Lu Lizhi had him deliver some to He Shi and Jiang Dazhu.

After months of feasts of meat and fish, they had forgotten the comfort of porridge. One taste, and they were hooked.

“Not enough, not enough!” “Is there any more?”

Especially the pickles—they were instantly addicted. Shamelessly, they brought their bowls to Lu Lizhi’s door to beg for more.

He was only too glad to oblige. Just two days ago he had prepared two jars. Freshly pickled, still crisp, he gave them one whole jar. Delighted, He Shi cooked another pot of porridge herself. Though lacking Lu Lizhi’s finesse, with the pickles it was heavenly.

The following days, they ate porridge every meal, to Jiang Baiye’s meat-loving despair.

Meanwhile, at the headman’s house, long after He Shi’s visit, Madam Feng dismissively opened the gifts.

“Aren’t they just like Li Family Village, always domineering? My husband’s the headman, yet we have to follow them around just because they run a workshop!”

But then, seeing a perfectly shaped lingzhi mushroom, Madam Feng was dumbstruck. “Is… is this a thousand-year lingzhi?”

“A-a thousand years?” Her younger sister’s hand trembled. “Impossible. At Shanyi Hall I saw a huge one said to be a thousand years. This little one—surely only decades old?”

“Still, how much must it be worth! Heaven forbid it’s just a mushroom.” They gasped in ignorance. Lingzhi they knew not, but mushrooms they did, and this was no mushroom. “Tomorrow we’ll take it to town and see its value!”

They tore open the rest eagerly—two taels of silver, fine pastries from Yipin Su, fruits, even two catties of rare red sugar!

“What generosity!”

He Shi had prepared these knowing how doted upon that girl was. If not for the earlier bribery scandal, she would have also prepared a gift for the headman himself.

But Madam Feng was secretly dissatisfied. That boy had never given their family so much.

Her sister sniffed. “Even so, he must come in person to apologize. Our Lan’er has never suffered such humiliation!”

“Best not. That Jiang Baiye is a rough one. If he set eyes on Lan’er, he’d never let go.”

Recalling his domineering manner, she scowled. “As if!”

Still, Madam Feng thought of her niece’s beauty, her feelings mixed. She despised Jiang Baiye, insisting her daughter marry a scholar with family background. But she had once thought he liked Yujiao.

If Lan’er could marry him, it might not be so bad. To give such lavish gifts so casually—how wealthy was he?

When she suggested it, her sister refused outright. “My Lan’er must marry into office. But… if he were willing to marry into our family, perhaps.”

Her sister herself had married a man who joined her household, and though he had made some success, she and her daughter had long squandered it away. She would never admit as much.

The two sisters schemed, while in another room, Wang Yujiao and Feng Lan’er, long-separated cousins, chatted happily deep into the night.

But Lan’er constantly mentioned Jiang Baiye, eager for details.

“How old is he? What kind of man? Is he engaged?” When her cousin fell silent, Lan’er pouted. “Don’t tell me he already has children?”

“No,” Wang Yujiao said, worried. “But…”

“Wonderful! I knew he wasn’t married!” Lan’er clenched her fists, determined. “Good cousin, tell me more. I must know him inside and out before I settle accounts with him!”

Seeing her indignation, Wang Yujiao held her tongue. Lan’er, ever proud, had surely never been treated so before.

“Jiang Baiye—many call him Jiang Er—originally of the Jiang family…”

She recounted bit by bit. At first merely an observer, but reviewing his past and his recent actions, her heart filled with envy.

This man truly lived free as the wind, master of his fate.

On June 7th, under bright skies, Qingshui Village bustled with tranquil activity.

“Baiye, heading to town?” a villager with a hoe waved as their cart rolled past.

He Shi poked her head out. “We’re off to the county to buy fresh ingredients for tomorrow’s banquet!”

“Go early and return safe. Don’t buy too much—we can’t finish it all.”

“Just be sure the wine is enough—we’ll drink to our fill!” shouted another, sparking laughter.

Jiang Baiye tugged the reins with a grin. “Sit tight, Lizhi—yah!”

“Brat! Your father’s not even seated!” Jiang Dazhu nearly tumbled across the cart, saved only by Da Huang acting as a cushion.

Any villager who saw their cart full of people and a dog would assume they were out on a picnic, not buying supplies.

Fortunately, Uncle Luo had agreed to haul people and goods back later.

After dropping his parents in the county, Jiang Baiye took Lu Lizhi and Da Huang to the prefectural city, heading once more to West Street for fish and seafood.

Passing Yongyuan Bookshop, Lizhi collected another fifty taels. A new storybook had been released, and customers streamed in without end.

In short order, Yongyuan had rented the failing shop next door, expanding into a full hall dedicated to storybooks, hanging a bold new sign, making the Yun Jian Bookshop across the street envious.

Unbeknownst to Lu Lizhi, many scholars bought his books. Especially Jiang Yueming, frustrated and depressed of late, who had spent every coin taken from Wang Yujiao to buy complete sets of Night Shocking Heaven, Chaotic Flowers Cut, and Questioning the Gallant. He read them over and over, nearly obsessed.

In the tales of downtrodden men rising in brilliance, he fantasized about soaring himself, burning with uncontrollable passion!

He longed to meet this “Gentleman Qingyuan,” to see what manner of man could write such stirring stories, create such moving characters.

And he was not alone. Others too were watching in secret.

If Jiang Yueming knew that Questioning the Gallant had been written by Lu Lizhi with Jiang Baiye in mind, even using him partly as a model, he might have coughed blood on the spot.

Lizhi thought Baiye would head straight to West Street, but he stopped at Huichun Hall.

“Doctor Meng, I’ve come to deliver a formal invitation, and also to leave Da Huang here…”

When Baiye returned, Lizhi looked anxiously at the empty space behind him, tugging his sleeve in worry. Was Da Huang ill?

Baiye coughed lightly. “It’s Da Huang’s private matter. Don’t interfere.”

Private matter? Even a dog had private matters? Lizhi, concerned, pressed further.

“Matchmaking. Da Huang’s courting the little bitch at Huichun Hall.”

Matchmaking? Lizhi blinked blankly.

Baiye lowered his voice, husky. “Breeding. Understand?”

“I’ve lent Da Huang for the bitch to bear his pups

. Don’t know if he’ll be chosen though…”

Lizhi barely heard the rest. He understood the word breeding, but from Baiye’s lips, it felt utterly different.

When they reached the fish market, Baiye began a frenzy of purchasing. Last time was just to sample. This time, dozens of large black fish for pickled fish, fifty bass for steaming, small yellowfish for frying—children would love them.

At the counter, Lizhi was quicker to hand over silver. He had saved much, and as a friend, he could not let Baiye bear the burden alone.

Baiye did not argue. If Lizhi were the sort to freeload, he would never have poured his heart out to him like this.

Human hearts are flesh. When effort goes unreciprocated, it becomes painful and meaningless.

Thus, every response from Lizhi, however small, made Baiye rejoice, and spurred him to give more, longing for even fuller returns.

Together they swept the fish market from end to end—fish, shrimp, crabs, shellfish, seaweed, all.

Baiye followed behind, laden with more and more, watching Lizhi bustle ahead for him, buying, carrying. He noticed little habits—buying extra of what he liked, lingering before sea urchins, unable to move on.

Clad in white, delicate as a celestial fallen into the mortal world, he stood in that messy, fishy street like a being touched by smoke and fire.

When he turned back, his pale eyes glowed with unguarded joy.

Baiye halted, heart melting utterly. With a smile, he swept the stall clean of sea urchins.

He even insisted on paying himself—so that he might be worthy of that pleading gaze.

Here, sea urchins were called “sea hedgehogs.” Few knew how to eat them, their strange looks turning customers away. The vendor had struggled, cracking them open to tempt tasters.

Passersby grimaced—until Baiye bought the lot. Called a “fool with money,” they stirred a buzz through the fish market.

That day, every stall knew of the lavish patron, sweeping their goods and paying handsomely. In the end, they had bought so much it required two more carts to haul back.

While the food was loaded, Baiye also bought two large iron woks, to set up temporary stoves, and hired a few restaurant cooks to help in Qingshui.

After all, with half the village and guests from elsewhere, he estimated over a hundred people. And among them, distinguished guests like Doctor Sun, Doctor Meng, and even the town mayor.

But he couldn’t just prepare for a hundred. Better to cook more, to be safe.

Busy, yes—but this banquet had to be grand. It would be Qingshui’s first big splash.

“Almost forgot fireworks.” Baiye smacked his head, dragging Lizhi (pacified by a candied haw) to a firecracker shop, buying half a cartload.

Vegetables and fruits were plenty—from their garden and gifts from neighbors. Meat and wine his parents had already bought. Thinking it through, everything was ready. Time to fetch Da Huang.

Doctor Meng sighed as they arrived. “You’d better comfort him.”

Baiye: “…” Just as expected—Da Huang had been rejected. Now he moped, soul shattered.

When he saw them, he wagged his tail listlessly, eyes still on the proud little bitch. His dog’s heart lay in ruins.

Lizhi tugged Baiye’s sleeve, silently urging gentleness.

Baiye asked Meng, “Shall we leave him here two more days, let them bond?”

Meng agreed. But the moment they left, Da Huang bolted after, leaping onto their cart, barking disdainfully behind him—I’m done with her!

Doctor Meng twitched his lips. Did he just understand a dog’s feelings?

Yet after Da Huang left, the little bitch lost her appetite, disbelieving he had truly gone.

On the road, Baiye mused, “Didn’t know Da Huang knew how to play hard to get. Next time, he’ll surely succeed.”

Listening to his booming, smug laugh, Lizhi’s mind spun with his words—breeding, bearing pups—and his body grew hot, conjuring images he dared not dwell on.

By dusk, they returned. He Shi and Jiang Dazhu were already bustling. Women washed vegetables and scrubbed pots, men hauled tables and benches, filling not only the Jiang yard but also Uncle Luo’s and even Lu’s front space.

“Changshui, there’ll be two hundred people! One pot isn’t enough!” Jiang Dazhu fretted, pacing like an ant on a hot pan.

Though Baiye had never managed such numbers—in modern times, large gatherings were booked at restaurants—he was untroubled.

He had bought seafood for just this. A massive garlic seafood stew would be the centerpiece—one pot, hearty and convenient.

Seafood required much prep, but he had arranged help. To keep food fresh, all meat had to be cooked tonight. Boil, steam, braise—everything.

It would take all night, with villagers helping, to ensure the banquet ran smoothly.

When he asked, everyone volunteered eagerly. The Jiang family was no longer outcasts but at the heart of the village.

Madam Feng arrived to gawk at the commotion, dragging her sister. Seeing the Jiang family still lived in an earthen house, her powdered face soured. “Still mud huts? Then his workshop must be tiny! You lied!”

Her sister snorted. “Wait until you see. You’ll be shocked. But it’s far, and late. Tomorrow.”

Secretly, she thought any woman who married Jiang Baiye would never lack for luxury.

The aroma wafting already had her salivating.

Her sister, too, could hardly resist. “Smells as good as a restaurant. Let’s go taste some.”

She marched over, boldly ladling a bowl of braised pork. “Ah, there you are! I’ve been looking for you. My Lan’er’s ankle is worse…”

Seeing her full bowl, He Shi’s face tightened. She could not tell her to put it back, but said evenly, “If it’s serious, hire a doctor. The two taels I gave should suffice, plus the lingzhi, sweets, fruit, red sugar—they’ll more than nurse her back.”

The crowd was shocked. He had already compensated, and generously. They had thought he had hit her and fled. And yet here she was, helping herself to their meat!

Madam Feng pulled her sister away, embarrassed. “Are we so poor we need their scraps? Tomorrow you’ll eat plenty!”

“But it’s so fragrant! As good as a restaurant!” she giggled, biting a piece, nearly devouring the bowl on the spot.

Others, too, struggled against temptation. But Baiye told them to eat a little, for strength.

“Don’t eat it all before it’s ready. What banquet would be left? We’re not so greedy as to spoil tomorrow!” Uncle Luo declared. Though exhausted, he set up a temporary stove, even bringing his own firewood.

Such was the simplicity of villagers—capable of kindness or meanness, but once bound by work and livelihood, loyalty grew.

He hoped his son, with a cart one day, could join the workshop too.

Uncle Luo’s words quelled cravings. Everyone worked harder.

Meanwhile, Baiye busied himself. Fortunately, he had dug a well at home, now useful.

When Lizhi came with a bucket, unable to read or rest amid the clamor, Baiye felt a pang. “Go home. We’ve plenty of hands. You’ve toiled all day with me.”

Lizhi disliked crowds, and indeed, he had heard whispers earlier. Though now a licentiate, no longer scorned as before, still, the thought of such talk stung.

Shaking his head, he stubbornly fetched more water.

Seeing his mood, Baiye handed the stoves to his mother and the others, and dragged him home instead.

“Your stove is requisitioned. No refusals!” he declared playfully.

Lizhi’s eyes softened. At home, though the noise outside persisted, here was his own space. Only him and Baiye. He felt at ease, even rolling up sleeves to tend the fire.

But Baiye, gazing at his pale arm, could not bear it. He lit the fire himself, set the wood, and sat Lizhi down. “Just watch. Don’t move.”

Lizhi, helpless, obeyed, wary of ruining the dish.

They worked smoothly together. Baiye fetched ingredients, cooked, and served. Meats were mostly braised, easy to reheat.

In this heat, storing meat was hard. He thought to make ice in winter, to keep for summer.

As he cooked, he fed Lizhi tastes of each dish. Only with his nod did he deem them complete.

Thus the night wore on. Outside, the villagers finished their labors, weary and yawning, dispersing to rest for tomorrow.

Baiye laughed softly, moved. He felt more at home in this world, bound by more ties each day.

When he returned to Lu’s kitchen, he found Lizhi dozing by the stove, his profile pale as jade, softened by firelight. Emotion surged like a storm tide.

This time, unable to restrain himself, Baiye knelt and drew him into his arms.

The overwhelming satisfaction made him sigh. Lightly, he brushed back damp hair, his lips grazing the youth’s temple, inhaling his faint scent, until finally, he yielded, pressing them to his smooth forehead.

The next morning, Lu Lizhi awoke suddenly in bed. After long thought, he recalled dozing by the stove.

But how had he returned here?

He could only faintly remember being lifted, gently, preciously, as though cradled like a fragile treasure.

He was lost in thought.

By breakfast, villagers had come again to help.

Thanks to last night’s prep, vegetables were washed, meats precooked. The Jiang family bustled easily. Jiang Dazhu, freed, was forced to greet arriving guests.

At first, with familiar villagers, he managed. But soon, headmen and clan elders from other villages, Doctors Sun and Meng, Huichun Hall’s owner, even the town mayor arrived—alongside richly dressed, imposing strangers.

For Jiang Dazhu, painfully shy, it was unbearable.

What on earth was happening? Why had so many come?

Author’s Note:
Sorry for the delay—the last two days, I wasn’t satisfied with what I wrote.