HE With the Cold Male Protagonist C52

Chapter 52: A Date, Mingli Academy

Jiang Baiye endured for several more days, nearly driving himself mad—body and mind alike.

Fortunately, during these days, Ronghua and Fugui had been following him into the mountains daily. Not only had they grown familiar with the routes, but they could also handle several wild beasts they encountered without his intervention. Soon, they no longer needed him watching over them every day.

The workshop was slowly taking off, and the village helpers had gone from complete chaos at the start to gradually getting the hang of things.

In addition, his silver ear fungus had nearly finished drying and could be sold. Jiang Baiye found his excuse, came up with an idea, and immediately invited Lu Lizhi to go with him to the prefectural city.

This time, even his parents couldn’t object.

After several days of staying at home buried in study, Lu Lizhi was finally going out again. His cold, refined features revealed no trace of change.

“Lizhi, we haven’t seen each other for days, right?” Jiang Baiye’s eyes bent with a smile, itching to hug, to kiss, to breathe in the fragrance of his wife.

Lu Lizhi: “?”

Hadn’t they been seeing each other every day? It was just that both were busy, their time together short, sometimes even missing each other by coincidence. Still, Lu Lizhi hadn’t taken the initiative to stop him.

He lowered his eyes, his expression hard to read, and boarded the carriage.

“If you don’t hurry, you’ll get back too late and won’t return before dusk!” Madam He urged, annoyed at his dawdling.

Jiang Baiye’s dark eyes lit up. Wasn’t that exactly what he wanted? Besides, he indeed had things to tell Lizhi.

Inside the carriage, Lu Lizhi looked at the pile of herbs stacked in the corner, their faintly bitter scent mirroring the bitterness in his heart.

Jiang Baiye wanted to say something, but thinking of today’s plans and how bumpy the ride was—hard to hear anything—he snapped the reins and sped up instead.

When they arrived at Huichun Hall, it was only mid-morning.

Jiang Baiye thought Lu Lizhi would stay in the carriage, but as soon as he stopped, he had already alighted and was standing under a tree waiting for him. That upright, elegant figure was truly a sight for sore eyes!

At once, the unease and irritation weighing on Baiye’s heart vanished. Happily, he carried down several prepared herbs. “Let’s go. We should be able to get quite a bit for these this time.”

He hadn’t sold the silver ear to Doctor Sun’s pharmacy—Sun specialized in common folk’s medicine, while silver ear could only bring real profit if sold to noble households. Otherwise, Sun wouldn’t even count it among his “good medicines.”

Sure enough, as he expected, the people at Huichun Hall gasped the moment they saw his silver ear. “Th-this… this also came from Daheng Mountain!?”

“So many? How can there be so many, and each one so fine!” Doctor Meng too admired them. His temperament was much like Doctor Sun’s, which explained their close friendship—neither cared much for “commercial value.”

Otherwise, Baiye could already have turned wild silver ear into cultivated silver ear, mass-producing it. But he didn’t intend to—didn’t want to seem like a vulgar profiteer and lose favor with the doctors.

The hall’s shopkeeper and two stewards sent to check the accounts, however, were overjoyed to the point of nearly dancing. “These are extremely rare and precious on the market! Each one plump, beautiful, first-rate quality. How do you plan to sell them?”

“How do you usually buy them?” Jiang Baiye wasn’t sure.

They had clearly been instructed by the He family beforehand and didn’t haggle. They gave him an honest price: “The largest, best-quality ones, ten taels each; the medium-sized ones, five taels; the incomplete ones, three taels. But if fresh, they’d fetch even more!”

“Fresh ones don’t keep well—if spoiled, they could even cause problems.”

“True, that’s exactly why they’re so expensive. Those nobles think fresh is best—the price lies in its rarity and the sense of status it gives.”

But the savvy knew: dried ones were just as good. Placed in a fine box, they could be resold at double the price to the gentry.

Jiang Baiye had brought twenty large, thirty-odd medium, and a dozen small ones picked by Ronghua and Fugui. In one go, they sold for four hundred taels.

Doctor Meng, watching, felt uneasy. Such easy money—would Baiye be able to resist the temptation, and not just focus on this alone?

Then Baiye opened another bag, startling him.

“Eh—aren’t these the very herbs I told you about last time?” The old man perked up, handling them with care.

“This is our first batch of produced medicine. Please take a look.” Baiye smiled.

“Need you even ask?” Doctor Meng examined them inside and out, sniffed, pinched, even tasted. He nodded repeatedly. “Better than our own work! Master Qian and the others must have improved greatly under you. If you hadn’t said it was your first batch, I’d have believed you picked only the best!”

“Took a fair bit of effort though.”

The two chatted happily. Lu Lizhi stood aside, listening, invited by the shopkeeper to sit and drink tea, but declined.

His heart was unsettled. He realized how much he had overlooked, all the things he had questioned countless times, dismissed only because Jiang Baiye had barged into his life with his roguish ways.

Like the knowledge and experience he now displayed—details Lizhi himself had no way of knowing.

Though, indeed, Baiye had never hidden his unusualness…

As they were talking, Doctor Meng suddenly remembered something. “How’s the decoction for calming the mind and clearing heat? Have you been relieved?”

Jiang Baiye nearly choked. Why bring up such an embarrassing matter! Instinctively, he glanced toward Lizhi—who was looking elsewhere. Relieved, he thought he hadn’t heard.

But Lizhi had heard every word. His fists clenched. He remembered that time they’d seen the doctor together—Baiye already had this problem.

It seemed, in that regard, he had an urgent need.

Baiye tried to change the subject, but Doctor Meng said gravely, “This isn’t something to neglect. Prolonged strain can harm the entire body…”

Lizhi’s breath caught. Would it damage his health?

Baiye, scolded, had no choice but to let him take his pulse. The medicine had indeed helped a lot—only made him feel like some crazed bug had crawled into his brain.

But only because of that one person did he react so strongly.

Otherwise, he was like a monk—pure and ascetic.

In the end, Doctor Meng repeated, “It’s still best to seek relief as soon as possible…”

Jiang Baiye: “…”

That batch of medicine, judged excellent, sold for another hundred taels. Baiye left with five hundred in notes, leaving four hundred behind.

“This is for Ronghua and Fugui’s wages. Please also thank Master He and Steward He for sending such dependable men—it’s been a great relief.”

He’d wanted to ask about the He family’s decision but knew such things couldn’t be spoken of lightly.

Before leaving, he suddenly remembered something and eagerly pulled Lizhi to the courtyard. “Look, Wangcai and Dahuang have pups now.”

Lizhi, distracted, froze, seeing the once-proud little bitch now unusually docile, her belly round and full—just as Baiye had predicted.

His feelings grew complex, embarrassed. Somehow, he unconsciously connected himself with the dog—as though he too would be “had” sooner or later.

His chest tightened. Hadn’t he already decided—so long as he had worth, even being used by Baiye, he would accept it?

“Lizhi?” Baiye noticed his unease.

Lizhi shook his head, hurrying out. But inside, his heart was being cut to pieces. He tried to comfort himself that it wasn’t so, yet remembered their first meeting—how Baiye had approached him, step by step, as if with a plan…

When Baiye brought him near Yongyuan Bookstore, Lizhi shook his head again. He hadn’t come to the city for any other matter—only to find out some truths.

Baiye was surprised to learn he had come just to accompany him. Then overjoyed. “Lizhi, you’re wonderful! Since it’s still early, why don’t we go on a date?”

A date?

Baiye took him to a bustling restaurant. It was noon, crowded with customers. But Baiye had prepared, giving Ding Yue’s name.

“Please, upstairs to the best private room. The second floor has the finest spot for listening to storytelling!” The waiter ushered them with great enthusiasm, serving fine fruits and snacks before hurrying off.

Lizhi, still dazed, was pulled to the railing. Below, on a raised platform, an old man in a long gown struck his clapper, a folded fan in his other hand. As the room quieted, he began to speak with humor and drama.

Lizhi’s attention was soon caught. The man spoke and sang, his cadence rising and falling, gripping everyone as he brought to life famous figures and thrilling tales. The crowd was enraptured—cheering, sighing, too enthralled even to eat. Clearly, many had come just for the performance.

At intermission, as the old man drank water, the hall filled with chatter, many discussing the stories, others offering tips.

Just then, Baiye’s gentle voice murmured by his ear. “After so much studying, you need to come out and relax.”

He reached toward a strand of Lizhi’s ink-black hair that had slipped loose.

Lizhi reacted sharply, evading, his feelings surging once again.

So close—he had nearly let himself be lulled into sweetness again.

But Baiye, deceived by the subtlety of his evasion, noticed nothing. His eyes glowed as he looked below. “Say, what if we gave your storybooks to storytellers like him?”

Lizhi instantly understood the idea. There was money in it.

“Right now, storytellers only use rumors or tales they hear. Few are truly exciting, so they repeat the same story endlessly until the audience grows tired.”

“But if your stories were given to them, then merchants, even common folk who can’t read, would all come to know Lord Qingyuan, and the characters you’ve created!”

“Of course, the money would be considerable too. After all, your works are far more thrilling!” Baiye said proudly.

No writer didn’t want their work widely known. Lizhi was no exception. More importantly, he needed silver—not to be kept by Baiye’s money.

His eyes lowered, excitement hard to conceal. He scolded himself—wasn’t he supposed to be angry? Yet he kept sinking deeper, and that frightened him.

As though without vigilance, he would suffer a painful fall.

“This afternoon, I’ll talk with Shopkeeper Ning?”

Lizhi thought to handle it himself—Baiye was already busy enough.

Noticing his constant refusal, Baiye realized he was resisting something. He reached to grab his hand, meaning to bring up the book—but Lizhi quickly withdrew, looking past him.

The waiter was bringing two people their way.

It was Ding Yue, who had reserved the room, and his son Ding Lihui, a student at Mingli Academy, soon to take the provincial exam.

Ding Lihui frowned. “Father, why bring me to such a place?”

“Hush!” Ding Yue warned, hastily leading him to pay respects to Baiye.

But Ding Lihui’s eyes widened. “Eh? Lu Lizhi?”

They had both taken the children’s exam that year and been top scorers in the local trials. How could he not recognize him? He wanted to speak, but his father pressed him down to bow to Baiye.

Ding Lihui, baffled, wondered why Lizhi was sitting so close to his father’s employer.

Lizhi didn’t know him but recognized the academy uniform.

Though he seemed to bury himself in books, he kept an ear out for exam matters. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have known when his own qualification was revoked.

Thanks to his meeting with Prefect Yan, he’d learned of the new education commissioner, ensuring he could sit the exam safely.

But…

“I heard that for the provincial exam, child students must vouch for one another. You’re still short one, aren’t you?” Baiye asked.

“How do you know?” Ding Lihui blurted out, then shrank back under his father’s scolding.

Naturally, Baiye had inquired. He knew Lizhi still lacked a sponsor, though five mutual vows among students could suffice too.

But what a coincidence—this Ding Lihui, disliked at Mingli Academy. Among wealthy sons, his poverty made him an outcast. He had barely scraped together a group of equally poor and excluded peers—but still lacked one.

Lizhi suddenly realized something and looked at Baiye. Ding Lihui too looked at him, face red. “We—we’ll find someone. We can’t miss the exam because of this…”

Ding Yue, only just learning, broke out in a sweat. “What are we to do?”

Then Lihui’s eyes lit up as he turned to Lizhi—yet dimmed again. Surely someone like Lu Tongsheng had already been taken in.

Besides, joining their outcast group would only bring more scorn.

But Lizhi felt as if fate had lined everything up. He looked at Baiye deeply, then rose and walked toward Lihui.

Baiye noticed the look—laden with meaning. Was Lizhi blaming him for meddling too much?

After all, he could have solved things on his own, but Baiye couldn’t help wanting him spared hardship.

As he fretted, Lihui whispered uncertainly, “You… you mean, you’ll join us as our guarantor?”

Lizhi nodded. This person knew him, yet held no prejudice—that was enough.

But he couldn’t ignore whose hand had arranged all this. Baiye seemed to know him through and through, without a gap left…

Lihui nearly wept with joy, but as he turned to warn Lizhi of the troubles that came with joining them, voices rose outside. Startled, he dashed over and slammed the door shut.

The noise was loud enough to draw notice. A group of Mingli Academy students paused outside. “Huh? Did I just see one of our academy boys?”

“Looked like that fat Ding Lihui, didn’t it?”

Lihui’s face flushed red. He wasn’t fat—just round-faced!

As his father prepared to scold him, the door was knocked on. Lihui almost jumped, then braced himself against it.

“Ha, it really is him!”

“No way. This private room is pricey. Him? Worthy?”

“True enough.” They chuckled and left. Ding Yue, however, burned with anger. “How dare they! What cruelty!”

“Father, please—you can’t cause trouble, not with your employer here!” Lihui begged.

Baiye now understood why the boy suffered so much—he was even more timid than his father. Only hiding and avoiding—no wonder he was bullied worse.

Before Baiye could think of a way to stand up for them, the waiter returned, leading in none other than Shopkeeper Zhang from Huichun Hall, looking anxious.

“Master Jiang, our master and the second young master urgently request you!”

“You eat without me,” Baiye said, realizing something serious had happened.

Lizhi instinctively rose to follow but was pressed down. “Sorry, I couldn’t spend more time with you. Talk with them a while.”

Though uneasy, Lizhi could only nod—waiting for his return, and for him to reveal just how much he knew about him…

As Baiye left with Shopkeeper Zhang, he overheard noise from the next room. He slipped a silver ingot to the waiter. “Don’t bother shutting the door when you serve food. Bring all the best dishes to this room. And—can you invite the storyteller to perform here privately?”

The waiter’s eyes lit up at the silver. “Yes, of course, sir!”

Baiye chuckled, giving him more. “Make sure nothing goes wrong.”

“Rest assured, sir—I’ll see to it!” The waiter was quick-witted, immediately grasping his intent.

Shopkeeper Zhang, watching Baiye issue orders with such speed and composure, felt his own nerves ease.

“What’s the matter exactly?” Baiye asked.

“The owner of Shanyi Hall has come…”

Before long, Lizhi experienced Baiye’s methods firsthand. Money moved mountains. Not only was the storyteller invited up, but the restaurant’s shopkeeper personally served them dish after dish. The waiter too, after being generously rewarded, called them honored guests, so everyone in the building soon knew there were distinguished patrons in this room.

The Mingli students next door were also alerted. They had come to hear stories, but the session had just ended, and they’d been waiting.

Then the storyteller was called to the next room instead.

They had never heard of such a rule. Disappointed, ready to leave, one of their sycophants went to pry and returned shocked: Ding Lihui, whom they had just mocked, was inside feasting on a tableful of delicacies!

Beside him sat a strikingly handsome man—none other than Lu Lizhi, whom they had scorned before.

Even more outrageous: a waiter stood by to serve them, and the storyteller was preparing to begin.

What—were they dreaming?

“How could this be?” Their informal leader, Lu Qinghong, came out and frowned. “Such selfishness! So many waiting to hear stories, and they monopolize it all!”

The shopkeeper, passing by, quickly tried to smooth things over. “It’s just that many have already heard one round and are dining or gone. They gave enough money… I hope you scholars will understand—we are a business…”

He looked apologetic. The students scoffed. One, standing near Lu Qinghong, snorted.

“So, if we gave enough silver, we could have the storyteller to ourselves too?”

This one was Yu Zhijie, Jiang Yueming’s former friend. He suspected Yue Ming’s downfall was linked to Lu Lizhi, and now to see him flaunting himself—it infuriated him.

“How much did they pay? We’ll double it!”

“Twenty taels,” the waiter interjected. In truth, it wasn’t that much, but he had promised Baiye, and anyone connected to the He family’s Huichun Hall was not to be offended.

The shopkeeper glared at him but didn’t refute it—perhaps more money could be made.

But he overestimated them.

“Twenty—twenty taels for a story? Madness!” Yu Zhijie burst out, face reddening, turning helplessly to Lu Qinghong.

But Lu Qinghong couldn’t produce forty taels either. Yu Zhijie’s bravado had dragged him into trouble. If it had been twenty-some taels, perhaps he could’ve managed—though it felt a waste.

“Forget it. I’ve no interest in such tales. Better to go back and write my own.” He spoke loftily, even refusing lunch, and left.

The others hesitated, then raised their voices deliberately toward Lizhi’s room.

“What’s so great about these stories? Same old, repeated a hundred times—only the ignorant find them novel! We have Lord Qingyuan with us, new tales every day!”

Lord Qingyuan himself: “…”