HE With the Cold Male Protagonist C65

Chapter 65: False Tidings, A Match Proposed

“The flood-diversion canal,” Magistrate Wang explained, “is meant to redirect the waters when the river swells. Most of the year it runs dry and unnoticed, like the little gullies around our village. But when the rains come, it carries off the overflowing river and stormwater so our fields and homes aren’t washed away.”

The two young men remained silent, so he continued patiently.

“I’ve seen such matters firsthand. In my youth I served under Master Lu—Lizhi’s grandfather. He taught me much, even the little literacy I picked up came from studying alongside Lizhi’s father.”

He sighed. “But the canal ordered by the Court this time is no humble ditch. The southern lands drown almost every summer. Endless rain, endless floods—countless lives lost and prosperity held back. You both know Jiangnan is the wealthiest region under Heaven. To protect it, the Court now looks to poorer, undeveloped areas like ours… and plans to send the excess water here.”

He drew a breath. “Which means the prefectures around us are designated as flood-receiving districts.”

Flood districts—lands meant to take the blow. In Jiangnan, where water ruled without mercy, someone always had to be sacrificed. Even in modern times, the logic remained: sacrifice the small to preserve the great.

In Baiye’s previous life, the chosen flood zones had been barren expanses—yet even then, farmland was swallowed whole. Such was Heaven’s cruelty; few could resist it.

“The information I’ve gathered is this,” Wang concluded quietly. “Baishi Town and its villages are likely within the designated flood zone.”

His calm voice hit the two men like a lightning crack.

Jiang Baiye shot to his feet. “Impossible!”

“There are countless families in Baishi! If the floodwaters were released here—”

He stopped mid-sentence as a sharp thought cut across his mind. “Qin Chunquan?”

Could that man possibly wield such reach?

Meanwhile, inside Shanyao Hall’s dispensary, Qin Chunquan was unleashing his fury on the assembled apothecaries.

“Useless fools! Can you not tell the difference? Have I taught you nothing? What is the point of keeping a pack of wastrels like you?”

The men trembled. They had always thought the second master gentle—but when anger struck, he was terrifying.

Just as quickly, Qin restrained himself, smoothing his expression and even bowing.

“My apologies, gentlemen. It’s only that Jichun Pharmacy has become everyone’s first choice. In my haste, my manners slipped…”

The apothecaries waved their hands frantically. “No, Second Master, you’re right. We’ll work harder.”

But inwardly, their spirits sank. Craftsmanship could achieve much, but only at the cost of silver, labor, and time. Efficiency would crumble. And Steward Dong pressed them every day for higher output. Under such pressure, perfection was nearly impossible.

Qin pressed on anyway. “But Jichun manages it! Their production keeps growing but their quality never drops.”

If Jichun had only produced small batches, he wouldn’t worry. There were a dozen ways to crush a shop like that. No idiot would willingly sacrifice profit for quality; he’d seen such fools before and ruined them easily.

But Jichun—rising out of nowhere and dominating the entire Xuānhe Prefecture in such a short time—made even Qin, a seasoned merchant, uneasy.

“They must have some secret technique,” he muttered. “I’ll find out what it is…”

One elder apothecary, frowning over a sample of Jichun’s medicine, admitted, “Their work is far more refined than ours—and cheaper. Who wouldn’t choose them?”

After the apothecaries left, Steward Dong sneered. “Let them puzzle it out. By the time they do, Shanyao will be finished.”

A deputy ventured, “Shouldn’t we retreat to another region?”

Dong shot him a glare. “You understand nothing of Shanyao Hall!”

Shanyao never retreated. Closing even one branch was humiliation.

Qin had traveled from the capital for one purpose: to restore their prestige and remind every rival that Shanyao’s supremacy must not be questioned.

Yet even he frowned. “Now I understand why Doctor Hu grew desperate…”

Dong brightened, but Qin waved him off. That man was not to be touched—not yet.

Fortunately, Shanyao had another long-standing practice: if you cannot surpass your rival, you seize what he has—by any means.

“How goes the rumor about the flood zone?”

“It’s already reached the village headman. They’re in a panic.”

Qin finally smiled—the first time in days. “Make sure that boy knows this was our doing. Then he’ll crawl here to beg.”

The threat was clear: the villagers’ lives, the workshop, Mount Daheng itself—all could be saved, so long as Baiye handed over his secret method.

But Qin didn’t know Baiye had already guessed. On their way home, Baiye told Lizhi, “In my previous life, the Court never designated our area as a flood zone. Only Qin Chunquan could orchestrate such a change. No one else has the reach.”

Lizhi tried to calm him. “Prefect Yan never mentioned this. It’s likely false. If even the prefect doesn’t know, how would Magistrate Wang?”

Yes—if the prefect was unaware but the village headman heard first, the whole thing reeked of manipulation.

A false report—crafted to deceive.

If not for Baiye’s rebirth and Lizhi’s earned favor with high officials, the villagers would have believed it fully.

Even Magistrate Wang had been preparing for the worst—planning to relocate the entire village. Without compensation, they would become wanderers with no home.

“But even if it were true,” Baiye said with a scoff, “it wouldn’t change overnight. Do they take us for idiots?”

The canal project had been planned for years; routes thoroughly surveyed. Shanyao Hall could not simply tweak national policy at whim to drown Baishi—and for a man as obscure as him? Laughable.

Lizhi relaxed a little, though being treated as a fool was infuriating. And that Wang had been tricked so easily… left a sour taste.

“But Lizhi,” Baiye stopped, turning toward him, eyes burning with resolve, “I’m going to act. I won’t sit back anymore. Will you help me? It might delay your own plans.”

Lizhi met his gaze steadily. He already knew what Baiye intended—and he trusted him.

But before either could speak further, voices rose around them.

“Isn’t that Scholar Lu?”

“No, no—call him San Yuan! Little Triple-First today, future Great Triple-First tomorrow!”

A crowd quickly formed, offering congratulations. Lizhi, uncomfortable under such warmth, could only endure it. Once, when his father lived, their family had enjoyed similar respect. His grandfather had been held in great esteem. Perhaps… he could carry that legacy.

“Ah, Lizhi, what happened to your neck? So many marks—mosquito bites?” an elder asked.

Lizhi: “…”

The culprit answered calmly, “Yes, see? I have some here on my neck too.”

And he actually pointed.

Lizhi: “!”

Shameless! He bolted.

“Lizhi, wait for me!”

“Ha! Such close brothers. Perhaps they’ll be in-laws someday.”

“Hush! Madam Feng is already furious—you’ll set her off again!”

“I, Wang Erfeng, will never agree!”

“Nor I!” squeaked a child. “Brother Lizhi belongs to Brother Baiye!”

“Shoo, child!” his mother yelped, covering his mouth.

Yet once the words were spoken, the crowd fell silent—curious, thoughtful.

If even a child saw it clearly… then surely the adults had long noticed. And surprisingly—they weren’t opposed. Whether for the workshop’s prosperity or for Lizhi’s scholarly triumph—they almost seemed approving.

“Heh! You celebrate now, but you don’t know you must each pay twenty taels to redeem a man from corvée labor! You think every household can afford that?”

“What!?”

Everyone turned to Madam Feng in horror.

“Has Jiang Er not told you? I thought he was shielding you. His workshop earns over a thousand taels. Split it among you—it’s enough. After all, he earned it easily, with your help.”

Her words exploded like sparks in dry grass. People ran home or rushed to Magistrate Wang, desperate for answers.

Twenty taels! Few possessed even ten. Panic spread.

Meanwhile, outside the Lu residence, a small crowd had formed—matchmakers, all clearly here for Lizhi.

Lizhi made to step forward, but Baiye grabbed him and pulled him behind the back wall.

“Why hasn’t the scholar returned? I’ve waited all day!”

“Perhaps he’s accepting a proposal in town!”

“That cannot be! I already promised to secure him Magistrate Qi’s daughter!”

“Qi’s daughter? Ridiculous—my candidate is Scholar Wang’s sister. Their ranks match perfectly.”

“Bah! My girl’s brother is not only a licentiate but a stipendary student!”

The matchmakers argued heatedly, unaware that their target was already halfway over the wall with Baiye’s help.

Lizhi would rather climb a hundred walls than face them.

“Come to my house,” Baiye said triumphantly, as if smuggling away treasure.

But Lizhi, remembering the marks on his neck, insisted on slipping quietly into his own home.

Baiye returned alone. His parents looked puzzled.

“Why didn’t you send the matchmakers away?” his father asked.

Madam He glared. “What if Lizhi needs them? What if he changes his mind? You’re leading him astray!”

Baiye laughed, sipping water. “No, it’s him leading me astray.”

His father frowned. “Do not joke. The lad is now an shou—the foremost licentiate. He will only rise higher. If you cannot keep pace… what then?”

Such was the world: no wealth outweighed scholarly rank.

Baiye pulled a bench forward, seated himself, and bowed his head. “In that case… there is one thing I must do. I ask for my honored parents’ permission.”

His light tone barely hid the weight behind his words. Both elders fell silent.

By morning, the rumor of the twenty-tael redemption fee had spread like wildfire. The village plunged into panic. Even the matchmakers abandoned their posts.

Lizhi, however, sat calm at his desk, writing swiftly. It was his response to Prefect Yan and Scholar Tai.

He had already decided—but now he saw a greater purpose for this letter.

Presumptuous? Perhaps. But for his village, for Qing Shui, for Jichun Pharmacy, and for Baiye—he would write it.

With precise arguments he laid out how corvée and taxes could be organized to ease the burden on the people while still supporting canal construction.

Then, boldly, he expanded to propose relief loans: sudden burdens would break the people. But if the state lent grain with fair interest, repaid after harvest, both citizens and treasury would benefit.

“Let those who borrow be registered and charged modest interest, to be repaid after the harvest in grain.”

Twice he revised it, corrected every flaw, copied it cleanly, sealed it, and prepared to leave for the prefecture.

Meanwhile, Baiye inspected his workshop. Steward Ge reported:

“Rong and Gui work tirelessly. They rise before dawn, work despite injuries, and no tasks fall behind.”

Baiye thought: so long as the injuries weren’t serious, diligence was necessary. Too much comfort bred arrogance.

“But… the men’s morale is low due to the corvée rumor. Mistakes are increasing.”

“I know,” Baiye said. “Watch carefully. We can’t afford flaws the others might seize upon.”

Ge bowed. “Master Ding requested leave—his son passed the licentiate exam.”

Good news. Baiye relaxed. Ding Lihui’s household would now be safe—corvée-exempt, taxes lightened.

Just then, Fang Li—far steadier now after the scandal with Xuanzi—hurried in.

“Master, two stewards from Shanyao Hall request an audience.”

“Let them wait,” Baiye said coolly. If things were as he suspected, Qin Chunquan planned to exploit their fear. Making them wait was a deliberate insult.

The stewards fidgeted anxiously. Only after a long delay were they admitted, their faces tight with frustration.

“Please sit,” Baiye said pleasantly, entirely unruffled.

They wasted no time.

“If you surrender your preparation method, our Second Master will see the decree revoked. Then not only Mount Daheng and Jichun Pharmacy, but all of Baishi—its people, its fields, its harvests—shall be spared.”

“Surely, Master Jiang, you do not wish to see your home washed away?”

They smiled, convinced they had him cornered.