HE With the Cold Male Protagonist C32

Chapter 32: Brothers, Recruiting a Master

Lu Lizhi woke with a sob, his lashes heavy with tears, clumped together, his face wrinkled as though rubbed over and over, faintly sore.

Clutching his still faintly aching chest in confusion—what had happened, why did he feel so wretched?

Supporting himself on his elbow to rise, his loose robe slipped from one shoulder, exposing a translucent, flawless, slender arm and shoulder. He froze in shock, instantly realizing there was another person in the room. His gaze sharpened.

And there, standing where he should not be, was Jiang Baiye—quietly at the desk, holding a brush, seriously writing. That was, if one ignored the large blot of ink that had just bled across the paper.

“There’s ice jelly and fruit on the table. I noticed you didn’t eat at noon—have some to fill your stomach.” Jiang Baiye spoke without lifting his head.

Lu Lizhi hastily pulled his robe closed, his fingers trembling with a mixture of shame and anger. Was it him? He had undone his clothes?

And the faint burning soreness on his face, as though someone had rubbed it repeatedly—what had he done to him? Why had he cried?

It had been so long since he last wept like that. Strictly speaking, ever since his father’s death, he had not felt such raw emotion.

Distracted, Lu Lizhi quickly dressed, more tightly and conservatively than before, not even revealing the slightest bit of his neck, wrapping himself up completely. He pressed his lips together and walked toward Jiang Baiye, ready to demand an answer.

But Jiang Baiye suddenly crumpled the sheet he was writing on and tossed it into the wastebasket, smiling guilelessly. “Didn’t turn out well.”

Lu Lizhi’s eyes flicked over it. What he wanted to ask suddenly became harder to voice.

Ask why he had undone his clothes? What kind of grown man would pose such an awkward question? Ask why he had cried? Even he himself didn’t know, how could Jiang Baiye?

“Eat. If you wait too long, it won’t taste good.” Jiang Baiye tugged him to sit at the table. “This is something new I made. Try it.”

Just as he spoke, Lu Lizhi’s stomach growled audibly, his cheeks coloring faintly. He had not only skipped lunch, but breakfast and dinner as well.

Lost in study, forgetting food and sleep, everything else slipped his mind.

“How can you not care for yourself like this?” Jiang Baiye sighed. Without hesitation, he scooped a spoonful of the smooth ice jelly and held it to his lips. “I don’t bring you food for a while, and you start neglecting your health again.”

Lu Lizhi was stunned, staring at his natural expression and movement. To eat, or not to eat? Seeing him persist, his arm still raised, he reluctantly opened his mouth and accepted it.

The sweetness and smoothness, the blend of tart, sweet, and crunchy textures—it was a taste he had never experienced, a small treat both novel and delicious.

How many things did this man know how to make? Taking the spoon from him, he continued eating.

“If you keep ignoring food and rest, you’ll fall ill again. I only just managed to fatten you up…” At that, Jiang Baiye remembered his glimpse of those thin shoulders earlier, and swallowed down the rest of his words.

“Seems I’ll have to personally bring you every meal from now on. Whatever you want to eat—if I know how to make it, no, even if I don’t, I’ll find a way!” Jiang Baiye declared firmly.

Lu Lizhi shook his head, his mood easing. He had no particular preference for food, only knew that whatever Jiang Baiye made always suited his taste, always delicious. That was enough.

Only then did he notice Jiang Baiye’s damp hair, water still dripping, his clothes dampened. Freshly bathed, in the middle of the day?

“What are you staring at? Eat!” Jiang Baiye tapped his head. “Cried yourself silly?”

Lu Lizhi stiffened, his gaze shifting slowly toward him. Jiang Baiye’s tone turned serious. “Lu Lizhi, were you thinking of your parents? Crying so sorrowfully all of a sudden.”

Embarrassed—so he had seen it? Was that really the case? After a pause, Lu Lizhi nodded.

He did think of them daily, especially his father, who had doted on him endlessly. He did not fear death, but he did fear his kin dying wronged, in obscurity.

“From now on, I’ll be with you. I won’t let you be alone again.” Jiang Baiye solemnly placed his hand over his tightly clenched fist.

As for everything else—he would first shift his mindset to being a brother. To abandon Lu Lizhi, to ignore him, while still wrestling with his own problems—just imagining Lu Lizhi’s red-nosed, pitiful crying face was enough to drive him insane.

Thus, seeing his composed, dignified appearance now, Jiang Baiye found it amusing. Did he realize how alluring, cough, how heart-achingly tender he looked just then?

Adorable. Utterly adorable.

Lu Lizhi glanced at his hand, deeply moved. He clasped it back, and, almost impatiently, pulled him to the table, seized the brush, and wrote heavily on the paper.

—Friend.

Jiang Baiye couldn’t help but curve his lips. Finally, he had done it. Recognized by this man, admitted into his heart.

But he shook his head, and with Lu Lizhi’s own hand, drew a big cross over the word “Friend,” making Lu Lizhi’s heart skip. Then he guided his hand to scrawl, in clumsy handwriting, the word—Brother.

Lu Lizhi almost laughed. After all this time, still so awkward and ugly.

Once again, he took control, his pale, slender fingers weaving through Jiang Baiye’s broad, powerful ones.

Coolness blended with heat, and both felt a sharp tingle at their cores. Neither spoke of it, absorbed instead in the joy of a new confidant, writing the word Brother together on a fresh page.

The brush flowed like a dragon in flight. Jiang Baiye, sensing the strength guiding his hand, tasted vicariously the exhilaration of a true calligrapher’s unrestrained flourish.

Lu Lizhi, however, was dissatisfied. It was the ugliest word he had ever written. One stroke even trembled—that was Jiang Baiye, tickling his palm.

Jiang Baiye blew the ink dry, then carefully folded the page and tucked it close to his chest. “I’ll keep this. Look at it every morning and night.”

Lu Lizhi did not catch the deeper meaning. Seeing him treasure their bond, he simply felt that he had not been this happy in a very long time.

That night, Jiang Baiye sat solemnly cross-legged on his bed, pulled out the “Brother” page, and, like performing a ritual, chanted a cleansing mantra over it.

The next morning, he repeated the “ritual.”

The results were good—Jiang Baiye felt he was nearly becoming a saint.

With the workshop completed, much work remained: training everyone in identifying herbs, using processing tools, how to select, cut, roast, fry, wash, soak, bleach, steam, boil… and to what standard was acceptable, to what level was first-rate. Jiang Baiye needed more assistants.

Xiao Sanzi had gone with Master Liu now. Even if he returned, he would not be much help here. Jiang Baiye decided to ask Doctor Sun and the others for recommendations—two or three knowledgeable in medicine and herbs, to oversee quality.

The workshop still lacked management in this area, and workers were far from enough. The villagers of Qingshui were at best apprentices. Processing herbs required masters to lead, to train a group of skilled craftsmen who could produce quality materials.

Jiang Baiye had no time. Besides cooking every day, he had to gather herbs in the mountains. But he could not always do that alone either; he needed capable, courageous men to share the work.

Altogether, making money quickly was impossible. But he planned to settle everything before autumn, when the herbs ripened in bulk. Then the workshop could start in earnest—and he would make a fortune.

Reaching the county, he stated his request. Doctor Sun’s eyes lit up immediately, pointing outside to a middle-aged man wrangling a horse.

“There, that one’s a herb farmer. Good with processing. But he can’t make enough to pay his child’s school fees. He’s looking for work…”

Jiang Baiye strode out and invited him back.

The man was tall and lean, plainly dressed but clean. Surprised and somewhat hopeful, he asked, “Doctor Sun, do you need more hands?”

Doctor Sun explained Jiang Baiye’s plans. Ding Yue looked at Jiang Baiye in disbelief. “Running a workshop? At your age?”

His tone carried suspicion. Without Doctor Sun’s backing, he might have thought the young man, about his son’s age, was just a helper.

But short of money, he agreed to visit Qingshui Village.

Jiang Baiye questioned him further, finding that though his processing methods were rough, he was quick to learn, had a sharp eye, and years of experience selling herbs—he could distinguish quality well.

If his character proved reliable, Jiang Baiye would not hesitate to elevate him as a master, teaching him techniques, letting him train others, easing his own burdens.

Before returning, Jiang Baiye also bought a load of supplies for the upcoming banquet—mostly dried goods that would keep. Fresh produce could wait until the day before.

Watching the cart fill to the brim, laden with food they would scarcely eat even at New Year, Ding Yue felt envious, uncertain if it was all true.

Jiang Baiye also extended an invitation to Doctor Sun.

Doctor Sun had been waiting for that. Waving cheerfully, he said, “Of course I’ll go! Doctor Meng and I have long wanted to see that workshop of yours.”

He had spoken with them beforehand about his plans. Unexpectedly, they were not opposed—they welcomed it, even urging him on.

For the truth was, in the whole of Changlin County, even in the prefecture of Xuanhe, there was no workshop of such scale. Everything relied on medicine halls collecting, processing, and selling on their own.

Herbs sold by scattered farmers were limited in type and number, and processing was often crude.

Thus the high cost of medicine. If Jiang Baiye’s workshop succeeded, and prices fell, it would be a boon to the people.

As for any losses to the medicine halls, those were minor. The Sun family pharmacy and Huichun Hall both professed indifference.

But that did not mean others would.

Word of Jiang Baiye’s workshop spread. Before long, it reached Shanyi Hall. Before they could send someone to investigate, Manager Tian saw the man he had wanted to hire go off with Jiang Baiye.

Anxious, he hurried to confront Doctor Sun. “Didn’t you say you had enough staff? How could you poach my man?”

“What do you mean ‘your man’? You offered him too little. If he’s dissatisfied, can’t he find better work elsewhere?” The greed of Shanyi Hall had been the problem—they thought Ding Yue had nowhere else to go, and tried to buy him cheap.

Doctor Sun would not have interfered, but Ding Yue truly needed the money. Without it, his son’s tuition next month could not be paid.

Just then, Jiang Baiye appeared. Right place, right time.

Manager Tian stormed back. Hu Yaowei had just finished seeing a patient, who left full of gratitude. His expression calm, he listened, then replied indifferently, “Perhaps this is an opportunity.”

“What?”

“That Ding Yue is desperate for money. If he infiltrates the workshop, perhaps he could bring us useful information…”

Author’s Note:

Lu Lizhi: Friend.
Jiang Baiye: Brother. Yes. (with emphasis)

Later—

Lu Lizhi: Not enough. That’s not it.
Jiang Baiye: The more you repress, the stronger it rebounds.

Don’t worry, everyone—emotional growth, psychological change, even bending takes time. It won’t drag on too long. Personally, I like this stage of calling it friendship or brotherhood, while desperately suppressing, denying, yet craving closeness—until one day they break the taboo and cross the line…