HE With the Cold Male Protagonist C55

Chapter 55: Birthing a Bunch of Little Mushrooms, First Courtesy, Then Force

Lizhi regarded him with utmost seriousness, only to see his roguish grin, and thought—if it were not truly as he had imagined.

At that moment, Baiye leaned close to his ear, chuckling lowly. “If I really were a mushroom demon, then Lizhi, you’ve eaten so many of my offspring already…”

His hand gently rubbed against Lizhi’s belly. “When the time comes… will you give birth to a whole bunch of little mushrooms?”

Indeed—that was why Lizhi never thought him a mountain god or celestial immortal.

What immortal could be so demonic, so seductively corrupting?

In an instant, he was pulled from that day in the mountains—when they stir-fried and stewed all manner of mushrooms—back to the steamy bathhouse not long ago, where the two had tangled together, eyes closed as they kissed with heated familiarity, limbs entwined beneath the water.

Clad in only a few thin layers, Baiye had wantonly pressed against him, watching as he furrowed his brows, watching the tilt of his neck, the rapid bobbing of his Adam’s apple.

And yet, it had plunged Lizhi himself into an inescapable torment of fire and water.

No redemption to be had.

Only the thinnest thread of reason pulled at him, keeping him from yielding completely…

Lizhi dared not think further. Demon, then demon; use, then use. He could not even imagine what would become of himself once this man pulled away openly and without burden.

“Perhaps… has Lizhi ever heard of dying and being reborn?” Baiye twined a lock of his hair between his fingers, speaking as though casually.

Lizhi’s eyes flew wide. From beneath his lashes he gazed upward at Baiye’s shadowed face.

“To live an entire life, to witness much—some rising swiftly to power, seizing authority, guiding the land, working for the people’s welfare, rendering great service to the court. And some, sinking into mud, reviled and despised by all, beaten to death with sticks…”

“The most hateful of all—that life, there was not even the faintest intersection. One could only watch him pass by, a mere guest in life. And he, he never once lowered his head to glance at the ordinary man beneath.”

To Baiye, this was no longer merely a world inside a book, but a life he had lived. The original owner—was himself.

Perhaps by the rules of this book, or some other reason, his past life had swept him into a stream of mud. He had never cared much before; another chance at life meant he would simply strive harder. But now, regret pricked him—why had they not been together in that previous life?

It was not enough, far from enough. He had begun to grow greedy—wanting more.

Lizhi, hearing this, had just started up in shock when Baiye pulled him into his arms. “Look at me more… don’t ignore me. I’ll die!”

Lizhi withdrew the fingers that had been poised to write more questions. If Baiye had lived once before, knowing some things was only natural. Though doubts remained, Lizhi wanted more to know what Baiye had endured, to have transformed into who he was now.

A fine pain pricked his heart. In the end, Lizhi did not wish to stir old sorrows. This life, Baiye was not ordinary, and he himself would always remain by his side.

He had no doubt the man of rising power in Baiye’s words was himself—because, if fate had not twisted otherwise, that should have been the life his father had lived.

And he, he was but carrying forward his father’s dream.

Baiye drifted to sleep quickly, halfway through speaking words meant to comfort. He never knew that Lizhi lay watching him for a long time, exactly as he had wished.

To look more at him.

No matter how much, never enough.

In the latter half of the night, Lizhi too fell asleep, consoling himself—it did not matter if Baiye was not demon or spirit. So long as they could remain together, and Baiye bore no intent to merely use him, then perhaps, at the start, his approach truly had been only to make a friend.

Later, friendship had transformed, refined, become the most indispensable bond between them…

Baiye not only fell asleep quickly, he woke quickly as well. Wanting to rise early the next day to buy Lizhi clothes—his had been soaked through in the bath, even the dry ones had been touched by Baiye’s wandering hands till they were damp. At this hour, none of them could be worn dry.

Looking at the man beside him, his brows peaceful even in sleep, still carrying his cold air, Baiye could not bear to disturb him. He even thought to go out wrapped in a bedsheet.

Instead, he lightened his steps, intending to quietly take back his own clothes.

“Mmm…” Lizhi had been relaxed at first, but when he felt someone fumbling against him, trying to peel away his robe, he stirred in alarm.

“Be good, Lizhi. Give me back my clothes. I can’t very well go out bare, can I?” Baiye whispered softly at his ear, coaxing.

Lizhi clutched his lapel tight. Last night he had been bold, wearing only that one layer, nothing beneath. If Baiye stripped it away…

Baiye’s large hand slid again along his waist, seeking to untie his sash, pressing a kiss against him. “Stay under the blanket for a while, I’ll be right back.”

A sharp smack fell across his hand in answer.

Immediately Lizhi rolled over, clutching his robe and bedding close as if unwilling to be disturbed in his dream.

Left with nothing but his underpants, Baiye was anxious, but could not bear to quarrel. He thought to tug out the bedsheet, but that would ruin Lizhi’s rest.

So he went to the washroom, seeing Lizhi’s clothes hung there, still damp. He would not mind wearing them, but feared stretching them out of shape.

Lizhi heard the sound of him leaving, blinking, then suddenly sat up. Was he truly going out bare?

Baiye knocked at Helin’s door. No answer. He pushed it open.

In the dim light, Helin lay drunk and insensate on the bed, muttering in his dreams, not stirring even when his outer robe was pulled off.

Baiye pinched his nose, forcing himself into the robe, nearly gagging from the stench of wine. Quickly he left to buy new clothes.

Before going, he reminded Lizhi, “Bolt the door from inside, so Helin doesn’t barge in unannounced.”

Seeing him wearing someone else’s clothes, Lizhi relaxed, lying down again.

Baiye did not return for quite some time.

The inn bustled with travelers, some preparing to set out, others clamoring for breakfast. Helin awoke groggily, searching in vain for his outer robe.

“???”

Were it not for the white underclothes and shoes still on him, he would have suspected something had happened to him in the night.

“Where the hell are my clothes?”

Meanwhile, Baiye had found an early-opening clothing shop, bought himself something to change into, shedding Helin’s robe.

Then he earnestly picked through clothes for Lizhi.

At present, the fashion was for scholarly elegance. With the prefectural city brimming with students, this shop was filled with every manner of scholar’s robes and Daoist robes. To say he “chose” was not accurate—he swept up every size that would suit Lizhi.

The yawning shopkeeper’s eyes widened, then lit with delight. “See here, all of these would suit you well!”

“No, funds are tight, I must be sparing.” Baiye brushed past, still selecting several finely made robes.

There were those embroidered with dark patterns, plum blossoms, silver-thread trim, moon-white brocade, straight-collared robes, wide-sleeved double-breasted gowns, pale-blue, cloud-patterned… Each detail made his heart stir.

They all seemed to scream “Lu Lizhi.” How could he not buy them?

The shop also sold jade pendants, though crude and obviously fake. If he bought any, he would need real ones. He itched to go to a jade shop, but his purse was far too light.

Baiye fretted—his pace of earning money was still too slow.

The shopkeeper, watching him buy more than ten sets of robes with full undergarments and socks, twitched at the corner of his eye. This was “money is tight”? This was “being sparing”?

By the time the bill was tallied, every bit Baiye had gained on this trip to the city was gone. He could not even afford the steaming, fragrant pork buns sold on the street.

To others, it painted a rather pitiful picture.

“That’s him… the master of Jichun Medical Workshop?” The tone was faintly disdainful.

“Well, he does look fine, carries himself with presence,” another observed shrewdly. “Not an ordinary rustic.”

At that moment, Baiye was stopped, invited respectfully into a nearby teahouse.

Most teahouses were quiet in the morning, but this one sold specialty mutton soup and bustled still.

There, waiting for him at a table, stood two middle-aged men in fine silks, pale-faced and proper, bearing cultivated manners—clearly men of standing.

Baiye’s eyes flickered. He strode forward and sat heavily. “What business have you with me?”

“Is the young master not curious who we are, or why we’ve invited you here?” The man in green silk raised a hand to pour him tea, smiling amiably.

Baiye felt no awkwardness. He happened to be thirsty, so he downed the tea in one draught, then waved. “Bring me a bowl of mutton soup.”

“Right away!”

Soon a steaming bowl appeared, flecked with scallions and coriander, rich and milky, brimming with slices of mutton.

Its fragrance rose thick yet without gaminess. Baiye drank deeply, his stomach—hungry since yesterday noon—finally appeased.

He picked up chopsticks, devouring the meat until the bowl was empty. Then he ordered another, specifying, “Bring rib cuts this time.”

As he ate with satisfaction, the two across from him strained to keep composure, one nearly glaring holes through him.

“Haha, young brother is amusing—you’ve made us hungry as well. Two bowls for us also.” The man in green silk remained unruffled—save for the trace of cruelty in his eyes.

The three finished their meal. Whether they enjoyed it as much as Baiye did, only they knew.

At last, the man in green silk spoke. Though Baiye surely guessed already, he still wished to test his reaction.

“I am Qin Chunquan, second proprietor of Shanyi Hall. This is Dong Chengying, soon-to-be steward of our new Shanyao Workshop.”

Baiye, still savoring the broth, thought of bringing a bowl back for Lizhi. His expression remained calm. “And what business have you with me? I see no cause for conversation.”

So direct, so unwelcoming. Dong’s face hardened—how he longed to curse this ungrateful brat!

Lord Qin himself, condescending to parley with some country upstart, and he dared such insolence!

But Qin Chunquan only smiled more gently. “Has young brother never heard—there are no eternal enemies, only eternal interests? Our Shanyi Hall did wrong before. It was my negligence in management. Some have been punished accordingly…”

“Surely your anger is vented by now. For the sake of long-term growth, one must seek proper partners. Our Shanyi Hall, if not the finest, ranks among the foremost in Great Ning. Should your workshop join with us, it will certainly thrive.”

“You’re not already establishing your own workshop? Why need me?” Baiye leaned back lazily, all ease.

Qin’s gaze narrowed slightly.

Dong could hold no more. “We of Shanyi Hall have opened countless branches across Great Ning. The common folk trust our name. One more Jichun means nothing! And we’ll open more yet. If you join, you’ll profit. But once we grow greater, should you come crawling later, it will be too late.”

Their words, high-sounding, carried one clear message—

We’ve set our sights on your workshop. Know your place. Join us, or else when you beg later, we’ll laugh in your face!

Baiye chuckled. “I’ll cooperate—if you agree to one condition.”

Qin’s fingers stirred. “What condition?”

“Kill Hu Yaowei, and I’ll agree.”

The men’s faces shifted at once.

But Baiye went on, as if oblivious. “After all, grudges must fall on the head of the debtor. I won’t blame Shanyi Hall. But so long as Doctor Hu lives, and may yet return to your halls, I’ll always have a thorn in my heart.”

“You dare!” Dong shot to his feet, jabbing a finger at him. “Know what you are! You think opening a workshop makes you grand? You’re nothing but a boorish bumpkin!”

Qin too laughed, shaking his head. “You think yourself a match for Doctor Hu?”

He looked as though at some absurd jest. “We came in sincerity, hoping you’d consider seriously, lest you regret it. As for other apothecaries, none will ever amount to much. To become great—only Shanyi Hall can achieve it!”

At this moment, Qin Chunquan brimmed with confidence, his presence formidable.

And he was not wrong. To contend with Shanyi Hall, no apothecary yet had the foundation or opportunity.

In truth, Shanyi Hall would indeed rise swiftly, becoming the foremost in Great Ning—known from Emperor to child.

“On the contrary, I heard your cousin had a hand in this matter. Were it not for his scheme to trap Doctor Hu, we would not have lost a hall so abruptly, nor our reputation tarnished.”

“If you wish to deal with that person, we may have means…”

“Too bad. What I want is the life of your prized man. Moreover, if you wish to cooperate, your stance must be lower. Much lower. Not wagging your fingers so.”

Baiye rose. His height pressed down upon them, but his smile was faint, weary of words.

Today’s meeting was, in truth, courtesy before force.

To avenge, one need not always choose extremes. In Qin’s hands, slow-boiled schemes could just as easily kill, stripping away all Baiye’s holdings.

Cooperation? A sham. Merely coercion and swagger in disguise.

Baiye scorned it.

Did they truly think Shanyi Hall could reign alone? Then let them see.

He departed without pause or fear. Qin’s smile stiffened faintly, his eyes narrowing.

“Seems we must visit the prefectural prison. Perhaps another may be eager to work with us…”

Baiye heard the veiled threat, paid it no heed, and ordered another rich bowl of mutton soup to take away.

When Qin and Dong went to settle the bill, they learned he had eaten two bowls and taken a third, without paying. It was petty change, yet it stoked their fury.

They had sought him all day, treated him politely, and he had been as unyielding as iron!

“He has courage. But he will come begging to me—soon enough.” Qin Chunquan smiled once more, gentle as ever. “It won’t take long.”

Dong sneered. “Scraping for scraps, so small-minded. Why bother with such a nobody? He’s just enjoying fleeting luck!”

Qin thought only of Daheng Mountain. As for Master Tian’s praise of Baiye’s skill, he dismissed it. With Shanyi Hall’s power, what master could they not lure?

That fellow was simply blind to fortune!

“The other part of Daheng Mountain must be taken quickly. Smooth over with Vice Commissioner Chen. Why has Prefect Yan suddenly become so obstinate?”

“I heard Vice Commissioner Chen’s beloved daughter has taken fancy to a man called Lord Qingyuan. And that Lord Qingyuan is tied to the Lu family. Perhaps… we can make use of the Lus.”

Baiye hurried back to the inn, worried the mutton soup would cool. On the stairs he ran into Helin, newly dressed but still dejected.

The moment Helin saw him, he blurted, “Baiye, did you hear anything last night? Seems a thief came to my room—stole nothing, but my outer robe is gone! Ahhh, what vile person! That was my favorite!”

Shameless Baiye passed with an innocent face, heading for his room.

“Wait, you’ve changed too. What of your clothes? Were they stolen too?”

“No. So perhaps you should reflect—why would a thief steal only your clothes, not others’?” Baiye replied meaningfully.

“Eh?” Helin followed, but at the glimpse of another figure through the door crack, he froze. He felt as though he’d forgotten something crucial.

Last night… had he barged into Baiye’s room? Seen something he shouldn’t have?

What was it…? Helin scratched his head.

“Ow, my head hurts!”

Meanwhile, Baiye entered and swept Lizhi into his arms.

“Lizhi, I’m so afraid. There are people outside threatening your husband. You must pass your exams well—your husband will rely on you for protection. I cannot defeat them…”

He was not lying. His Lizhi was his greatest reliance, his strongest golden thigh.

Lizhi, seeing his “fearful” face, solemnly patted his shoulder. “Mm.”

I will protect you.

And I will see those who usurped my place fall from their heights.

After sharing the mutton soup, the two returned to Clear Water Village.

Time slipped by—not slow, not fast. In the calm days, Baiye pressed forward, busying himself with the workshop. Batch after batch of medicines emerged, their quality ever higher.

He sold them to Doctor Sun and those introduced by him, though the best always went first to Huichun Hall.

Then wages were paid. In the first month, each worker’s pay rose by five copper coins daily, spurring them to greater effort. By the middle of the second month, they had already matched the previous month’s total.

Lizhi, too, grew ever more diligent in his final preparations.

He’s and Bai Zhu were even more anxious than he, lowering

their voices at home, fearful of disturbing his peace.

As for Baiye—regarded by his parents as a “dangerous element” (after he had taken Lizhi to the city, kept him overnight, and returned in different clothes)—he was ruthlessly sent off to the workshop, spending long, lonely nights among elder craftsmen.

At last, the three days before the provincial exam arrived.

And on this day, Qin Chunquan, after much effort, entered the prefectural prison.

There, he saw Doctor Hu—emaciated, gaunt as bone.

And Jiang Yueming, near-mad…

Author’s Note:

Helin: Just a pure, pure fool.