HE With the Cold Male Protagonist C66

Chapter 66: Thwarted on Every Side, Carried Away

Jiang Baiye lifted his cup with languid grace, moistening his throat. The fragrance of the tea—rich, mellow, and piercing—drifted through the air, leaving the two men before him startled. What tea is this? Such a bouquet is unheard of!

Should Baiye consent to their terms, they resolved silently, they must contrive to wrest some from him.

Yet this tea was of his own making. Of late his skill in its preparation had grown increasingly refined. Whenever he brewed for Lizhi, he would also set aside portions for his family and the workshop, even presenting some as gifts to Doctor Sun or Elder He.

Alas, the ancient cliffside trees from which he once plucked leaves could yield no more. Still, in the vast mountains there were countless tea trees; with a little taming, there was more than enough to drink.

Each time Baiye sipped, the other two swallowed hard, only to find before them not even an empty cup. Their countenances darkened.

“Master Jiang is so calm—doubtless he holds not a whit of regard for the lives of his villagers.”

“To think you so heartless! Have these folk not toiled for you, sweated and laboured at your side? How can you stand by and watch them perish?”

“So many lives—their fate rests in your hands alone. If they but knew, what would they think of you?”

Baiye at last set down his cup. “Say no more. What puzzles me is this—when did Master Qin become the august Son of Heaven, daring to command in His stead?”

“To those who know, he is but the second master of a medical hall. To those who do not, one might think him some mighty minister. Yet even a mighty minister would not presume such license. Does Master Qin, then, aspire to rebellion?”

“You—you blaspheme!” The two stewards leapt to their feet, faces ashen. Though only a handful were present, they looked wildly about as though the very walls had ears, their voices quivering with fear. “How dare you utter such treasonous words!”

With a resounding crack, Baiye struck the table. “And who, pray, is truly treasonous? Not even His Majesty would abandon the common folk, setting a flood channel through their very dwellings. Yet Qin dares utter such notions? This is to blacken the Court, blacken its officials, aye, blacken the Son of Heaven Himself!”

His presence surged like a tempest, words striking like thunder. The two stewards felt their knees weaken, eyelids twitching uncontrollably.

“Better still, let us place this matter before the magistrate, before the prefect. What say you?”

The pair blanched, terror-stricken. They had come to cow him, yet found themselves routed, fleeing like curs lest the dread crime of “rebellion” be laid upon their heads. They stumbled back to report to Qin Chunquan.

Qin had but moments ago rejoiced over tidings received. At their tale, his mood curdled black. “He truly spoke thus?”

They nodded furiously, still quaking.

“Useless fools!”

To think they had failed to daunt him! Yet of course, Baiye was no petty shopkeeper; he bore courage enough. Even had the matter been true, no mere rumour could cow him. Worse, he had turned their weapon back upon them, leaving Qin’s chosen men disgraced.

Still reeling, the two whispered, “Second Master, perhaps… perhaps we might establish ourselves elsewhere. Xuānhe Prefecture is of no great worth. The wealth of Jiangnan—there we could reap fortunes.”

“Silence!” Qin’s pride blazed. Yield one step, and all would be lost.

Moreover, he reasoned darkly, could Baiye be content with Xuānhe alone? Likely, if they withdrew to Jiangnan, he would follow at their heels.

Thus did Qin, with a villain’s suspicion, utterly misjudge him. For Baiye’s true weapon was not his modest workshop at all, but the Spring Hall pharmacy.

And Qin, who had sworn to see him beg for mercy, now found himself dreading him.

“So be it. We must use the method Jiang Yueming spoke of. To make Baishi Town a flood zone is no simple feat. I have not the power, nor is Baiye worth such an effort. Yet I am not without means.”

His eyes gleamed. “Go—rouse the collectors. Let them levy heavy taxes upon Qingshui Village. They speak of redeeming labour with silver? Then strip them bare. Especially Jichun Pharmacy—I shall see how long they strut.”

For if the villagers, who made up the bulk of the workshop’s labourers, were crushed beneath taxation and corvée, its prosperity would falter. In the chaos, some might be bought, and the coveted methods prised from their lips.

While Qin plotted thus, outside the gates of Prefect Yan’s residence, Lu Lizhi was ushered within with utmost courtesy, having just submitted his visiting card.

That day the Prefect took his leisure, and by chance Scholar Tai was also present. The two men, rivals in pride, bent over a board of chess, the game so fierce that sweat gathered upon their brows.

Lizhi entered quietly, restraining his urgency, and stood with flawless propriety, giving no cause for reproach.

The prefect’s servants murmured: Here stands a man with the bearing of a future Zhuangyuan.

And so it was. That two eminent men should vie for him while he was yet a mere licentiate—such a thing had no precedent.

Soon he was summoned in.

Before his arrival, the two had contested over chess. After, the game was forgotten, and all their contention fixed upon him.

“You mean to say you have chosen already, in but a day?” Tai frowned, fearful he had too hastily bound himself to the Prefect out of sentiment.

Lizhi, unable to speak, wrote instead. Yet he did not reveal his choice at once, but offered them instead a paper.

They bent together to read—and silence fell.

Lizhi’s fingers tightened, his face composed, though his heart quickened. One misstep could mean ruin. For behind this matter lay the lives of countless commoners. The taxes of Great Ning were not heavy; yet if surcharges were levied without rule, greedy men would seize the chance to flay the people.

Then a voice rang out:

“Excellent! This is a plan most worthy! Let it be promoted throughout the realm!” Scholar Tai, concerned only with theory, praised without thought, then goaded the Prefect. “Yan, you will enforce this, will you not?”

Prefect Yan cast him a look. He knew too well the building of the flood channel would drain the people. He himself had consented to levies of over twenty taels per head—partly to raise sufficient labour, partly to line the pockets of officials.

Yet as he read Lizhi’s words, his long-suppressed conscience stirred. Each time he sought to be a “normal” official—neither outstanding nor disgraced—some voice arose to remind him: Yan, have you forgotten your first vow? You were meant to be a good governor.

And when Tai’s provocation caused disappointment to flicker across Lizhi’s face, Prefect Yan’s heart clenched. If he refused, Lizhi would surely turn to Tai.

That must not be!

“Throughout the realm is no easy matter,” he declared, “but I shall memorialize His Majesty. As for my own jurisdiction, I swear: not a single coin more shall be extorted. Not from Qingshui, nor from all Baishi. This I pledge as my sincerity.”

Lizhi exhaled softly. It was enough—more than he had dared hope.

At last he presented his choice: Student Lu Lizhi, humbly begs to acknowledge Prefect Yan as his master.

Bowing low, he performed the rites of discipleship.

The Prefect beamed, calling at once for tea.

Scholar Tai: “…” Am I dismissed, then?

Bereft of such a prodigy, how could he endure? Who, after tasting the finest, could settle for the lesser?

The Prefect wasted no time. Orders were issued at once, stern and unyielding: should any man exploit the people, there would be no pardon—houses confiscated, heads struck off.

Officials and constables alike shivered as though a blade hung over them.

What madness has seized the Prefect? some cried.

But the people rejoiced, calling him a virtuous governor.

Meanwhile, Qin Chunquan had just purchased favour from Vice-Prefect Chen. The man had assured him it was nothing, that since Qingshui had grown wealthy, a heavier tax was but their duty.

Yet scarce had he spoken, when a messenger whispered in his ear.

Chen’s face hardened. “And who are you? I never promised aught. Do not approach me again. I am too busy for such trifles.”

He departed in haste, leaving Qin aghast.

The thousand taels he had paid, the wine he had poured—it was all for nothing.

“Second Master! Are you well?” his servant cried, steadying him.

“How—how can this be? Find out! At once! At once!” Qin roared.

That night, Xuānhe Prefecture knew no rest. Meetings and debates raged till dawn. And by decree of the Court, on the morrow the labour levy began in earnest.

That same night, Baiye slipped into Lizhi’s chamber to confide his plan.

“I have spoken with Master Liu and the lads. Whether it shall succeed, I cannot say. But if we can spare some lives when the canal is dug, that is enough.”

Lizhi thought of his grandsire. Were he yet alive, he would have cherished Baiye—this man who, without titles, strove to achieve true deeds.

His heart grew warm. As Baiye poured forth all his thoughts, he embraced him softly.

Dependence, admiration, love deeper still.

“What is it?” Baiye asked gently.

Lizhi drew him down, and in the hush of the bedchamber their lips met.

The night burned with their passion. Again and again Lizhi nearly stripped away the final barrier, yet each time pulled back, leaving them both in torment sweet and bitter.

By dawn Baiye was marked anew, yet he lingered to wash and breakfast at Lizhi’s side, forgetting even where his own home lay.

That afternoon, the constables arrived. They named the redemption price.

“Fifteen taels. The Prefect grants this as utmost lenience.”

At this, not only the villagers but Magistrate Wang himself was struck dumb. “Fif—fifteen taels!?”

He had thought the levy would rise higher than twenty, not fall lower. And the constables, once so harsh, now spoke with courtesy!

The officers, forced to feign civility and denied their usual graft, could only swallow their bitterness.

A cheer rose. “We have it! We have just fifteen taels!”

Others, who had despaired at twenty, now brightened, begging only a little time.

“For your village, no later than tomorrow night.”

Astonishment swept the crowd. Never before had corvée been so merciful.

Thus they scattered to scrape together coin.

The Hes and Baiye’s parents lent silver to worthy neighbours. Baiye himself advanced sums to his workers, knowing them sound and loyal. Should they fail to repay, they would work off the debt in his employ.

By day’s end, half the households had met the sum. Yet taxes still pressed heavy for the canal’s sake. Harvests gone, granaries bare, they were spared labour only to fall into debt and hunger.

So it had been in Baiye’s former life. Yet now, with six thousand taels given to Lizhi, his workshop thriving, a share of Spring Hall’s profits, and his father’s carpentry flourishing, his household no longer felt such pain.

Two hundred taels in tax was weighty, but no longer ruinous—for his workshop alone could earn as much in a day.

Yet Daheng Mountain was not inexhaustible. With autumn’s bounty spent, yields must diminish. Baiye would need new ventures.

But first, he made a choice that stunned all.

When the constables returned, those unable to pay wept in despair. Some whispered of flight.

Baiye stepped forward calmly, falling into line as though one of them.

“Fear not. I shall go too.”

The crowd gasped. Could it be he lacked even fifteen taels? Was he mad?

And two days later, when Qin Chunquan, beaten on every side, heard the news, he was dumbfounded.

“What did you say? Jiang Baiye? He has gone to dig the canal? Are you certain you heard aright!?”