HE With the Cold Male Protagonist C69

Chapter 69: The Elder Assistant Director, Return to the Prefectural City

By reason of Jiang Baiye, the men of Qingshui Village who had been summoned to service were treated with especial favor within the ranks. After exchanging farewells up and down the line, he waved his hand without further burden upon his heart.

Yet the people were loath to part.

“Brother Ye, shall we yet meet again in days to come?”

“Your home is in Xuānhe’s Qingshui Village, is it not? I have marked it down. When I seek you out, you must treat me to wine!”

“Master Jiang, might your workshop one day be opened in our prefectural city? We are rich in medicinal herbs here.”

“Master Lu, pray take care upon your journey…”

Though they had known one another but two short months, the bond seemed deep as years. For many knew full well—they might never again cross paths with one so brilliant, so extraordinary.

What sorrow, what pity lay in that thought.

The time spent with Jiang Baiye had brought them laughter amidst toil, and made this service unlike the bitter drudgery of old.

Not a few had been guided and enlightened by him, finding new direction beyond their present plight.

Baiye named several in particular: “Xiaofei, Qian Bin, Qian Qiang, Uncle Dai—if you find yourselves adrift in future days, come seek me out.”

These men longed even now to follow him, yet they were bound as conscripted laborers; unlike Baiye, they could not depart until the canal was finished.

At this thought, the youngest, Xiaofei, wiped his eyes. Xiao Sanzi clapped him on the shoulder, silently grateful he could remain by Baiye’s side. Even if they might not meet daily, at least he had been given a place where his worth shone—Baiye’s careful hand had not raised him in vain.

Then a youth of some seventeen or eighteen years stepped before Lu Lizhi. “M-Master Lu, I shall find means to study. When I sit for the examinations, I vow there shall be another day when I see you again!”

The words tumbled forth with effort; his face flushed scarlet to the ears.

Baiye: “?” Since when had this happened? What had they said?

Lizhi hesitated, but seeing the despair in the boy’s eyes, he inclined his head gently, granting encouragement.

The youth lit up as though he had received divine decree. He strode away filled with purpose, but not without casting Baiye a glance, as though warning: If you treat him ill, I shall seize him away.

That, Baiye could not endure. Before all eyes, he clasped Lizhi’s shoulder and, smiling brightly, whispered in his ear with a tone sharp as gritted teeth: “And who, pray, was that?”

Lizhi, when the boy had gone, only shook his head faintly, his eyes distant. He scarce remembered himself, guessing perhaps it was due to the drawings he had made. Many had come to know his identity, and so offered him, as a scholar, both courtesy and respect.

At last, even the officials overseeing the works came forth—the River Commissioners and Overseers of each prefecture and state, and even an Assistant Director of the Directorate of Waterworks. The latter, hair already white with age, hastened forward, calling:

“Young Brother Jiang, tarry a moment!”

All present, learning his rank, hastened to kneel in salute. Lizhi, who might stand before a magistrate without bowing, nevertheless inclined himself with due respect; for this office stood higher still.

It was the first time Baiye had beheld this chief. The Directorate of Waterworks was a bureau beneath the Ministry of Works, and the title Assistant Director was its second in command. Though several of such rank existed, they were of national standing. For one of them to labor thus far to meet him—Baiye knew his toil had borne fruit.

The old man held a bundle of drawings in hand, his countenance alight with excitement. “You are Jiang Baiye? The one who proposed the theories of divided waters and sand dispersion, designed special levees and canals, and advanced the development of farmland irrigation apace?”

“I am,” Baiye replied, somewhat embarrassed. He had gathered wisdom from many sources, not wrought all from his own hand.

But the farmers present were stirred indeed. Some hailed from drought-stricken lands, and Baiye’s measures—uniting flood control and irrigation, diverting rivers upstream to feed the fields, opening branch channels below to disperse the floods, entrusting their care to the people—such measures were wondrous.

Even they perceived the merit. How much more the elder, versed for decades in hydraulics and transport?

“Rise, all of you!” he commanded.

Then, catching sight of Lizhi, his excitement grew. “And this must be Master Lu. Your drawings are most ingenious, your draughtsmanship superb!”

Lizhi would have disclaimed it. He had but followed Baiye’s words, simplifying what was intricate, rendering it clear to the eye. Yet even unlettered craftsmen could grasp the plans—such was his gift.

The elder resolved to adopt their designs. A single flood channel was no great matter; but their schematics and hydraulic strategies could serve across the realm. That was cause for true elation.

“I have already submitted your achievements for record. In due time, rewards shall be granted. Tell me—would you two not stay, and aid me in compiling a Treatise on Hydraulics?”

For this the elder had tarried. At his age, his labors turned to scholarship and books. And he saw plainly these two were born for such work. His words were earnest.

The two exchanged glances. Baiye answered: “We are willing to offer counsel to Your Excellency, yet to compile books we dare not presume. Should you have need, you may seek us at Xuānhe Prefecture.”

The onlookers: “…” Bold words, perhaps too bold.

Yet the elder took no offense. On the contrary, he thought such reply befitted men of true worth. Had they fawned and clamored for favor, he would have doubted their devotion to study.

Masters of the people ever live hidden lives. The elder did not begrudge humbling himself to learn. Why, he thought, perhaps he might even take up residence next door!

The more he pondered it, the better the notion seemed.

Seeing he bore no ill will, all breathed easier. They had feared some misfortune might befall them just as they departed.

The elder inquired further of their dwelling. Learning they lived side by side, the overseers and craftsmen who had long come to share their meals could scarce conceal their grins.

“So—they dwell together already?”

“Did they not sleep in one carriage last night?”

The youth who had spoken to Lizhi stood at the back of the crowd, too low in station even to hear the exchange. He clenched his fists. He was but a humble laborer. To draw nearer to his idol, he must rise in the world.

After half a morning’s delay, Baiye bowed with clasped hands. “We take our leave.”

All knew then it was truly farewell.

The air grew heavy, words fell away. They stood in silence, watching them go.

The officials smacked their lips, already nostalgic.

The elder, having resolved several questions, stroked his beard with satisfaction and departed to set his thoughts in order.

Baiye’s hired boy was also a skilled coachman. The two horses drew the carriage swift and steady. Baiye was glad he had built in shock-absorbers, else they should all be rattled senseless.

Lizhi could even read serenely within.

But Baiye plucked the book from his hands. “It grows cold—come into the quilt with me.”

Lizhi was not cold at all. He held a hand-warmer of silver-threaded charcoal, a luxury scarce found outside noble houses. Old Master He had sent some among his gifts.

Thus they journeyed northward, from the southern climes toward Xuānhe. Though the carriage could house them, twice they lodged at inns, for men and beasts alike needed rest. Five days and nights they pressed on, until at last they reached the prefectural city, chilled to the bone.

Winter had scarce begun, yet this year promised to be the coldest in memory.

But they were well prepared. The carriage was wrapped in thick felt, lined with soft pelts, blanketed with goose-down quilts heavy as lead.

Best of all was the warmth of the body held in his arms. Even the hand-warmer was forgotten; Baiye now knew the worth of his living hearth.

When he sought to rise, an arm circled his waist, holding him fast.

“I would ease myself. Will you come?”

Lizhi stirred. Baiye, realizing, laughed. “You are too genteel. What man has not relieved himself in the open…”

A swift kick silenced him. He amended quickly: “Will you not join me? I shall not look.”

Hand raised in promise, he recalled how Lizhi, even at inns, shunned chamber-pots, preferring the outhouse. He must long have guessed the truth.

So Baiye went alone. Only when he returned did Lizhi descend to see to his own need.

By afternoon they reached the city gates. Steward He of the He family was already there, hurrying forward with a broad smile.

“Young Master Jiang, Master Lu!”

Baiye raised a brow. “What glad tidings make you so merry, Steward He?”

“To receive two such honored guests—what greater joy?”

Baiye was astonished to hear this sober elder jest.

The steward confessed: “Have not these past months gone well? Thanks to your aid, our He family and Huichun Hall have flourished. Enough of words—the Master and Mistress, and the young masters too, have prepared a banquet of welcome. Pray, come!”

Baiye’s mind was on but one thing. “Where is that physician?”

Lizhi sensed the urgency beneath his tone.

The steward’s expression grew faintly strained. “He is within our residence. You shall see him anon.”

Baiye guessed the cause and smiled to himself.

Turning to Lizhi: “Shall we go? We may rest a night beneath their roof, after so long upon the road.”

Lizhi assented with a nod. He thought of Steward Ning and the others, whom he had not seen in some time.

The steward sighed with relief. Though they sought chiefly to bind Baiye, they also wished to draw close to Lu Anshou—the promising scholar who might one day rise high. To nurture such ties was to ensure future gain.

Indeed, the great play only with the great.

Seeing them step into the carriage once more, he gestured for a servant to guide the way. Soon they arrived at the He residence.

There stood He Lin and He Jun, together with Old Master He and his brothers, and the household ladies besides, all arrayed in welcome.

Such ceremony left Baiye abashed.

One of the ladies, spying Lizhi as he stepped forth—slender in azure, cold and pure as snow—brightened at once.

Here was just the type she fancied!

Her own age long past, she thought to propose him for her daughter—the beloved only child of Second Master He.

She turned to gauge the girl’s reaction, only to find her wide-eyed, unable to choose which of the two young men to admire.

“Well?”

“Both are excellent,” she declared solemnly, though her gaze was nothing but innocent wonder.

Other maidens, by contrast, dared not stare, comporting themselves with modest decorum.

Lizhi felt the He family’s household well-ordered and genial. At first ill at ease, he soon relaxed beneath such warmth, knowing it was Baiye’s credit that won them this welcome.

He could also see how Huichun Hall prospered; Old Master He’s eyes, creased in mirth, told as much.

The patriarch himself was plain of face, but his sons were of noble bearing, and Madam He, though aged, still showed the stately beauty of her youth.

Some of the womenfolk considered quietly whether to propose matches. Save for the regret of Lizhi’s muteness, both men were deemed splendid sons-in-law. Yet they kept such musings to themselves.

“You have labored long upon your journey,” Old Master He declared. “We had thought to let you rest, but likely you have not eaten well on the road. First sup, then rest.”

They were seated. The women took a separate table, with fare equal to theirs. This made for more ease. Baiye noted the multitude present—truly a great house.

He Jun saw whom he sought and was about to summon him, when a hearty laugh rang from the door.

“Ha! Dining so early? Excellent—I, too, am hungry.”

A rotund elder entered, white-haired yet ruddy of face, cherubic despite his years.

Lizhi felt Baiye nearly leap from his seat, scarce containing himself.

Here was the very physician famed in tale for curing muteness.

Yet Baiye knew well—this man was not one easily moved, not one to yield even to imperial command.

The He family, catching sight of him, turned grave as facing a dire foe. They whispered urgently to their guests:

“Eat! Quickly, eat!”

Then they heaped food into their bowls with desperate haste, as though fearing if they tarried a moment, there would be none left.