HE With the Cold Male Protagonist C78

Chapter 78: Selling the Trunk, and the Rival Appears

Before returning to the dormitory assigned to him, Lu Lizhi first sought out the dormitory steward. The steward, a ruddy-faced old fellow, hastily hid the cup of wine with which he had been dozing when he saw someone approach.

“What is it?”

Lu Lizhi handed him a written note. The old man, somewhat bleary-eyed, glanced at it, and at once made as though to dismiss him, treating the matter lightly. The stranger’s face was unfamiliar—plainly he intended not to be troubled.

Lu Lizhi had expected as much. From his sleeve he produced a string of copper coins—prepared in advance by Jiang Baiye, who had warned him that within the Academy many things required silver to smooth the way.

At sight of the coins, the old man’s eyes lit up. “Which dormitory are you in? What is your name?”

Lu Lizhi produced another slip of paper. As the steward reached for the register, he noticed that the youth did not speak, and his hand hesitated.

Then, recalling something, he laughed. “Well now, the dormitories have already been divided according to regulation. Come again tomorrow. This old man shall see which chambers lie vacant, or whether any would agree to share with you, and perhaps a change might be arranged.”

—I require a chamber to myself.

So read the note Lu Lizhi now presented. With it, he placed a silver ingot upon the table.

The old fellow struggled mightily against the urge to seize both the silver and the chance to oblige him. Yet he recalled Yu Zhijie’s earlier instructions: should the mute roommate come seeking him, he must act accordingly.

Still, the temptation was almost beyond endurance. How could a mere licentiate youth be so wealthy, so free with his hand?

His fingers inched out, even as he schemed how to fob him off.

But before he could touch it, Lu Lizhi calmly withdrew the silver, rose, and left without a word.

“Eh? Why leave so soon? I had not finished!” The steward hurried after him, but that elegant figure vanished swiftly into the cloisters.

“So, he does not mean to pay. He was toying with me!” Thus thinking, the old man resolved not to risk offending the powers behind Yu Zhijie for the sake of a little silver.

And many others thought likewise: the mute student, unable to speak, must surely be powerless as well, destined to be tormented by Yu Zhijie.

So thought they all, even gathering to watch with eager interest.

“Have you heard? Lu Lizhi has been assigned to share a dormitory with Yu Zhijie!”

“What of it?”

“Those two are sworn enemies! At the last results posting, they brawled beneath the board—it was bloody!”

Deprived of diversions, the scholars’ appetite for gossip rivalled the gossips of any village lane. Wagers were already being laid in secret.

“Let us bet—when they fight, who will win?”

“My wager is on Yu Zhijie. Though shorter, he is sturdier. That pale, slender body of Lu Lizhi’s, as delicate as a maiden’s, will never endure a beating.”

“I, too, stake on Yu Zhijie. My entire fortune upon it!”

The mob roved from dorm to dorm, urging others to join the betting. Ding Lihui and his companions, seeing it, hastily laid aside their books.

“The Academy forbids such gambling! Do you not fear Tutor Yi’s wrath?”

One who often accompanied Yu Zhijie sneered, “If aught befalls us, it shall be because you betrayed us! Best keep your noses out of it.”

“Aye, we but amuse ourselves—where lies the harm?”

“And is it not building your joy upon another’s suffering?” cried Dong Yuanjiu, incensed, and made to warn Lu Lizhi—only to be seized and barred.

“So late at night—were you to stumble upon their fight and be injured, would that not be a pity?”

A warning indeed—not only to them, but to any who thought to meddle.

Meanwhile, the focus of all eyes—Lu Lizhi—already guessed there was something amiss with his chamber, yet with impassive mien he carried his trunk inside.

Unexpectedly, Yu Zhijie made no move, but sat with candle lit, a book in hand. Only when Lu Lizhi approached his bed did a sly smile curl his lips.

But as Lu Lizhi turned aside and seated himself at the desk instead, Yu Zhijie’s anticipation collapsed.

Yet recalling the teapot upon the table, he grew excited anew.

He lifted it—he lifted it!

Surely no one would suspect the tea, brought fresh from the refectory.

Lu Lizhi was indeed thirsty. Under Yu Zhijie’s furtive gaze, he raised the cup to his lips—then, as though recalling something, set it down again.

Yu Zhijie: “…” Was he toying with me? Could he know? But he had only just received his key—how could he know who his roommates were?

In truth, Lu Lizhi’s earlier probing of the steward had already told him much. He had searched every corner since—finding nothing amiss. Even the bedding was new, perhaps arranged by Professor Huang.

Grinding his teeth, Yu Zhijie prepared to speak—when suddenly two breathless figures burst in.

“By Heaven, Song Haocheng, you near killed me with those quilts! Why the sudden moving—oh! Lu Lizhi? So you are our roommate!”

Lu Lizhi inclined his head coolly to Fei Hongyu and Song Haocheng, then returned to his book, already resolved to forgo sleep that night. Better to read than risk whatever mischief Yu Zhijie might contrive in the dark.

“Brothers Fei, Song—you’ve snow upon you still. Where have you been?” Yu Zhijie greeted them warmly, readying his second scheme: deliberate exclusion of Lu Lizhi.

Fei Hongyu, ever ready with words, was about to reply when his eyes lit upon something.

“Ah! Lu Lizhi, what is this?”

Lu Lizhi, taking a candle from his trunk, looked up in puzzlement.

“This trunk of yours—why does it have wheels?”

At his curiosity, Lu Lizhi’s eyes gleamed. He closed the trunk, set it upright, and drew forth a rod—an extendable handle.

To all astonishment, the heavy trunk rolled easily upon four wooden wheels. With but his little finger, Lu Lizhi could pull it along.

Fei Hongyu and Song Haocheng were struck dumb. Even Yu Zhijie gaped. What was this contrivance—so useful?

“Heavens! Where did you get it? When I moved in, my things were carried on poles by pages—it was exhausting!”

Song Haocheng nodded gravely. “Our chests and book-boxes are heavy beyond bearing. Shoulders ache and bleed from the weight. Where did you buy this? I must have one!”

“I—I—I shall buy five! One for my uncle, one for my cousin, two for my parents. This is wondrous! One might pack anything within!”

He snatched the handle, pulled it himself, hefted the weight.

“Incredible!”

Lu Lizhi gestured for Song Haocheng to try as well. When he did, the two were decided—they must have such trunks.

Yu Zhijie, intent on mischief, now found himself torn—his eyes hungry upon the trunk, his heart sour as he watched Song Haocheng and Fei Hongyu crowd around Lu Lizhi’s cold, impassive face with eager chatter.

Were they not usually aloof? How could they be so lively before this stony visage?

Soon the gamblers, expecting a fight, arrived.

“What are you doing here?”

“Good heavens—what marvel is this?”

In no time, the entire row of dormitories buzzed with excitement over the rolling trunk.

So loud were they that instructors and stewards, guardians of discipline, arrived—only to join the clamor, eager to buy.

Lu Lizhi, prepared, had pen and ink ready. He noted names and orders.

Yet he would not produce them without commitment.

Thus he required half the sum as deposit—two taels of silver.

“Two taels just for deposit? Too dear! Strange as it is, could we not craft it ourselves?”

“You are mistaken,” said Song Haocheng, explaining with authority. “The wheels must be of hard-wearing wood, finely ground to precise shape. The least error throws it off balance. Such workmanship tests a master craftsman.”

“And the wood itself is costly.”

It was exactly what Lu Lizhi had meant to say—yet Song Haocheng had perceived it swiftly, and even spoken in his defence. Lu Lizhi could not help but glance at him with gratitude.

Song Haocheng’s neck flushed crimson. Lord Qingyuan nodded at me!

At four taels each, not every student could afford them. Many poor scholars, sighing, abandoned the thought.

But those who had entered by their families’ wealth and connections were numerous enough.

In the end, over twenty placed orders; twelve paid deposits on the spot. Others begged for time until funds arrived from home.

Lu Lizhi made it clear—those who paid first would be served first.

This drove even the hesitant to resolve—better pay quickly, lest they be left behind, deprived of the joy of wandering with ease, books in tow.

Lu Lizhi carefully put away the fifty-odd taels received. These trunks had been Jiang Baiye’s design, sketched by Lu Lizhi for Uncle Jiang to craft, complete with locks and hidden compartments.

Yu Zhijie ground his teeth, nearly yielding to temptation to buy one himself.

Others were less restrained. “Zhijie, you should buy too—I’ve ordered two already!”

“Aye, I have also paid my deposit.” Which deposit was, in fact, their gambling stake.

Yu Zhijie felt he might cough blood. At last, as the crowd dispersed and peace returned, he resolved to sleep, to plot afresh on the morrow.

Then—a shriek rent the air!

Lu Lizhi turned in surprise to see Yu Zhijie leaping from his bed.

Upon the bed lay a serpent’s shed skin—once meant for Lu Lizhi.

Had it not been winter, when snakes lay hidden, he would not have needed to procure this cast skin.

But why—why was it upon his own bed?

Yu Zhijie was sickened, Fei Hongyu exclaimed in disgust, and even Lu Lizhi, though unafraid of snakes, loathed the filth.

Only Song Haocheng paused, expressionless—a fleeting motion none perceived.

Thus did Lu Lizhi weather the day’s trials unscathed.

Yet Jiang Baiye, tossing in his bed, could not rest easy. Long did he turn before falling at last into troubled sleep.

And he, who ever slept soundly, was that night haunted by dreams.

In those dreams, he recalled much from the book, details nearly lost to him.

Among them: Song Haocheng, a secondary figure, who from first acquaintance at the Academy had journeyed ever beside Lu Lizhi. Together they passed the examinations—one as Zhuangyuan, the other as Bangyan. Later, their views aligned; they governed the realm side by side, quelled disasters, pacified rebellions, travelled to the frontiers, even served as envoys abroad.

Others jested they were like man and shadow. Song Haocheng, ever modest, claimed himself but Lu Lizhi’s right arm.

All seemed natural enough.

But as Jiang Baiye pieced together faint, overlooked signs, he realised—this man might… like men.

Startled awake, he opened his eyes—only to find a great face looming close, staring fixedly at him. He cried out, “Ha!”

“Doctor Pang! Why frighten me so?”

The physician straightened pitifully. “I am hungry.”

“But it is only—” Jiang Baiye turned to the window. The sun was high. “Already midday?”

He recalled how he had sketched long into the night, attempting designs for the new residence. Though lacking Lu Lizhi’s skill, he had formed some plans to explain to the craftsmen:

How to fashion privies clean and flushable; how to create a bath with hot water spray—requiring pipes and perhaps power.

How to use the front row of houses along the street for stables and carriage sheds, with a porter’s lodge at the gate.

In the second courtyard: the east wing as kitchen and dining hall, the west as study and studio, the main hall as reception. The third courtyard for living: east and west wings as guest rooms, the main as his and Lu Lizhi’s chamber.

Side rooms as baths and privies.

The rear row for further guest rooms, servants’ quarters, and storerooms.

And beyond all, the gardens: not only must the dwelling be convenient and comfortable, but pleasing to the eye—something to delight Lu Lizhi.

Thinking thus, he prepared lunch for Doctor Pang and the He household.

That day he cooked simply: braised pork with preserved vegetables, sweet-and-sour squirrel fish, and a spicy seafood blood stew.

Since tasting duck’s blood in hotpot, the Hes had craved it without cease. Today’s stew, he thought, would gladden them.

And so it proved.

In the rear courtyard, many of the women remained at home; most of the men, including Master He, had already set out for the capital. Even He Lin’s mother was away, tending estates and shops.

Thus the rest gathered in the matriarch’s quarters, dining with satisfaction.

“Mother, my happiest moments each day are at meals!”

“Mind yourself, girl—you seem already plumper.”

At this, many pinched at their waists in dismay. Once accustomed to meagre bowls, now they ate until replete. Naturally, they grew stout.

“Never mind—so long as we do not become as round as Doctor Pang.”

Doctor Pang, innocently maligned: “…”

At first Jiang Baiye had thought his presence a burden upon the Hes, with Doctor Pang staying only for his sake.

Yet they, wishing to keep him, not only covered the expense of every meal but even offered him wages.

Which he, of course, refused—for he must eat himself.

After dining, he resolved to wander the Academy’s environs. Though he deemed himself a most dutiful husband, with Lu Lizhi wholly devoted to him and obedient besides, still—

The laws of the book were formidable.

Song Haocheng was a more troublesome rival than He Lin. The one but a business acquaintance; the other, a partner in all things.

Truly—merely thinking of it compelled him to act…