Chapter 39 — Choosing People
The Heihe Distillery had received a massive order and, in strict adherence to the traditional methods passed down by the elders, stored the wine in wooden vats sealed with blood materials—entirely made using deer blood, without a drop of pig plasma.
The deer blood in contact with the wine formed a semi-transparent protective membrane, reducing off-flavors and impurities. This method ensured that the stored wine would develop a richer, smoother aroma, and its flavor would improve over time. This was one of the key reasons why the Heihe Distillery, having opened three branches, remained thriving—one of the Fang family’s most skilled brewing techniques.
Some smaller breweries had tried to experiment with deer plasma, but they were unwilling to fully commit, only using small containers. Moreover, the technique was extremely tricky—any small error in the blood formula or sealing method would result in a foul smell. Poorly stored wine wasn’t the only loss; an entire vat of fine liquor could be wasted. Many tried a few times and then dared not attempt it again.
The Bai family valued reputation in business and were willing to invest. The Heihe distillery, after bleeding the deer from the farm, still had a large amount of venison that the brewery couldn’t consume. Most of it was transported back, with the best pieces sent first to the East Courtyard, and the rest distributed among other families.
At the clan school, a group of half-grown kids, around fourteen or fifteen, were at the age of high energy. After eating the venison, some would get rashes or pimples on their foreheads, some would get rowdy, and some of the more sensible ones would secretly bring small booklets for their classmates to peek at.
Bai Mingyu was pulled over by a few familiar classmates to see the “good stuff.” Looking at the few pages of crude little figure drawings, he frowned. “What’s so interesting about this? I have bigger ones at home, drawn even better!”
The classmates’ eyes lit up when they heard him. “Second Brother, why didn’t you tell us there’s such good stuff? Where is it, take us to see!”
“Is it like… ours?” another asked, lowering a few words in the middle with a mischievous grin.
Bai Mingyu sat at the desk, flipping through their booklet. “Not exactly. The drawings have wings, yellow curly hair, holding jade bottles. Oh, they can fly, painted all over the Western vase in my small hall at home, a whole bunch of them. Didn’t you see them last time?”
The others exchanged glances. One scratched his head: “Second Brother, that’s different. What you’re talking about is for kids; what we have isn’t for kids.”
Bai Mingyu said, “Different? Aren’t they all naked?” He flipped a few pages and tossed it back. “What’s interesting about this? Hey, is your ‘General of the West’ still alive? Are the wings grown? I got a new top-quality cricket today—after school, we’ll have a fight. Nobody better run!”
Everyone agreed.
Just then, someone entered the classroom at the door, with a small cut on his forehead and the skin broken near his mouth, carrying a bookbag.
Seeing him, Bai Mingyu kicked the person next to him and scowled, “Go, say sorry to him.”
A Bai family student nearby looked aggrieved. “I went yesterday, even with my father. We brought a lot of things. Second Brother, you don’t know, the Fang family kept the gifts and scolded both me and my father.”
Bai Mingyu glared. “Serves you right. You still owe me a scolding. You hit someone—at least explain it properly! Yesterday morning Wang Jingqiu scolded me—I should repeat it to you word for word!”
The little tyrant had spoken, and no one at the school dared disobey. The student reluctantly went forward to apologize publicly, bowing deeply until it was done.
Fang Jiwu said little, merely nodding, but Wang Jingqiu beside him still looked annoyed.
Bai Mingyu deliberately made sure Wang Jingqiu heard and shouted from afar: “Did you hear that? Louder!”
The Bai student apologized three more times, and Wang Jingqiu, unable to bear it, got up, clasped his hands, and bowed stiffly. “It was my fault yesterday.”
Only then did Bai Mingyu let the student stop standing and return to his seat.
Bai Mingyu, feeling proud, bumped Xie Jing with his arm and asked, “Did you see that? Second Young Master’s got authority in the school, right? Don’t worry, follow me and you’ll have a fun two years.”
A student resting on the desk shifted slightly, squinting sleepily.
Bai Mingyu clicked his tongue in surprise. “Little Xie, what’s up with you today? You usually have so much energy. Why do you get sleepy in class? What were you up to last night?”
“…Nothing.”
“Don’t lie. You were on duty in the East Courtyard last night, right? I heard two flashy golden pheasants ran into the stables. Did you see them? Their tail feathers, were they really golden? Pretty?”
Xie Jing squinted for a moment, then said, “Not bad, but noisy.”
Bai Mingyu, sharp today, rolled up his sleeves and tried to tickle him. “Hey, you’re teasing the young master now!”
Xie Jing, ticklish under the ribs, frowned slightly and held his hand. “Stop it.”
Bai Mingyu rarely saw him smile and wasn’t satisfied. “Little Xie, you should smile more—it looks better. Usually when you stand in front of me, I feel like I’m seeing Lord Bai Jiu—you two are almost the same.”
Xie Jing paused. “Same how?”
Bai Mingyu said, “Always serious. Not that old, and standing like that every day—it’s tiring. Next time I see you, just say hello, no need to bow.”
Xie Jing thought for a while. Lord Bai Jiu had never seemed lively; it was always like this.
He was busy. Even after three days without sleep, there were always people and matters needing attention. When he finished, there was always something new.
The only truly calm time was privately, with only Xie Jing.
Everyone said Lord Bai Jiu was the most outstanding in the Bai family. Yet there was only one exception—Xie Jing. Despite others’ objections, Lord Bai Jiu kept him nearby, ignoring outside rumors. Others assumed it was pity, but Xie Jing felt he wanted to help Lord Bai Jiu, to stay by his side, and relieve his worries—he was so good, thinking of everyone but never himself.
Xie Jing was Lord Bai Jiu’s only indulgence.
Also, Lord Bai Jiu’s place to breathe.
Bai Mingyu called him twice. When Xie Jing returned to his senses, he asked cautiously, “Did I say something wrong?”
Xie Jing shook his head, smiling. “No, you’re right, but I won’t slack off—I need to learn.”
Bai Mingyu understood perfectly. He wanted to teach Little Xie how to slack off hands-on.
But today, the teacher added a new lesson, instructed the study of English, and arranged exams. The clan school grew busy.
Xie Jing was supervising and didn’t need to take the exams, but when the papers were distributed, he wrote along. He filled in what he knew, left blank what he didn’t, and took the test home for Lord Bai Jiu to grade.
Lord Bai Jiu had always taught him personally, and the grading remained the same.
Bai Rongjiu called him over to a large red pine desk to teach reading and writing. Xie Jing obeyed, reciting diligently, writing each character twice.
For two poorly written characters, Bai Rongjiu guided his hand through the strokes. Sitting close, Xie Jing felt a tickle on his nose.
Lord Bai Jiu noticed his hand trying to pull away. “What’s wrong?”
Xie Jing stepped back, sneezed, and rubbed his fingers. Luckily, no nosebleed.
Lord Bai Jiu smiled. “Cold? I heard you dozing in class this morning. Wear a coat—it’s a bit chilly.”
Xie Jing blushed. “I only rested a little.” He fumbled with the pen. “Master, I’ll write myself.”
Lord Bai Jiu made space for him. This was the first child he personally taught, and the only one—a rare clever student, teaching was enjoyable.
Writing a few characters, Xie Jing heard Lord Bai Jiu ask: “How are things at the clan school? Any candidates in mind?”
Xie Jing first mentioned Wang Jingqiu, then some Bai family students. Lord Bai Jiu laughed. “Why not Ji Liang? You play best with him—I’d have chosen him first.”
Xie Jing shook his head. “Second Young Master is too impatient, not suited for studying, better for business.”
Lord Bai Jiu nodded. “Agreed. He’s clever. Once the distillery work is done, I’ll take him to the provincial capital.”
Xie Jing kept writing steadily, showing no distraction—a choice consistent with Lord Bai Jiu’s past.
Someone entered with a list from the clan school, showing the latest grades.
Lord Bai Jiu flipped through and found it mostly aligned with Xie Jing’s picks. The top five names matched, except the top spot wasn’t Wang Jingqiu—it was a Bai family student.
Xie Jing glanced at the English column. Although new to the subject, the student had already excelled. Previously, he was mid-to-high level, but with English, he jumped to the top—likely some prior home study. Wang Jingqiu and others couldn’t catch up. It wasn’t diligence alone; it was innate family advantage.
Lord Bai Jiu noticed Xie Jing looking and asked, “Want to learn English? I can teach you.”
Xie Jing shook his head. “Master, I want to learn martial arts from Uncle Zhang.”
Lord Bai Jiu nodded.
Zhang Huwei had been waiting. Excited to finally take Xie Jing as a disciple, he asked: “Little Xie, what do you want to learn?”
Xie Jing changed into training clothes. “Uncle Zhang, you’re skilled—I want to learn everything, but can’t chew more than I bite. Let’s start with the basics.”
Zhang Huwei agreed happily. He didn’t train directly, fearing to hurt him, and brought two slightly shorter disciples, similar in size to Xie Jing, to practice with him.
Zhang Huwei wasn’t formally trained; he spent over ten years as a bodyguard, learning through experience. His injuries were matched by skill—each survival made him wiser.
Xie Jing was surprised “cunning” could describe this bearded, burly man.
Zhang Huwei’s punches were strong, yet his footwork deceptive. Xie Jing’s bones were hard but body soft. Practicing with one disciple, he flipped, evading a wrist hold, twisting it back. The disciple was startled and loosened grip.
Zhang Huwei hurried over. “Are you okay?”
Xie Jing shook his head. It was reflexive.
Zhang Huwei circled him, patted his shoulder, waist, and legs, then went through the moves himself. Seeing Xie Jing repeat them effortlessly, he laughed: “I heard some people are naturally ‘flexible in muscles and bones.’ Didn’t believe it—now I do. Truly someone this supple!”
Xie Jing felt a pang of insecurity.
He had trained as a martial performer, following masters, one with real skill. After returning, he practiced privately. Maybe reincarnation gave insight, or youth’s body was naturally flexible. Movements once hard were now easier.
Zhang Huwei patted his shoulder, excited: “Little Xie, you don’t need to train like me. My style uses strength; yours uses skill. Just follow me for footwork and spear techniques.”
Xie Jing nodded in agreement.
After the Heihe mission with firearms, his shoulder had hurt for days, almost falling off a horse.
From then on, he started morning training to regain his old skills. How much he recovered would be his future reliance.
