Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 11

Five years ago, during the Great Yu Dynasty’s internal chaos and foreign wars, countless heroes perished. His Majesty led an army of boys, none older than twenty, from Shu Province—fighting off invaders on one front and quelling rebellion on the other. Many of his soldiers starved, many froze, and yet they traded their lives for the peace that followed.

And that peace—ended up fattening the pockets of these greedy merchants.

The young lady before him, her delicate face nourished by wealth and jade, looked down at him with an air of charity. For the first time, Song Yunzhi truly grasped the vile excess of the merchant class. Before he could think of the consequences, his body had already moved toward her. Meeting her bright, liquid gaze, he curled his lips coolly and said, “All right.”

Everything her Qian family squeezed from the common folk of Great Yu—let her hand it over, every last coin.

Was she really willing?

A sharp, aggressive glint burst from the young man’s eyes, so fierce it made Qian Tong instinctively lean back, startled.

Did she say something wrong?

Had he lost all his kin?

But that shouldn’t make him look like he wanted to swallow her whole.

Sensing the doubt in her eyes, Song Yunzhi caught himself and slowly straightened.

A mighty dragon shouldn’t pick a fight with a local snake. His mission here would not be easy.

He had studied the teachings of the sages for more than a decade—not to grow a blockhead’s conscience. His mind held countless stratagems; he knew what would best serve his purpose. If gaining her trust required sacrifice, so be it.

Thinking this through, he lowered his gaze, brushing her face with his eyes, and said quietly, “My relatives are many. My mother’s family is especially large. I fear Seventh Miss might find it hard to part with them.”

His brows carried a hint of charm, and his tone—tinged with the faint sorrow of autumn—made the word “bitterness” seem etched into his very bones.

Qian Tong froze.

She suddenly understood those plays where the heroine’s life was ruined after one glance at a handsome young man weren’t exaggerations. If he’d shown her that face last night, she might never have found it in herself to act.

After more than a decade of war, how many poor souls could truly recover and prosper again?

She could afford to save a few. Extending two fingers, she swore, “Trust me. If I said I’ll give, I will give. My word is gold—I’ll never cheat you.”

Song Yunzhi lowered his head again, returning to his ledger. “I believe you,” he murmured.

Qian Tong: …

His voice was low and calm, and the faint smile on his lips looked deliberately teasing. Something soft and ticklish stirred in her chest, leaving her strangely restless.

Under the pressure of money, the young man’s attitude had changed.

Feeling the omnipotence of silver, Qian Tong’s counting hands moved faster. She turned to Fuyin and ordered, “Anyone who didn’t bring silver, follow our men home to get it. Write every amount down. Whoever collects debts follows the old rules—take your commission.”

The Qian family’s servants had long been waiting outside for orders. The moment each debtor left, one of them clung close behind like a stubborn patch of dogskin plaster—impossible to shake off.

The engagement banquet descended into chaos. Even though Madam Cui forced a smile and tried to carry on, the magistrate’s wife had lost all interest. After a few polite exchanges, she ended things early and left with her son.

Madam Cui was furious. She’d known that Qian family girl was trouble—always scheming, never letting anyone take advantage of her. Scanning the hall and finding no trace of her, she snapped at a maid, “Where is she?”

The maid replied, “Seventh Miss went to the First Madam’s courtyard.”

Madam Cui gave a cold laugh. With the magistrate’s wife gone, she no longer had to hold her tongue. “Anything touched by that Qian family turns to rot. So unlucky. What’s she trying to prove—walking around like a half-dead ghost? If she really wanted to save face, why not take a pair of scissors and end it all? I’d even toast her courage.”

After collecting the accounts, Qian Tong made her way to the Cui family’s First Madam’s courtyard.

The last time she’d been here was half a year ago.

She still remembered the First Madam’s wedding day—she’d come with her family to deliver the bride. The courtyard had been bright and spotless, draped with red lanterns and ribbons. The Cui family’s eldest son, dressed in his wedding robes, held the red bridal cord as he led his bride into the bridal chamber. When the guests tried to tease them, he shielded her protectively, refusing to let anyone so much as touch her veil.

At the time, even Qian Tong had felt a pang of envy.

Five years had passed. The house was no longer the same.

The once-lively courtyard now sat under a heavy shroud of gloom. As she walked through, not a single maid or servant appeared. Only at the doorway did one hurried out carrying a clay pot still warm from boiled medicine.

“Chunliu,” Qian Tong called.

The maid, who had come with the First Madam from the Qian household, froze in surprise before her face lit up. “Seventh Miss, thank heaven you’re here.”

Qian Tong had heard her eldest sister was ill again. “How is she?” she asked.

Chunliu’s smile vanished. She shook her head. “She just drank her medicine. She’s awake now—you should see her yourself.”

Not long ago, Qian Tong had even sent for a renowned physician to treat her sister, who’d reported afterward that the illness had greatly improved.

So why was she drinking medicine again?

The moment she entered, the strong smell of herbs hit her nose. The windows were shut tight, trapping the thick air inside until it felt stifling.

“Didn’t I say to keep the windows open? Why are they sealed like this?”

Chunliu followed behind and replied, “Madam Cui said the First Madam’s health is fragile. A breeze might make her sick again, and calling the doctor costs money.”

Money? Qian Tong’s temper flared. The Cui family had just spent a fortune on Sixth Miss Cui’s engagement banquet—each dish on the table could have paid for several fine doctors.

She wasn’t afraid of wasting money—she just saw Qian family’s eldest daughter as a burden dragging the Cui family down. Qian Tong snapped, “What does she know? Is she a doctor? Open the windows—every last one of them!”

Her sister, who had just drunk her medicine, was resting on the bed. Hearing the commotion, she knew at once who had come. Quickly fixing her hair, she gathered what little strength she had.

The beaded curtain lifted, and a figure in pale green stepped inside. Half a year had passed, yet the young lady before her was still as vibrant as ever—bright-eyed, decisive, with the same unyielding spirit as their late grandmother.

The First Madam smiled faintly. “Tong’er, you’re here.”

Qian Tong hesitated. Seeing her sister’s gaunt, pale face, her heart twisted with pain. “How did you end up like this?”

A bitter taste filled her sister’s mouth; she didn’t want to speak much. She gave a weak smile. “I’d like to know that too.”

Back when she lived in the Qian household, she’d been strong—climbing trees to pick cherries for her sisters. But after marrying into the Cui family, she had become bedridden, her health fading day by day.

Qian Tong stood by the curtain and didn’t enter. “Where’s brother-in-law?”

“Busy,” her sister murmured.

Busy—no doubt tending to his concubine and her child. Qian Tong had told her sister the truth many times before, but this time she didn’t come to comfort her. “He doesn’t love you anymore, Sister.”

The words stung, but she needed to hear them.

Once, the two of them had shared real affection—but hearts change. The Cui family’s eldest son, who once shielded her from the world, was no exception.

Her sister’s expression didn’t change. Instead, she diverted the topic. “I heard Tong’er found herself a husband?”

Qian Tong said nothing.

“If he caught your eye, he must be an exceptional man,” her sister said softly.

Still no response. Qian Tong’s eyes reddened the longer she stared.

Seeing this, her sister sighed and lowered her gaze. “I once warned you not to give up so easily. I even nearly helped you elope. Thank heaven you didn’t. Otherwise, how much sin would I bear? And look at me now—what a joke I’ve become.”

“You’ve never been a joke,” Qian Tong said hoarsely.

Her sister fell silent.

Qian Tong usually avoided meddling in others’ marriages. She couldn’t empathize, couldn’t offer advice. But this was her sister—she had to act. “Sister, divorce him.”

Her sister’s eyes widened. “Tong’er, you don’t need to—”

“I can’t just stand by.” Qian Tong’s temper broke through, her tone hardening. “The Cui family is finished. You need to come home with me.”

Her sister froze.

“I’ve already had the papers drawn up. Have him sign them—let both families part peacefully.” Qian Tong pulled a folded document from her sleeve and handed it to her.

Her sister didn’t take it, too shocked by another part of what she’d said. She grabbed Qian Tong’s wrist. “What happened?”

Marriage was meant to unite two families, but she’d never considered what would happen if that alliance turned hostile. Qian Tong pitied her but could only say, “The Cui family has committed a grave offense.”

The relationship between her sister and the Cui heir had deteriorated to the point where Qian Tong no longer knew whether to despise him or feel relieved.

She despised him for destroying a good woman.
She was relieved they never had children—nothing to tie her sister down.

“You should know, Sister,” Qian Tong said, “our families aren’t what they once were. It’s them or us. The Cui family thinks they’ve secured the magistrate’s favor, but they’ve only cut off their own escape route. The Park family is not known for mercy.”
(t/n: Park family—朴家—is a powerful political clan in the story, often ruthless in their dealings.)

Her sister remained dazed.

Qian Tong gently pried her hand open and placed the divorce letter in her palm. “Have him sign this. Once you’re ready, send word. I’ll send someone to bring you home. We’ll get you well again. We’ll live properly—won’t we?”

Before she was Cui family’s First Madam, she was Qian family’s eldest daughter—raised there for seventeen years.

Qian Tong trusted she would know what to choose.

Her sister stared at her quietly, then asked in a whisper, “Are you still in contact with Young Master Park?”

Qian Tong didn’t answer.

Seeing she didn’t wish to discuss it, her sister said nothing more. She lowered her eyes and folded the divorce letter carefully.

Qian Tong didn’t rush her, waiting silently.

Outside, Chunliu opened all the windows as ordered. A fresh wind swept through, carrying sunlight into the dim room. The brightness stung her sister’s eyes. She looked out—and saw the old half-panel of nacre window lattice that Cui had once set with his own hands. Five years later, it had long since lost its shine.

The First Madam exhaled softly and nodded. “All right. I’ll go home.”

Qian Tong had gone alone to her sister’s courtyard.

Song Yunzhi and Fuyin waited outside by the carriage. Fuyin was still counting silver notes, while Song Yunzhi stood at the gate, observing the street.

The Cui residence opened into a busy alley, people flowing in and out. By chance, Song Yunzhi’s gaze caught a familiar face in the crowd—one of Shen Che’s shadow guards.

He glanced at the still-occupied Fuyin, then strode over.

Fuyin noticed quickly. “Young Master Song, the lady will be out soon—where are you going?”

Without looking back, he replied, “To buy a comb.”

Indeed, there was a stall selling wooden combs just ahead.

Fuyin said nothing further.

When he reached the stall, the shadow guard whispered, “Lord Song.”

Song Yunzhi gave a slight nod.

“My master received your letter,” the guard said. “He approves of your resolve to slay the female thief.”

That letter had been sent the previous night—when Song’s mindset had been very different from now. “Where is he?”

“Aboard the Cui family’s ships,” the guard replied.

Song Yunzhi frowned. Wasn’t he supposed to be stationed at the Qian family’s mountain estate, managing the ledgers?

After a pause, the guard said heavily, “The Qian family sent him onto the Cui ships as an undercover agent. He’s… not doing well.”

Given his identity, infiltrating Cui’s operations could only end badly.

Song Yunzhi closed his eyes briefly. To think—after all the hardship of infiltrating the Qian family, now he’d been sent by them as a spy to the Cui household. Treachery upon treachery—exactly the kind of trick that witch would pull.

Then the guard added, “He’s discovered that the Cui family’s ships are filled with tea leaves. We suspect they’re smuggling.”

(t/n: In ancient China, tea smuggling was a serious offense tied to trade monopolies and imperial taxes.)