Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 17

Seeing how violently he reacted—his lips scraped raw—Qian Tong could already guess why. So what if he’s embarrassed? She’d already taken him hostage; a few harsh words didn’t matter. With a faint smile, she said, “I’m taking you somewhere.”

“Forgive me,” Song Yunzhi replied coolly, “but I won’t be accompanying you.”

“There’s no time to waste,” Qian Tong stepped forward.

His eyes, cold as steel, fixed on her.

She pulled out a banknote and held it toward him. “Here.”

He glanced down—it was a silver note worth five hundred taels.

“I promised to help your family,” she said matter-of-factly. “And I keep my word. Five hundred taels may last a poor family a lifetime, though for a merchant house like mine, it’s pocket change. But I have my pride. One day, I’ll show you what real merchant wealth looks like.”

When he didn’t reach for it, she moved closer.

“Stay where you are!” he barked, stepping back just in time, avoiding her as though she were a snake. Still, he snatched the note from her fingers in one swift motion.

So he trusted money more than people—Qian Tong sighed softly. “I must be the most pathetic fool alive—forcing money on someone who can’t even spare me a decent look.”

He looked over. The young woman was watching him expectantly, clearly waiting for a word of thanks.

But in his current position—living under another’s roof—he had no room for pride or temper. After a long pause, his voice dropped low. “You… shouldn’t act this way again.”

She wasn’t sure why, but the more stubborn he was, the more she wanted to provoke him. Before she could think, the words slipped out: “Act what way?”

Her teasing smile said it all. Song Yunzhi’s brow twitched—incorrigible! He turned on his heel and walked away.

Having pushed him too far, Qian Tong remembered her real errand. She rushed after him, blurting, “It wasn’t my lip balm—it’s something I prepared ahead of time. Since you’ll be up late anyway, come with me for a bit.”

And even if it were lip balm, she thought, so what? It’s not like I kissed him.

“I’m a woman; it’s inconvenient to go out alone at night,” she added. “If you come along, we’ll avoid trouble.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned to Ajin. “Prepare the carriage. I’m going out with my dear husband.”

Qian Tong headed straight for the trading office—to corner the second son of the Cui family.

It was a risky move, but one that fit Cui Er Gongzi’s desperate, reckless nature. His family’s restaurants had been seized, their patriarch thrown into prison. At the end of his rope, the only thing left he could cling to was his bargaining chip—people.

She didn’t take the front or back gate. Instead, she circled the courtyard, found a stretch of wall, handed a small wooden box to Song Yunzhi, wiped her palms, and climbed up.

Perched on the wall, she could see clearly now the dim lights flickering below.

“Faster—move faster!”

“Anyone who dares make a sound, kill them on the spot!”

The man standing in the courtyard’s center, dressed in black and holding a long sword, was none other than Cui Er Gongzi.

From the shadows of the house came people—young men, women, even children—each covered in wounds of varying degrees. Years of torment had hollowed their eyes; they flinched at the light like startled birds.

Cui Er pointed his blade at their chests, examining them one by one like livestock. When he finished, he gestured toward a nearby wagon. “You. That one.”

Not far off, a woman clutched her trembling child. The boy’s body shook, his sobs rising in his throat until she quickly pressed a hand over his mouth.

Though Qian Tong couldn’t hear her words from this distance, she could see the woman’s lips move—surely trying to soothe her son.

Soon they stood before Cui Er. His sword paused over the boy, then jerked toward a carriage. “That wagon.”

The mother started to follow, but his sword blocked her path. “You. Over there.”

The boy, having held back his tears all this time, broke down completely when he realized his mother wasn’t coming. He clung to her and screamed, “Mother! I don’t want to leave you!”

Panicked, she covered his mouth again and turned her body protectively around him. “Hush, my son! Don’t speak!”

They were supposed to be escaping tonight, and now the boy was calling out—Cui Er kicked the woman viciously in the back. “Still nursing, are you? I’ll teach you what it means to obey!”

Mother and son went sprawling.

Ignoring her pain, the woman crawled forward and shielded the child with her own body, pleading, “Please, sir, spare my boy! I’ll do anything—just please, let him live!”

Qian Tong had long known Cui Er was vile, but seeing it firsthand was something else entirely. When he raised his sword to strike, she snapped.

“Hey! Cui Yunfang, may lightning strike you dead!”

Her shout was followed by the sound of something hard cutting through the air—the wooden box she’d thrown slammed squarely into the back of his head.

He staggered forward and collapsed.

Qian Tong blinked, then turned to the dark-faced man beside her. When did he get up here? And—did he just throw the box she’d handed him, the one filled with all the human contracts?

“You—”

Song Yunzhi didn’t even look at her. He leapt straight off the wall.

Unlike her, he had the skill for it. Qian Tong, unsure she’d land in one piece, stayed perched up top, watching as he dealt with the scum below.

Not only was the young lord skilled in martial arts—he was righteous too. That saved her a lot of work.

By the time she slid awkwardly down, the fight was already over. The courtyard was littered with groaning thugs, all subdued by Song Yunzhi alone.

She walked over to find him still gripping the sword Cui Er had used moments ago. The blade was slick with blood, its cold gleam chilling to behold.

A courier’s son indeed, she thought. He fights like he means it.

Worried he might have killed the man outright—wasting her night’s effort—she nudged the crumpled figure with her shoe. “Wake up.”

He stirred faintly. Good—still alive.

“Bring them out!” she called toward the gate.

At last, Song Yunzhi moved. Watching Qian family men rush in with torches, he understood—she’d planned all this. Her cunning no longer surprised him; by now, he was almost used to it. But what he saw next was harder to dismiss.

He glanced around the courtyard. The rescued captives huddled in corners, trembling. He walked to the wagons and lifted the curtains one by one.

Old men in their sixties and seventies. Toddlers barely three years old. Over fifty souls, packed into five carts—where were they being taken?

The peace so many soldiers had bled for had become a den of human trafficking for greedy merchants.

Song Yunzhi’s hand tightened around his sword. Murderous intent surged. He raised the blade toward the half-dead Cui Er—

—but a small hand caught his wrist.

“Put the sword down,” Qian Tong whispered. “You’re scaring them.”

He froze, finally noticing the terrified faces staring back at him. Because of his violent movements—tearing open wagons, dragging men down—the survivors had retreated even farther, trembling under the torchlight.

Seizing the chance, Qian Tong took the sword from his hand and raised her voice. “Don’t be afraid, everyone! He’s here to save you. If you can stand, check your injuries—we’ll treat you right away!”

Ajin, the quickest among them, darted into the dark building—and came out moments later, pale as a ghost. She stood in the doorway, her throat working before she managed, “Mistress… inside, there’s still…”

Qian Tong already knew Cui Er’s nature, but nothing prepared her for the sight inside. The room was a butcher’s nightmare—blood, mangled limbs, bodies piled like refuse.

Hell on earth would’ve been a mercy.

She’d known the man was cruel. She hadn’t imagined this. In her fury, she cursed aloud, “Cui Yunfang, you beast! May thunder strike your whole damned family! You’ve dragged every merchant’s name through the mud!”

She shoved Ajin, who was gagging at the smell. “Hold it together and help me save them!”

Anyone still breathing, she pulled out into the open. Whether they could survive was another matter—but at least they’d see the light again.

When the last of the victims were carried out, Song Yunzhi had already tied up every surviving thug, piling them in a corner. Cui Er hung limp in his grasp, a bloodied rag stuffed in his mouth.

“Wait!” Qian Tong called sharply.

He looked up. His black eyes reflected the torchlight like twin blades, cutting through the darkness.

A lifetime of study had taught him to discern good from evil; the battlefield had tempered him into an unyielding warrior. His spotless record made him like a moon that couldn’t tolerate the faintest shadow.

To him, right and wrong were absolute. If it’s evil, kill it.

The Four Great Merchant Houses—all deserve death.

But then, in the glow of the fire, he saw the young woman crouched beside a wounded mother, her robe soaked in another’s blood. She looked neither disgusted nor afraid—only urgent, pleading.

“Don’t kill him yet,” she said. “I still need him alive.”

Tonight, he was the very picture of righteous fury—and even Qian Tong couldn’t help staring for a moment.

Afraid he might slit Cui Er’s throat anyway, she quickly turned to Fuyin. “Go tell Madam Cui and the eldest son—if they want to see the second alive, they’ll bring me the Qian family’s eldest daughter to exchange.”

She’d never trusted the Cui family, and after tonight, she certainly wouldn’t start now.

Filthy bastards, she thought viciously.

“What are you looking at me for? Give me a hand!” she snapped at Song Yunzhi, her tone dragging that shining, righteous moon right back to earth. “You know medicine, don’t you? Then get over here and save people—now!”