Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 19

Each of the Four Great Clans possessed its own exclusive stretch of sea. The size and location of these maritime territories, however, were all determined by the Park family’s say-so.

The Cui family held two sea channels leading into the East Sea, one of which occupied a particularly advantageous position—it provided direct access from Yangzhou to the East Sea beyond.

All ten of the Cui family’s ships at that channel had already set sail.

Late last night, while the second son of the Cui family was busy smuggling people out, the eldest son boarded the final ship in the channel. After sailing through the night, they reached the Cui family’s portion of the East Sea by the following evening.

Ten more miles ahead lay the Park family’s domain.

To pass through their waters, one had to cross a narrow sea corridor—and right now, all ten of Cui’s cargo ships were blocked just outside that corridor by the Park family’s fleet. They had been stuck there for five days.

As for why? Both sides knew perfectly well.

The Cui family had tried to play both ends—to enjoy the convenience of the Park family’s trade routes while also cozying up to government officials. Naturally, that had angered the Park family, who retaliated by seizing their goods.

On deck, the eldest son of the Cui family ordered the deck lowered and stepped onto one of the cargo ships. “Have you managed to reach Young Master Park?” he asked his steward.

The man shook his head. Letters had been sent one after another, but not a single reply had come back.

Returning to Yangzhou was no longer an option for the Cui family. Their inns, trading houses, and brokerage shops had all been abandoned—nothing but hollow shells now. Those losses were tolerable; what mattered were the goods. A few days earlier, they had been raided by pirates and lost two ships. The ten that remained were the family’s last remaining fortune.

The eldest son had already resigned himself to desperation. “Go tell Young Master Park,” he instructed coldly. “We’ll split the goods twenty-eighty. The Park family takes eighty, the Cui family twenty. My house has no way out anymore—we’ve burned all our bridges. From now on, we’ll rely on Young Master Park’s mercy for a way to live.”

The steward departed once more to deliver the message.

Half an hour later, he returned with good news. “Young Master Park has agreed to meet you, sir.”

The eldest son finally exhaled in relief.

Having fled in haste from Yangzhou, his clothes were still caked in dust. He had been wound tight since stepping aboard, not daring to rest for even a moment. Now, at last, he went below deck to bathe and change.

Night had fallen. Lanterns of polished ox horn swayed gently in the sea breeze, creaking softly—an old, persistent sound that, after a while, seemed almost comforting. Beneath the murmur of waves, the solitude and danger of life at sea became memories made bearable by repetition.

He pushed open the wooden door of the cabin. Once it shut behind him, the noise outside faded. The lamp’s faint amber light filled the room with a warm haze.

A figure sat by the window. He hesitated briefly, then spoke softly. “It’s getting late. You should rest. At dawn, we’ll set out.”

“All right.”

Her quiet answer eased the tension in his chest.

Once they crossed this stretch of sea, he could rise again. If he had survived years of war, he could endure this too.

He turned toward the washroom, but before he could take a full step, a thunderous sound burst through the rhythm of the waves—the pounding of war drums.

Before the eldest son could even react, flaming arrows rained down from the sky. Outside the cabin, fire blossomed across the deck.

His expression hardened. He strode out quickly.

The crew had already been startled awake. Several men followed him up to the deck, where they saw a ship ablaze in the distance—the flames bright against the black sea.

One glance at the flag on the attacking vessel, and the steward’s face went green. “It’s that damned Seventh Lady from the Qian family again! The hell won’t she die already—”

The Cui family had already been driven from Yangzhou because of her. What more did she want?

“I’ll kill her myself!”

Before his roar had faded, another volley of fire arrows streaked through the night.

The ships behind them were packed with cargo. Losing even one would cost dearly. One of the men gritted his teeth. “Sir, we can’t just take this! Let’s fight her!”

The eldest son quickly gauged the number and placement of the arrows. He could tell—she wasn’t aiming to kill, just to threaten. “Sound the horn,” he ordered.

Among the Four Great Clans, the horn had always been a call for truce whenever they crossed paths at sea.

Soon, the barrage stopped. The enemy ship answered with a single horn note of its own.

The eldest son stood on the deck, eyes locked on the ship cutting across the water toward them.

Closer and closer it came—until they could see each other’s faces.

A young woman stood at the bow, holding an ox-horn lantern. Her gown fluttered wildly in the wind, strands of hair whipping across her face. Yet she was smiling—as though she hadn’t just been the one shooting arrows at him.

“Eldest Young Master Cui,” she called out cheerfully. “Still fast on your feet! I was only a step behind. Almost lost you.”

The eldest son knew her well—his little sister-in-law.

When she was a child, she’d been a sweet, clever girl who followed him everywhere. He’d once lifted her onto a horse, even bought her candied hawthorns.

Who would’ve thought that girl would one day become his fiercest enemy?

Qian Tong didn’t know he was remembering her fondly. She went on, her tone bright and cutting. “Tell me, Young Master Cui—who did you bring with you? Your father’s still in prison, I suppose you couldn’t take him. Your wife, though… and your little concubine, and those illegitimate sons—they must all be with you, right? Poor Second Young Master, though. Abandoned by his brother, buried in Yangzhou.”

Even across the waves, her voice carried a sharp mockery.

The eldest son stayed silent, his jaw tight.

Since he wouldn’t speak, she continued. “You probably haven’t heard yet—the imperial army has arrived in Yangzhou.” She tilted her lantern slightly, the firelight illuminating the edge of her smile. “The Cui family’s finished.”

Her arrogance made his eye twitch. He finally spoke. “Why must you insist on ruining my house, Qian Tong?”

It was a foolish question—one unworthy of him.

Had the Cui family not fallen, it would have been the Qian family instead. And as for “ruining”—had the Cui family done so little evil?

Her elder sister, the Qian family’s eldest daughter, had married into the Cui house in good faith. And how had he treated her? Doting on his concubine, forcing his wife to choke down endless bowls of fertility soup, locking her away day after day—had he ever once asked himself why someone might want revenge?

Qian Tong’s throat ached from shouting. “Do I need a reason to make someone pay?” she snapped.

“You—!” One of the Cui servants drew his blade in fury.

The eldest son lifted a hand, stopping him. He hesitated, then spoke in a low voice. “What happened between your sister and me… it’s not what you think—”

“Cui Wanzhong, have you no shame?” Qian Tong’s voice cracked with anger. “You want to talk about ‘what really happened’? The year you proposed to her, you bought out every firework in Yangzhou—lit the entire river in her name! You made her believe in that promise. And then you threw her away because she couldn’t bear you a son. You want to divorce her? Fine! But you didn’t. You locked her away, let her rot slowly inside that courtyard. You broke her, day after day!”

Her throat gave out. She took in a deep breath of sea air, forcing herself calm. “I’ve no interest in wasting words with you. You won’t escape tonight. Leave the goods, and I’ll spare your life.”

She turned to leave—but froze when a soft voice drifted through the wind.

“Tong’er.”

Qian Tong’s entire body went rigid. For a moment, she thought she’d imagined it. But when she looked up and saw that familiar face—her breath caught. “Sister… why are you here?”

Why else would she be here?

Her gaze shot toward Cui Wanzhong, eyes full of disgust. “You truly are vile.”

He’d given up his very soul to save his skin.

“Send her over,” Qian Tong said coldly. Her voice trembled only slightly. She took a few steps back, eyes fixed on her sister’s frail figure—the one that looked as though even the sea breeze could sweep her away. Then, forcing the words out, she said, “Go. I won’t stop you.”

Her surrender was immediate and absolute—no hesitation at all.

But her sister saw the lantern shaking in her hand.

The bitterness rose from her chest to her throat. She turned to her husband. “Tong’er’s always been stubborn. Let me speak to her.”

“Ling—”

She smiled faintly. “I gave you my word, didn’t I? I won’t break it.”

It had been years since they’d looked at each other like this. Just the night before last, she had come to him unexpectedly. He’d taken the chance to apologize, to reminisce about what they once were.

“Will you come with me?” he had asked.

She’d paused for a long time—then nodded. “All right.”

Once they left Yangzhou, once they escaped the Cui family, no one would ever control them again. Even without a child, no one could judge them.

But if battle broke out tonight, the Cui family—trapped between the Qian and Park clans—would be destroyed.

Only one person could stop it now: the Qian family’s eldest daughter.

Cui Wanzhong pulled her cloak tighter and whispered, “Be careful.”

She nodded.

“Let her through.”

Qian Tong stood motionless on the opposite deck, watching her sister draw closer. Her face was calm, but her hand—the one holding the lantern—had turned white from strain.

Step by step, her sister approached.

When she finally reached her, she gripped Qian Tong’s hand with all her strength and whispered, “Step back. Kill him. He’s been smuggling tea for years—he has holdings in Liao already. If he escapes tonight, it’ll be a disaster for Great Yu. Our Qian family must not aid a traitor…”

She spoke too forcefully. Her balance faltered, and she collapsed against Qian Tong.

Feeling her sister’s weight suddenly go slack, Qian Tong dropped the lantern and reached out—but too late. They both fell to the deck.

Her sister lay limp in her arms, blood already welling at the corner of her mouth.

Qian Tong’s heart plunged. “Sister… Sister, what happened to you?”

Her sister looked up weakly, swallowing back the taste of iron. She seemed terrified of the disappointment she might see on Qian Tong’s face. “I… I went to him, after listening to you. He spoke of the old days… of how he saved me during the war, how he was wounded for it… I couldn’t refuse. I thought—if I can’t repay the love, at least I can repay the debt. My name is Qian Ling… this life should be enough.”

The freezing sea wind howled from all directions.

Qian Tong stared as blood trickled down her sister’s chin, trembling as she tried to wipe it away.

Pain wracked her sister’s body—until she could no longer form words. She only looked at Qian Tong, eyes full of sorrow and love, until the pupils finally lost focus and she went still.

The sea roared. Then all was silence.

Qian Tong lowered her head, clutching her sister’s lifeless body. Her voice cracked through the night, raw with anguish.

“Cui Wanzhong—why couldn’t you have died first!”