Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 25

He called her the head of the Qian family—he clearly knew more than she had imagined.

Such skill. He’d dug up an old piece of her past and pinned a heavy accusation on her. If she admitted to it now, she’d never walk out of here today.

“Your Excellency means to arrest me?”

If it had been anyone else being interrogated like this, they would’ve been trembling on their knees by now. She wasn’t. She only turned around, her tone carrying a touch of aggrieved innocence. “That’s not what Your Excellency’s messenger said when he invited me here.”

The screen before her was made of some material that neither let air nor light through. She couldn’t tell whether a person—or a ghost—sat behind it. Since there was no response for a long time, he was probably waiting for her explanation.

“Your Excellency heard this from Prefect Lan, didn’t you?”

“That man cannot be trusted,” Qian Tong said bluntly, not the least bit shy about speaking ill behind someone’s back. “Prefect Lan has long been in collusion with the Cui family. I believe Your Excellency has already found evidence of that. A dog driven to desperation will do anything—surely, you’ll take his words with caution.”

Recalling what had been said earlier, she let out a small laugh as if exasperated by absurdity. “Me and the eldest son of the Park family? The nerve he has to come up with such nonsense. Your Excellency, let’s treat that as a joke between us, but please don’t spread it. If those words were to reach my husband’s ears, I’d be in trouble. He’s petty and jealous—he’d sulk for days, and who knows how he’d take it out on me.”

Wang Zhao, standing to the side, was nearly bursting. His hand lifted the wooden gavel of the court again and again, several times almost bringing it down.

Inside the screen, the heir of the Song family remained silent. Wang Zhao dared not interrupt, fearing to upset his superior’s plans.

After a long moment, the man behind the screen finally spoke—his voice cool and even, stripped of its earlier sharpness. “Your personal affairs are of no concern to this official. Let’s talk business.”

Qian Tong was surprised. “But, Your Excellency, that is business. How could the Qian family possibly be connected to a great clan like the Parks? The eldest son of the Park family is a man of high standing—how could a common woman like me ever be worthy? I know my place. The one I like is my own husband.”

Her words were so deliberately evasive that even Wang Zhao was momentarily drawn in.

Was she blind?

How was the heir of the Song family inferior to the Park family’s eldest son? She couldn’t match with Park but could match with Song?

“Your Excellency?” Qian Tong waited for a response but, hearing none, took the initiative. “Everything I’ve said is true. The Qian family is a well-known salt merchant house in Yangzhou. We’ve always conducted our business honestly and uprightly. The people can attest to that, and Your Excellency knows it as well. Our salt license is due to expire soon. Yet we haven’t offered bribes nor tried to trouble Your Excellency. That’s because we’ve always believed that the imperial envoy sent this time is incorruptible and just—a man who can see the will of the people clearly.”

“Your Excellency is said to have eyes that see through heaven itself—nothing escapes your notice.” She bowed slightly. “You’re correct about the matter of the Qian family head. I may be young and unworthy, but my family has entrusted me with that title. As the head of the household, I bear the full weight of our name. There are no shortcuts—only diligence and virtue. I keep our ancestors’ teachings close to heart: do good, and Heaven will bless us. I still have much to learn and humbly ask Your Excellency for guidance in the days to come.”

“As for the Cui family’s cargo ships—believe me or not—but the news truly came from one of our own scouts. The Cui and Qian families have been at odds ever since the matter concerning our eldest madam. We’ve been on guard against each other for some time.”

Standing there in the austere courtroom, she seemed like a flower blooming from the edge of a cliff—bright and striking, yet calm and steady.

“I had no knowledge of the Cui family’s smuggling,” she continued, her tone sincere. “The men who reported back didn’t brief me in detail. But Your Excellency needn’t worry—I’ll fully cooperate with the court’s investigation. Once I return, I’ll bring that scout to you myself. You may question him however you wish.”

She spoke with utmost honesty, then waited for her verdict.

Wang Zhao was waiting too.

Before summoning Lady Qian today, the heir hadn’t told him what to expect. If the Qian family really had colluded with the Parks to destroy those smuggling ships, their crimes would be grave indeed.

He was ready to seize her at any moment.

After a long silence, the voice behind the screen said only: “Do as you see fit, Head of the Qian family. You may go.”

Wang Zhao couldn’t read the heir’s intentions. Since he hadn’t planned to arrest her today, he must have something else in mind—to scare her, perhaps, and remind the Qian family of their place. Rising, Wang Zhao said, “Lady Qian, you may return. May your family, as you’ve promised, serve our court faithfully and work for the good of the people.”

Qian Tong’s thoughts lingered on that last phrase.

“Do as you see fit.”

That was fine—she always did.

She thanked him and walked out without once looking back.

——

As soon as she left, Wang Zhao hurried behind the screen.

It was late April, and the weather was growing warmer by the day. At noon, even a light breeze carried heat, and sweat easily gathered at the temples. Concerned that the heir might be stifled in the heat, Wang Zhao had placed a block of ice beside him earlier—now half of it was gone, chipped away, shards scattered across the table.

No wonder his voice had sounded strained.

“So she really is the head of the Qian family?” Wang Zhao asked. “Wasn’t the master supposed to be Second Master Qian—Qian Minjiang?”

How could they let a young woman run a household like that?

“Never underestimate her,” said Song Yunzhi, his lips and teeth slightly numb from the cold.

It wasn’t hard to guess who truly led the Qian family.

After the eldest madam’s death, she had been punished under family law. According to the manager of Haitang House, it wasn’t her first time either—the scars on her back testified to that. The death of the eldest madam wasn’t something a younger sister should’ve borne responsibility for. Only the head of the household would carry such a burden.

First, she’d orchestrated the debacle at the Cui family’s engagement banquet, then exposed their second son’s corruption at the brokerage. Each step was deliberate—pushing the Cuis closer and closer to the edge until they fell. The resulting tragedy diverted the court’s attention elsewhere, conveniently proving that the Qians were not complicit but rather upright merchants.

Even the salt well workers of the Qian family—she was the one who kept them in line.

As for Second Master Qian, he spent his days busying himself with salt posts and petty merchants—useful for nothing when it came to the family’s survival.

Wang Zhao realized his superior must have uncovered something from within the Qian household. “Then, Your Highness truly believes the Qian family and the Parks are working together?”

“A suspicion,” Song replied.

“A suspicion…”

The heir was known for his integrity. He didn’t speak without reason—it likely meant he just hadn’t found proof yet.

“It was only speculation before,” Song said, “but now I’m certain—the tea on the smuggling ships is tied to the Qian family.”

Wang Zhao frowned in confusion.

“That woman is cunning. If she were truly uninvolved, she wouldn’t waste her breath defending herself. She’d simply kneel and say, ‘Do as you will, Your Excellency.’”

All that talk earlier—clearly to hide her guilt.

Still, Song wouldn’t arrest anyone without evidence. As devious as she was, there would always be a next move. He instructed, “In three days, give the Qian family their salt license—valid for one month only.”

Wang Zhao was startled. “A month? What about the Lu family—”

“The Qian salt wells are clean,” Song interrupted calmly. “Send word to Young Master Lu: if he remains loyal to the court, he’ll be compensated in other ways.”

Wang Zhao nodded. “And the Qian spy who boarded the Cui ships—he’ll be arriving soon. Should we interrogate him together?”

Song rose to leave. “No need. You know him.”

Wang Zhao blinked. He was a local Jinling official—how could he possibly know one of the Qian family’s spies?

But the heir was already striding off, leaving him no chance to ask further.

An hour later, when the spy was brought in, Wang Zhao nearly dropped his jaw. He stood frozen, speechless, not knowing whether to marvel at Qian Tong’s sheer nerve—or her extraordinary luck.

At least now they had confirmation.

The cargo aboard the Cui ships had been smuggled tea—and they finally knew where it came from.

“Shuzhou,” said Shen Che. He’d heard it himself aboard the ship: the tea was transported by land from Shuzhou to Yangzhou, then loaded onto ships bound for the sea. The men had spoken in the dialect of Shuzhou.

They’d also revealed that the Cui family’s eldest son was going to meet with the Park family’s heir.

Before the Cui ships exploded, Shen Che distinctly saw a signal flare from the Qian family’s vessels. Moments later, their men shoved him overboard. In the brief time before he hit the water, he realized—they were lighting the gunpowder.

The Park family never made a move.

It was the Qians who blew up the ships.

He was certain Qian Tong herself had been on board that night—he’d faintly heard a scream of rage, raw and bitter, like someone who hated with their entire soul.

Afterward, when word spread that the eldest madam of the Qian family was dead, everything made sense.

Still, Shen Che couldn’t understand one thing. “She hated Cui Wanzhong. If she wanted revenge, she could’ve killed him alone or destroyed his ship. Why blow up all ten?”

It made no sense.

Destroying the Cui family’s ships gained her nothing.

First, it risked drawing suspicion from the authorities. Second, those ten ships of tea—had she claimed them as spoils, they could’ve earned her family enough to rival years of salt profits.

Shen Che couldn’t figure it out, but Song Yunzhi could.

Because she’d known—on that very sea, behind her Qian ships, several government vessels from Yangzhou were closing in.

She had done it to destroy the evidence.

Leaving the prefect’s office, Song Yunzhi pulled on a veiled hat and headed toward the Qian residence. On the way, he stopped by a street stall and bought two steamed buns stuffed with pork.

——

After leaving the prefect’s office, Qian Tong climbed into her carriage.

Fu Yin lowered the curtains on both sides, asking worriedly, “Did they give you a hard time, My Lady?”

“No.” Qian Tong smiled faintly. “They don’t have proof. They suspect your mistress and the Park family worked together—that it was the Park heir who helped me blow up the Cui family’s ships that night.”

Fu Yin’s heart clenched. “My Lady—”

Qian Tong closed her eyes, resting her head lightly against the carriage wall. A slow smile tugged at her lips, her expression—arrogant, defiant—just as Fu Yin liked it. “He gives me too much credit. If I wanted to kill someone, I wouldn’t need another man’s hand to do it.”

The old madam often said her young mistress was too wild—but Fu Yin found her confidence reassuring. Being at her side always made one feel secure.

When word spread that the imperial envoy had summoned her to court, Second Master Qian had already returned home.

As soon as Qian Tong stepped through the gates, Steward Cao was waiting. “Lady Qian, how did it go? The master’s just returned and is waiting for you to join him for dinner…”

Of course, it wasn’t dinner he wanted.

He was waiting for her to hand something over.

The salt permit would expire in three days. The salt piled up in the warehouses, as well as the coarse salt still being extracted from the well, would all end up stuck in their hands. By then, they could only sell it secretly, at low prices, to those who still held valid permits—doing under-the-table business.

But those were small problems.
Without a salt permit, what future would the Qian family have?

Master Qian had asked Qian Tong about it long ago. Every time, her answer was the same—she had already made arrangements, and there was no need to worry. But now, with only three days left, the salt warehouse managers and the salt well overseers were all coming to him in panic.

He couldn’t afford to stay calm anymore. Turning on Madam Qian, he snapped, “Before she left, what exactly did she say? The court officials summoned her for a reason—you didn’t ask?”

Madam Qian bristled at being blamed and retorted, “When the officers come to summon someone, do they owe you an explanation? If we really had that kind of influence, we wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with! You didn’t see it—the imperial guards in their full armor, they looked fierce enough to crush bones with a single shove. It’s a good thing you weren’t there! If you had been, you’d have no right to complain now!”

Her husband was left fuming. “You—!”

Qian Tong, who had just arrived under the corridor, could already hear the bickering inside. She was long used to it. The two had been arguing since they were young—yet somehow, the more they quarreled, the closer they became.

But she had never been able to fit into that warmth.

When they finally noticed her, Master Qian hurriedly straightened up. Still anxious, but trying to maintain his dignity as head of the household, he waited until she came closer before asking, “Well? Can it be done? If not, I’ll make another trip…”

“Even if you make ten trips, it’s useless.” Qian Tong entered the room, avoiding the noonday sun outside. “What’s meant to be ours won’t run away. What isn’t—no amount of kneeling will get it.”

Madam Qian blinked. So was it settled or not? She followed her daughter inside, pressing, “Those court officials—are they really that difficult to deal with?”

Qian Tong cut off her train of thought before it went astray. “Don’t even think about bribing anyone. Lan Mingquan’s already been arrested. If you dare to offer money, they’ll use it as an excuse to confiscate everything we own.”

Madam Qian fell silent at once.

By now, it was nearly afternoon. Qian Tong still hadn’t eaten. When she heard Dongzhi had made rice wine dumplings, she asked for them to be served—and suddenly remembered something. “Fuyin, since we have such a nice meal today, go invite the son-in-law to join us.”

Madam Qian’s expression darkened as she muttered, “Picked some man off the street—no engagement, no betrothal gifts—what kind of son-in-law is that?”

Qian Tong nodded. “It was a bit hasty. Perhaps I should reconsider?”

Reconsider? That man from the Park family—Park Young Master—had come straight to the Qian household after returning, nowhere else. His intentions were clear enough. Any man would have understood.

Master Qian shot his wife a warning look.

Madam Qian quickly caught on. Compared to that nobleman, their poor “son-in-law” didn’t seem so bad after all. She changed her tone immediately. “What I meant was—shouldn’t we pick a proper day and make the engagement official? It’d sound better to outsiders if things were done properly.”

Qian Tong took a sip of tea, her tone vague. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Madam Qian urged Fuyin, “Go fetch him, quickly. Tell him we’re holding a family banquet today—invite him to share a reunion meal.”

Fuyin made a trip for nothing. She only ran into Song Yunzhi on her way back. She wasn’t sure where he had gone, but his face was flushed, as if he had been walking briskly for some time.

“Young Master.” She greeted him respectfully. “Master and Madam have set a table and would like you and the lady to join them. The lady’s already there—only you’re missing.”

By the time Song Yunzhi reached Master Qian’s courtyard, the dishes were already laid out.

When he came in, Qian Tong noticed the paper parcel in his hand and asked, “You went out? What did you buy?”

The same man who had once been a lofty government official now stood as the Qian family’s son-in-law. His tone and manner were completely different—gentle, restrained. “Buns. For you.”

Madam Qian couldn’t help herself—she rolled her eyes.

Sure, they couldn’t form an alliance with the powerful Park family, but at least their heir wasn’t poor. They’d set out an entire feast—what on earth was he doing bringing buns?

“Thank you.” Qian Tong rose quickly, blocking her mother’s look of disdain. Only she and Song Yunzhi knew what it meant. He’d gone out that morning just to repay her the debt of a single bun.

He hated owing anyone anything.

Qian Tong accepted the parcel and asked Fuyin to lead him to wash up.

It was the change of seasons—hot under the sun, cool in the shade. Since it was just family, the meal was to be held outdoors in the pavilion, where the air was light and breezy.

By the time Song Yunzhi returned, everyone was already seated and talking.

“Lan Mingquan may have been a sly old fox,” Madam Qian was saying, “but at least we knew what he wanted. Who knows what kind of official this new one is? You mean you didn’t even see his face?”

Dongzhi rose as the young master approached and pulled out the seat beside Qian Tong.

Song Yunzhi sat down.

“No,” Qian Tong replied simply.

Out of the corner of his eye, Song Yunzhi noticed that she’d already unwrapped the buns he’d brought. She’d placed one in her own bowl. In front of him—and in front of her parents—were delicate bowls of bird’s nest soup.

No one seemed to find this odd.

Madam Qian continued, “After you talked about the salt permit, did he say anything else?”

Qian Tong shook her head and said nothing more.

Madam Qian sighed. “The Qian family’s really doomed this time. I bet the salt permit will go to the Lu family. Those people—wolves in human skin—always scheming in the dark. Hardly any better than the Cui family.”

Every family, no matter how noble, gossiped over dinner. Even the illustrious Yong’an Marquis household was no exception. The Princess there often spent entire meals criticizing the Yongchang royal family.

Master Qian, though mediocre in ability and easily swayed, was still the nominal head of the family. He tried to sound steady. “What’s there to fear? The Qian family’s reputation speaks for itself. All these years, we’ve sold salt at whatever price the court set—never a penny higher, never dodged a tax. We’ve earned our money clean. Even now, when things look bleak, we’ve kept our prices fair.”

Such righteous words were easy to say, but deep down, he was trembling. “Three days left…”

His wife, alarmed by that reminder, lost what little composure she had left. “Tong’er, what should we do…”

“Tong’er, maybe your father should go back to the yamen again.”

“Tong’er, are you sure about that official? What if he is greedy? What exactly did he say to you?”

“Tong’er…”

Qian Tong lowered her head and quietly ate her bun, pretending not to hear.

By the fourth time Madam Qian called her name, a hand suddenly closed over her wrist. A calm, steady voice beside her said, “Answer her.”

The entire table went silent.

Master Qian froze mid-motion, his spoon hovering in the air. Madam Qian fell quiet as well.

Qian Tong’s expression wavered, a rare trace of confusion crossing her face as she looked at the man beside her. He met her gaze and reminded gently, “Your mother’s asking you a question.”

She had heard.

But everyone in the family knew how Madam Qian was—she could chatter all day long. If Qian Tong responded to every sentence, her tongue would blister before the meal ended.

And she simply wasn’t someone who liked to talk.

Everyone had long grown used to Madam Qian’s endless muttering—and to Qian Tong’s deliberate silence. But now, this son-in-law who didn’t know better had disturbed their unspoken balance.

To preserve peace, Qian Tong finally asked, “Mother, what did you want to know?”

Madam Qian blinked, caught off guard. “I—I was asking what that official actually said to you.”

“He asked whether the Cui family was smuggling salt, besides their brokerage business.”

Madam Qian was startled that her daughter had truly answered, then secretly pleased. Her husband and daughter both treated her like a fool when it came to business. But she was still the mistress of the house—she had to understand what was going on. Since they refused to explain things, she could only ask again and again. Usually, they ignored her.

Unexpectedly, thanks to the son-in-law’s presence, Qian Tong responded to almost every question that day.

The next day, Madam Qian herself invited Song Yunzhi and Qian Tong to another meal. “There are only two days left. No point worrying alone. Better we all worry together. Whether good or bad, we’ll face it as a family.”

By the end of that day, Qian Tong’s expression had grown heavy.

Though Madam Qian had only one daughter, they’d never been close. Their temperaments clashed, and after what happened two years ago, a quiet wall had grown between them.

Over time, they’d learned how to coexist—by keeping their distance.

So Madam Qian’s sudden warmth now only made her uneasy. But Madam Qian took it as a chance to grow closer, starting from business talk and gradually slipping into personal questions—down to what kind of rouge and powder her daughter used.

By the third day, Qian Tong’s patience was at its breaking point—when finally, Wang Zhao arrived.

He stood at the Qian family’s gates holding the salt permit.

Master Qian and Madam Qian were barely able to rejoice before they heard him say to Qian Tong, “The official knows you’re anxious, Lady Qian, so he’s granted a one-month extension on your permit. He also asked me to remind you—remember the promise you made. Keep the Qian family on the right path. Don’t stray. Don’t choose the wrong road.”